Chapter 2 #2
By the time they made it upstairs, she’d been relentlessly, slowly fucked by two dildos for an hour and thirty-five minutes. A torment she couldn’t escape and couldn’t enjoy. Both had been well-lubed to start but were probably in need of more.
Kenny turned the machine off while both dildos were still inside her.
She looked up at Silas with watery eyes, face flushed, drool in a line down her chin all the way to the table. Tears soaked her cheeks and the gag strap.
He loosened the strap and gently took the ball out of her mouth.
And then he took the ponytail out and fluffed her hair around her face before he set the bowl on the table where she could bend down to it.
“You’ll lick the bowl clean in twenty minutes. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”
She whimpered. Nodded.
And when she leaned forward, back forced into an arch, her face down, she shifted both holes on the dildos. And again coming back up. The slow friction forced her to fuck herself to eat.
He folded his arms. Watched.
Her face and hair got messier with each bite. Sauce on her cheeks, chin. Coating her hair.
Perfect.
He moved so he could see her face better.
“This is where lying gets worthless, deceitful cunts. You wear your shame. You taste it. You work for every motherfucking bite.”
She whimpered again, humiliated beyond reason, but he saw the obedience in it. The submission. The way her body accepted it.
And fuck, a sick part of him wanted to unzip and piss all over her face when she finished, use the heat and acid to wash the sauce from her face and hair.
But he didn’t need Kenny to tell him that would take it too far.
Most submissives or slaves or whatever she was had to be broken in. They’d kind of done that the first week. Not really, but the beginnings of it. These next couple of days would be part of that. Breaking her down so they could build her back up.
* * * *
Kenny was actually looking forward to the shower. Wrong of him to enjoy this kind of punishment, probably, but he didn’t much give a fuck.
She’d explicitly agreed to cold showers. They hadn’t happened yet, but they were fucking-well going to happen the rest of the week.
He nodded to Boone and Silas, and Boone unstrapped her from the table while Kenny walked ahead to the bathroom.
She crawled after them. Knees slow, arms trembling. Sauce in her hair, all over her face.
When she reached the door, she whispered, “Sirs? May I pee first?”
Boone pointed to the walk-in shower. “You can piss in there.”
She crawled in and hovered uncertainly until Kenny growled, “Now, cunt.”
She slid her feet under her, squatted on the tile, and let go, blushing furiously, and then climbed to her feet when Boone tapped the glass and ordered, “Stand. Wash your face and hair.”
Kenny adjusted the water to full cold and stepped so he could hold the door closed.
The scream that came a second later didn’t move him.
She went to open the door to run out, frantic, but she saw the look in his eyes and plastered herself against the far wall.
“Did you, or did you not agree to cold showers?” he asked.
She gave a slow nod, a look of horror on her face, but she ran under the stream, backed off, washed her hair and face with the shampoo. Ran it all over her body with shaking limbs, knowing he’d accept nothing less.
He wanted to insist she fully lather the soap, but this was fine. It got the job done.
She still had to rinse the shampoo and soap, apply conditioner, and rinse again.
“You agreed to this,” he said through the door.
Inside, she scrubbed at her face, rubbed shampoo into her hair with shaking fingers. Her body jerked and flinched under the icy assault from the mist she couldn’t escape.
The first rinse had her screaming again.
The conditioner was worse because it had to stay in longer and was harder to rinse.
She huddled against the wall, out of the spray between each rinse, her chest heaving, her teeth chattering.
She looked at him when the conditioner was out of her hair, expecting he’d let her out, but he said. “Enema nozzle. Clean yourself out.”
Her voice broke. “Sir?”
“Insert it. Don’t remove it until I tell you.”
She obeyed.
This nozzle only lets so much pressure build before a valve opens to let water out. When that happened, he told her.
“Remove it but do not release yet.”
Cold enemas hurt. They cramp. They chill you from the inside out.
But hawks run even warmer than wolves, at a hundred and six verses a hundred and three. She wasn’t going to become hypothermic.
When he gave the word three minutes later, she expelled everything from her system onto the tile, and she sobbed as she grabbed the handheld sprayer and washed it all into the specially designed drain.
“Again,” Kenny said, voice sharp. “Six fucking times ought to clean the filth from your lying trickery. You can defile the shower instead of Boone’s bed this time.”
And the three watched while she humiliated herself again and again, made to rinse away her own filth.
She shook so badly by the fourth, she could barely hold the nozzle. Boone stripped and stepped in like the cold didn’t bother him, ordered her hands against the wall, and lodged the nozzle in her ass.
Three more times with Boone ordering her against the wall, removing it when the nozzle opened due to pressure, holding her against the wall until Kenny gave the nod she could release, and then backing away and telling her, “Squat and shit the water out.”
And it was mostly water by this time.
After the sixth release, he telepathed Boone to shut the water off once she’d finished, washed her legs and ass with soap again, and rinsed.
She was allowed to dry her hair before the heavy canvas straitjacket went on, with hefty buckles, and long restraint sleeves with a strap that would keep her arms pinned across her chest. It’d been in one of the locked cabinets she can’t access in the playroom, and her eyes grew to the size of silver dollars when she saw it.
Her mouth opened, and then she closed it. She didn’t argue, but she considered it.
Silas put it on her, tightening it with ruthless precision. This was his deal, after all. When Kenny had asked him why he owned it, Silas had just shaken his head and said it came in handy.
It certainly was tonight.
She gave a pathetic whimper when Silas fastened the final strap between her legs, and Kenny looked it over. His beta had replaced the single strap with a double one that went around the outside of her labia. Handy, indeed.
He folded a towel over the top of the tub and told her, “If you need to pee again, you have permission to walk. Crawling is over. You can sit on the towel on your way back to the bed. No hands necessary to wipe.”
She nodded.
No fight left.
“Medallion.”
She stood there alone. Straightjacketed. Hair dry in a messy bun on top of her head, her whole body trembling with exhaustion and a little leftover cold.
He stood there a long moment before speaking. “The schedule picks back up when I say it does. Until then, you sleep alone. Permission to get on the bed. Permission given in the middle of the night if you need to piss.”
He held the sheet up for her, she crawled in, he dropped it and the blanket over her, and she curled onto her side.
Didn’t ask for anything, didn’t complain, didn’t weep.
And that, more than anything, told him the lesson was sinking in.
He turned off the light and they all walked out.
Damn, Boone telepathed so both Kenny and Silas heard it. You sure about this?
It’s hard on all of us, Silas told him, but hawks don’t feel the same as wolves about loyalty. Honesty above all. If she’s going to belong to wolves, the lesson has to stick. She needs to understand exactly how much wolves value loyalty and honesty.
That’s it exactly, Kenny agreed. If we don’t show her how fucking serious this is, we’ll be right back here in six or eight months, and I’m not sure Silas’s wolf will accept dishonesty from her twice.