Page 13 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)

Chapter 13

Dozer

I walked her straight to the bathroom, sat on the closed toilet lid, put her over my lap, inserted one of the disposable enemas I’d purchased at the Dollar General into her rectum, and squeezed.

She tried to speak, but one of the clamps was back on her tongue so her words weren’t understandable. There were certainly a lot of O syllables, likely her trying to say “no” over and over again, but I ignored her vocalizations.

I popped her once on the ass, hard enough to make her shut up so she could hear me. “When you’ve been silent two minutes, I’ll let you sit on the toilet and shit it out. Keep blathering, and I’ll stuff a great big ole butt plug up your ass and hold it there, so you can’t go around it.”

I let her sit on the toilet about fifteen seconds early because I wasn’t comfortable with the scent of her distress, and the object wasn’t to set her up for failure. I wanted to get my point across that I now controlled her in every way, even the most basic, but I didn’t want to make her shit herself.

Pissing herself had been crucial, and it might eventually become necessary to make her shit herself, but I hoped we could avoid that.

I used baby wipes and then toilet paper to clean her when I was certain the enema had done its job, and then settled her on the dining room table, which doubled as a bondage table, so within minutes, her wrists were bound to connections near her hips, and then I lifted her legs into the air and used a two-foot length of rope to connect her ankles to connectors at the top corners.

This made it easy to get inside her folds with baby wipes, and to visually make certain she was clean everywhere .

And then I released her, sat her up, took the clamp off her tongue, and offered her a bottle of high-calorie sports drink.

I’d offered it to her every thirty minutes while she’d been bound, with a straw so it was easy for her to drink it without hands, but she’d refused it the last hour and a half. Now, she drank deeply when I offered it to her, and seemed to relish the fact she was holding the bottle and drinking without help.

“No words,” I told her while she was drinking. “If you speak an understandable word, I’ll be forced to take your tongue out of the equation again.”

When she finished drinking, she put the lid back on the bottle and just sat and looked at me. Silent.

I expected we’d need to learn this lesson a few times before it stuck, but it was an excellent start.

A big part of breaking her was going to involve sleep deprivation. I’d allowed her to get a good sleep before we negotiated the contract because it’d been important to me that she signed it when rested, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep that many hours at a time for a while, going forward.

I, on the other hand, could use some solid sleep.

I still had the top part of the leggings, the piece left after cutting all the strips of legs off. Now, I cut the crotch out and then put what was left around her waist, and used strips of the duct tape to fashion a waist cincher. Not terribly tight, because she was going to be in it for days, possibly as long as a week. I needed a safe way to connect her to the tie-off points on the wall, and this should easily suffice. You can hang shapeshifters from their wrists and ankles for hours and hours, but you have to be more careful with humans.

She was already exhausted, and a tiny part of me wanted to take it easy on her, but I’d learned from Khan that you don’t do slaves any favors by backing off during the breaking process. Watch them and make sure you don’t endanger their health, but it takes time to properly drill the message in — exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and extreme discomfort are necessary background conditions to everything else that happens to them.

And so, once the waist cincher was a work of art on her slim midriff, I sat her on the floor with her back to the wall, her legs out in front of her, and I chained the connectors I’d put on the sides of the cincher to tie-off points meant for someone’s ankles, and used padlocks to secure all points. I connected her wrists to an o-ring I’d installed on the front of the cincher, and I used a padlock this time, rather than a carabiner.

And since this rental was equipped for vampires and their people, this room locked from the outside, so even if she got free, she wouldn’t get out of the room. She was seated, she couldn’t lie down, and she might manage to doze, but she wouldn’t get much actual sleep. Still, her weight was off her feet, which I considered a small kindness. I left the light on, and I wasn’t certain if that was a kindness or not. She wasn’t going to be afraid in the dark, but she also wasn’t going to have the luxury of trying to nap in the dark.

And then I slept.