Page 5

5

Ryder

This was why I’d never watched more than one of the Saw movies.

All right, it wasn’t because I thought I’d be transported into the middle of some porno version of one of them, but the idea of having to make these kind of choices… It had taken me one movie to decide it totally wasn’t my thing.

Now here I was in my own personal rendition, stuck between one shitty place and another.

Pun intended.

Sort of.

“I’m not going to… Neither of those…” I let out a huff, trying to tell him with my eyes just how dissatisfied I was with the situation.

I’m pretty sure I telegraphed it okay, but that didn’t mean he was going to pay attention — obviously. He just stood there, motionless… the enema bag in one hand and his eyes trained on the far corner.

Weren’t enemas for old people? Why the hell did he just have one of those things lying around ?

Duh. For you, genius .

Every time I realized just how prepared he was, it chilled me through a little more. At this rate, I was going to be cold to the bone despite the rising temperature before long.

I was going to have to make a choice soon, too.

I closed my eyes, clutching the blanket like a lifeline even though it couldn’t protect me from him. It couldn’t protect me from anything or anyone, and with him bumping up the thermostat, I wouldn’t even need it much longer.

I would need to go though.

I couldn’t stand the idea of shamefully going in the corner like a dog locked in its cage might. The idea of it was disgusting enough, then knowing I’d be stuck in there with it, knowing what I’d done… I shuddered. I was going to have to go with the other option, but I didn’t know how I was going to even admit it — let alone go through with it.

“I’m about to go upstairs,” he told me.

Hatred flared inside of me as he not only forced me to make a decision like this, but put a time limit on it too. Never mind that my body would’ve done the same thing eventually, but this was him.

“Why can’t I just use the fucking bathroom?” I demanded. “What are you so afraid of? That I’ll kick your ass when we get upstairs?”

He arched a brow at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe it sounded a little ridiculous considering the fact that he was as butch as a football player and I was more like a martial artist.

Just… without the martial arts skills.

Did that make me more like a cheerleader?

“I’m terrified,” he said, deadpan.

I hated him even more for that droll reaction .

He wasn’t going to answer me, at least not with anything satisfactory. All he was going to do was stand there and wait until he finally got bored and decided to stop playing with me like he was a cat and I was just a mouse.

Or with a puppy and its new owner, if he had it his way.

I let out a low, frustrated sound that reminded even me of a whine.

He turned with a shrug, leaving the enema bag dangling from the side of the bars as he headed for the stairs. “You know the routine. Bark if you change your mind and hope I get here in time.”

“W-wait!” I burst out, my cheeks burning red. “Wait.”

He paused, turning his head to look at me. He quirked a brow, expectantly.

“I’ll… I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” he asked me, mild despite the fact that he was taunting me and we both knew it.

“Look, you know what I mean,” I told him hotly, anger flaring all over again. “I don’t have to say it.”

He shrugged again. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could only imagine the amusement in them. “Bark,” he said mercilessly. “Or say it.”

Why did he keep giving me impossible decisions? Why couldn’t he just… do it so I wouldn’t have to be ashamed at making these decisions? I hated being an active participant in my own degradation, but there we were.

I gritted my teeth. “Because this isn’t bad enough?” I demanded.

“It’ll be bad enough when I say it is,” he said. “Not before.”

How bad was it going to have to get before he said it was enough?

“En-enema,” I choked out .

“Say please,” he told me as he started walking back toward me.

“Fuck you,” I snarled.

He gave me that unreadable look and turned around again.

I was fully convinced he was going to just leave me down there without giving a single fuck if I didn’t play his humiliating games.

“Please,” I blurted out, desperate when I saw his retreating back again.

“You need to work on your manners,” he told me.

My eyes had to be burning with the loathing I felt for him, but I bit my lip to keep from saying anything. Otherwise…

It was better to just be quiet.

He was going to have to open the cage if he wanted to give me an enema, which meant I’d have a chance to rush him. I could take him by surprise — assuming he wasn’t expecting it — and give escape a good shot even though I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to help worth a damn.

It surprised me when he didn’t come to unlock the cell door. Instead, he unwound the long, flexible tube from nearby. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the nozzle. It looked like such a simple thing, so small… if you didn’t think about the fact that it was meant for your ass.

And it was meant to force things into the “no entry” hole, which made it even worse.

He offered the tube through the bars, and I froze.

No.

“Come get this,” he ordered calmly from the other side of the cell. “I’ll walk you through it.”

Walk me through it?

It almost sounded like he …

He couldn’t be expecting me to do this to myself, could he?

Oh, fuck, why was I surprised? He’d made me do everything to myself so far, and it only made sense that he’d keep doing that. But this wasn’t something small. This was huge.

The alternative was worse.

I stared at him from my little dog bed in the opposite corner.

He quirked a brow. “I’m not going to wait here forever.” His voice was mild enough, but I could hear the threat in it. “And if you keep balking and refusing, I’m going to walk out of this door and let you shit in your own cell. It can stay there until I feel like coming back downstairs, too.”

That made it even worse, but then, every time I thought I’d had to sink to the lowest depths of his depravity, he came up with something worse.

For the first time, it really hit me, and it hit me hard. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked repeatedly as I tried to clear my vision. I didn’t want him to see me cry either, but that…

That was going to happen either way. He was going to push and push, and he was going to keep pushing until this wasn’t the worst of the things I’d done to myself.

Even though he’d said he wasn’t going to wait, he waited until I got myself together and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. This was going to be horrible and disgusting, and I knew it.

