Page 45 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)

Chapter 45

Daisy

I was wearing clothes while alone with Master, and it felt wrong, but I understood his explanation. While we were in this room at this house, I was Marguerite Chanel-Hearst, an autonomous human who had not signed a five-year indentured servitude contract. I was to make decisions for the person I’d be when those five years were up, and not for the person I would be during the next four or so years.

But while the reasoning might be different for free-Daisy, she agreed with slave-Daisy: We wanted to marry the man who’d claimed our heart. Whether I thought of him as Dozer or Master, I wanted to be his wife more than anything else on the planet.

But Master… no. Not Master . I had to think of him as Dozer in this room, and Dozer wanted me to not only make a decision, but explain the decision to him.

“Slave-Daisy doesn’t like to make decisions, and she’s relieved when Master makes them for her. She’s afraid of life without Master. Free-Daisy made a mess of everything, and she wants to make her own decisions, but she acknowledges that Dozer has done a better job of figuring out what she wants and creating a plan to make those things happen. Free-Daisy hopes Dozer will find a balance between helping her not fuck her life up while making decisions at some point during the next five years, but she also kind of hopes Dozer doesn’t stop fucking her every chance he gets, because both slave-Daisy and free-Daisy would miss that horribly.”

I took a breath. “Both slave-Daisy and free-Daisy are madly in love with you. Both want to be your wife, even if that means being your slave-wife for the next five years.”

“And if it means being my slave-wife for good? I mean, sure, you’ll eventually be able to come and go by yourself, but only with permission when it isn’t for work. I figure I’ll be a benevolent dictator most of the time, but you have to know it won’t be pleasant when you misbehave, or when you fail to follow a directive in exactly the way I order it.” He shrugged. “Or when I just want to hurt you for the hell of it, because I can. Because you’re mine , and that proves it beyond a motherfuckin’ doubt.”

I sat and looked at him a few moments. Was he saying this would go past the five years? I’d thought we could just be husband and wife after, but then I’d told him I didn’t want sex to change.

He sat patiently while I thought it through.

I was the one who’d pointed out he was better at figuring my life out than I was, and he was figuring it out so I could have what I want in life — so I can earn a living with art. Not only that, he’d given me a challenging assignment, and my art was thriving with purpose for the first time since I’d spent the summer in London when I was sixteen.

We’d agreed on the subject, and I’d sketched it a few dozen times small, until it was exactly right, and now I was working on it with the tattoo machine on fake skin before I put it on the eight-by-ten inch piece of leather, and then I’d sketch it huge, the size it would be on the large piece of leather, before I started the process of tattooing it to be framed.

I met his gaze and told him, “You have my best interests in mind for the big stuff. The little stuff is about having a sex slave who makes you happy, but the big stuff is about having a successful person by your side, happy with who she is, who can be a life partner to you. I didn’t see it for a while, but I do now, and that means I can trust you to keep looking out for my best interests, so yeah, I’ll agree to be your slave-wife past the time of our contract, because you’ll know how tight to keep the binds between us. I trust you to do what’s best for both of us — our relationship, you as a person, and me as a person. I also trust you to help train me so I won’t be a burden on you, so I can be a whole person who might want a keeper, but she won’t need one.”

An adult, rather than a child. I’d tried being an adult and had completely blown it. Maybe Dozer, as my Master, could do the job my parents hadn’t, and teach me how to be an adult.

Though, to be fair to them, I’d probably left before they were done, since they thought they had me until I turned twenty-five.

“There’s something I’m going to want from you.” He’d looked serious since we started the conversation, but now he looked more serious. Solemn, almost, and it scared me a little. “Shortly after you signed the contract, I made the appointment for this Thursday,” he continued, “because the guy Viper recommended was booked solid for months, and that was the first time he had a big enough hole in his calendar for a house call. My original intention was nipple piercings and a clit-hood, but if you’re to be my wife, I’m going to want more.”

He showed me a picture of what he called a clit-shield when it was on someone, tucked between the labia, and then the top of the shield by itself, then the bottom.

There was a dime beside it in one of the pictures, so I could see it was actually tiny, but that didn’t make it better. I wouldn’t be able to touch my clit, with this thing on. Not only that, some of the pictures showed bars through labial piercings, locking my vagina away, too. He could lock my entire pussy up. Not just total orgasm denial, but total pleasure denial.

“You can see that the shield covers your clit, so you can’t touch it,” he explained. “This piercing gets locked to a Christina piercing, or possibly a vertical hood piercing, the piercer will decide that depending on your anatomy, and then the two labia piercings help keep it steady.”

“And the piercings over my vagina lock it up, so nothing goes in unless you unlock me,” I noted.

“Yes. It’ll mean eleven genital piercings on Thursday, and it’ll mean I’ll have total control over your entire pussy — clit and hole. Still want to be my wife?”

Again, he sat quietly while I thought it through, but the truth is, I kind of liked the idea of him being in control of my sex. It terrified me, but it was also exactly right for our relationship. The next logical step.

