Page 17 of Dozer

When my brothers and I break in a new sweet butt, we put them through a marathon session, bound over a fucking station, one biker after another making use of her, and often two of us at a time, one at the front and another at the back. But the thing is, when it’s over, a few of us take care of her. We wash her, feed her, and make sure she gets home safely. We also put enough food in her fridge so she can eat really, really well for the next five days, and we check in on her a few times to make sure she’s okay.

I’d never manage to fuck Daisy for fourteen hours straight, but I needed to completely exhaust her sexually, so I’d duct-taped a fat candle onto the top of the metal sawhorse. Her legs were dangling over my chest, so it was easy enough to remove the carabiner from between her ankles, shift her in my arms so I could settle her down over the horse, and line everything up sothe candle went up and into her cunt. I’d put coconut oil onto it, but it still didn’t just slide right in because it was a tight fit. She struggled a little, but I popped her on the ass and told her to behave, and she leaned into me. She had a long way to go before she was broken in, but it was a decent start, based on what I’d learned from Khan.

Vampire rentals usually come with multiple ways to restrain people, and this one had handy connector points in the ceiling, and chains of the proper length in an armoire off to the side. While she was sleeping, I’d hung chains where I thought I might need them, so it was just a matter of lifting her arms behind her to connect the carabiner to the chain, squatting and connecting her ankles together again, and then extending the adjustable sawhorse’s legs until she had to go onto tiptoe to keep the candle from pressing so far up into her, it hurt.

As expected, she stayed on tiptoe until her calves gave out, and then was forced to put her heels down. I waited for this to happen before I swapped the chopsticks for a large clamp. The main arteries that supply blood go down the outer edges of the tongue, so one can leave a clamp in the center on longer. I had a number of ways to keep her from talking, and I intended to rotate through them every fifteen minutes, to make sure I didn’t do any lasting damage to her tongue.

An hour later, she was going up and down on her toes a few times a minute, and I encouraged her to fuck herself on the candle. Her glare told me she was far from broken, but I’d have been disappointed if she’d been so easy to break to my will.

Three hours later, she was on her flat feet most of the time, and she’d mostly cried herself out.

Five hours later, she finally pissed herself, and it felt like that act was the first step towards truly breaking her. The first of dozens of steps, but the journey has to begin somewhere, and we’d irrevocably stepped onto the path.

Which meant it was time to reinforce that lesson while it was still fresh, but I waited ten minutes after she peed before I let the sawhorse down. I’d bought several shower curtains at Dollar General, and one of them was under the sawhorse with a towel over it, to contain the mess. She tried to kick the towel to the side when I released her ankles, but we’d deal with that at a future time. Today wasn’t about rules, it was about keeping her contained enough, there wasn’t a need for them.

The candle was still inside her, it just wasn’t pressed so far into her, it hurt. The lube was long-since gone, so I was as gentle as I could be when I lifted her off the candle, but there was no way to keep it from hurting.

I attempted to handle her in a loving manner, with tender but firm hands. She was beyond exhausted, so she didn’t fight me. This gave me the luxury of carrying her like an infant this time, rather than tossing her over my shoulder.

She snuggled into me, thinking her ordeal was over, but she’d find out soon enough it wasn’t.

Chapter 13

Dozer

I walked her straight to the bathroom, sat on the closed toilet lid, put her over my lap, inserted one of the disposable enemas I’d purchased at the Dollar General into her rectum, and squeezed.

She tried to speak, but one of the clamps was back on her tongue so her words weren’t understandable. There were certainly a lot of O syllables, likely her trying to say “no” over and over again, but I ignored her vocalizations.

I popped her once on the ass, hard enough to make her shut up so she could hear me. “When you’ve been silent two minutes, I’ll let you sit on the toilet and shit it out. Keep blathering, and I’ll stuff a great big ole butt plug up your ass and hold it there, so you can’t go around it.”

I let her sit on the toilet about fifteen seconds early because I wasn’t comfortable with the scent of her distress, and the object wasn’t to set her up for failure. I wanted to get my point across that I now controlled her ineveryway, even the most basic, but I didn’t want to make her shit herself.

Pissing herself had been crucial, and it might eventually become necessary to make her shit herself, but I hoped we could avoid that.

I used baby wipes and then toilet paper to clean her when I was certain the enema had done its job, and then settled her on the dining room table, which doubled as a bondage table, sowithin minutes, her wrists were bound to connections near her hips, and then I lifted her legs into the air and used a two-foot length of rope to connect her ankles to connectors at the top corners.

This made it easy to get inside her folds with baby wipes, and to visually make certain she was cleaneverywhere.

And then I released her, sat her up, took the clamp off her tongue, and offered her a bottle of high-calorie sports drink.

I’d offered it to her every thirty minutes while she’d been bound, with a straw so it was easy for her to drink it without hands, but she’d refused it the last hour and a half. Now, she drank deeply when I offered it to her, and seemed to relish the fact she was holding the bottle and drinking without help.

“No words,” I told her while she was drinking. “If you speak an understandable word, I’ll be forced to take your tongue out of the equation again.”

When she finished drinking, she put the lid back on the bottle and just sat and looked at me. Silent.

I expected we’d need to learn this lesson a few times before it stuck, but it was an excellent start.

A big part of breaking her was going to involve sleep deprivation. I’d allowed her to get a good sleep before we negotiated the contract because it’d been important to me that she signed it when rested, but she wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep that many hours at a time for a while, going forward.

I, on the other hand, could use some solid sleep.

I still had the top part of the leggings, the piece left after cutting all the strips of legs off. Now, I cut the crotch out and then put what was left around her waist, and used strips of the duct tape to fashion a waist cincher. Not terribly tight, because she was going to be in it for days, possibly as long as a week. I needed a safe way to connect her to the tie-off points on the wall, and this should easily suffice. You can hang shapeshifters fromtheir wrists and ankles for hours and hours, but you have to be more careful with humans.

She was already exhausted, and a tiny part of me wanted to take it easy on her, but I’d learned from Khan that you don’t do slaves any favors by backing off during the breaking process. Watch them and make sure you don’t endanger their health, but it takes time to properly drill the message in — exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and extreme discomfort are necessary background conditions to everything else that happens to them.

And so, once the waist cincher was a work of art on her slim midriff, I sat her on the floor with her back to the wall, her legs out in front of her, and I chained the connectors I’d put on the sides of the cincher to tie-off points meant for someone’s ankles, and used padlocks to secure all points. I connected her wrists to an o-ring I’d installed on the front of the cincher, and I used a padlock this time, rather than a carabiner.

---