“That’s eleven, boy. One more and you’ll meet the goal. You’ll have a few hours before you have to get hard again.”
I carried him to the bathtub, which I’d filled too hot earlier so it was just right when we finished, and I settled him into it.
Matty
* * *
Husband. Daddy was my husband. I was married. He soaped me up, washed my hair, and even did the conditioner right. I hadn’t had to teach him, he’d watched me and learned.
Interrogation had dropped from daily to weekly during the summer, and now it was part of maintenance. I always tell him about stuff that bothers me right when it happens, because he gets pissed if he has to wait until he asks me during interrogation if there’s anything I should’ve told him during the week.
“I don’t think I can come again, Daddy.”
“I know. Trust me to help you?”
If I could come twelve times today, I’d be able to come without permission, anytime I wanted, for the rest of our honeymoon. If I couldn’t, I’d need permission during the rest of our honeymoon, and Daddy would lock a chastity device on my cock for a month after we were home from our honeymoon.
He’d told me the deal a week before we were married, and two days before the jeweler permanently attached my waist chain, so it won’t come off now unless we cut it. I kind of think it was a challenge to make me submit fully to him. He knows how I feel about chastity devices, and by not speaking up and arguing it, I was telling him he could use them and I’d still marry him.
I never even considered telling him it was a no-go. Daddy owns me. I’m his boy. If I need a chastity device, he’ll use one. If it’ll do something to damage my trust in him, he won’t. There isn’t a doubt in my mind — my Daddy will never abuse the power I’ve given him over me.
I nodded, so tired I didn’t even open my eyes. “I trust you with my life, Daddy.”
He kissed my forehead. “I know you do, boy. We’ll need to get some caffeine in you before we leave.”
My eyes opened, my gaze met his. “Leave?”
“Yes, you’re going to wear those obscene little shorts you bought, and we’ll go out to eat, and then to a club.”
The shorts left the bottom half of my ass bare, and came down so low on my hips you got a hint of the top of my ass crack from the back, and could almost see the root of my cock from the front. My waist chain was an inch above the waistband, and you could see the other part heading to my cock. No way could I wear those shorts to a restaurant, but I trusted Daddy, so I didn’t argue.
He ran me through a cold shower after my bath, and had me drink a Coke for the caffeine. By the time we left, I was awake, but certain I’d never manage another hard-on. Or, at least not one in the next twenty-four hours.
He’d walked me to breakfast on a leash, and now he clicked it onto my collar again. I loved walking like this, so everyone knew I was Daddy’s boy. I was a little surprised when he locked my wrist and ankle cuffs on, but I got off on wearing them out in public when it was appropriate.
Halfway through the race season, it’d come out that Daddy and I were engaged to be married. My sponsor hadn’t been happy at first, but when there was nearly as much positive reaction as negative from fans, they’d chilled. Sales went up instead of down, because apparently more people chose their drink over others as a result of the company standing behind me.
Now, I was off the radar since the season was over, and it wasn’t likely anyone would recognize us. If they did, we’d deal with it. I was looking forward to next season, but if my sponsor dropped me because an image of me on a leash became public, someone else would pick me up. If I wasn’t the returning champion, things might’ve been different. No matter, I’d told Daddy two months earlier that being shown off as his boy on our honeymoon was more important than racing, and I’d done it during interrogation, just to make sure he saw how serious I was.
We walked along the beach for at least a mile before Daddy directed us up the steps of a restaurant and gave them his name. There were lots of other gay couples on the deck, and while my shorts were possibly skimpier than theirs, many were pretty close.
Daddy hooked my leash to the deck railing when I sat, and my cock gave a tiny throb despite what it’d been put through that day. I groaned, and Daddy kissed my forehead. “Love you, boy.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
Our waiter wore tight little shorts without a shirt, and his blond hair had streaks of a beautiful shade of teal. I told him I loved his hair, he thanked me, and told me he was jealous of my collar and leash before asking what we wanted to drink.
Daddy ordered a small shrimp salad for me, and I knew this meant he’d planned a scene for later. Usually, he’s urging me to eat more than a salad, but I don’t do well with much food on my stomach during intense scenes. My cock gave another tiny throb, and I closed my eyes and barely suppressed my moan.
I needed to use the restroom partway through dinner, but when I asked permission, Daddy said, “You’ll go when we’re through here. Don’t want you out of my sight.”
I held it okay. I didn’t need to go that bad, and the reminder Daddy could control so much of my life had my cock trying to come to life again. It didn’t, but it wanted to.
After dinner, Daddy pulled me into a stall and had me get him out and hold him while he pissed, before he’d let me go. He watched while I went, and surprised me by taking the steel ring off my cock. There was a way to connect the little chain dangling down to the part around my waist, and he did.
“Bunch your cock and balls in the front of your shorts, boy.”
Sometimes, I used to tuck everything between my legs, so it was smooth for some outfits, but Daddy isn’t a fan of that look. These shorts were so tight, you could see the PA jewelry, even though Daddy had put my least conspicuous ring into it the night before.
