RAW: THE ULTIMATE MC COLLECTION

by Palomino, Honey

  “Oh, wait! Could you take off your dress first, please?”

  I groaned inwardly, but I did as he asked, pulling the tight black dress over my shoulders. I stood in front of him wearing only my bra, panties, garter belt, stockings and stilettos. Those fucking uncomfortable stilettos that Monty always insisted I wear. I hated them, it was so hard to find a comfortable pair. Give me a good pair of boots or sneakers and I was happy.

  “Good, good,” he said, as I sat across from him. “Could you move back a little further? Oh, yes, yes, that’s it…”

  I scooted back and watched him from across the room. Small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and his penis began growing between his legs.

  “Now, if you could just roll the eggs over to me, one at a time, very slowly…”

  Is this guy for real? I thought to myself.

  “Roll them?”

  “Yes, just put one on the floor…yes, just like that, that’s so good…yes, Lacey, oh yes…now just roll it towards me, right between my legs, give it a good gentle, but firm, push…”

  I did so, and tried not to look horrified at the same time. I smiled, pretending I was onstage somewhere, pretending the fucking stiletto I was wearing wasn’t digging into the back of my ankle. I could do this.

  The first egg wobbled around and stopped halfway between us.

  “Um…” I mumbled, reaching for it.

  “Oh, no! Leave it!” The growing aggressiveness in his voice startled me. “Just use a new egg.”

  “Oh.”

  I pulled another egg from the carton, and pushed it harder this time. It went further but still didn’t reach him. I was wondering what the hell he was going to do with the egg once it reached him, but I didn’t dare ask.

  “Try again, Lacey. Harder this time, put some gusto into it! But be careful not to break it.”

  “Okay, sure,” I replied. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, no, don’t be sorry! This is part of the game, don’t you see?” he asked. “You are so pretty, Lacey!” His eyes were twinkling and his cock was hard now.

  I sighed, picked up a third egg, and sat it on the ground. This time, I pushed even harder, determined to get it across the hardwood floor to him.

  It worked. I don’t know why I thought he was going to catch it with his hands, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the egg hit his cock, and as soon as it did, his eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered in ecstasy.

  You gotta be fucking kidding me, I thought. He’s paying fifteen grand for this? Monty has some seriously fucked up friends.

  “Keep going, Lacey, don’t stop, okay?”

  I shrugged, picked up another egg, and rolled again. Now that I knew how hard to push the egg, I hit him every time.

  If this was some video game, I would have the high score by now, I thought.

  Ding! Ding! Ding ding ding!

  By the time I had rolled the last egg, he had come all over the floor and was slumped against the wall, a thin line of spittle falling down his chin.

  “I…uh…I’m all out of eggs,” I said. I had never been so thankful to be out of eggs before.

  “Start over,” he mumbled, as he stroked his softening cock back to an erection again.

  ***

  A light breeze hit my face as I emerged from the hotel. This had been one of the easier jobs, and yet also the strangest.

  Eggs! I thought, shaking my head as I walked down the street. He paid Monty fifteen thousand fucking dollars for me to roll eggs at his cock. For that much money, he could have built a machine to roll the eggs for him.

  Rich people were weird. While I enjoyed the luxuries that Monty provided, I definitely didn’t consider myself rich. Monty was rich. His ‘friends’ were rich. I didn’t disillusion myself for a minute. I was merely a servant.

  A slave, literally.

  Sure, I was fed up with it. I was twenty-two now, more than anything I wanted to have a normal life. But this was all I had known. I had never had a normal life, let alone a normal job.

  I shook my head as I continued down the street. The apartment Monty had gotten me wasn’t far and he would be in there and waiting for me, no doubt having been contacted by Drake to inform him the moment I had left. If he ever recovered from his egg-fueled bliss, that is.

  Even if I did try to leave, Monty would find me. Besides, I didn’t have the money to go far. There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be able to get away. And I knew that once he did find me, I wouldn’t be leaving my apartment for a very, very long time. Monty was adamant that nobody see the bruises he frequently left, so he kept me locked up until they had healed. And on the rare occasions I pissed him off, the bruises tended to linger a little longer.

  But that didn’t keep me from fantasizing about it.

  Which is just what I was doing when the black sedan rolled up next to me, the back window slowly inching down as the driver crawled to a stop next to me.

  “Hey,” the voice in the back called. I turned to look and saw a man smiling back at me. Rugged and handsome, he waved me over.

  Normally, I would have ignored him and kept walking. But there was something about his dark eyes that intrigued me.

  What harm would it do to talk to him? I thought. I had never had a real boyfriend. Never been on a real date. Not one that someone hadn’t paid for first, and that didn’t count.

  My curiosity got the best of me, and I strode over to him. I knew I looked good tonight. I had taken extra time with my long blonde hair, and the curls I had so meticulously formed cascaded down my back. My short black dress hugged my curves perfectly, and the those awfully painful, stupid shoes I was wearing perked up my ass nicely.

  I leaned down to look in the stranger’s window.

