Razor: Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 11

by Candace Blevins

  I closed the door behind Bud and crawled into bed with my exhausted boy. I’d intended to fuck him again before I fell asleep, but he was so cute, and so tired, I figured I’d wait a few hours and take him in the middle of the night.

  Matty

  * * *

  By the time Daddy and I went downstairs to breakfast, he’d fucked me three more times. Once in the middle of the night, once when we’d first awakened, and then again just before we came downstairs for breakfast. Apparently, checking over my bruises and welts got him so hot, he needed to bend me over, take my plug out, and fuck me yet again.

  So now I had an ass full of jizz held in by a giant plug. I was naked, but not under formal rules. Daddy had on his usual jeans-and-tee-shirt, but he was barefoot, which seemed a little more cozy.

  Bud was fully dressed, including his boots, when we arrived in the kitchen. Beau was cooking, and Miss Nicole was nowhere to be seen.

  “How’d you sleep?” Bud asked Daddy.

  “Good, thanks. Can my boy help with breakfast?”

  “No. Beau has it under control, and if he doesn’t then Nickie will make him pay dearly. Let our slave know if you want coffee or tea, or something else. The boys aren’t supposed to talk to each other, so if yours needs something, he should tell you.”

  Daddy didn’t ask me what I wanted, just told Beau to bring a black coffee and some water.

  Nicole was wearing a casual, cotton dress when she came down, and I figured she had a plug in and no underwear. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and easily went into Bud’s lap when he grabbed her arm and tugged.

  My cock was soft, but it throbbed and thought about coming to life at the memory of Miss Nicole’s hands inside me.

  Bud chuckled. “Your boy likes my ol’lady.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “I’m Bud outside of the club, Matty. Not Sir. You can be attracted to her, and you can even get a hard-on thinking about the things she’s done to you — as long as you remember she’s mine.”

  My heart tried to rise into my throat, but I swallowed it down. “I know, Bud. Thank you for letting her play with me.”

  “Good answer. Beau’s taking his apron off, which I assume means breakfast is almost ready.” He patted Nicole’s ass, and she stood, but looked at Daddy instead of moving to her chair.

  “How’s his ass?”

  Daddy put my silverware on my plate and set it to the side. “Boy. Stand up and lean over the table so Miss Nicole can see your welts and bruises. Grab your elbows behind your back and don’t let go.”

  She poked and prodded, squeezed the welts, and finally opened my cheeks to look at my asshole around the plug. She let my cheeks go, tugged and wiggled the plug, and released it to run a finger along one of my welts. “Nice. Some bruising, but not so much you can’t blister his ass today if he gets out of line, right?”

  “Exactly, though his punishments usually involve extreme physical exercise instead of impact. He’s too much of a masochist for me to spank him for being bad.”

  “Since Beau’s our permanent house-boy now, totally dependent upon us for everything, punishments can mean he loses the luxury of hot water for his showers, or that he has to complete a job overnight instead of being allowed sleep. He’s rarely punished in the traditional ways, either.”

  “Two weeks ago, he planted sixty flowers and installed ten feet of brick into a walkway overnight instead of sleeping,” said Bud. “He was allowed a short nap at noon the next day, but otherwise had to keep to his regular cleaning and assisting schedule.”

  “He has an English degree,” Nicole explained. “He edits for me, and interacts with fans on my behalf via email and social media, so I can write.” She smirked. “Every typo my publisher’s editor finds that he missed, he loses hot water for a day. My manuscripts have never been so clean.”

  “He’s either in the corner, or one of his cages when not needed,” said Bud. “During the week, he’s allowed to read when caged. Weekends, he’s usually bound and on display when not being used. If we’re out of town with the club, he has free time in his room, as long as he keeps up with his regular duties.”