He ran his finger over the waist chain after I was put back together. He didn’t say it, but I practically heard him thinking, Mine. My cock gave another tiny throb.
It turns out, the restaurant we were in was attached to a gay bar, so we didn’t have to go outside to go into the bar. Instead of finding us a table, Daddy walked us to a door near the back, held a wad of cash up, and gave his name. The guy guarding the door was huge, and I wondered why they needed someone like that for security. He checked a tablet, looked us over, and opened the door so we could go in.
A brightly lit staircase was in front of us, and Daddy stopped and turned me to him. “Our membership at the club in Atlanta let me make arrangements to come as a visitor here. High protocol, obey orders the second I give them. Understand?”
“I do, Daddy. Thank you.”
He grinned. “You’re very welcome. Shorts off and in the bag. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but you’re forbidden from getting an erection tonight until ordered to do so.”
He held the leash loose, and I stayed two steps behind him. A low beat played upstairs, muted light throughout, with spotlights on the stations.
Daddy walked me past the stations and to a small gathering at a stage. He turned, tugged me closer and put his mouth at my ear. “You’ll read the rules and sign the paperwork.”
“Yes, Sir.”
My cock wanted to come to life when I realized I’d be on stage, competing with other boys. The rules said our cocks would go in a gel-filled mechanical mouth while someone fingered our ass and pegged our prostate from behind. The last two boys to stay soft would remain on stage, because after one of us had won, we’d have to get an erection and then come in front of everyone — to prove we could, but we’d just been holding back for the contest.
Razor
* * *
Legally, Matty was my husband, but he’d always be my boy. He was beyond exhausted, but I’ve seen him pull off more than one win on the track when it seemed impossible. I knew he’d hold out tonight, and then I was certain he’d dig deep for a hard-on — not just to avoid the chastity device, but because my boy is so damned co
mpetitive. In our rented beach house, with just the two of us, it’s possible he’d been done for the day, but I’d spent time talking to the head dungeon master down here, and he’d liked my little contest idea.
Four boys competed. All were put on a padded bondage table facing the audience, a spreader bar between wrists, another between ankles, and posture collars that forced them to look straight ahead at the audience.
Cams were placed under them, so the audience could see all four cocks on screens around the room. None were allowed anything except the most minimum of piercing jewelry — no cock-rings, no cages.
When the first boy to go hard was taken off stage, the Top on the far right walked him off stage, and the other Tops changed gloves, re-lubed, and started working on a different boy. This was designed to keep it fair, in case one was way better than the others, or one wasn’t very good.
The rules stated that if twenty minutes passed with at least two boys still soft, the Tops would use three fingers instead of two, and nipple stimulation would be added.
Matty’s eyes grew big when he realized he was going to have to deal with vibrating nipple clamps, and I crossed my arms and gave him a smirk. I’d parked myself right in front of him — the only way to shut me out was to close his eyes, but he didn’t appear to want to shut me out.
The extra stimulation proved too much for my boy’s final opponent, and I took to the stage while the Tops were helping both boys stand while taking their equipment off.
Matty gasped at my fingers on his nipples, still recovering from the vibrating clamps. “You good, boy?”
“Perfect, Daddy.”
A winch let a hook down from above, and I connected his left wrist to it. The hook rose, and I motioned for them to stop before it pulled him uncomfortably.
Only sealed containers of lube were allowed on stage, which meant no coconut oil. I popped three lube containers open, dumped the contents of two in his right hand, and spread the third on his cock.
He moaned in protest at the blindfold, but I knew it would help him sink into himself and block out everyone but me.
I nodded to the dungeon master, and he turned my mic on. “Stroke yourself, boy. Let everyone here see you get yourself off. I’ll pull the paddle out at one minute, and things’ll only ramp up from there.”
I paddled him a minute, caned him several minutes, and when he was finally hard, gathered three floggers, hung two from my belt loop, and started in on him with a medium weighted one.
I matched his rhythm for a while, which means when I sped up, so did he — and I doubted he even realized it.
The time limit for an ejaculation was fifteen minutes, and my boy shot his wad at my command at exactly eleven minutes. He’d been right on the edge and had only needed a final push, and his Daddy ordering it had been enough.
His Daddy.
Me.
Someone handed me a baby wipe, and I cleaned his hand and cock before I disconnected his left arm from the hook. I didn’t mess with the blindfold — no need in forcing him to deal with reality yet. I carried him to the smaller dungeon room off to the side, bent him over a spanking bench, slathered some lube on my cock, and rammed into him without any further prep.
“Yes!” Matty shouted. “Fuck, yes. Please. Oh, god. Yours. I’m yours.”
“Damned straight you are, boy. Forever and always. Mine.”
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* * *
Do you want to know more about the other bikers in this world? Keep reading for an excerpt from Brain’s story!
Also by Candace Blevins
If you enjoyed Razor, you may also like the other books set in the same universe, though in different series.
