Page 31 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)
Chapter 31
Daisy
It wasn’t just a blindfold. It was made of leather, and it covered my entire head. There were nose holes so I could breathe, and he showed me that there were zippers at my eyes and mouth, but he kept them closed.
He at least let me walk down the steps before he put it on, but then every five steps, he spun me in a circle. Sometimes one direction, sometimes another, and it was more than one circle, and I doubt they were full circles. He kept his hands on me, so I was never in danger of falling, but everything was backwards and wrong, and I had no idea what part of the downstairs we were in when he finally took the hood off.
We were inside a safe, and there were guns, stacks and stacks of cases of bullets, and more cash than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“I look okay on paper, and I have enough liquid I could buy a late-model used car without it putting me short, but coming up with sixty or eighty grand for a new car would take some creative financing. However, if it’s something I can pay cash for, like a laptop, or shoes, or clothes, it isn’t a problem.”
I’ve seen a million in hundreds in a suitcase, so I knew how much room that took, and if these were all hundreds, he probably had thirty million dollars. I shook my head and walked forward to look at the cash close-up, and saw that it was mostly twenties, which would make it closer to six million. I walked to the side, saw mostly tens, walked more to the side, and saw some fives.
“So, you have nearly three million in cash in your basement? Unlaundered, I assume.” And untaxed.
He smiled. “A little less than that, a touch over two million, but an excellent guesstimate. Your family probably keeps their cash in hundreds, but it’s easier to spend in smaller bills. I also have some fail-safes. Bullets sell well during the collapse of any civilization, plus I’ve accumulated a whole lot of silver, and a little gold.”
I looked at the shelves he motioned to, and saw a shitload of silver coins and bars, and enough gold I was impressed. I had no idea the worth of bullets, or silver and gold in these forms, but it was a lot. Probably more than I assumed, which was at least another million.
He’d told me, once, that he had a list of things he wanted me to do, that he wasn’t ordering me to do. I’d figured, at the time, that offering sex when he didn’t demand it was probably on that list, and it seemed like a good opportunity to do so for the first time.
“Have you ever had sex in your safe, Master?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I have not.”
But how to ask for it? Making demands would probably be bad, but any way I worded it, I’d be implying he didn’t have a right to… uggg. “This is tricky, Master. I find…” Crap. Stupid pronouns. I started again. “Your slave wants to offer sex of her own free will when you aren’t demanding it, but without implying you wouldn’t have a right to, Master.”
“And what services is my slave offering?”
I was amusing him, so I kept at it. If I got to choose, I’d want his mouth, but this should probably be about pleasing him. “However Master wants to use his slave would be wonderful, Sir.”
“Well, I don’t have any lube on me, and I’m not of a mind to go get any, so that leaves mouth and cunt.”
He looked around the room, and I noted there were two large workstations — one designed for someone standing, the other for someone seated. He pulled his shirt off and settled it on the lower workstation.
I leaned over, rested my upper body on the shirt, spread my legs, and arched my back. When he was pleased with me, he usually put a cushion down for my knees when I gave him a blowjob, but he’d never cushioned a table for me to lean over it, before.
“Keep your face on the shirt,” he said. “I rebundle cash on this table — no telling what germs are on it.”
Ah, so this was about keeping his slave healthy, and not about her comfort.
Shit, now he had me thinking of myself as a slave instead of an “I”. Fuck .
He pressed the head of his dick to my opening without any foreplay, and I tried hard to be open for him, but I wasn’t wet enough when he started pushing in, and he slapped my ass.
I flinched, expecting it to hurt, but it only stung a little, and for some odd reason, I wiggled my butt at him.
He chuckled, stepped away, and slapped the other cheek — again, hard enough to sting, but it didn’t truly hurt.
“You been spanked for pleasure before, little flower?”
“No, Sir.”
Another swat to my right cheek, then my left. Then two more. And two more.
And then fingers inside my pussy, and it was wet now.
“Seems we might need to explore the fun to be had with a reward spanking, but later.”
And then his dick was back in my pussy, filling me, opening me. He went all the way in and curled the fingers of both hands around my shoulders.
“New game, little flower. Hold onto your orgasm. If you don’t think you can, warn me and I’ll back off, but you don’t get to come until I give you permission. If you can hold it back, we’ll explore that reward spanking when we go upstairs, and you’ll get lots of orgasms. If you can’t hold onto it, I have a fucking machine that will fuck you in all three holes at once, and I’ll put you on it for two hours and then make you run three miles on the treadmill.”
If he hadn’t told me I couldn’t orgasm, it’s possible I wouldn’t have needed to at all, but knowing I wasn’t allowed made everything in my body shoot straight into the stratosphere. Master went slow for a few thrusts, nearly all the way out and then all the way in, but before long he’d picked up speed and was slamming into me, and I shouted, “I can’t hold onto it, please help me Master!”
He slowed and squeezed my right shoulder. “Good girl. Breathe through it. Let your arousal settle a little.”
After a half-dozen times of slowing so I could regain control and then working me up so I was close again, Master ordered me to come, but then it took nearly ten seconds for me to manage to let go of it and find release.
But when all that energy finally exploded inside me, I think I moved more than I ever have before, trying to deal with the spasms and contractions rippling through me, undulating inside me over and over until I wasn’t sure the orgasm was ever going to subside. Fire shot through my veins and was soothed by the bliss of release, and I screamed until my voice echoed back to me.
And then it was over, and I locked my legs so I wouldn’t collapse on the floor. The table held most of my weight, but my legs still threatened to collapse.