  Nicole sighed. “He had few requests when we negotiated his contract, but one of them was his wish to never have to go out in public alone, which means the two of us go to the grocery store together. His butler uniform helps when we have parties, because butlers are expected to stay in the background and not converse with guests. Still, he usually gets out of the cock cage for a day afterwards, as a reward for handling a situation we know is hard for him.”

  I looked back at Daddy, and he answered my question before I asked it. “Nickie answered most of my questions about him because she knew I’d be playing with him, but you have no reason to ask personal questions.”

  “He doesn’t,” Bud agreed, “but I’m curious about what he’d like to ask.”

  I turned my head and met Bud’s gaze, and he continued. “No promises we’ll answer, but go ahead and ask.”

  This was awkward, still bent over the table, but Daddy hadn’t told me I could get up. “He does a lot of work for you. I guess I just wondered if it’s a business arrangement or a personal one?” Daddy told me they’d signed a three month contract to test the waters, and then had signed an eighteen-month one when the first expired. They could either continue the original at that time, renegotiate another, or they could go their separate ways. Still, I wondered about the specifics.

  Bud looked to Nickie, still behind me, who said, “It’s both. I’ve grown quite fond of him, and Bud is protective of him in ways I didn’t expect. Since Beau isn’t employed elsewhere, and will need a way to support himself when this situation no longer works for either us or him, he gets a salary.”

  “I figured how much he’d make if we paid him for the jobs he handles,” said Bud, “and deducted a fair amount for room and board. His pay is deposited into a savings account quarterly. At his request, he doesn’t have access to the money. When it’s time to part ways, he’ll leave with the funds. He doesn’t wear clothes unless we have guests who aren’t familiar with our arrangement, and then he’s in uniform. He has no need to purchase anything. His only expense is the books he reads, and he’s given a sixty dollar gift-certificate every month for his book purchases.”

  “Unless he’s careless and breaks something,” said Nickie, “in which case his next gift certificate is reduced by the amount it took to replace the item.” She chuckled. “And then he’s stuck re-reading books.”

  Beau was moving around the kitchen more, and I worried he’d start serving soon. It would be awkward, with me leaned over the table, and I started working myself into a bundle of nerves over it. I reined myself in before Daddy picked up on my anxiety. Daddy would handle it. I only needed to follow instructions.

  “You can take your seat again, Matty. Tell Miss Nicole what happened when you forgot the time and weren’t in bed twenty minutes after bedtime last week.”

  Daddy put my plate back in front of me, and I stared at it while I answered, “Pushups to failure. Crunches to failure. Chin-ups to failure, and then he made me run the mountain program on the treadmill for five miles. I got into bed nearly three hours past bedtime and fell right to sleep.”

  “And?”

  I sighed. “I had to go to bed an hour early for the next three nights, to make up for the three hours I lost, Sir.”

  He didn’t demand I call him Daddy or Sir when we were relaxed, but for this kind of thing, he’d expect me to acknowledge our relationship.

  Beau rounded the kitchen island with two bowls, placed them in the center of the table, and returned with more. He was naked except for the little cock cage, and I noted that while there were six chairs around the table, only four places were set. He settled the last dishes on the table and looked at Bud. “Will there be anything else, Master Bud?”

  “I’d like some honey. I believe that’s all.” Bud looked to Nickie, who told Bud she was fine. Interesting. Nickie might
be in charge of him for scenes, but Bud controlled things at meals.

  Beau brought a little honey-bear squirt bottle, and went somewhere behind me. I turned to see where he went, but rushed to look back at my plate when I saw him facing the corner, perfect posture, with his hands clasped behind his head. He was in view of Bud and Nicole, and would likely be punished if he broke position.

  Conversation started with bikes and ended with Atlanta traffic, with totally normal subjects in between. I was naked and they were clothed, but I was as much a part of the conversation as anyone else. When Daddy’s coffee got low, Bud tapped his glass with his fork, and Beau gave us all refills before returning to his corner.

