Page 48 of Dozer

Chapter 38

Dozer

I took her on two more day-trip rides before I took her to the clubhouse when the ol’ladies would be there. It’d been nine weeks since the first ride, and she hadn’t offered to do or say anything that might make them think she needed to be rescued, so it was time to risk it.

However, it was a weeknight, and not a weekend. She had the electro-plug in, and I tied it into the club’s security system, so she’d be shocked if she left the main room. She could go behind the bar, but she couldn’t go into the kitchen. If she needed to use the bathroom, she’d have to tell me, and I’d turn the plug off, walk her to one of the single-toilet bathrooms, and I’d go in with her.

Razor had told me Matty wanted to invite us over, as a couple, for dinner, and I’d told him I would take him up on that when Daisy was ready for that kind of encounter.

“How much have you told your boy?” I asked Razor.

“That you held her captive while you figured out what to do with her, and one thing led to another, and now it’s a consensual slave relationship. Both of you want to keep it to just yourselves for now, and you’ll figure out how much to share, if anything, later.”

Which was kind of close to the truth, and yet, also far from it.

As a kind of insurance, I had pictures of us, taken by my brothers, eating at three restaurants, some of them with my seatempty beside her. Also, pictures of us with various waterfalls behind us, and pics of her on my bike behind me with and without the helmets. She’d be hard-pressed to claim I’d held her captive when I could show I’d taken her out in public, and that she smiled and laughed and had fun with me. It wasn’t impossible for her to do so, but it would certainly complicate things.

Brain assured me he hadn’t shared her last name with anyone except Harmony, and that he’d sworn her to secrecy. No one had heard the ol’ladies gossiping about her as if they knew her last name, so we should be good there, too. Daisy had never had a huge online presence. If you looked her up by her full name, you’d see tons of pics of her at galas, red carpet events, and big political shindigs, but it wasn’t like she’d been well-known outside of that tight social circle. Also, I couldn’t see where she was ever calledDaisyonline, just her actual full name.

I didn’t ask Razor to put Matty in his collar tonight, but the boy had one on, and when someone asked about her choker and she said it meant she belonged to me, Matty told everyone, “Razor doesn’t make me wear a collar all the time, but I love wearing it and showing I belong to someone.”

I’d long-since apologized for being a fuckwad to Razor and Matty, but I still felt like shit every time Matty went out of his way to be kind to me. I would totally deserve it if he made Daisy feel as if she wasn’t welcome, but he was going the extra mile to help her feel comfortable, and I needed to do something to show him I noticed and appreciated it. I’d buy an ol’lady a box of chocolates or bring them food from a favorite restaurant, but Matty doesn’t really eat all that much, plus, he’s both an ol’lady and a man, and I decided to focus on the latter. Whiskey, maybe. Or fuck, a couple of bottles from a local winery I happened to know he especially likes. More of an ol’lady gift, after all.

It turns out, my little Daisy knows how to play pool, and after a couple of games of practice to get back in the swing of it, she ran the table more than once. She royally sucked at darts and air hockey, and refused to even try the foosball table.

When I asked her about it later, she told me, “My boarding school required we learn the basics of most social games and activities, Sir — bridge, poker, billiards, golf, polo, snow skiing, sailing, scuba. If we showed talent at one or more, we were given extra lessons. I excel at poker and billiards, and I have advanced open-water certification for scuba.” She sighed. “Under this name. I guess that’s another thing that goes into the pro side for keeping this identity.”

We hadn’t talked about that in a while. I’d seen the pro and con lists on her laptop, and I was impressed with the thought she’d put into it, but I wasn’t sure which direction she was leaning.

“Want to talk about where you are with that?”

She shrugged. “If I can be sure my parents won’t be able to force me back under their control, I think I might want to be me.”

“If that’s what you want to do, we’ll get an attorney involved before you go public with it, just to make sure we’re good legally. You’re an adult, and I know the rules are different for that segment of society, but unless they find a psychiatrist who says you need to be put into an institution to keep you safe, I’m not sure what they could do legally, so long as we keep you on U.S. soil.”

“So many options, and an attorney will be good, but it might be more about coming forward in a way that won’t humiliate them, Master. You know, going on social media and letting everyone know I want to be a tattoo artist, but being clear I love my parents and the life they tried to give me, but that art feedsmy soul, so I’ll leave the legal and political aspirations to those who thrive on that sort of thing.”

“The MC has tons of rules about social media. Usually, brothers can’t have any online presence at all, but Viper’s an exception because he has to promote his work. Ol’ladies can have a presence, but they can’t mention the MC, show any logos, or talk about their ol’men. Not even to say we went to the grocery store with them, or they spent the day at home with us, or where we take them for their birthday or Valentine’s Day. I’ll have other rules for you, too. Other than your posted work schedule, once you have one, you’ll never say where you’ll be ahead of time, never talk about a trip until you’ve returned home from it. No images of the inside or outside of our home. No images of any of our vehicles — yours or mine.”

“All of that makes sense, Master. I know it’ll be a while before I’m allowed social media, but it’s good you think I’ll have it, eventually. Thank you for that, Sir.”

We were in the basement of the club, in my room, and it felt like we were finished with that conversation for the time being, so I grabbed a carabiner from the nightstand, hooked her wrists behind her back, and told her, “Lean over the bed, Daisy May. No more words.”

* * * *

Dozer

Viper had told me he wanted to spend some time with her the morning after. I assumed it was to talk to her and get a feel for whether he might want to bring her on as an apprentice, but he took her off to the side, at one of the tables, and handed her a couple of pieces of what I later learned were fake skin especially made to practice with a tattoo machine. He put a tattoo pen/gun/machine thing into her right hand, and talked her through a simple tattoo.

When she finished it, he had her tattoo shaded boxes on another piece of fake skin with four different devices, and talked to her about which felt best in her hand. I left the two of them at it, and when he eventually left her to it with another piece of fake skin and the tattoo device she’d liked best, he came and sat beside me, where I was busy with a racing game.

“She liked the most expensive gun I showed her. I wrote the names of all three down for her, in the order she liked them, best to least. She picked it up fast. It isn’t terribly hard, but you have to time the speed of your hand with the speed the ink goes down, and within five or six strokes, she mostly had it.”

“Are you interested in letting her intern? Marco has someone downtown who will, when it’s time, if you aren’t in a place to take someone on.”

I sensed he was making some kind of decision, and I assumed it had to do with her, but then he shrugged and said, “I gave Duke and Brain a proposal a few days ago, for a Rolling Thunder Tattoo and Piercing shop, with an attached Rolling Thunder Salon. Technically, two businesses, but we’d handle the bookings for all three services through the same app, and we’d want them side-by-side. One big Rolling Thunder sign to cover both, and then a smaller sign to show the services for both. The salon would be open one or two nights a week to cater to vampire clientele, and I already have two stylists interested, plus Lexi makes three.”

Ahh. Not common knowledge yet, and likely wouldn’t be unless Brain ran the numbers and felt it was feasible, at which point, it would come to a vote.

---