Page 45 of Dozer

The orgasm training was a bitch, because now that I could mostly keep from coming, sometimes I wasn’t allowed to. At all.

And then other days he made me come so much, I begged him not to make me come again.

I wasalwayseither locked in my cell or locked to the long chain when he wasn’t with me. I hated being locked up, and he knew it. I think he enjoyed that I hated it, so I tried to stop being obvious about it. I’m pretty sure he still knew, though. I was also locked in my cell at night, plus had a chain on my ankle, I assume to make sure I couldn’t leave even if I got the door unlocked. Also, he most often connected my hands to my collar in the front with a short rope through the O-ring. I could rub my face, but not much else. He connected a bidet to my toilet, so I could be clean after I used it, since I couldn’t wipe at night. The button to control the bidet was on the wall beside me, so I could lean to the side a little and reach it. I then sat on a towel in a chair to dry off before returning to bed, and I had to put the towel into the hamper in the morning, and put a fresh towel out in the evening.

I eventually learned to clean to his specifications, but I still screwed up sometimes. Not often, because his punishments are brutal. Most often, it was kneeling on rice in the corner, but sometimes he’d fuck my face while I kneeled on rice, or put me on all fours and fuck my ass. Sometimes it was the cane, which I actually preferred. Once, when he showed me that I missed a spot on the floor, I smarted off to him about his perfectionism being something he should see a therapist about, and he washed my mouth out with soap and then caned me while I knelt on rice.

But it wasn’t all bad. I loved our meals together, loved helping him cook, and truly enjoyed just spending leisurely time with him. My absolute favorite was lying beside him with myhead in his lap while we watched television together, but I also enjoyed helping him in the garage, whether he was working on one of his bikes, or the Ramcharger, or making stuff in his little leather workshop. It was hot, helping him make a flogger I knew he’d beat me with. I can’t explain it, but I can’t deny it, either.

I got used to being naked all the time. When winter came, he put blankets all around so I could cover up if I was cold, and he bought me warm fuzzy socks with little rubber things on the bottom so I could wear them in the house but not slip around on his hardwood floors.

I accidentally discovered he’s ticklish, but he retaliated by tickling me until I nearly passed out because I couldn’t breathe, so I’ve been careful not to tickle him again.

He doesn’t mind me playing around with him sometimes, though. In fact, he kind of encourages it, but only when he’s in the mood for it. But tickling him and popping him on the ass with a wooden spoon while we’re cooking? I’ll never do either again. Playing around has its limits with my Master.

I’d learned a whole lot of people choose to be slaves, too. When he was around and watching, he allowed me to get an account on Fetlife, and to talk about my life, and converse with other slaves. He was right there watching as I typed everything in, but it wasn’t like he didn’t already know everything I think, because he asks questions I don’t dare answer with anything except absolute honesty.

But talking to other people helped me understand this is a lifestyle choice for some people. The choice had been made for me, it wasn’t mine, and there were parts of it I hated, but other parts I’d miss, if I had a say in things.

I mean, sometimes I hate the sex, but most of the time it’s out-of-this-world great, even when it isn’t what I want to do.

I like the fact I don’t have to steal from people anymore, or scam them out of their money or possessions.

Going back a step farther, though, I’d been better off when I lived with my parents, and when I’d been in school.

Sure, they’d completely controlled my life, but when I compared their level of control with Master’s? Not even in the same ballpark. I mean, if I’d have let them control my life for another six years, I’d have gained control of my first trust fund, which was more than enough so I could’ve controlled my destiny from that point forward. I’d have been able to leave whatever law practice I was part of and support myself in luxury while I learned how to be a tattoo artist.

But that option was gone, and Dozer had his own house andwaymore money than most people. Not anywhere near what my family has, but I wasn’t interested in having that kind of money.

Other than the all-night-fucking-machine and the occasional miss when I cleaned, I mostly stayed out of major trouble. Twice, I had to deal with a soapy mouthandsoapy enema for getting sassy with him when I didn’t realize he was grumpy, and then there were the regular little consequences that happen when he trains me in the positions, but mostly, I’d figured out how to follow his rules and keep him happy.

But Ineededto get out of this house. It was going beyond want. He took me into the backyard sometimes and had me jump rope and do chin-ups, and we ate on the porch a few times a week, but I needed to go somewhere else, just for a little while. A change of scenery.

Chapter 36

Dozer

The ol’ladies had a girls’ night out planned, and I thought that was the perfect opportunity to take my little flower to the clubhouse for the first time. She could meet all the men who are taken, all at once, this way.

We used to be entirely responsible for security on these nights, but now, it’s a joint effort between the major supernatural groups. However, for the most part, if you have a girlfriend taking part, you don’t do security. The idea is that the girls want to cut loose and dance, be free. They aren’t going to fuck anyone, but they might dirty dance a little, and they can’t do that if their man is watching.

This meant Duke, Horse, Brain, Bash, Gonzo, Ghost, Razor, Bubbles, and McGyver would be there. Bud, too, since he and Nicki came up so she could go on the outing as well. I was pretty sure Rooster and his ol’lady were coming, so he’d be there, too.

Duke specified there’d be no prospects in the clubhouse on this night, and there was no need for any sweetbutts, so it would just be my brothers. I’m not officially romantically attached, but politically, it wouldn’t be good for me to be seen on these nights, so I no longer take part.

I put Daisy in a tiny little miniskirt, a skintight shirt over a push-up bra, and some sky-high heels. There are all kinds of instructions on how to teach your slave to walk in heels, but I didn’t need them because my little Daisy May could rock it in heels.

Just before we went out the door, I put a plug in her ass and some cinnamon oil on her clit and nipples. She’d be horny as fuck all night long — just the way I wanted her.

* * * *

Daisy

He took me in the truck, when I’d thought I might get to ride on the back of his bike. Apparently, one must wear special riding clothes and boots, and never a miniskirt and heels, on the back of a Harley.

He’d told me it was just going to be his brothers, and I’d be the only ol’lady. I wanted to ask where the other women were, but it wasn’t an open conversation session, so I kept my mouth shut.

And there were rules. No interrupting a brother in a cut, and tonight, that would mean every man in the room. No walking up to people having a conversation.

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