Chapter 16 #2
Boone crouched at her side, one heavy hand bracing her back as her stomach twisted and rolled. His voice was low, blunt. “No telling what kind of filth she’s been around. Can’t bring her inside like this, and she’ll need some serious grooming before we can play with her.”
When she expelled into the grass, her colon contracting and spasming so hard it rocked her entire body, they only watched. Impassive. Measuring. Then filled her again.
And again.
Again.
Her belly cramped so hard she thought she’d break apart, the cold slicing through her from the inside.
She shook uncontrollably, tears spilling down her face, sobs clawing at her throat but never finding release.
She wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but the vampire’s brain-hack swallowed every sound, every shred of protest.
“She’ll learn,” Kenny said, adjusting the strap at her wrist mitt as though it were just another tool. “It’ll stick. Same as crate training.”
“Crate training.” Silas laughed, cruel and sharp. “That’s one word for it. I’d call it scrubbing out the shit before we let her anywhere near the furniture.”
Boone’s gaze stayed on her trembling body, his words plain but heavy. “Not clean yet. Not fit for the house.”
They didn’t stop until the water ran clear twice in a row.
By the end, she was trembling so badly she had trouble crawling across the grass. Her thighs burned, her belly ached deep and sharp, and exhaustion pressed her down. Her face was wet with tears and snot, and she hated herself for the shameful pulse of arousal that still throbbed low in her body.
Helpless. Humiliated. Broken down to nothing but a silent, obedient pet. Reduced to nothing but a body to be cleaned and prepared.
Someone ran baby wipes all over her backside, her legs, and then they walked her around the yard. A leashed pet.
When the leash tugged, she scrambled forward on mitts and knees, thighs trembling from the enemas. Her belly ached, her ass throbbed, and the cold afternoon air bit at her nakedness.
She learned to walk when the feet beside her walked. Stop when they stopped. Move right or left when they did. If she could manage it, the leash didn’t tug.
“She stinks of filth,” Silas said flatly as they finally walked her toward the porch. “Barely tolerable. Needs grooming before we even think about letting her in the house.”
“Look at her hair,” Boone added, blunt as stone. “Matted. A mess. Not fit to be seen.”
Her hair was fine! Or it had been, before they’d released it from the ponytail. Now it was all in her face, but without her voice, she couldn’t argue.
“She’ll manage,” Kenny said, tugging the leash gently when she hesitated at the steps. “Two steps, then the porch.”
She scrambled and managed the steps, face hot with shame, and then scurried across the porch and up the last step to stumble through the front door on all fours, forehead nearly grazing the threshold as the men’s voices drifted above her.
“Already a problem,” Silas said. “Can’t even move right.”
“She’ll learn,” Kenny answered evenly. “Structure fixes everything.”
The house smelled warm and inviting, leather, wood polish, clean pine, but it was no comfort. She crawled across glossy hardwoods into the kitchen, the sound of her mitts dull against the floor, her own humiliation louder than her footsteps.
Kenny lifted her onto the long kitchen table, and Silas looped straps under the table and cinched them tight across her chest and hips. Boone lifted her legs wide and Silas ran another strap to trap them against her torso, spread wide so they’d have complete access to her pussy and clit.
“Hideous,” Silas said, yanking her thighs wider before he tightened the strap more. His fingers pinched cruelly at the hair on her mons. “Like a feral animal. A proper pet should be smooth. Obedient. Worth looking at.”
Her eyes flooded, head shaking frantically, but the straps held her tight, her body immobilized and her cunt displayed between her spread legs.
“Wax,” he barked, and someone settled a large pot near her hip.
He dipped the stick in, expertly applied it to the side of her mons, and pressed the fabric over it. Dipped the stick again, mirrored the motion on the other side, and pressed the fabric in place.
And then he ripped the first off, tearing hair and skin alike, and she tried to scream. Her mouth opened, her body convulsed, but no sound came. Only silence where her humanity used to exist.
The silence was worse than the pain.
Until he ripped the second strip off, and the shock multiplied exponentially.
Her voiceless screams tore out of her in brutal quiet, and she mouthed please, again and again, trying with all her might to beg, to speak, but the words dissolved before they ever formed.
Tears rolled down the side of her face as Silas applied more wax.
More strips. Four this time before he ripped them away.
Each strip tore away more than hair — it stripped her humanity, her identity. Stripped her down to nerve endings and obedience. The pain was brutal, but she’d known this was one of Silas’s kinks. Of course he pulled it out for this.
But that knowledge didn’t make it easier to live through. Over and over, brutal, methodical, each rip blinding, her body jerking uselessly against the straps.