* * *
Chattanooga Supernaturals series, paranormal romance:
The Dragon King (Aaron Drake’s story, and the first time we meet Duke and Brain)
Riding the Storm (Kendra and Eric’s story)
Acceptable Risk (Bethany, Ranger, Mac, and Jonathan’s story)
Careful What You Ask For
Hallowed Destiny – Forged by Darkness
Uncaged (Ghost’s mother’s story)
Slave – A Dark(ish) Faerie Tale
* * *
Only Human series, urban fantasy
Only Human
An Unhuman Journey
Of Humans and Monsters
Defining Human
Unhuman Acts (TBA)
* * *
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Series
Duke
Brain
Bash Volume I
Bash Volume II
Bash Volume III
Horse
Gonzo (where we first meet Britches/Briana)
Nix
Ghost
Bud
Razor (TBA)
The Dark Underbelly of The Chattanooga Supernaturals
Pride (A short story featuring The Lion King)
Indentured Freedom: Owned by the Vampire (Gavin)
Leashed (Abbott)
An Elegant Weapon (Bran)
The Safeword series, intense BDSM contemporary romance
Safeword Rainbow
Safeword: Davenport
Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon
Safeword: Quinacridone
Safeword: Matte (Sam and Ethan Levi’s story, we first meet Frisco and Cassie)
Safeword: Matte – In Training
No Safeword: Matte – The Honeymoon
No Safeword: Matte – Happily Ever After
Safeword: Arabesque (Frisco, Cassie, Abbot, and Cam’s story)
Safeword: Mayday (TBA)
* * *
Check out other books by Candace Blevins at candaceblevins.com.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Brain.
Excerpt from Brain
Ice
* * *
Some people talk about going off the grid like it's sexy, fun. But sometimes, the reality sucks.
I made my choices at twenty-one, and I’ve made it to twenty-five against all odds. I've successfully evaded law enforcement from the top dozen or so countries in the world, not to mention having members of the Russian Mafia after me, but now I've come up against another hacker.
For the first time in over four years, I'm not sure of my ability to elude him.
The asshole drives a Harley. He's tall and thin, all sculptured wiry muscles with a cocky assed attitude. If he wasn't my arch enemy, apparently out to kill or capture me at all costs, I might actually be interested. Genius hackers don’t usually come with muscles, speed, strength, leather clothes, and motorcycles.
However, he was most certainly after me — pissed at me for breaking through his firewalls and selling his MC’s secrets — and he's been on my tail for more than a week.
I used a fake identity he doesn’t know about to rent a high dollar hotel room. While I'd like to think the penthouse’s fancy security was good enough to keep him out, if he figured out where I was, I knew it’d barely slow him down. He drives a Harley and wears biker clothes, but I doubt he’d have trouble infiltrating even this place.
I hadn't slept in days, though, so I was going to have to crash and trust he wouldn’t figure out my location.
I chose this hotel, in part, because the penthouse suite has a balcony with access to the rooftop pool, giving me three exits — stairs, private elevator, and through the pool area to the public elevators and stairwell.
Of course, this meant he also had three ways to get to me, all of which required a key card, but he wouldn’t have any problems making what he needed to get past the electronics.
I was beginning to talk myself out of how safe this place was, but I was exhausted.
I hacked into the hotel security and rigged it to ring the hotel phone if anyone used a key card to access the penthouse elevator. I also hung bells on all the doors — it might be low tech but it would wake me if anyone entered.
An
d I crashed, fully clothed with my knife, pepper spray, and taser in my pocket, and my backpack ready to go in case I had to make a hasty exit.
I don't know how long I slept when the phone rang, and as I rolled out of bed and grabbed my backpack, the bell on the terrace door jangled.
He silenced it in a microsecond, though. He’s inhumanly fast, but I already knew that.
I’d left the window open, and I pulled my knife from my pocket and slung it open as I neared it, prepared to slash the screen so I could make it onto the terrace, and then hopefully get up to the pool and onto an elevator before he could get to me.
My ability to run fast has saved my ass more times than I can count, but this dude can run faster, and he terrifies me, which is why I chose to run instead of going for my pepper spray.
I lifted my hand, and a millisecond before I swiped down to cut the screen, he grabbed my arm and wrenched the knife from my hand.
The next thing I knew, I was on the bed, face down as he strapped my wrists and ankles with zip-ties. Panic threatened, but I’ve managed to get out of close scrapes before — I just needed to keep my head on straight and figure out how to get away from him. I breathed through my fear and reminded myself I needed to keep my wits about me if I was going to get away from him.
My eye had been tender from wearing my contact so long, and I’d taken it off before going to sleep.
When he rolled me over, I kept my eyes closed.
“You’re Ice?” he asked, but I kept my mouth and eyes shut.
“I already know you wear colored contacts,” he said, his voice soft, deadly, “so you may as well open them. Before we’re finished, I’m going to know everything about you, so open your eyes and let’s get started.”
Razor: Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 11 Page 26
