Page 15 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)

Chapter 15

Daisy

Once, when he left me bound and I thought he was asleep, he must’ve gone home, because he returned with leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a whole lot of dildos and butt plugs. Also, blindfolds, a whole bunch of gags, and so many whips, floggers, and canes, it was clear I’d signed my life away to a sexual pervert, though I didn’t dare point that out, by this point.

He finally cut the duct-tape cuffs and cincher off me, though, and allowed me to take a shower and wash my hair. He’d just rubbed me down everywhere with baby wipes, since that first shower however-many-days before.

A shower felt heavenly .

He set the temperature of the water, though, and while it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t exactly warm, either.

But at the end? Once all the soap was out of my hair, he turned it to freezing cold and held me in there while he counted down from thirty, aloud so I’d hear him, but I let loose with a string of cuss words, so I didn’t hear much of it.

“You bastard! Motherfucker! Let me out!”

When he’d counted down to zero, he sat on the closed toilet, put me over his lap, and spanked me with his bare hand until tears flowed from my eyes and I was apologizing profusely. My ass was fiery hot when he finished, and it felt bruised. His hand is big and meaty and he hit me hard , over and over and over. I thought he’d never stop, and I was a crying mess when he finally did, choking on my own tears and snot.

But still, he wasn’t mad or angry. He was so matter-of-fact about everything, I wanted to make him mad, or do something to show emotion, but I also didn’t want him to ever spank me like that again.

And then he’d dried me, wrapped a warm blanket fresh from the dryer around me, and sat with me in his lap, holding me like an infant in his tree-trunk sized arms.

“The spanking was for calling me names and being disrespectful. The cold water at the end wasn’t punishment, but you needed to understand what a cold shower will be like, and now you do. You can earn the right to regulate the temperature yourself, but until then, I’ll do so for you. Today, it was lukewarm because I’m pleased with your attempts to obey. If I’m displeased, it’ll be cooler, and if you stop trying to please me, it’ll be cold water without any warm at all. So long as you’re trying, there’ll be at least a little warmth.”

There was no question, so I couldn’t respond. I could only lie in his arms. When I was nearly asleep, all warm and cozy and mostly vertical, he started asking questions. He wanted to know my favorite foods, what I considered my biggest comfort foods, what I detested. I told him things I just didn’t like, and not my most hated, but he put the damned nipple clamps back on, and I told him every food I could think of that I hate.

He asked about my workout routine, and when I told him I do yoga, he instructed me to go through my routine.

And he sat and watched in silence for the forty-five minutes it took me to go through all the poses I know, and to hold them and sink into each of them.

By this time, at least a week after signing the contract though it felt like much longer, I was used to him handling me, and I was no longer mortified about being naked all the time. I’d yet to see him without his jeans on, but that was fine with me.

I almost always had something in my pussy, and I’d been horny a great deal because of that, but I’d yet to have an orgasm. I’d gotten terribly close a few times, and it felt like he was binding me into different positions with a dildo inside me in some kind of scientific manner, as if he was trying to figure out which positions were a turn-on and which weren’t.

I came really close to an orgasm while I was bound over the back of the sofa, because I finally got pressure on my clit, but before I could work myself over, he put a spreader bar between my legs and changed the way I was leaned over it enough, I couldn’t get pressure on my clit.

And then I was just frustrated all over again.

When he left me so he could sleep that night, or at least I assume it was night, I was on my feet, leaned over at the waist, with my wrists connected to the front of my collar. I wore an actual waist cincher now, connected to a chain hanging from the ceiling. The waist cincher went from just under my boobs all the way down over my hips, and it was connected at the top and bottom. I could lift my legs and put all my weight on it, and it wasn’t terribly comfortable, but it didn’t hurt, either.

I knew better than to beg him not to leave me like this, though. If I said anything intelligible, he’d put the horrid bit gag with the extra tongue depressor in my mouth, and then I’d be even more miserable.

How many times had he left me to sleep? I counted the positions in my head and realized this should be the seventh night. Or was it the eighth? I’d slept before we signed the contract, and little did I know it’d be the last time I was allowed the luxury of sleeping in a bed for so motherfucking long.

Before he closed the door, he told me, “We’ll begin oral training tomorrow, before breakfast, so you can learn to take my cock down your throat. You’ll get a new rule tomorrow, but you’ll write it out before we begin training, instead of after breakfast.”

And didn’t that just set my mind to spinning? On the third morning, I think, he’d handed me a lined piece of paper and had me write a number one, and then told me to write, I will not speak unless asked a direct question .

Later in the day, after another meal, he’d had me write a number two, and my next rule, I will use an honorific every time I speak to Master. Sir is fine during relaxed conversations or when in public, but Master will be used anytime I’m being trained for any reason, or being used as a sexual object. There may be situations where I’m instructed not to do so, but they will be rare. I will learn appropriate usage through trial and error.

On another occasion after our meal, he’d put the paper and pen before me, and had me write a number three, and then, I will only speak the absolute honest truth when I talk to Master .

And Master had clarified that, because it’s possible to be dishonest without telling an actual lie, he wanted to be clear that deceit by omission isn’t acceptable, and the point of this rule is about being honest as well as telling the truth.