Page 16 of Break Me

Because I’m the one who always does it,I remind myself.

I’m about to bark another order to leave when the door opens and Mikhail steps inside, closing it behind him.

“What the hell do you want?” I snap. He’s been away on business since he presented me with my gift, and I’m sure he’s come to check how everything’s going with her and this new training regimen I’m trying out. But I’m in no mood for his smug comments and annoying assessments. But I also can’t order him to fuck off as with everyone else since he owns this place.

“What’s gotten into your pants?” he asks with humor in his eyes as he drops onto a rolling stool.

“Nothing.”

“Well, you’re acting like a pissy teenage girl who just got her period. Isn’t the sub working out?”

Deflecting, I ask, “How was business?”

“Found a handful of new potential buyers and brought in three new girls. I will need you to process them and give them the usual treatment.”

“I’m busy,” I say.

“I don’t care. Find the time. And tell me how the sub is. You know, I went out of my way to find this girl for you, so I won’t accept you shoving her off to someone else who’s just gonna break her.”

I don’t want to admit it, knowing how smug he gets, but he’s right. He did go out of his way to find this girl that I wanted. “You were right,” I say. “She’s submissive.”

As predicted, a wide smirk forms on his face. “Told you.”

Ignoring his arrogant comment, I continue, “She’s fighting it, but when I hit the right button, she’s like putty in my hands.”

I show him the collar, and his self-satisfied attitude fades as he listens, seeming genuinely interested. I get the feeling he might be more drawn to this sort of training than he had expected. I’m not surprised, really. We’re the same in a lot of ways. That’s probably why he respects me more than most of his men. And because I’m a great asset down here with my medical skills from when I was a combat medic.

“Keep up the good work and keep me updated,” Mikhail says when he leaves half an hour later. Just as he’s about to close the door, he sticks his head back in. “And get to work on those girls.”

I sigh and log into the system on my laptop to pull up the information on the new girls, and then I go get the first one.

I wax their pussies and legs, flush out their bowels, do a general health check, and finish the paperwork in our system.

Two out of three girls are screaming and fighting like pigs. I usually love that, but today, theshrill sounds are like nails on a chalkboard, and their constant struggle wears my patience thin. I end up stuffing their mouths and strapping them in tight, using all the possible restraints I can attach to the table—which is a lot. I consider sedating them several times, but doing an enema on a sedated girl wouldn’t end well.

When I’m done four hours later, I’m tired and cranky like an old man. And pissed off at Mikhail for handing me this shitty job that forced me to send someone else to bring my sub dinner and drop my plans about checking on her. Lights-out was an hour ago, and I don’t want to risk waking her, so I simply call one of the guards on shift and ask him if there has been any trouble with her. I’m relieved to learn that she has been quiet and pliant all evening.

I’m leaning back in my chair, trying to muster the energy to get up, go upstairs, and get myself to bed when Dorin sticks his head in.

“What?” I snarl.

“Go fuck a bitch,” he says. “You look like someone pissed in your cereal.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I retort.

“I’ve already fucked enough today.” He hands me a piece of paper. “New order for tomorrow.”

I take a look at the paper. A simple and straightforward order. The top line states the identification number of the girl.247029. Numbers to indicate the year she came in, which girl in line she is said year, and her cell number. I’ve suggested tattooing the numbers on the girls, but Mikhail doesn’t want to risk losing profit over a permanent mark, so we chip them and carry scanners that will read the chips and pull up all the information in their files. The line below the ID number specifies the order.

“Pull out all teeth,” I read out loud. “Well, that’s a rare one.” Most men, no matter how sadistic, don’t like the aesthetic of a toothless girl.

“I’d be happy to do it if you don’t want to,” Dorin offers. He’s the most sadistic son of a bitch here, and I’m sure he would go straight to it without sedation or even restraints. God knows he has more than plenty of strength and size to hold down a flailing girl, and getting scratched and bitten in the process might even get his dick hard. He loves feeling the girls struggle like that.

Expecting me to decline, he’s halfway out the door when I say, “Go ahead.” I hand him the paper and grab a pair of pliers from my tool cabinet. I do have a whole kit of extraction forceps somewhere, but I’m sure he’d call me a sissy if I handed him such fine tools, and I’ve had enough of teenage girl remarks for one day.

“Thanks.” The most menacing man I know smiles as he holds up the tool and leaves. I’m sure Mikhail will be pissed when he finds out I’ve handed this assignment over to Dorin. Dorin’s methods for these kinds of tasks sometimes leave the girls unsellable. Catatonic and unresponsive—or bleeding out.

But as Mikhail said, I’m pissy like a teenage girl, and I’m pissy about him calling me out on it.

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