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Abby looked around the bathroom helplessly. “Y-yes, Sir.” God, she was going to have to be good girl. And fast.
“Strip,” he ordered.
“I took a shower before-”
His hand snaked out and he grabbed the O-ring on the front of her collar. “Are you arguing with me? Already?”
Abby was caught off guard, but Mark wasn’t hurting her. “N-no. No, Sir. I was- I was just…letting you know.”
He nodded. “Now I know. Strip.” He let go of her collar.
Abby unbuttoned her shirt, slid it off and draped it over Mark’s outstretched arm. She unfastened her bra and did the same. It was, in a word, uncomfortable. She wasn’t horny. She wasn’t even remotely turned on and somehow disrobing in the harsh light of day in a room with no door seemed clinical and strange.
She slipped off her sandals and unzipped her skirt. She stepped out of it, handed it to Mark, and then removed her panties. She bent, picked up her shoes, and he took those as well. “Stay, pet,” he told her and left the room.
She shivered even though it wasn’t cold and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around the room, but didn’t see anything odd or unusual. Mark returned and immediately slapped her arm lightly. “Never hide yourself from me,” he demanded.
“I didn’t! I wasn’t! I was just-”
“Never cover yourself in my house unless you’ve been given permission. Not with your hands, not with clothes, nothing. You will hide nothing from me, pet. No matter if I’m in the room or not. Understood?”
She nodded.
He brought up the wrist cuffs. “Offer yourself to me.”
She extended one arm and he slid the cuff on, buckling it tightly. She held out the other one and he did the same. He checked their tightness and led her further into the room. He turned her to face the right hand wall. “Kneel.”
Abby wasn’t sure what was going on, but she knelt on the tile floor. Mark squatted down beside her, holding a double ended snap hook. He clipped one end to the metal rings on both cuffs and the other into a metal ring in the floor that she hadn’t noticed before. She couldn’t move or even turn around, only look over her shoulder.
Mark stood up and moved behind her. She heard the sound of the small linen closet opening behind her but couldn’t see it. Her heart started to pound as she wondered what he was doing. She knew better than to ask.
“Have you evacuated your bowels today, pet?”
What? “What?”
“I’m being polite, pet. If you want, I can be more crude.”
Holy Shit. Er, no, not Holy Shit. Most definitely not Holy Shit. “Um. Yes. Sir.”
“How often do you have the need?”
Oh, my God.
“No, pet. I’m not God. I’m your Dom and I am asking you how often you move your bowels.”
She’d said that out loud? Oh, man she was losing control of the situation. Then she almost laughed. Like she ever had control. But she had, hadn’t she? Before this. Oh, yes, she had. She’d had ‘cantaloupe’. And her long and silly list of limits. She’d had control and now she’d given it away.
“Pet?”
Her face burned. She was glad she wasn’t facing him so he could see it. “Once. Once a day. In the morning.”
“Good girl.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. She was a good girl. Maybe she could get up off the floor at least, if she couldn’t have a door.
“Lie down. On your side.”
Well, damn. She wasn’t getting up off the floor. She slid her knees down and lowered herself. Mark sank down behind her. He reached down and parted her butt cheeks with one hand. As she felt something push against her, she bucked. He let go of her bottom and slapped it.
“No,” he growled.
She gritted her teeth and forced herself to relax as he parted her again. It took her a moment to realize the probe was his finger. It was covered in something. The lube she figured. She took deep breaths. Then she felt something else. Not his finger. But it wasn’t cool and smooth like the plug. It felt strange and alien. Ha, like an alien probe. Oh, God now is not the time for jokes, she told herself.
“Hold still,” he chastised and she realized she’d been wiggling. “Take your enema like a good girl.”
She froze. “What? No! Mark, no! No!”
He slapped her again, this time on the thigh. “You will address me as ‘Sir’. And you will take this enema one way or another. We can either do this now, or I can fig your asshole with ginger again. Over and over until you’re begging me to let you have an enema. What do you want, pet? The enema? Or the ginger root and then the enema?”
Abby was panting now. Mark was holding her down at the hip. She couldn’t get away. Even if he let go, she was still cuffed to the floor.
