Squatch (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 4)

by Candace Blevins

  He shook his head. “You know I don’t work with safewords. You also know I’ll stop if you’re in genuine distress.”

  Yeah, I knew, but I’d still had to try. I glared at him, but I had a feeling my drunk-assed-glare wasn’t terribly intimidating. “Okay, then we won’t use a safeword, but the first time you give me one, stop is going to have to mean motherfucking stop.”

  He gave me a half-grin. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk. We’ll talk about it again when you’re sober. We’re also going to talk about the fact I don’t want you cussing when we have sex. I’m thinking maybe your tongue will need to be punished if you do.”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Fuck you.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I think I will.” He touched my chin and met my gaze. “For the record, that’s your last free cuss word. Any further while you’re supposed to be submissive will earn some kind of consequence.”

  Twenty seconds later, I was lying on my back on the dining room table, my jeans were ripped open and tossed on the floor, my knees were up by my ears, and Squatch’s fat cock pushed into my slippery cunt.

  Squatch

  Enema’s aren’t my kink. They’re like doing the dishes, or brushing your teeth. A necessary chore. Usually, you can poke around in a cunt with your finger and feel for solid matter in the rectum, and if it’s there and I want anal, I’ll give them a quick Fleet to wash it out, because scat isn’t my thing, either.

  I’d never had to clean Kitty out, though a couple of times I’d felt solid matter and opted to just fuck her cunt. Most of the time when we have time together and it isn’t spur of the moment, she’s been clean, and yeah, I’d assumed she was taking care of it.

  But if she needed this from me, I’d do it.

  I wasn’t going to half-ass it, though. If we were going to do this, I’d do it my way. Something different. She thought she needed gentle, and she probably did, at first, but what she really needed was for me to make it different than Mike had. Something unique between the two of us.

  While I’d fucked my still-tipsy girlfriend, I’d made her tell me what he’d used. Turns out, he’d used the old-fashioned red rubber bladder.

  So I went online and ordered a bucket-style enema, two butt plug nozzles, and two dick-shaped ones — one of which was nearly as fat as me. I also ordered the hardware to install a plumbed enema system into my shower, so I could give them to her without needing to set anything up.

  But our first experience, before the shipment arrived, was going to be a let-down for her. By design.

  I didn’t want to send a prospect to the store for liquid suppositories, so I went myself. They’d make her go with minimal cramping and not much fuss, but they’d get us started. Crack the door open, so to speak.

  After breakfast, which followed ten hard smacks of her favorite paddle during our morning routine, I put her to work with a few boxes of things from her apartment, with orders to distribute them throughout the house. Her cast iron skillet, spatulas she liked, cookbooks, a floor lamp, some throw pillows, an area rug. Completely random shit that felt like she’d picked them out with purpose and not because they’d been cheap, or items she’d brought from home when she escaped the ambush. Or, in the case of the cookbooks, that she’d replaced because there hadn’t been room to bring them from home. I’d seen the same books in her father’s kitchen.

  While she did that, I went to a drugstore and bought liquid suppositories.

  And a wooden hairbrush.

  I made it quick, when I returned home. I sat on the edge of the large tub, had her strip to naked, pulled her over my lap, five strikes to her right ass cheek, then the left, then the right again, and the left again. I gruffed out an order to be still, uncapped the applicator, stuck it in her ass, squeezed it a few times until the liquid was out of the tiny bulb, recapped it, tossed it in the trash across the room, and then skated my palm across the heat of her ass.

  Liquid suppositories are fast. Thirty seconds to two minutes. We’d barely passed the lower threshold when she squeezed her cheeks together, pulled her knees in, and then straightened her hips, her entire body as stiff as a statue.

  “What was that? Fuck. I need to go!”

  “Count to twenty and then you can, but you’ll pay for that fuck once you’re finished.”

  She counted from one to twenty in around seven seconds, and I walked out of the bathroom to let her go in peace. I had no desire to stay and watch her take a shit.

  I grabbed a set of clover clamps from my closet, and returned to the bathroom when she turned the shower on.

  “Tongue out, sweetheart.”

  She looked at the clamp and I scented her fear and trepidation, but she only hesitated a few seconds before she opened her mouth and offered her tongue.

  The scent of her pain saturated the bathroom when I released my fingers from the clamp to let it fasten onto her outstretched tongue, but she didn’t whine or complain. I left the second clamp dangling from her tongue. “It can get worse, Kitten. A lot worse. You need to watch that pretty little mouth when we’re in power exchange. Cuss all you want the rest of the time. I think it’s adorable then.”

  She glared at me, I kissed her forehead, and left her to it. “Lube your ass before you leave the bathroom.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Kitty

  Have you ever had to take a shower with half your tongue hanging out of your mouth? It’s awkward as fuck. There, I said it again. Fuck.

  Not to mention how badly it hurt, but I didn’t dare take it off.

  I looked at the box when I got out of the shower. Liquid suppositories. How did I not know about this? I’d cramped and hurt for maybe three minutes, my bowels had moved, and that had been it. Fast. Granted, it probably only cleared the way for an hour or so, but still, it made me mad at Mike all over again for using enemas on me instead of these tiny little things.

