Razor: Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 11

by Candace Blevins

  “My rules,” said Razor. “If he moves out of position, someone will hold him down and he’ll get fifty strikes from me.”

  Daddy was going to give them to me in groups of six, and I knew he wouldn’t take it easy on me. The people near him moved out of the way of the belt, and I concentrated on staying relaxed and keeping my back arched. I bent my knees a tiny bit to help with my balance, and wiggled my toes inside my boots.

  The leather belt whooshed through the air, the clash of leather against skin echoed through the room, and I gasped and yelped when I hadn’t intended to, but I didn’t move. True to his word, another strike followed. Then another. And another. I counted all six, and screamed on the last two, but I held position.

  He gave me time to catch my breath, but not enough time to get on top of the pain. This was punishment and he wasn’t obligated to give me any pauses at all, so I appreciated what I got.

  Three times six is eighteen, so while I was nearly crazy from the nonstop pain when he finished the third set, I knew the last two strikes would be brutal.

  And then I had five more from Duke.

  “Two deep breaths, boy.”

  I took my time breathing in, despite the sobs trying to rack my entire body. As the second breath left my body, Duke’s voice said, “Wait. Everyone who isn’t a brother, please leave.”

  That meant the ol’ladies and the sweetbutts left, and only the men were left. I had time for another dozen breaths before Duke said, “He’s human. He’s had all he can take.”

  “I assure you, he can take more.”

  “Maybe so, but it won’t happen here. He’s done. I’ve never struck a human so hard. If I’d known you planned to, I’d have reduced the strikes.”

  “Matty?” Daddy asked.

  “Yes, Sir?” Fuck. I was crying, and I didn’t want the men to see me cry.

  “Permission to stand, pull your pants up, turn to face us, and address Duke.”

  It sounded like he had something in mind for me to say, but what? I didn’t know, so I’d wing it. He clearly wanted me to pull my pants up before I turned around though.

  I knew my tear streaked face would look pathetic, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I lifted my chin and found the poise and grace previous Doms had drilled into me.

  “I apologized to Gen already, and I thought we were okay, but I’ll do something for her, to make sure we are. I don’t believe I apologized to you, so I’ll do it now. Gen’s yours, and dissing her is the same as dissing you. I was wrong, I spoke without thinking, and I feel terrible. You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel like part of the family. I’ll do better.” I glanced at Razor, and his lifted eyebrow told me I was missing something. I took a guess, and added, “Razor would never put me in danger. I wasn’t at risk of injury. It hurt, but it wasn’t causing major damage. Just bruising.”

  “You’re forgiven, by both Gen and me. I sent the ol’ladies and sweetbutts out because a few don’t know about us, and I wanted to point out you’re human and it was too much. We don’t dole out the kind of punishment you were getting. It’s supposed to hurt the rest of the day, not the rest of the week.” He glanced at Razor and back to me. “I’d appreciate it if you can stop in and see Gen, once you clean your face and get yourself composed. She’ll want to feed you. You should eat whatever comfort food she thinks is a good idea.”

  I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. “I will. Thanks for giving me another chance.”

  It turned out, Gen wanted to get me drunk and feed me, so we went across the street to the restaurant. It worked out, since we’d be decorating the VIP section for the party. So we sat and drank margaritas, chowed down on buffalo wings and fried cheese sticks, and finished strategizing the engagement party.

  My ass hurt, but it was a reminder I was part of something special. Daddy loved me, and the MC accepted me as his boy. I’d fucked up, I’d paid the price, and now everything was okay again.

  Chapter 22

  Razor

  * * *

  I paced in the kitchen, angry, but not so mad I’d do something stupid. I’d zip-tied Matty in a hog-tie, stuck a huge ball-gag in his mouth and an even bigger plug in his ass, and came to the kitchen to calm down. The boy wouldn’t stop running his mouth, even when I’d cautioned him he was on thin ice.

  Micca had warned me he got like this when he was nervous, which meant I needed to find a consequence that both calmed him down and made him never want to have to endure it again.

  We’d closed on the house earlier in the day, and Randall was due to start working on renovations in six days, so we needed to decide on colors and materials. Matty had been working on drawings, but he’d yet to share any of them with me. I’d downloaded some pictures of man caves I liked, and he’d blown up at me when I showed them to him. I understood things were changing and he felt stressed, but he was being the bitchiest little bitch of them all and his attitude was either going to change, or he’d be stuck in a ball gag for the foreseeable future.

  Which wasn’t plausible, but fuck.

  I paced to the door of our bedroom to be sure he was okay, and paced back to the kitchen. I could hear him breathing, but I’d needed to put eyes on him. I looked out the sliding glass door and breathed in the energy of the nearby trees. Two minutes later, I’d calmed down enough to return to the bedroom.

  “I’m going to take your ball gag out, and if you utter a single word you’ll be put in chastity a full week.” And now that his PA was healed enough I could lock it to the jailbird, this meant even more than it had when other Doms had put chastity devices on him. I’d seen the way he looked at Beau’s, and we’d talked about it. A lot. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted him to accept the PA from me as part of our engagement.

