Page 14 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)

Chapter 14

Daisy

My first days with Master are kind of a blur. I was bound almost all the time, but he didn’t rape me, as I expected him to. He fed me really good food, but my wrists were tied to the chair during meals, and I was fed like a child. A few times, he allowed me to hold a glass or bottle and drink, but most of the time, he held a straw to my lips, or tipped a glass up. And always, he fed me with his fingers, or a fork, or a spoon.

And what was it about his fingers touching my mouth that created this throbbing, pulsing, ache between my legs. And sometimes he did more than tie my hands to the chair, but used ropes all over so I couldn’t move anything while he fed me, the scratchy ropes rubbing against me as I moved and squirmed, trying to ignore what was going on down below and focus on the food, but then his fingers would stroke across my lips again when he fed me, and everything pulsed even more .

He was cruel at times, but mostly, Dozer took care of all my needs, and he did so with kindness.

Well, all of my needs except one, because he didn’t let me fucking sleep .

I was never in a dark room, lying horizontal. He left me alone for long hours, likely when he was sleeping, but sometimes I was bound standing, while other times I was bound seated, but it was always light, never dark, and I had no idea what time of day it was.

He was kind, though. He carried me around like a baby, he fed me like a parent, and even when he put me in a horrible position so I ended up fucking myself on a candle for what felt like hours and hours and hours , he was gentle when he put me into place and then gentle when he removed me. My pussy felt like I’d been gang-raped because I spent so much time bound with a large candle inside me, but he hadn’t actually fucked me yet. He hadn’t put so much as a finger inside me.

I was beyond exhausted, and so sleep-deprived I could barely think, when he began to train me to follow orders.

At first, the orders involved exercise. Push-ups, crunches, running in place, and chin-ups on a bar he hung from the ceiling. He ordered me to clean the kitchen after he made spaghetti, and when I didn’t wipe the counters and stove down to his specifications, he showed me where I went wrong and had me do it again, but he was patient about it.

When he made breakfast for us the next day and I missed a spot on the stove, I received my first consequence — kneeling on rice while facing the corner for fifteen minutes. He still wasn’t angry with me, though. He calmly told me where to kneel, and then hooked me up so I wouldn’t be able to move once I was down.

I had no idea how badly that was going to hurt until I was in the midst of it, and I vowed to myself to never fuck that up again. He wanted it wiped and cleaned perfectly, and I’d pay better attention to doing so in the future. I cried huge elephant tears while I kneeled in the corner, but I didn’t dare speak and tell him it hurt, lest he’d put something horrible on my tongue again. I could make sounds, but he didn’t want me speaking unless he asked a direct question, and he rarely did, in those first days.

When my fifteen minutes were up, I had to clean the rice from the floor, and I was careful to find every last grain. Then he gave me the sponge and rag and instructed me to wipe everything in the kitchen down again, and I was super-careful to be certain all surfaces were spotless, this time.

Later, he showed me a number of positions, and he talked me through the logic of how he’d numbered them. Position One was lying on my back with my knees up in the air, kind of like the bottom of missionary. Position Two was lying on my stomach. Position Three was knees and chest. Position Four was on all fours. Position Twenty-One, the final position, was standing with my legs spread and my hands clasped behind my head.

And each position had variations, and I thought they were easy at first, except he demanded I look pleasing in every variation of every position, and that was damned hard in some of them.

I first experienced Master’s belt during the second day of position training, which I think was maybe five or six days after I signed the contract. If I didn’t immediately go into the proper position, he struck me with it, and once in position, if he wasn’t pleased with my posture and bearing, he’d tell me and give me a few seconds to fix myself, but if I didn’t, he usually struck me three times before talking me through what I must do to look pleasing.