  I have a coconut oil and shea butter mixture I use on my skin, but he’d brought straight coconut oil in while I showered, so I used it to generously lube my ass. Squatch’s dick is fucking fat. He’s always a challenge to take up the ass, so I stretched myself as well as I could.

  When I came out of the bathroom, he was seated on a chair in our little sitting area, and he casually pointed to the floor in front of him. My insides ignited. Lava flowed through my veins. I knew this wasn’t punishment, so there was no fear. If you’d told me a year ago I’d have gotten all hot and bothered at the idea of kneeling naked before a man, I’d have called you crazy.

  But here I was, going to my knees, my clit throbbing, my insides clenching.

  “Today, I chose the simplest method I know to clean you out. I’ve ordered some supplies. Overnighted them, actually. We’ll proceed to more complicated methods in the coming days. You’re mine. All of you.” He sat back and watched me a few moments. Observing. I felt even more exposed. More naked.

  “For the time being, I’m in charge of cleaning you out. You come to me and let me know if you need it and I’m not aware. Eventually, we’ll make this an occasional thing, so it’s back in your hands most of the time, and I only take the reins when it suits me, but for now, I believe we both need me to step in and micromanage this part of your life. So, I am.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “I want you to write up the rules you think you need to be living under while you’re micromanaged. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to work on them. I have an idea of what I want to implement, but I’d like to see your version of it before I decide for certain.”

  I looked at the floor. “If you come inside me before work, I’ll need to be cleaned out again before I go.”

  I couldn’t bear to say the next part out loud, so I said it telepathically. Just a small, quick rinse with water, to make sure I don’t leak.

  He froze, as if this wasn’t something he’d considered before. Did he really not know I’d had to do that, when he came inside me thirty minutes before I had to leave for work?

  I looked back up
, needing to see the expression on his face, but he swiped his hand over it again, erasing whatever look he’d had. “It appears I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I’ll pull out and come on your back today. Easy enough to take care of that with a baby wipe, right?”

  I nodded. “Most of my customers are human, and the ones who aren’t know they can’t expect me not to smell of other men. Sir.”

  Kitty

  Freckles was in the driveway in a club SUV when I came out of the house. Squatch had fucked my ass and left. He was scheduled to help Khan oversee the club submissives that evening. They could sit in a room and watch the feeds from all three rooms. When two women were working, it could be Khan alone, but when all three rooms were booked, they were supposed to have two people watching, so if one needed to leave to handle a problem in one room, someone was still watching the other two.

  He hadn’t shared much of anything with me until he’d given me the vest, but now, he answered most of my questions. Something about his brothers voting me in allowed him to tell me, but he was clear that if I talked, it would be the same as if he talked, and it would mean they’d chain him up and beat him to within an inch of his life.

  And when I asked if he’d done that to others in the club, he’d looked down and hadn’t answered. He had, and it tore him up, but it didn’t matter. They lived by a code, and they’d follow it, no matter what. I wouldn’t have understood before I’d hung out with them. Loyalty and honor are big with them, which means a breach in either couldn’t be accepted. It meant the consequences for harming the club or a member, or even putting someone at risk, were brutal.

  And it meant if something happened to me when Freckles was supposed to be watching me, he was probably in a world of hurt. So I smiled and didn’t argue when he opened my door and then closed it for me. I also sat in my seat when we arrived, let him open my door before I got out, and then walked inside with him. I wanted to argue that it’d be safe to drive to the door, let me out, and watch me go in.

  But no one was on the door yet, and he was supposed to hand me to someone in a cut. So I didn’t argue. I didn’t even make a smart-assed remark asking if Bobcat had to sign something to say I’d been received in working order.

  Cutting up with the other women in the dressing room was a relief. It didn’t hurt that my first center stage dance was one of my favorites, either. I start out looking like a dominatrix, whip and all, and end up looking like the perfect submissive, kneeling and crawling. I start in a lot of black leather, including a rip-away fake corset, and thigh-high boots that tear away to just high-heeled black shoes. I end in just the heels and a black thong, with black fabric around my wrists and ankles to simulate cuffs. I left the thong on, but put everything else away in the dressing room before I moved to the side stages. I went out in sparkly heels, and rubbed glitter lotion on my boobs.

  When I came down from the stages, I spent most of the next two hours in the back room — lapdance after lapdance. Three men asked about going next door, and I turned the first two down. The first one would’ve been a new customer, so I could rationalize it.

  However, I’d gone next door with the second man before. There wasn’t a reason to turn him down, but I’d done so without thinking about it.

  This was a job, and I earned good money going next door. If I stopped, I’d earn half as much. That wasn’t acceptable. So, when someone else asked me fifteen minutes later, I asked him what he wanted, told him the price, and then walked next door when he agreed to it.

  And I had to fake my orgasm because the whole thing felt icky.

  I didn’t go next door again that night. Or the next.