  “When I release you, I expect you to go to the backyard and chill the fuck out. Meditate, do katas, I don’t care how you do it, but you will still your mind and think about what’s truly important in life. When you return, you will treat me as if I’m a fucking client who needs their hand held so you can help them find their perfect fucking design. I’ve heard you talking about doing it, so why the hell are you being an asshole to the man you profess to love?”

  His entire demeanor shifted from angry young male to repentant submissive boy, and I knew he’d heard me.

  I cut the zip-ties, but gave instructions again before I took the ball gag out. “Not a word. Strip to your shorts and go to the backyard, and don’t come inside for at least thirty minutes. The shorts come off when you enter the house. For the foreseeable future, you aren’t allowed clothes in the house. Maybe being naked except for your slave chain, steel cock-ring, and PA jewelry will help you remember to watch that damned mouth.”

  I called Micca when he was gone.

  “Do you know why Matty goes mental about colors and design when he’s stressed?”

  “I think it has something to do with control. He tried to please his dad when he was growing up, but his dad’s idea of proper décor is hanging sports shit all over the place. Matty put Motorcross posters and trophies in his room to try to be the young man his dad wanted him to be. When he moved out and wanted a grown-up apartment, I think he found peace in designing his surroundings to suit himself instead of his dad.” She sighed. “I don’t honestly know for sure.”

  “That helps. It might not be the whole thing, but it’s a piece of the puzzle. Thanks.”

  We talked a few more minutes, and when we’d hung up, I wiped everything off the dry erase board in the kitchen and wrote, “I always want you to tell me how you feel, but you have to learn to do it respectfully. You’re on speech restriction for the rest of the evening, but I encourage you to send me your thoughts in an email. I love you.”

  I took my own advice and sat down to write my thoughts. I told him I’d shown him pictures of man caves I liked, but it didn’t mean I wanted one exactly like them. I hadn’t realized every image I picked out was in varying shades of brown without much color, but since those were the images
I liked, perhaps I actually did want to decorate in different shades of mud, though I’d prefer to think of it as different shades of leather and wood. I told him if he wanted to add color, I’d be happy to see his ideas, but reminded him he’d readily agreed this one room could be decorated entirely in my style instead of his. While I’d need to approve the other rooms, I was letting him choose everything in them as long as he incorporated a few pieces I wanted to bring with me, and didn’t decorate them so I hated them.

  I couldn’t wait until I had my new garage and workout room at the new place. I’d have woodworking tools, a place to work on my bike, and a big exercise area. I was even going to put a television out there.

  I had a bench press and some free weights in the garage here, and I got lost in working out. I heard Matty come in, but I finished my workout before I returned. Both of us needed to chill the fuck out. My boy is usually so good, and I needed to calm down before I saw him again.

  He was on his laptop when I came in, angled so I couldn’t see the screen. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but I gave him his privacy and didn’t pry. I checked email on my phone, saw I didn’t have anything from him, and took a shower. I checked email again, noted he’d sent something with attachments, and grabbed my laptop.

  He wrote a novel, but the gist of it was that he’d wanted me to trust him to get us started in the right direction, but I hadn’t waited to see what he came up with. He sent me to a project management jobsite, where he had each room divided into its own section, with drawings, images, and photos of fabric scraps. He’d added my images to the man cave, and made some changes to his plans. I could click through his mockups to see his original, what he’d changed it to a few days prior, and how he’d changed it since he’d come inside. He’d made it an homage to my raven, with black leather sofas and recliners. Three walls were some kind of woven grass, the wall behind the bar and near the pool table was stacked stone. The bar had Harley stuff around it, with beautiful wooden barstools upholstered in black leather to match the seating area.

  The floor looked like it was made of reclaimed barn wood, though the seating area had a deep eggplant-purple rug under it. The felt on the pool table was the same color — so purple it was almost black, but it was a hint of color and it showed up enough it drew the eye. I looked back to the bar and realized the bartop was the same rich color.

  It was me, it was perfect, and I liked it so much better than the ‘mud’ colored rooms I’d sent him.

  I looked through the other rooms and loved the kitchen, hated the living room, and could live with the bedroom with a few changes. He’d done the master bathroom totally to suit me, and the bathroom our guests would use all frou-frou. We’d have to add some of him into our bathroom, and change the guest bathroom so my brothers didn’t laugh too much, but both were a good starting point.

  We seemed to be doing better via email than we had talking to each other, so I replied back to let him know I loved the man cave and kitchen, and everything else was an excellent starting point — and why hadn’t he shown me this already?

  His response was that he wasn’t finished, and he was waiting to hear back on costs because he worried he might have taken us out of the budget I gave him with the stone wall and some of the kitchen and bath details.

  I walked into the living room, leaned against a wall, crossed my arms, and watched him work on his laptop. He finished whatever he was working on and looked up.

  We kept a small blanket on the sofa, and he’d put it over his lap to cover his cock. I was tempted to make him uncover, but decided to stick to the subject.

  “Nod yes or no. Do you think you can have an adult conversation with me? No attitude, no snarky responses?”