  He was even more handsome up close. His dark eyes were undeniably sexy, sensual even. He was dressed in an expensive black suit. A red, silk tie. Shiny, Italian leather shoes.

  “What’s your name, beauty?” he drawled. A Southerner. The one accent that brought me to my knees every time.

  “Lacey,” I replied. I smiled at him, hoping to somehow charm him quickly so that I could get back home to Monty without being late. I don’t know what I was thinking, really. I guess I wasn’t, I just wanted to feel something real - for once in my life.

  “I’m Ben,” he said. My hand was on his door, and he reached up and stroked it lightly as he said his name.

  “Would you like to go for a ride with me?” he asked. He smelled amazing, and my eyes trailed down his body, taking in his muscular frame.

  Of course I would, I thought.

  “I can’t,” I replied simply. “I have to be somewhere.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, sorry,” I murmured.

  “What if I paid you?” he asked. I sighed. Of course, that’s what this was. Why did I ever think someone would be interested in me in any real way?

  I stood up.

  “You couldn’t afford me,” I replied, turning to walk away.

  “Wait. What if I offered you a thousand dollars?”

  I laughed, and continued walking down the street.

  “Five thousand?” he asked and I laughed again.

  The car began to crawl along beside me. I could feel his eyes on me, and I shook my head.

  “What about twenty thousand?” he said.

  I stopped short. I looked at my watch. My fantasies of running away had been strong lately, and the offer of twenty thousand dollars paid to me, not Monty, could definitely help with that plan.

  Was there time? I thought. Monty was surely waiting up for me. Maybe I could work something out with this guy for later. Maybe I could call Monty and make up an excuse about being late.

  “Twenty thousand?” I asked.

  “Sure…” he said, shrugging. “No big deal…”

  I walked back to the window, leaned in, my low cut dress threatening to spill my breasts out into his car.

  “What did you have in mind? I don’t have much time.”


  “Get in,” he said. I looked into his eyes once more, trying to decide if I could trust him. He didn’t look violent. He didn’t look like a murderer. But if there was anything I had learned throughout the years, it was that looks were deceiving.

  I stood up, looking up and down the street. I could see the high rise three blocks away. Monty was in there, waiting for me, expecting me. Ready to kick my ass if I showed up late.

  But twenty thousand dollars could take me far away from here. If I had that much, I could get so far away that Monty would never find me. I could change my name, my identity. I could start over. I could be a whole different person. Live a whole different life.

  “Show me the cash,” I said, proud of myself for requiring proof.

  He smiled, reached over and pulled a briefcase onto his lap. He opened it. It was filled with perfectly stacked bundles of cash.

  As if it had a mind of its own, my hand reached for the door handle and opened it. I slid in beside him, the warm leather seat smooth under my bare legs. I turned to him, and smiled.

  “So, Ben,” I said, “where are we headed?”

  Ben smiled, and reached into his suit pocket.

  “Downtown,” he said, showing me his bright, shiny badge.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Riot

  “Why don’t you ever fuck me anymore?”

  I groaned and turned away from the pissed off woman standing in front of me. Ruby was a pistol. Full of neediness, sarcasm and bitterness, she had become a royal pain in my ass. All she wanted to do was fuck, and while I used to be ready as soon as her panties hit the floor, lately, I just couldn’t seem to get it up for her.

  “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Ruby…” I murmured as I walked away. I made it three steps into the Gods of Chaos MC clubhouse before she followed me.

  “Riot! Don’t just walk away from me like that!”

  I stopped and she bumped into my back. As I turned, I felt that familiar anger bubbling up inside. I didn’t want to be an asshole. I wasn’t heartless like most of the other Gods. I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on a woman. And Ruby knew that. Maybe that’s why she was so reluctant to get the hint I had been trying to give her the last few weeks.

  “Ruby, look. I’m just not feeling it, okay? It’s not you…” I said, before I walked away again, leaving her standing alone by the front door. But it was. Maybe if I was really a decent guy, I would have told her the truth. Told her that her constant neediness was a turn off. That the way she flaunted herself around in front of the other Gods just to make me jealous had the opposite effect. That, for some reason, I had decided I just didn’t like spending time with her anymore.

  I heard her sob behind me, and the sound of her footsteps as she ran out the front door.

  It was just as well, I thought. She had been hanging around the clubhouse for the last two months, and I just couldn’t give her what she wanted. It was hard enough being in her presence. Fucking her was the last thing on my mind these days.

  Truth was, I didn’t know anyone I wanted to fuck.

  So many women had passed through the clubhouse doors over the years, and I had partaken in my share of them. I had a great time, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing like taking two, three or even four women to bed at the same time. I had some great memories.

  But I had begun to want more.

  Unfortunately, as a member of the Gods of Chaos Motorcycle Club, that was nothing more than a dream. Relationships were for normal people.

  We were far from normal. We were the rejects of society. The very definition of rebellion. A gang of misfit criminals.

  We didn’t ‘do’ normal.