  When breakfast was over, Beau cleared the dishes and I assumed would clean the kitchen. The rest of us went to the garage to see Bud’s impressive collection of bikes and cars.

  A dinger sounded in the garage, and Bud and Nicole both looked at the clock. “He put himself in his cage,” Miss Nicole told Daddy. “The dinger lets us know when he enters or leaves. He’s allowed bathroom breaks and is required to partake of a yoga or calisthenics session at the top of every even-numbered hour. If he’s caged, he must return within fifteen minutes, and we must see the activity on his monitor if he spends more than a few minutes out of the cage.”

  Daddy looked at me. “He wears one of those wrist things that tells them his activity level, heart rate, when he sleeps, and several other data points. He has minimums he must reach every day, but he isn’t allowed to see his progress online.” He smirked at my expression, and shifted his gaze to Miss Nicole. “I like the coffee table cage so he can lie down, and the side-table cage, just big enough for him to sit up, without room to move around.” Razor looked at me. “I might see about having my boy design something similar for the man cave.”

  My cock throbbed at the thoughts of me in a cage under the television, so Daddy could see me while he watched. Daddy smirked again, and apparently knew what the conversation was doing to me. “Why don’t you show Miss Nicole how quickly you can get hard? Hands behind your back. Stand up straight.”

  I grasped my elbows behind my back, put my feet shoulder width apart, and felt my shoulders fall into the correct posture. Daddy held my gaze, and in way less than a minute, my cock was rock hard and standing proud. I loved him for taking control of me in front of people. I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance to show who we really are to each other around any of Daddy’s friends.

  “Good boy. Now go soft.”

  Fuck. I closed my eyes and willed it to go down, it didn’t want to, but the thoughts of embarrassing Daddy were mortifying, and it finally deflated.

  Daddy kissed my forehead. “Good boy.” He looked at Bud. “We’re supposed to be at the clubhouse in an hour, right? I think we’ll retire to my room, and we’ll meet you in the driveway in forty-five minutes? My boy needs a reward before I put him in clothes.”

  Chapter 19

  Razor

  * * *

  A month after our trip to Amicalola Falls and the crash on the way home, the club voted to allow Matty weapons privileges as well as access to the private areas of the clubhouse. Dozer once again abstained from voting.

  Gen called to let me know a house was about to go on the market, and asked if I’d like a walkthrough before it went public. It was only about a mile from the club’s land, and gave me access to Chickamauga Battlefield. It needed major updating, but the location and bones of the house were perfect, though I wasn’t sure how much it would take to turn the basement into a separate apartment.

  “The house sits on nearly two acres, and the cost to build a small apartment away from the house will probably be about the same as adding a kitchen and bathroom to the basement,” Gen told me when I brought it up. “Do you want to see if Randall can meet us? I’m guessing it’ll take around thirty grand for the improvements you’ve mentioned upstairs, but I could be way off.”

  I sighed. “As much as I’d love to surprise Matty with this, I should really let him see it too. Please see if Randall is available, and I’ll text my boy and see if he can get away from work.”

  I know Matty’s good at what he does, but seeing him in action with Randall gave me even more insight into his job. He walked into the kitchen, looked around, and told Randall what we’d want down to the size of the island and the fact plumbing would need to be altered because he was relocating the refrigerator. He gave specific details in the bathrooms, only checking in with me when he wanted to do something he knew was above and beyond a normal remodel.

  Within hours, Randall emailed me a quote based on Matty’s written notes, and I told Gen what I was willing to offer. She suggested we start out fifteen grand below what I wanted to pay, and the couple accepted our offer the following evening.

  Matty surprised me that night while we were playing video games, though.

  “I didn’t want to argue this in front of Gen, but I want my name on the mortgage, Daddy.”

  “We’ve only been dating a few months, boy. It’s too soon for that.”

  “You’re letting me put my personality into it. You need to let me help pay for it, and you need to put my name on it beside yours. It’s either our house or it isn’t. I want you to take control of my finances, but I’m not a slave like Beau. I’m your boy.”