  He looked down a few seconds before looking back up and shaking his head.

  “You don’t think you can?”

  He just looked at me, and I considered all my options.

  “Okay then. I’ll try to ask direct questions. Keep your answers succinct and to the point. You’ll lose speech privileges again if you smart off, but I won’t punish you since you’re warning me you’re on edge.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I didn’t see Micca’s apartment in the project manager.”

  “It’s separate. I’ll show her what I have tomorrow, after my meeting with Randall.”

  “I appreciate you didn’t want to bring something to me out of budget, but in the future, I get to see things before Randall. A few things you may as well not show him, because they aren’t happening.”

  His face twisted, he started to smart off, but he took a breath and composed himself. “What things?”

  “The bathroom off the man cave needs a complete do-over. I like the layout and color pallet of the living room, but even my raven thinks the fabrics are too busy. Also, why the dainty furniture? That isn’t you or me.”

  He looked puzzled. “The side tables in your bedroom are in the same style.”

  “I liked the bed. The tables came with it as part of a set. I never liked them.”

  “Oh. I was trying to… okay.”

  “I like your style of furniture and have no issues with you doing the living room to your tastes as long as we don’t have flowery fabric in there.”

  “That time period has flowers on the fabric.”

  He said it so deadpan, as if the idea of doing anything else weren’t possible, and I had to suppress a grin. “Masculine flowers, maybe?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Sir. I can do that.”

  I sat beside him and told him to pull up the kitchen, and he either changed what I didn’t like, or made notes so he could change it later. I gave him a rough idea of what I didn’t like about the master bathroom, and he nodded but opened the main guest bathroom nearest the man cave.

  “I played around with different color pallets. Hang on.” He clicked a few buttons, and everything stayed in the same place but was suddenly black and copper.

  The sink was the kind that looked like a bowl on a table, but now the bowl was beaten copper inside and black outside. The table was black marble with veins of copper. The toilet and shower were solid black, though the metal parts were the same beaten copper. The tile around the shower was mostly black tile, with a few copper ones randomly tossed in. The walls looked like leather, though I figured it was some kind of painting technique. The floor looked to be hardwood, but the size of the pieces told me it was probably the ceramic tile that looks like hardwood.

  “I like that so much, I almost want to do the same thing in our bathroom.”

  “I have another possible color pallet in there, too.” He switched to that section of the project manager, clicked a few times, and his mockup went from jewel tones to a deep hunter green with varying shades of tan, and antiqued black faucets and towel bars.

  “I love it, but our bedroom and bathroom should reflect both of us.”

  He shrugged, “The bedroom’s mostly my style with a little of you, I’m good with the bathroom being mostly you with a little of me.”

  I touched his screen and took us back to my man cave. “What of yourself did you put in here?”

  “Nothing. You wanted this to be your room.”

  “That didn’t mean I don’t want anything of yours in it.” I looked at it from all angles and pointed to the bar. “Change some of the Harley stuff out for Ninja, or racing, or whatever. The motorcycles should reflect both of us.” I pointed to the seating area. “If they make a pool table in your style of furniture, do that instead of what you have here, and make this table match.”

  “Then the bar will be all wrong.”

  “Then make it right. How else can you work your style into it?”

  “The bar glassware is heavy and masculine. If we add complementary glasses designed for margaritas and other lighter drinks, the ol’ladies will enjoy it more.” He circled the sofas with the mouse a few seconds. “The sofas are kind of me. I chose them for the heavy, neo-renaissance lines, which will work with the pool tab
le and occasional table changes.”

  “One more thing, and I don’t care what kind of hardware you use, but I want a way to shackle you to the stone wall so I can see you while I watch television. Also, make sure the rug has padding, so your knees won’t hurt too much while you give me blowjobs.” Matty had quickly learned I enjoy a good blowjob while I watch porn, but it almost always meant breath play so he never, ever complained. “Oh, and there needs to be a drawer or box nearby — a place to stash condoms so you can put one on without having to move away from me. There’ll be a rule about you not jizzing on the leather. No condom, no permission to orgasm.”

  He grabbed a little treasure chest from a shelf near the bar and moved it to the table in the seating area. “Already had them in the room, Sir. I may find a different box, shorter.” He pointed the mouse towards a door leading to what I assumed was a closet. “Your gunsafe’s in here, and storage space for ammo. We can do a hidden door if you want, which will let us put the speedball here, and the setup you have for maintenance. I can make the hardware match whatever I put on the stone.”

  “But you don’t know for sure if the hidden door will be in budget, so you have a regular door there now?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll have a spreadsheet for you tomorrow evening, with choices for something less expensive when an item is taking a big chunk of available funds.”

  I went through each room and had him show me the parts of his own style he’d put into it, and where he’d put things he knew I’d like. The kitchen’s color pallet was for me, but everything else was the way he’d want it. With the change in color pallet in the living room, the same could be said in there. It turns out, several of the rooms were this way.

  When we got to our bedroom, I told him, “I’ll live with your color pallet in our bedroom if you’ll get rid of the ruffles.”