“Good girl. Turn around and clean my cock, little slave.”
I rotated off the table so I was on my knees facing him, and he spread his legs so he was low enough I could reach his cock when I was kneeled up. I licked his cock and balls, getting all my juices off him, and he stepped back and zipped himself back into his pants.
“Good girl. Stand and grab your elbows.”
Thankfully, he grasped my upper arm and helped me stand, because I was still shaky. He stroked my nipples, pinched them a little, and just like that, my clit was throbbing again.
Master smirked and then placed my hands so I held his hips while he put the hood back on me. He only gave me orders I could handle. Master knew what his slave needed.
When the hood was back on, he rested a hand on my shoulder and told me, “Grasp your elbows again. Stick your tits out.”
The second I was in position, Master effortlessly lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, but I held back the whine my body wanted to give. I don’t like being carried this way, but I figured he wouldn’t care how I felt about it, so I didn’t tell him — and refrained from being all whiny about it, because sometimes he’s amused when I use vocalizations to show him I don’t like something, but most of the time he’s just annoyed. I was also careful to continue holding my elbows behind my back. If he gives me a position order and I fail to hold it, he ties me into that position for hours, sometimes until the next day.
I’m pretty sure he went into and out of every room in the basement more than once, and there was once again enough spinning, I was completely disoriented by the time he walked me upstairs. He sat me in a chair and backed away from me slowly, making sure I was okay in the chair before he let go of me.
“You get extra points for holding onto your elbows even after I picked you up. You can let go now, and it’s fine to take the hood off. Feel free to wash your face and use the restroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I heard his footsteps going downstairs, and I felt the back of the mask, where he’d manipulated something to tighten it onto my face. It took me a few seconds to figure out the mechanism, and I lifted it off my head and placed it carefully on a table before I made my way to the bathroom.
He was on the sofa when I returned to the living room, and Master motioned for me to come to him. “There are all kinds of ways to lean over someone’s lap. Today, we’re going for comfort, so you’ll be stretched out on the sofa with your ass over my legs. Do whatever you want with your hands — beside you, under you, or maybe even under your head.”
It turns out, the act of lying over someone’s lap is awkward as fuck, and once I thought I was there, he repositioned me, so my butt was higher in the air.
“This is a reward spanking, which means it’s supposed to be a good hurt. If it turns into a bad hurt, you’re allowed to say the words, ‘ bad hurt ’ to let me know. When you’re being punished, that’s the whole point, so if you ever tell me when you know damned well I’m already aware, the pain levels will increase dramatically. Now, explain what I’ve just said in your own words.”
“You’re giving me a way to let you know if it’s a bad hurt today because this is supposed to be something I like, but you don’t want to hear my opinions when I’m being punished for real, Master.”
He patted my ass. “Excellent grasp of the facts, little flower.”
The heat of Master’s humongous hand rested on my lower back, and the warmth soaked into me. His other hand smoothed over my bottom, and I suddenly wanted to feel him strike my bottom again. But then his hand lifted into the air and I braced for the strike.
“Stay relaxed for me. No tensing.”
I wiggled my toes and forced my butt muscles to relax, and then his hand slammed onto one cheek and then the other, the sound reverberating to the walls and back. The muscles tensed again, but I relaxed them as quickly as I could, and I marveled at the entire concept of a good hurt . I’d have never believed it, but damn if his terminology wasn’t exactly right. It hurt, but I wanted more of it. I mean, not a lot more, but still, more.
Master found a rhythm I could fall into, not terribly fast, but there was no more pausing. Right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek. Over and over, impact after impact, until the warmth of his hands became the heat of my ass.
And my hips took on a life of their own, moving and squirming, lifting my naked butt up in offering, begging for more, and more, and more .
Master began hitting a little harder, but no faster, and my groans and moans turned into yelps, but no way did I want him to stop.
His hands are huge, and meaty, and eventually I felt the impact more than the sting. It was a different kind of pain, but still a good pain — though right on the edge of bad.
But I didn’t want it to stop. My skin depressing with the impact, the muscles underneath absorbing the force, over and over.
It was almost too much, almost more than I could handle, and then his hands were around my sides, and he lifted me, sat me on his cock, and pressed me down. It hurt and I yelped, but I didn’t tell him it was a bad hurt.
“Give me a second, little flower. This is still your reward. Hang on.”
He lifted me, pressed me down, and then lifted himself off the sofa a few inches, moved his hips forward, and told me, “Feet flat on the sofa, knees pointed towards the ceiling.”
I moved my legs, and this time, when he lifted me and put me back down, he wasn’t slamming right into my cervix, and I moaned in pleasure to let him know it worked for me.
And then he proceeded to use me like a great big fleshlight, moving me up and down on his cock until I needed to come. Before I could tell him I was close, he ordered, “Come on my cock, little Daisy. Squeeze those cunt muscles and let me feel it.”
My butt was still flaming hot, and that heat must’ve transferred to my pussy, because fuck , it was like I became the orgasm, like I didn’t exist, only the pleasure did, and Master kept moving me even after I was coming, until I thought I’d die from bliss. The walls around us fell away until it was just us and the universe, inundated by ecstasy.
When the orgasm finally waned, he left me on his dick, but let me lean forward onto him, and he folded his arms around me, and it was perfect . Is it wrong to fall in love with your captor? Because I was head-over-heels in love with my Master, and the idea he might want me to leave and go off on my own in five years suddenly terrified me.