He gestured with the nozzle in his hand. It glistened with something he must’ve put on it during my little breakdown, but I didn’t even remember him moving. It didn’t matter.

I whimpered but slowly got up. Trying to wrap the blanket around me wasn’t feasible, and I had to walk naked to the edge of the cell to take the nozzle from him.

He smiled, and I hated that it made the scars seem less noticeable somehow. He was the enemy. He deserved to be ugly and hideous and disgusting, and…

He was utterly in control of both of us.

My hand shook, and I thought I was going to drop the fucking thing. I was all too aware of the nozzle on the tip, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers go to a clip in the tubing.

Despair became my entire world.

“Get down on all fours,” he instructed me. “Ass up in the air, facing this direction.”

Of course he wanted to watch. Of course he wanted to be the creepy fuck I was getting to know — whether I wanted to or not.

How long could I refuse before I did the inevitable? I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I just gave in instantly, but there I was, poised to do just that.

Well, maybe not instantly, but it felt like it.

Slowly, I got down onto the smooth, cold cement of the floor, my ass toward him.

At least that way, he couldn’t see that I was crying again.

“You’re going to slide the nozzle into your ass.”

Fucking really? Like I didn’t already know that? “Shove it up your own ass,” I muttered.

“What was that?” he asked from behind me.

“Nothing.”

He wouldn’t care what it was anyway. He was determined to do this to me, and no matter what I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Oh, hell, he wasn’t even doing it. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself , and that was getting to me so much that the shaking got even worse.

“There’s lube on it,” he said, like he was some saint for putting the stuff onto the nozzle, “so it should just slide right in. Just relax.”

I cast him an incredulous look over my shoulder, but he only shrugged, unrepentant. I had to wonder if there was a part of him that cared what he was doing at all, or if he was really that much of a sick pervert. If there was something human in him, I could appeal to that — couldn’t I?

No. I’d been trying.

With a choked sob I couldn’t hold back, I brought it around to my ass, wincing as the thin nozzle slid in. It was easier than I’d thought it would be, but that was probably the only part of this that would be easy.

“Good boy,” he said.

He could take his “good boy” and shove it up his ass.

There was something soothing about his voice, though, something I couldn’t help but cling to in that moment. It made me want to cry all over again, because it almost sounded like kindness.

I knew better than to think that was what it was.

“Such a good boy,” he repeated.

I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping at him.

“Now, I’m going to start the water,” he said.

I went still. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.

“Please don’t,” I whispered.

That time, he heard me. “It’s this or the corner,” he said, like I really needed a reminder.

I’d already committed to this, even if I didn’t want to admit that at all. I swallowed hard and shook my head, bracing myself.

It didn’t matter how much I fucking braced myself. The second the cool water started to rush inside of me, propelled by gravity, I let out a choked sound. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

I’d thought it would be more bearable, too, not that I’d already be begging for it to stop. But the first cramp left me gasping in pain. How did people do this? My body cramped again as the water continued, relentless.

“Good boy,” the man kept saying, like that was going to make a goddamn difference.

I sobbed, and somewhere around the third or fourth cramp, I could feel it where my ass tried to push the nozzle out. A little bit of water drizzled down to my thigh, adding to my disgust.

To my shame.

I reached around, holding it in place even as I cried and begged for him to stop.

He didn’t, not until he told me, “There we go. Now you just need to stay there for a few minutes before I let you release the water.”

I shot a look at him, my eyes red and my cheeks tearstained, in utter horror. I had to stay like this? I couldn’t handle it for another second, let alone for a few minutes.

“We’re already going to have to do this again,” he told me, his voice some mock-soothing thing, like he thought the gentleness would really do anything but piss me off.

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

“You can,” he told me. “For your master. And you will.”

“You aren’t my—”

“Hush,” he said firmly.

Time passed in an endless haze of cramps, of the cold water in my bowels, of my stomach bloated and distended. It rose until it consumed me, everything, every fiber of my being..

Finally, he told me, “Take out the nozzle, then you can crawl to the drain and let it out.”

I closed my eyes, miserable and unable to even think up a retort. He wanted me to take it out, then move, then…

“You can do it, Toby,” he said, and I could hear the fucked-up softness in his voice.

The snarled “fuck you” that was about to pass my lips was choked back when a fresh wave of pain swept over me, and all I could think about was letting it all go. I removed the nozzle-plug-thing from my ass, and instantly, more water was spilling from me.

“Hold it in,” he encouraged. “You can do it. It’s only for a few seconds.”

Sobbing despite my best attempts to keep myself from doing just that, I managed to crawl to the drain. By the time I did, I was about to lose it — in more than one way.

I barely managed to get there before I released it just in time to hear him tell me to do that. Motherfucker. If he thought I was going to wait any longer, he had another thing coming.

I couldn’t even describe how it felt if I wanted to. The relief, the horror, the humiliation, the realization that someone was watching me do this — watching me, and probably getting off on it…! All of it made up the pieces of a whole, and the entire picture was horrible.

I gave in and cried, my shoulders shaking as my ass emptied over and over again.

“Good boy, Toby,” he said again as the silence descended over us at long last. “Now… It’s time to do it again.”

“Again?” I squeaked in panicked protest. I shook my head. No. No. This wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t deal with it again.

“You’re going to do it as many times as you have to until that water runs clear… then I’ll clean you up,” he promised me.

“You’d just leave me here like this?” I whispered in disbelief. “If I don’t do it again?”

His voice was so even that it sent chills racing through me all over again. “Yes.”

I believed him.

The next enema wasn’t any better.

So fucking help me, neither was the third.