Page 12 of Dozer

Was this better? Give him sex anytime he asked in exchange for him setting me up as a tattoo artist somewhere?

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he’d set it up so my world would implode if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain, so it was important I could truly agree to whatever he wanted.

Chapter 8

Dozer

She sat with her ass on her feet for nearly seven minutes before she met my gaze and told me, “You don’t hit women with your fists, you don’t condone rape, you’re intelligent, and it seems you’re being honest with me, though I’m not counting on that last one.”

There wasn’t a question in there, so I chose not to respond. This seemed one of those times where I should let her talk as long as she wanted, so I could see what I could learn.

The silence was like a living thing between us, both of us holding out, and she finally said, “Cook, clean, and give you sex whenever you want? Stay in good physical shape, and I’m guessing you want me to shave a certain way and dress sexy for you when in private?”

“All true.” She’d dress however I told her to whether we were in public or private, but there was no need in pointing that out at this time. I’d either verify or negate any statement she made, but I wasn’t up to volunteering extra information at this stage.

“I don’t do butt stuff.”

“Sex slaves don’t get to make those kinds of conditions. I’ll figure out your proper caloric needs, and you’ll get what you need unless you’re being punished. Extreme calorie restriction won’t last more than three days, though you already know I won’t be obligated to provide food you like. I’ll make sure you stay hydrated, even when you’re being punished. You’ll be wholewhen your term with me ends — no loss of limbs or function, though I reserve the right to have you pierced wherever I wish. I won’t have tattoos put on you, nor do I expect you’ll be allowed to have any put on while you belong to me, though if you come to me with a drawing I particularly like, that might be negotiated.”

She’d be branded, though, and that wasn’t negotiable, but we weren’t at the stage where she needed to know that yet.

Again, she looked at my feet for several long moments, and I gave her time to work it through in her mind.

Eventually, she looked back to me and said, “You want me to give you permission to fuck me, so it isn’t rape, right? That’s why we’re here?”

“It was part of a possible preliminary plan. I’m making some of this up as we go, so I have few promises to give you at this time. Rape isn’t off the table, but if we can avoid it, that would be my preference. I have a friend who’s a tattoo artist, and I feel certain I can figure out how to get you set up as one, assuming you’re as good at art as you say, but I can’t make any promises until I talk to him, and I won’t be able to talk to him until I feel confident you want to be with me. Kind of a catch-twenty-two, but we’ll figure it out.”

She’d been asleep when I found her, and I was beginning to realize she’d likely taken herself to the point of exhaustion, and then had probably slept less than ten or fifteen minutes when I found her. She’d been running on adrenaline, and that was rapidly fading.

“You’re exhausted,” I noted.

She stared at my feet again, her eyes half-closed.

She did need to use the restroom, but not as badly as she’d tried to convince me. If she was about to fall asleep, though, I needed to let her go sooner rather than later.

I stood, walked behind her, pulled my knife, opened it, and cut the zip-ties at her ankles. Her pulse sped when she heard theknife open, and I scented fear. My cock had been mostly hard for a while, and her reaction made it go even harder, but I ignored it. For now.

I helped her stand and then motioned towards the bathroom. “Use the toilet, and feel free to sit and drip-dry if needed. I’ll cut the last zip-tie when we leave, but I don’t want you leaving fingerprints, so they stay locked behind your back for now. I’ll flush the toilet once you’re out of there.”

While she used the restroom, I put the gloves back on my hands, pulled two hundred dollars from my wallet, washed them with dishwashing liquid, pressed them between two paper towels, rubbed them briskly with the same towels, and then left the paper towels and the money on the counter. A new doorknob and lock wouldn’t cost even a quarter of that, but having to go buy one and change it out would be a pain in the ass. I found a length of rope I could use to tie the door closed, so critters wouldn’t come in, and the weather would stay outside, because it might be a month or more before whoever owned this place came back.

When Daisy came out of the bathroom, I grabbed the paper towels, went into the bathroom, rubbed down wherever I thought her hands might’ve inadvertently touched the toilet while she sat on it, and then tossed the towels in the small trash receptacle, which had some tissues in it, so I hoped they’d go without notice, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if someone realized they were new.

The doorknob was the only damage, and I’d left more than enough money to fix it, so I didn’t expect the police would be called, and even if they were, there shouldn’t be a way to trace the B&E back to us.

I put my shirt on over Daisy’s head again, and she looked to the counter and asked, “Did you wash the money?”

“I touched it when I put it into my wallet. Wiping money won’t get rid of your prints. You have to get rid of the oils. Same goes for most paper and fabric.”

“So, you’re a criminal? Or a cop?”

I chose not to answer. It was raining like a motherfucker, and there was a tiny porch, which means we both got drenched while I tied the doorknob off to a nail to the side of the door. My guess was they hung some kind of sign on it when they were in residence, but it really didn’t matter why it was there, I was just glad I found something close enough to the door to secure it.

“Dray would’ve never taken steps to protect someone’s home like this. Also, you put yourself at risk, leaving that money. If you didn’t leave it, there’s no way they’d get your prints. Leaving it means they might.”

“You’re barefoot. Ask me nicely and I’ll carry you.”

She took off across the path barefoot, made it about a dozen steps, and turned to look at me. “Will you please carry me?”

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