Chapter Two #4
“Correct. Those are your rules. Pleasing me isn’t a rule or an order.
I appreciate that you’ve chosen to follow my orders and are trying to please me, but you won’t be whipped if you explain to me why you aren’t comfortable following an order.
You have permission to speak at will. I hope you’ll use decorum around others, but I also hope you’ll relax and be informal when it’s just the two of us. ”
“You own me. You control my will.”
“I own you, yes. This means I could set you free if you hadn’t been turned into a wolf and blood-bonded all at once.
It’s my intention to give you as much freedom as you can handle, but only as you’re ready for it.
I could order you to exercise your free will, but I want you to work through it and figure it out on your own.
You have three rules and your wolf has one.
That’s it. You choose whether to follow other orders. ”
“Master, I—”
The magical jolt was fast, and over with before it even registered, but it hit every cell in my body and took my breath.
“I apologize, Mas…” I stopped myself before I said it again. I settled my palms on the table and looked at my nearly-empty plate. “It’s a deeply ingrained habit. I’m not disobeying on purpose.” Even then, I had to cut my words off before I called him Master again.
“I know you aren’t. The magical shock is a training tool and not punishment. You understand? I’m not angry, merely helping you learn.”
“I do. Thank you for helping me learn to please you.” I still couldn’t look at him. It felt so wrong to speak without using his title. He owned me. This wasn’t right.
He sighed. “I need to teach you to learn to please yourself, Spencer.”
I caught a hint of hunger and looked up, hopeful. “Can I feed you, my Mmm…” Damn, I almost said it again.
“I would like nothing more than to feed from you, but not as my slave.”
I shook my head. “But, I am your slave. You own me.”
“Tell me how new slaves were detoxed in your former home, and the part you played in helping.”
A change of subject, then.
“Master knocked them out and put them in the sweathouse for an hour. He woke them, and we brought them out and gave them enemas to clean them out and then another with a Bardex so it would stay in and hydrate them. The ones with long hair worth salvaging, we oiled their hair before putting them back in the sweathouse. An hour in, and then out to add to their enema and check them over. I don’t know what was in the solution, but I was told it was calories plus whatever was needed so the water would absorb into their bloodstream.
We used a half-cup per quart of water — most men got four quarts to start, most women got three quarts. ”
I sighed, remembering. “They were in the sweathouse for six hours, on their sides or stomachs, and someone came in to add to their enema every hour so they’d have plenty of fluid in them to sweat out.
At the end of their six hours we let them relieve themselves, and they were given three hours outside the sweathouse to nap before they were given another enema with a Bardex and put back into the sweathouse another six hours.
The process continued for days. They weren’t fed because they got calories from the enemas. ”
“I’ve done the fast detox thing with an IV method — giving calories and fluids, but we allowed food too, if they asked for it.” Abbott sighed. “Doing it with enemas broke them faster, I suppose.”
I nodded. “It did. A private function they’d always controlled was taken from them. First steps to understanding what it means to be owned.” My mind went to my own intake experience and the ways I’d been broken.
“I’m told you still ask for them. They aren’t required here.”
“I can’t go without them.” I cut myself off just before I called him Master. “I haven’t since I was taken into his household. I’m miserable if I don’t get cleaned out.”
“Werewolves can heal from anything. I’ve ordered someone to help you with them every other day so you won’t be uncomfortable, but eventually we’ll work past it.”
“I don’t understand what service I’m to perform for you.” Master. I knew he could hear my thoughts and I knew I was probably skating on thin ice, but it wasn’t right to speak without acknowledging who he was to me. Who we were to each other. Master and slave. Owner and owned.
“Tell me about your daily schedule under the former Master of the City.”
“I was sex and food at night. Either a gift to one of his friends, a reward to an employee for a job well done, or I was on the schedule to be paid for by a customer. Someone turned me into my wolf and right back to human before dawn, to heal me from whatever I had to endure during the night. I was fed, I helped clean up, and was sent to bed. Upon awakening, I was expected to help the slave trainers with the newest recruits. Thankfully, they never made me rape them. I did my best to give advice so they’d understand their new life and how best to survive.
” I sighed. “I was given enemas in the evening, fed, lubed, and then sent to whoever would fuck me and bleed me. Or, sent to the fuckboy stables so I could be fucked and bled all night by dozens and dozens of men.” I didn’t mention the nights of torture I endured from the men who paid extra for a wolf who could take a great deal of damage without dying.
Master Abbott had been in my head. He knew.
“And here’s what I want you to learn from me. Are you listening?”
“I am.” Master.
“I want you to figure out how to live your life and not merely survive it.”
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