Page 51 of Dozer

While she was on her left side, full of water with her legs drawn up, I stretched out behind her, lifted her top leg, and crammed my dick in her cunt — and then stayed still while her insides spasmed and cramped, and my little flower cried. Eventually, I rolled her to her back and fucked her in missionary, slow and easy at first, but forty-five minutes in, when I was close to coming, I fucked her hard and fast for probably three to five minutes before I came deep inside her.

“Someday I might want to breed you, if you decide to be my slave-wife.”

Her scent was conflicted, but now wasn’t the time to talk about it. I picked her up, took her to the bathroom, sat her on the toilet, and released the double balloons on the bardex nozzle. I’d stayed around to watch her shit the first couple of times, but I don’t get off on scat, and I was just as happy to leave her be while she evacuated the enema. I gave her three more to rinse the soap, the first two with some Epsom salts because that would soothe the insult of the soap, and the last with a touch of sea salt, to help make sure she wasn’t bloated.

When she finished getting rid of the last enema, I had a bowl of chicken soup with a few of the fancy crackers she likes, all in a pretty place setting on the table waiting for her. She ate the entire bowl and didn’t want more, and then I put her to bed and held her until she went to sleep. There’d be a whole lot of anal training the next day, but first, she needed rest.

Chapter 40

Daisy

When Master got home from work at three in the morning on Saturday morning, he woke me, fucked all my holes, and then was in the mood to talk.

“I’ve given you basic instructions about how you respond to law enforcement if an issue arises, but it’s time for a longer conversation. You have permission to ask questions, just stay on topic.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Master spent five minutes telling me what I could tell them, and about an hour listing all the things I couldn’t. In a nutshell, there were a handful of things I could tell them, and everything else was off limits — even seemingly innocent questions might get Master or his friends in trouble, and Master explained how it could work so I’d understand. “Asking if we had dinner the night before sounds innocent enough, but maybe I’ve provided an alibi you don’t know about, or maybe you’re supposed to be my alibi. Saying I fed you chicken soup at our kitchen table creates credibility issues if I have twenty people saying they saw me at the Rolling Thunder restaurant at the same time, and telling them you ate leftovers alone because I was out would be a problem if I’ve told them we ate dinner together.”

I loved it when he said things likeour kitchen table. It made me feel like it was truly our house. And yeah, I got the gist of theentire paragraph, but I still took a few seconds to let the warmth of those words create a little glow in my soul.

“I don’t expect there to be a problem,” he told me. “Many times we know ahead of time when LEO is planning something, but not all the time, so it’s good you know what to do and say up front.” He told me the attorney he hoped to send, but also two other names, in case his preferred attorney wasn’t available. I wasn’t to let anyone else help me. Just those three.

I’d assumed it would be best to not tell the police who I am until the attorney could figure things out, but Master shook his head and told me, “Your image is on the net, so you may as well tell them your name right off the bat. It won’t take their facial recognition programs long to tell them who you are. They jump all over anything they see as secretive, so be up front about your identity.”

My heart fell into my stomach, and Master touched my chin and lifted it, so I had to look at him. “It’s going to be fine, little flower. I have you.”

I awoke in my jail cell the next morning and worked out while Master slept in. The week before, he’d bound me to his bed while he slept, and he’d let me sleep with him a couple of times since, but most nights, I sleep in my cell. I much prefer being close to Master, but he says it isn’t good to be bound so strictly every night. He’s right, that I sleep better when I can move around more, but I still prefer his bed. I mean, he runs a rope from the bedrail, through my left cuff, through my collar, through my right cuff, and back to the bedrail. A loose rope also runs from my ankle cuffs to the bottom bedrail, but not so tight I ever feel it. I have to sleep on my left side, and I can’t touch myself with my hands at all, but it isn’t so bad, because Master touches me almost all night.

But since he was going to sleep in and I rarely do that, it also makes sense for him to put me in my cell once I’m asleep, so Ican work out while he sleeps. Also, it means I don’t have to wake him so I can go pee.

When he woke, he told me we were going out to breakfast, and handed me designer jeans and a black t-shirt with a super-cool black belt. “Your choice of shoes, little flower. The closet in the spare bedroom is now yours. I need you to try all the shoes on and let me know which to keep and which to return.”

I went into the spare bedroom, opened the closet, and took a step back. There were a dozen pairs of black shoes in front of me, from flats to dressy heels, and three of each. I quickly realized he’d bought my size in each, as well as the half-size above and below. I tried the heels on first, while I was standing, and I put the ones that didn’t fit back into the box and put them on the bed. When I made it to the shoes I couldn’t just stick my feet into, I sat on the floor and tried the rest on, making a pile of the ones in the wrong sizes behind me. One pair, none of them fit, and I put those three in a stack by themselves.

And then debated between wearing the sky-high platform boots, or the sky-high stilettos. When Master came in, I had one on each foot, and he said, “I should probably mention, you’re going to be on your feet a lot today, and it’ll probably be two or three in the morning before you get to bed.”

“Then the boots, Master. Did you pick these? Or did you ask someone to help you? Because you pickedperfectly.”

“Matty helped me, which leads into me telling you that you no longer have until Thursday to make that decision we talked about. It’s going to happen Monday now, and I apologize for that, but something unforeseen has moved my schedule up. You’ll be going out to lunch with a few of the ol’ladies today, and then a lot more than that tonight.”

“Would it be okay to wear the boots, take the stilettos, and maybe take these other heels, too, Master? Once I find out whatI’m doing tonight, it might be that the boots won’t be exactly right.”

“Take the higher of the heels, in case you want to change.”

Crap, I hate having to correct him. I held one of each up, back-to-back. “Same heel height, Master. One’s just chunkier, so it’s an optical illusion that it isn’t as tall.”

“Chooseone. You can’t take two shoe backups.”

I put one of each on and stood in front of the full-length mirror in this room. “I take that back,” Master said. “You’ll be on your feet a lot and I don’t want you breaking your ankle. The chunky one.”

“Thank you for deciding for me, Master.”

He turned and walked away without saying a word, and I looked at myself in the mirror again, wondering how I should do my makeup.

“Master?”

I didn’t say it loud. He doesn’t like me to yell, and has assured me multiple times he’ll hear me if it’s just the two of us in the house. So far, he always had.

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