Page 49 of Dozer (Rolling Thunder MC #14)
Chapter 49
Daisy
The appointment date arrived with the piercer, and Master forbid me from speaking starting about twenty-four hours before. He’s relaxed those rules a lot, but I was nervous about it and I got on his nerves, so he put chopsticks on my tongue for about twenty minutes and then told me no talking for any reason unless asked a direct question until after I had all the holes in my body I’d agreed to.
We’d already gone over all the paperwork the piercer would want me to sign, in detail, as well as the other printouts the guy had given Master — what would happen during the piercing, what I was likely to feel, and exactly what to do for aftercare. I knew everything I needed to know, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t answering my questions. I was just nervous.
The guy finally arrived, and I could only stare at his big hands. Thin, with really long fingers. He had kind eyes, thank goodness, because his hands were a little scary.
“You don’t need to know his name,” Master told me. “You’ll call him Sir. Tell him all of the piercings you want.”
I ran down the list, he asked me a few questions about my health in general, whether I was feeling as if I might be coming down with something, whether I’d had a fever in the past week, and if I’d been around someone sick in the past week. Later, when I asked Viper why he’d asked me that, Viper said when you get that many piercings all at once, it’s a shock to the system, and you don’t want to do that at the same time your immune system kicks in to fight off an illness.
“Have you had alcohol, marijuana, or any other mind-altering substance in the past two days?”
“No, Sir. Master gave me a little wine on our wedding night. That’s the last I had anything to drink.”
He looked at Master, who told him, “Monday night.”
Finally, the piercer guy said, “This is important, Daisy. Do you give your Master authorization to make all decisions about placement, hole size, and jewelry for the fourteen piercings you want?”
I nodded, realized he needed more, and said, “Yes. Master gets the final say in all of that.”
He had me sign all of the documents. I’d already read through them, so I only glanced to make sure they were the same, and I signed and dated them all.
Once I was finished, Master told me, “Go downstairs, put the largest wiffle ball into your mouth, get your full-faced hood from its stand, and sit on the new gynecological table — it’s finally time to break it in.”
I sat on the table at least ten minutes before Master and Sir came downstairs. Master put the hood on me, with the thick straw sticking out of my mouth and through a tiny hole in the mask so I could breathe, but with the eyes completely closed.
He bound my hands to the sides of the table, near my thighs, and Sir told Master, “I need to hear her safe signal.”
“Let him hear it, Daisy May.”
I don’t have a safeword, but Master had told me I’d need one to show the piercer. He’d also told me if I used it in any way other than to confirm it when asked, I’d eat nothing but asparagus, plain rice, and sardines for a week, it would take me months to earn hot water in the shower again, and I’d be punished for an hour per day until I could prove I’d learned my lesson.
I snapped my fingers three times for Sir, and then I listened while the two men decided on exactly where on my nipples they were going to pierce.
I knew they were getting close when I felt the forceps on my left nipple, and I followed instructions when Sir told me to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Letting it out slowly turned into a squeal, which ended in something between a scream and a yelp, because it fucking hurt . I found out later, they used a ten-gauge needle, which is a bigger hole than normal.
The second hurt so much worse, possibly because I was even more tense than I’d been for the first.
And then Master talked me through lying back and putting my feet into the stirrups, and I felt the lid over them snapping in place. Trapping them.
Master put headphones over the hood, so I heard relaxing music and could no longer hear their conversation. When I started to panic, he lifted the one from my left ear away and told me, “I’ll take them off once it’s time to start the piercing. So long as the headphones are on, no needles will go into you. We’ll be marking the spots and doing a lot of measuring, and this part might take thirty minutes or more. Relax, my little flower — that’s an order. You don’t want to displease me today, do you?”
I shook my head, and he said, “Once the earpiece is adjusted, give me a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down to let me know if it’s comfortable.”
He settled the earpiece back and then adjusted the whole thing, and I gave him a thumbs-up. Despite the fact I was naked and wide open, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
* * * *
Dozer
I’d told Clay I wanted the fattest-gauge needles we could safely use for every piercing, and he talked me through the pros and cons of the two largest sizes he recommended for every type of piercing. We’d gone with a much larger-than-normal needle and jewelry for her nipples because they’re large enough to take it.
Her labia, however, he said we needed to stick to either twelve or fourteen gauge, and we went with the normal size for the Christina piercing and the Princess Albertina piercing.
And he pointed out that the latter of those two would make sexual penetration twice as pleasurable for my little slave, and that denying her orgasms after the PA was especially cruel. He said it with a smile, which told me he had a bit of a sadistic streak, too.
Which I suppose is an added bonus for a piercer.
Five holes per labia, plus the one above the clit, and then below the clit. It took a long time to get the ink in just the right spot for all of them, and it was finally time to take my little slave-wife’s headphones off.
Clay did the Christina piercing first, then he started at the top of the labia and worked his way down. She followed instructions and breathed when he told her to, and I stood at her side with my hand on her shoulder while I watched. She didn’t know I’d connected the top of the hood to the top of the table until she tried to sit up during the seventh labia piercing.
“Happens sometimes,” Clay said when she stopped screaming. “Odds are, we won’t hit a nerve like that again, but no guarantees. You good for me to keep going? Thumbs-up or thumbs-down.”
She held a single finger up, and I said, “Okay. A minute to catch your breath. I know your jaw is probably tired. Once we finish up here, the hood comes off and the ball comes out of your mouth. Three more on your labia, then the PA, and we’re done. Give me a thumbs-up when you’re ready, my adorable little wife. He’s going to put the forceps on the next one, but he won’t pierce the hole until you tell us it’s okay.”
She took three more deep breaths and gave us a thumbs-up, and Clay said, “There’s a good girl. Breathe out for me.”
He finished the labia, and then it didn’t take hardly any time for him to do the PA.
“Come spray it down,” Clay told me, and he handed me the stuff and then talked me through how to make sure I got both sides of every piercing, down below and up top for the verticals, and both left and right on the labia.
“You know she’ll be anal and oral only for a while, and you’ll want to make sure you clean her up after anal and then spray her down. Also, it’s imperative she wipes front to back, and I know it’s supposed to be obvious, and I have it in the literature, but it’s important enough for me to give a verbal reminder.” He touched the outside of her left thigh. “Give me a thumbs-up to let me know you’ll be thoughtful about how you wipe, Daisy.”
She gave him a thumbs-up, and he asked me, “Any questions?”
“You’ve answered them all. We’ll make an office visit in about eight weeks to see which, if any, jewelry is ready to be changed out. Viper tells me you’re considering making the move to our shop, when we open?”
“Not right away. The boss has been good to me, and I don’t want to leave him in a bad spot, but yeah, I’m looking at making the move once he can attract some more talent.”
I walked him upstairs and out, and made my way back down to my girl. I snapped a few pictures of her jewelry, carried her to the game room, and put her in one of the media recliners. I settled her gently on the u-shaped cushion I’d bought, which wasn’t technically necessary, but she had a lot of holes in her down there.
“Chicken soup, and then we’ll eat popcorn and watch a movie,” I told her. “You did soooo good, and I’m so proud of you. Master is going to wait on his little slave-wife for a couple of days.”