  “You’re being awful bossy for someone with a plug up his ass.”

  “You know I’m right. You even talked to Randall about building an apartment so Micca can stay close. I can’t let you do that if I’m not helping pay for it.”

  “Let me?”

  He didn’t respond for several minutes while we raced around the track on the large screen television, and I added, “Last time I checked, you don’t let me do anything. I’m the one handing out permissions.”

  “As much as I’d love to be totally dependent, even financially dependent, it isn’t practical, Sir. A house is a big fucking deal. It needs to be our house with your rules.” He slammed his bike into me and made me wreck seconds before he crossed the finish line ahead of me.

  I paused the game so it wouldn’t start the next race, and turned to look at him. He was naked with a blanket over his legs; I was in jeans and no shirt. He wore his wrist and ankle cuffs, and I stroked the one on his left wrist.

  “It is a big deal, and I’m inviting you to move in with me, which is why I wanted you to see it before I made a decision. I’m the one who made the offer though. Not us.”

  “And I’m telling you I want it to be us.” He met my gaze and didn’t look away.

  He didn’t call me Sir or Daddy, and his expression told me this conversation wasn’t going to go away just because I said so. This seemed to come out of nowhere, and I needed to understand why, but wasn’t sure what questions to ask.

  “I can see this is important, but I hadn’t intended to…” I shook my head. That was the wrong direction to go. I’m a control freak and I didn’t want his name on the title or mortgage, but he likes to give up control, and yet he wanted his name beside mine. He’d lived through the loss of someone, perhaps this was more fallout from Steve’s death?

  “What if I make a will and leave the house to you?”

  I saw him consider and reject the proposal before he shook his head. “I’ll help with the down payment, and I’ll help pay the mortgage. You’ll use my money to help pay utilities and groceries, too.” He set his face. “Sir, if you want me to move in with you, my name needs to be on the house. Otherwise, I’ll help you decorate it for yourself, and I’ll sleep over sometimes, but we won’t live together.”

  He’d drawn a line in the sand while calling me Sir, but I got it. He was saying he respected my authority, but this was important and he wanted me to recognize his needs. I looked at the television, the clock, and finally met his gaze. “I need to go for a ride and think. You’re welcome to ride with me, but you’ll be behind or beside me, not in front.”

  “Thanks for inviting me and not just leaving. It lets me know you actually need to thin
k and it isn’t about getting away from me. Go, ride. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  I rode along the top of Missionary Ridge south into Georgia, drove past the house we’d put an offer on, across Lookout Valley and up Lookout Mountain, and finally drove through town and back home. I’m comfortable with being gay, but I think some of society’s notions about a proper couple are still stuck in my brain, and it’s always surprising when I have to confront them.

  In my head, married couples buy a house together, but people who are dating or just living together do not. Also, a Daddy is supposed to own the house he provides for his boy, but I understood Matty needed the security of knowing things would be okay if something happened to me. This was more than that, though. He was standing up for himself, and while I applauded him for doing it, I wished he wasn’t.

  Why was it important the house be mine? My mind supplied the answer as soon as I asked the question. Control. I need to be in control of my life, my boy, my income, my security.

  By the time I finished my nearly two-hour ride, I was ready to draw my own line in the sand.

  Matty

  * * *

  I was asleep when Daddy came home. I remember him crawling into bed and shushing me back to sleep. I wanted to wake up and talk, but he knows how to keep me asleep, and I drifted back into la-la-land with his hands rubbing my back.

  When I tried to bring it up the next morning, he put a finger to my lips and shook his head. “I have a few items to research. You drew a line in the sand and I acknowledge this shows how important the matter is to you. I’m not putting you off, but I need a little time and I don’t think forty-eight hours is too much to ask. We’ll talk about it tomorrow evening but not before. Give me time to find a solution we can both be happy with.”