“The Dodge is yours,” I told him. “You keep it locked up when you aren’t using it. No reason you shouldn’t be able to lock your wife up, too.”

“So that’s a yes? I need to hear it, little flower.”

“I still want to be your wife, and it bugs me not to call you Master, so I guess that means I still want to be your slave-wife.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.” He looked down a few seconds, as if he didn’t know what to say, but when he looked up, he was my Master again, even if he wouldn’t let me call him that.

“Okay, and to be clear, the clause where you get fifty-K five years after you signed the contract still stands. I don’t want you to think I’ve found a way to weasel out of it. Trust is important to me, and I can’t always be honest with you about everything, so I need to keep that promise.” He took a breath and changed the subject. “Once we get all the legal issues dealt with, so your parents know where you are and have to let you live your life, do you want to try to have a relationship with them?”

It seemed two big changes of subject, but I answered him, rather than commenting on either of them. “I don’t think I ever had one with them, to be honest. I have fond memories of my dad and brother calling me Daisy May, and nice Christmas memories, but other than Christmas, most of my memories with my family happened during vacations, and not at home. I was rarely at their home when Christmas decorations weren’t up.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Right. It didn’t. “I don’t think I have an answer for you right now, but I think the question means they know where I am, and you’re doing this now, all of a sudden, instead of waiting until after I’m pierced because you need me to be your wife in order to try to circumvent whatever they’re planning.”

His nod sent my heart racing, but he pulled me into his lap and held me, and that helped. “You’ll see a psychiatrist tomorrow who’ll declare you of sound mind, so we have that on the record before we marry on Monday. From that point forward, I’ll be in charge of any medical decisions. Husbands trump parents, so even if they manage to get a judge to say you need a legal guardian, I’ll be the guardian and not them.”

My heart raced in my chest again and panic threatened to take hold, but I breathed through it. Master would hire really good attorneys, ones capable of fighting my parents. They had a game plan. There was a chance my mother would blackmail the judge, or buy him off, but what were the odds she’d know any judges in this district?

I still needed to answer his question about my parents, so I told him, “Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry for the drama, but thank you for taking care of me. It makes me sad to think I might never speak with my parents again, though I know it might come to that. If I have to choose between you and them, I’ll choose you, every time.”

“Okay, little Daisy. Once everything calms down, we’ll revisit the question later.”

“Do slave-brides get a say in what they wear to get married?”

He smirked. “True slave-brides get married naked while sporting a butt plug.”

My clit chose that moment to wake up and throb at me. I tried not to squirm in his lap, but he knew — he always knew.

“I can send someone to the mall to look for a dress for you,” he told me, his face serious. “If Gen isn’t busy, I’m sure she’d love to, and she can take pictures of the ones she thinks will work and text them to you.”

* * * *

Dozer

Daisy went back to being my slave when we exited the little office in the vacation rental, and to be sure she got the message, I had her disrobe when she was one step into the huge living room, and then ordered her to lean over the sofa and spread her cheeks.

Rather than fuck her, though, I plugged her.

I’d decided I wasn’t going to fuck her again until after the ceremony. No reason in particular except I loved the idea of making both of us wait until we were man and wife.

It was imperative we keep our plans under wrap, which meant there couldn’t be a big reception after, but I’d make it up to her. Later, when we could do this right, we’d find the perfect venue, she’d buy the dress she wanted, and our reception would be huge.

But I hadn’t told her that before she decided, because I’d wanted her to think this was just going to be us getting married on the courthouse grounds five minutes after we got our license, and then walking back in to register it right away.

Once she was plugged and on her knees, I asked her, “Did you have a big fairy-tale wedding you were hoping for?”

She shrugged. “I mean, when I was fourteen, sure, but once I ran away from my parents and realized Dray didn’t have the money I thought he did, it was just a pipe dream.”

Nothing about her scent told me there was more to it, but I needed to be sure. “Not even the fancy dress?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, I guess I’m going to miss out on the fun of picking out a wedding dress, but it’s okay, Master.”

Again, it came across as the truth, so I decided to let it go, and I told her, “I don’t care much about the wedding part of it, but I’d like the huge reception, with my bride in a wedding dress who dances with me and my friends. Once everything calms down, we’ll decide on a wedding venue we both like, and then plan for the reception, and we’ll do the honeymoon right, too. Monday, it’s going to be all business and fast, and then we’ll come back here until we’re certain you’re in the clear with your family. Kind of a honeymoon, since this place has killer views and a nice hot tub on the master deck, but we’ll do better for our real honeymoon.”

She came up off her knees, threw her arms around my neck, and squeezed. She didn’t thank me verbally, but I got the message. Sometimes, a great big squeeze is better than any words, and my little flower understood.

“Okay,” I told her. “Let’s see if Gen’s available to go to the mall and buy you a dress.”

“And shoes, Master. The black stilettos in white or cream, whatever will match the dress best, will be perfect.”

“We’ll tell Gen, or whoever ends up shopping for us.”