“Pathetic,” Silas said coldly. “Can’t even scream properly. Just flopping around like a fish.”
Her thighs trembled. Her stomach clenched.
Shame coated her as heavy as the tears on her face.
And beneath it all, her cunt throbbed, clit swollen, her body betraying her with raw, needy arousal she couldn’t deny because this was the degradation she’d dreamed of, being treated like an animal. A pet. Creature.
When the last strip left her bare, raw, burning, Silas carried the wax heater away and then leaned close and whispered, “Better, but still not fuckable.”
Silas stood and flicked her clit. “Waxed smooth, but filth still collects inside. If she’s to be our pet, she has to be cleaned properly.”
Boone stepped to her with a brush — a great big round one with a thick handle and dense bristles. “This’ll do it.” His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was talking about scrubbing a dirty floor.
Her eyes went wide, mouth forming no again and again, but no sound came out.
Boone pressed the bristled head against her swollen slit and pushed.
Stiff nylon bristles scraped over her folds and poked into her tender flesh, and she thrashed against the straps, back arching as the horrible thing scraped her insides.
He pressed harder, working the head into her inch by inch until the entire thing was buried deep, the bristles flaring against her walls, the smooth handle at her entrance.
She bucked, tears streaming, as he turned the brush, the rough points dragging against every nerve-ending, scraping and stabbing with each twist.
“Not enough,” Silas said, voice sharp with disdain. “You’re coddling her. In and out while you twist, and harder. That cunt needs a good scouring.”
Boone pulled it out and she thrashed all over again, certain she had to be bleeding by now.
Jaw tight, Boone handed the brush to Silas, who shoved it in with no care, burying the bristled head inside her in a brutal thrust that had her mouth wide open in a scream the vampire’s brain-hack swallowed whole. Her belly clenched, thighs straining against the straps, tears pouring.
Then he twisted.
The bristles raked her walls, scraping and poking against her most sensitive flesh. He pumped it in and out like he was scouring her clean, each stroke a savage burn that left her flayed raw and frantic.
She writhed helplessly, silent sobs wracking her body — and still her clit pulsed, her pussy clenched, her body betraying her with arousal she couldn’t shut down.
“See?” Silas jeered. “Watch her cunt begging for it while we scrub her clean like a moldy water bottle. Bitch knows she’s filthy.”
And the worst of it was she had asked for this. In her letter to Kenny, she’d written about being cleaned upon acquisition like a feral beast, and now it was happening, and whether she wanted it or not, Silas wasn’t wrong about her body’s response.
Silas twisted the brush harder, fucked it faster, the bristles stabbing deep until the agony blurred into unbearable need.
Her whole body convulsed, and she came, violent and humiliating, pussy muscles spasming around the bristled head.
It felt like tearing. Like breaking. Her cunt contracted and jerked around the bristles, each clench dragging the sharp fibers deeper into her raw flesh.
Kenny’s voice was steady, detached. “This is how she learns. Pain, arousal, release. The pattern will sink in.”
Silas didn’t stop. He wrenched the brush in deeper, twisting cruelly, the bristles scraping her insides like wire.
Her body bucked and thrashed before it shattered again.
The second orgasm ripped through her with sharp, unbearable force, pain laced into every pulse.
No pleasure. Just an unbearable need even more desperate than the first, leaving her limp in the straps, sobbing silently.
When he finally yanked the brush free, her pussy throbbed, swollen and hot, every scrape of tender flesh a raw line of fire. Every pulse of her heartbeat ached inside her, proof of how thoroughly she’d been scoured.
“Look at that,” Silas said, satisfaction thick in his voice. “Red and angry, like someone took sandpaper to get rid of all that filthy skin. Beautiful.”
Boone gave a slow nod. “Scrubbed clean. Exactly as a new pet should be.”
Kenny’s tone was calm, matter-of-fact. “Raw means she’ll feel every touch tonight. Pain sharpens obedience. She won’t forget.”
Tears slid down her temples as the words sank in.
She couldn’t see herself, strapped flat to the table, but their voices painted the picture, humiliating and undeniable.
Her cunt burned, swollen and aching, and the men’s cold appraisal left her squirming in the straps, humiliated and throbbing with shameful need.
Their clinical detachment made her cunt clench, and her head lolled against the table, shame and arousal churning together until she thought she’d drown in it.
They released the straps on her thighs, Kenny buckled a shock collar tight around her thigh, and panic spiraled in her chest.
The rest of the straps were released, and Boone gently settled her on all fours on the floor. She scurried to keep up with Silas this time, the leash a constant threat, and he walked faster than Kenny had. Thankfully, he didn’t go far, only to the downstairs bathroom just off the kitchen.