  The only person who had managed to find some semblance of a normal relationship was our President, Ryder. And if he hadn’t stumbled upon Grace about to get her teeth kicked in by a pimp on the dirt road leading to our clubhouse, he never would have met someone like her.

  Now that Grace had left the police force, and given up her job as an undercover cop, she and Ryder had built a strong life together. They were doing good work together, too - hell, we all were. I was glad Ryder had met Grace - it had given all of us once-worthless Gods a chance to redeem ourselves by doing some good in the world. We had formed an underground railroad of sorts to help the women that needed it the most. It was a perfect marriage of chaos and vigilantism.

  Not that we were exactly on the right side of the law. We still performed our job, we just balanced out our karma with saving a few people in the meantime.

  That was just the way it went.

  We had all given up on normal long ago.

  The chaos still existed.

  It ruled our lives.

  It permeated the very fabric of our souls.

  And there wasn’t a one of us that could fucking live without it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lacey

  “What are you in for, Princess?” The large woman sitting next to me on the hard wooden bench leaned heavily into me, her massive breasts pressing into the goose bumped flesh of my right arm.

  It was freezing. I was shivering. If her breath wasn’t so offensive, I might have welcomed the warmth of her body. Instead, I leaned away.

  I could have gotten up and walked to the other side of the jail cell, but my options were limited. Various women of all shapes, sizes, and mental stability lined the walls, and there were only two other seats available, both of which would have left me sitting next to women that were even more scary than the woman next to me.

  She wouldn’t have been so bad if she would only stop talking. I was freaking out, and I had been for the last two hours, but I was trying desperately not to show it and keep my cool. The last thing I wanted was to hear this woman’s life story.

  “It was mistake,” I murmured.

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” she replied. “So, what, prostitution?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not…a prostitute. Not like that, anyway…” I replied.

  “So what kind of prostitute are you?” she asked, chuckling heartily, her hot, rancid breath hitting the side of my face with full force.

  “I’m not a street hooker, this is all a mistake,” I replied. Why was I telling her that? I slammed my mouth shut. Monty was already going to kill me, I didn’t need to be talking to anyone in here.

  “Oh, you’re one of those high class bitches, huh? I know your type, I get it,” she said, her eyes trailing up and down my body. “You got yourself a sugar daddy, honey? He takes care of you, buys you things, takes you out on the town?”

  “Hardly,” I scoffed. I couldn’t remember the last time Monty took me anywhere that didn’t end up rewarding him with either more power or more money. That was all he cared about. I was just a tool to help him achieve those things.

  Maybe it was because I was exhausted. Maybe it was because my heels were digging into the back of my ankle. Maybe it was because I was sitting in a goddamned jail cell with a bunch of incredibly scary women, and it was a stark reminder that my life never had been and never would be normal. Whatever it was, it still had the same effect - I started crying. My eyes filled with tears, and as soon as they began spilling down my face, the anger hit me.

  Of course, one would never know. I shoved it down to the depths of my heart, just as I always did. Anger, shame, pain, they were all things I couldn’t afford to let myself feel. As was sadness. As quickly as the tears began, I wiped them away, took a deep breath, and they were gone.

  I was surprised they had even surfaced at all. If I hadn’t been sitting in jail, I would have beat myself up about it for days. I granted myself a small bit of forgiveness, and lifted my chin defiantly.

  I was strong. I could handle any situation. Monty would be here soon, and although I knew he was going to beat the hell out of me as soon as he got me home, at least I would be out of here before too long.

  All I needed to do was focus on the task at hand, and if that meant enduring a conversation with the babbling woman next to me, then fine.
>
  I turned to her, and saw she was staring at me intently.

  “You’re a strong bitch, huh?”

  I sighed. Shrugged.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Twenty-two.”

  “You’re so young, darling. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You should get yourself an education and leave this life. Whether you got yourself a sugar daddy or a pimp, or whatever you wanna call him, girl, it just ain’t worth it.”

  I sighed again, her words seeping into my brain, even though I tried to push them out.

  “That’s not really an option for me,” I said. I met her eyes, and they pierced my soul. Why was she saying this stuff to me? She had no reason to be nice to me, to even say a word to me.

  “Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said.

  “You don’t understand…” I said.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Forget it,” I said, turning away. I was being rude, but what use were manners in a place like this? I crossed my arms over my chest, and folded into myself.

  “Okay, okay, it’s all good,” she said, herself turning away and scanning the room before she kept talking. “See that girl right there?” she asked, pointing her chin to a terrifyingly skinny black woman in the corner across from us. She was talking to herself, her hands waving in front of her face.

  I nodded.

  “That’s Sylvia. She’s here almost every weekend. She belongs to Mario Sanchez, he’s the leader of the Los Gatos street gang. He’s been pimping out Sylvia, and a few dozen other women, for years. He gets ‘em young. Turns ‘em out, gets ‘em addicted, most of ‘em get pregnant, have crack babies that either die or get taken away before they even get a chance to hold ‘em.”

  I took a deep breath, nodded.

  Where the fuck was Monty?