  Neither did I talk to Squatch about it, though. I wasn’t ready to agree to stop for good. I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  But, of course, Squatch brought it up the next morning in bed, while he was holding me after my teasing, fun morning spanking.

  “Bobcat called me last night. Asked if I’d told you to stop going next door.”

  “I didn’t tell him you had.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not agreeing I’ll stop.”

  “Okay.”

  And that was it. He dropped it. Shocking, right?

  However, a few minutes later, he brought up the next conversation.

  “Some of the supplies I ordered arrived yesterday.” All deliveries go to the spa, since they don’t want anyone in the compound who isn’t authorized to be here. That means if something is addressed to him, I won’t know it’s arrived. The spa employees notify the person it’s addressed to.

  “And you want to know if there’s a reason I’ll need to clean myself out before going to work?”

  “I know you sometimes do, but not always.”

  Right, because if I’m working four until four, I’ll take a break and do it around eight or nine that night with a Fleet. I sat up and leaned against the headboard, looking down at him, but I didn’t want the eye contact. I crossed my arms and curled my body in, so I stared at the tops of my thighs.

  “I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

  “You’re the one who wanted me to take charge. Talk.”

  “If I clean myself out at two o’clock and I don’t go next door until ten that night...” I wanted to straighten my spine and look him in the eyes, but I stayed curled in on myself. “It’s better if I take a dinner break around eight or nine. A quick Fleet, empty out, wash my hands, a small meal, pace and walk to get everything moving, back to the bathroom to be sure it’s all gone, baby wipes and then lube myself inside, more baby wipes for the outside, wash my hands again, and then go back to work.”

  “Meaning I won’t be able to take charge of that one.”

  “Not without making it really awkward, Sir.” I took a breath. “It seemed so important, a few days ago. Like, Mike had owned that part of me, and I needed you to own it. But, the truth is...” I finally sat up straight and met his gaze. “I own it now. He hasn’t been in charge of any part of me for a long time. I took charge of myself when I left the compound.”

  He was stretched out on his side, his head propped on his hand, looking up at me. And yet, somehow, he was still the one in charge. I wasn’t being submissive, and he wasn’t being dominant, but the undercurrent was there. I’d given up a portion of my power to him, and it didn’t matter that he wasn’t exercising it at the moment, he was still an alpha male having a conversation with his submissive.

  “I’ve appreciated that you were nearly always available for me without...” He rested his free hand on my thigh, and the heat of it sank into the muscles. “Now that I think about it, I’m realizing you probably keep yourself cleaned out more than is healthy.”

  I shook my head. “I know about enema dependence, but Mike said as long as I’m changing twice a month, it won’t be a problem. One month, he’d give me a small enema every day I went to him, just enough to clean the lower intestines out. I had to go to the training center three days a week on those months. The alternate months, I went to him five days a week. Every weekday, with weekends off. Every Monday morning, he’d give me a series of enemas, each larger than the one before. It was a marathon session, and he’d keep going until every bit of the water that came out was clean. I was exhausted when he finished, and then he’d only let me drink clear liquids for days. Sweet tea, sports drinks. Oh, and jello. I got enough calories, but the point was that nothing went into my colon for three days, and then I had to eat for a couple of days before...”

  I shrugged and crossed my arms again. I didn’t want to talk about this, but if I wanted Squatch to own this part of me, he needed to understand. “Then, the next month, he’d go back to a quick rinse before every session. He told me I’d have to follow whichever method the man I’d been sent to preferred. So, he went back and forth.”

  “You were sent to these men to get pregnant. Why was anal even a thing?”

  “He said some men prefer anal, so they’d start out that way and then switch to the pussy just before they
came. My job was to get them off, their job was to switch to the pussy to come, if they weren’t already there.”

  “The supplies I bought were purchased with the goal of making you run clear. I don’t know that I need to take charge indefinitely, but it feels important we do it at least once.” He sat up, pulled me into his lap, and wrapped his arms around me. I melted into him, so happy for the touch. The connection. The acceptance.

  “We’ll do it Sunday evening, you’ll get a good night sleep, and then Monday I’m gonna stretch the fuck out of your ass. Probably Tuesday, too.” He kissed the top of my shoulder. “I’m taking control of keeping you clean until then. If you need to manage a quick clean-out at work, you’ll text me and let me know. If you need to do it at home, you’ll let me know a few hours before so I can handle it.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  His arms tightened around me and he held me closer. “You’re mine, Kitten.” Whatever I had to do to be certain we both knew it, I’d do. “Text me when you leave work tonight. Walk in the door and come to the bathroom. Disrobe and await instructions.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Kitty

  Later, when I talked to Kirsten about that week, she assigned me some reading material between our appointments. Without understanding what we were doing, Squatch and I had managed to do something right, apparently. Replacing bad memories with good.

  I’d had no idea why I started talking differently during the extended clean-out sessions. Not baby-talk, exactly. Each word was enunciated correctly, but the sentence structure was that of a child — mostly a noun and a verb, with an occasional object at the end, but no modifiers. Or, a few simple modifiers. The kind of sentence you’d expect from a toddler or preschooler.