Page 18 of Take Me

The shame knocks the wind out of me, and my legs are shaking, barely able to hold me up, when he shoves me into another corner and hoses me down.

My only consolation is that the water isn’t cold.

***

“Do you want me to start training her ass?” Dax holds up a butt plug made of clean steel.

“I’ll do it myself,” Mikhail says, keeping his eyes trained on me as if I’m a flight risk.

But that’s surely not the reason. I’m back in the chair, strapped down even tighter than before—two straps on each arm and leg and two over my torso. The only movement I can manage is wriggling my hands and feet and turning my head. Escape is as likely as trees growing out of the sky.

No, I think he’s just bored, and I happen to be the most interesting thing in the room.

His gaze is unnerving, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. It’s not worth precious energy to fight right now. So I just lie there, shifting my gaze across the room as I try not to think about what Dax will do next as he puts the butt plug away and rummages to retrieve other items. I’m sure whatever it is won’t be any better than the plug.

In the brief moments of shutting my eyes to my circumstance, I find a certain rest in the strict restriction. The tightness of my bonds dispels any thought of escape, and when I let my mind drift off to better places, the snug fit is almost comforting. Like a tight hug.

But then I open my eyes and remember that there are no good intentions in the bonds. They’re meant to keep me still as the two men violate me, take away my most basic rights, and subject me to more degradations.

So I quickly snap out of the illusion and don’t allow myself more respites from this predicament, afraid it will only lead me back to that same warped place.

“The usual treatment? All gone?” Dax asks, snapping on new latex gloves.

“All gone,” Mikhail confirms.

“All what?” I ask, speaking something beyond desperate pleas for the first time since Dax stuck the syringe into my ass.

“All hair.” Mikhail takes a clipboard that Dax hands him and turns his bored gaze to the attached paper. “Well, everything but your wavy locks.” Scanning the paper, he twirls a finger at the side of his head.

A small gush of relief eases the weight on my chest. My long auburn hair is one of my best features. Losing it would be like losing a fundamental part of my identity.

Dax rolls up between my legs on his stool and proceeds to smear hot wax on my private parts and rip off my hair with strips of fabric.

I wince and whimper through the pain, but I don’t have much more reaction in me. If it had been last night, I would have been mortified to the point of a breakdown. But in the wake of the enema, waxing seems like a trivial matter.

Dax barely even looks at my face as he goes about removing every single hair on my body. I think I’m merely an object to him. Merchandise, like Mikhail called me.

It scares me. If I’m not a person to him, there are no limits to what he might subject me to.

But at this very moment, his clinical approach is a relief.I can almost pretend I’m at the doctor’s, getting an exam.

Almost.

Mikhail disrupts the illusion with his authoritative presence that hovers close by. I constantly feel his gaze on me, and it makes me jittery and nervous. Like having a hungry wolf staring at you.

Apparently, I’m not the only one unnerved by his intense observation.

“You’re freaking me out over there,” Dax says at one point, glancing up from where he holds my ass cheeks spread to apply more wax. “Go shoot a deer or some cans, or whatever it is you do.”

“Never mind me. Just do your magic.” Mikhail takes a relaxed pose, spreading his legs to fill the space around him in that confident manner powerful men do.“Special delivery, this one.”

“Aah, one of those.” Dax goes back to work, and silence prevails until my pussy, ass, legs, and armpits are all free of hair.

“What else do you want?” Dax gets up and tosses the latex gloves aside.

Mikhail scans the paper on the clipboard as if it were a menu. “She needs birth control. I’m thinking an implant.” His finger moves over the paper and stops as he speaks again. “A harness maybe. Cuffs. Or chastity belt. Something to keep her fingers from her pussy.”

“Sure thing. I have a couple of options. How about piercings?”

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