The horrid paddle splatted relentlessly against her bottom six more times successively, causing Dahlia to writhe with anguish and desire. She jutted her bottom into the air as high as she was able, offering it as a sacrifice to the S&M gods. Her tormentor laughed, liberally applying a sort of proverbial goo along the soft crease between her cheeks, occasionally jutting a finger into the winking rosebud. Her groan demanded action and, without delay, he placed the swollen purple head of his manhood to kiss her nether parts and effortlessly plunged his heavy cock into her waiting ass.
He pumped her vigorously and without restraint, watching as her body smoothly swallowed his shaft. His fingers dug solidly into her hips, the tips leaving dark bruises as he neared his release. He smacked the back of her thigh with his hand, forcing her to lift her bottom higher for deeper penetration.
“Come for me, slut!” he ordered.
Dahlia opened her eyes, her hand stilled. Slut? Never! No man, not even in her fantasies, was permitted to degrade her in that manner. Anger surged through her as she was jarred back into the real world, her drug-induced stupor nullified by the onslaught of emotions. She remembered Blake’s words about personal limits… That would always be one of hers. For her, words still hurt too deeply.
Dahlia held her head in her hands, shaking off the waves of dizziness as she came down from her short-lived high. She glanced up at the clock with a frown, dismayed to see that only one hour had passed. She kicked the beanbag chair out of the way and then cursed aloud as she jammed her little toe against the frame of the bed.
“Fuck!” she snarled as she grabbed the offended digit. She limped across the small room and pulled her phone out from her purse. “Ginger, can you come pick me up? I’m at the dorm and slammed my toe pretty bad.”
“On my way, chickie. Got some grass?”
“Yeah, I’ll give you some. I also gotta tell you about the shit my dad pulled on me.”
“Worse than when he cancelled your Amex?”
“Far worse. Hurry up.”
Ginger pulled her candy-apple red Ferrari into the parking lot just as Dahlia limped outside. She greeted her friend with a deep kiss on the lips, grabbing the back of her hair to keep her in place.
“Do you know what I want more than a joint?” Ginger asked huskily.
Dahlia grinned. “What you always want. A piece of me. You got it, girlfriend.”
“You really need to stop playing hard to get, D,” Ginger laughed, pressing her foot on the gas and screeching out of the parking lot.
“Are you implying that I’m an easy lay?” Dahlia snickered, spreading her knees as Ginger’s right hand seductively rubbed her thigh.
“You certainly make me work enough to get a taste of you,” Ginger answered back. “Anything in particular you want from me today?”
“Use your imagination. In the meantime, get a load of this…” Dahlia shared the living arrangements forced upon her by her father, and her new employer’s brand of enjoyment.
Ginger’s eyes brightened with intrigue. “A real dungeon? Holy shit! Do you think he would let me come over and play?”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anyone to even know about it just yet. I know you can be trusted to keep your mouth shut. Wanna hear the worst part? He will only punish me as a reward!! Can you believe that?”
“Hmmm, a sadist telling a masochist ‘no.’ What a concept for torture! I might like this guy. Does he know you haven’t had cock yet?”
“Yeah, he asked me last night. I didn’t tell him about us. I had the feeling he would enjoy the idea too much.”
“Just don’t leave me out of anything fun. Here we are,” she said as she pulled into the garage of an elegant contemporary house. “Home sweet home. I’ll grab you some ice for that poor little toe of yours and then kiss it all better.”
“Thanks, Ging. I will meet you in the hot tub with bells on.”
“Speaking of bells…”
“I am not ready to get my nipples or my pussy pierced yet. I will wear the clips for you, though.”
Ginger acted as a crutch and assisted Dahlia through the house and into the garish back yard that had been designed like a Roman bath. Tall, sparkling white columns supported platforms that held naked statues carved with intimate detail. Each statue held a large jar from which water flowed in graceful arcs to a long, sparkling pool below. The hot tub rested on a raised dais at the far end, dumping in a small waterfall to the deep end.
Dahlia left the articles of her stripped clothing on the manicured lawn, and limped toward the benches surrounding the Jacuzzi. She sat upon the cool marble and stretched her injured foot out. Her little toe was slightly swollen and a little discolored at the joint, and hurt to wiggle.
“It just looks sprained,” Ginger commented, placing a bag of ice gently over the pained area. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital anyway?”
“Nah, I will be okay. Plus, there is nothing they could do except maybe splint it against the other toes to keep it from being knocked again. Is that champagne?”
“Of course! What would sex with me be without some bubbly?” Ginger asked, pouring them both a glass.
“True that! Thanks for the pickup, by the way.”
“No prob. Besides,” Ginger winked, “I can never have enough of you. One day, you will feel the same about me.”
“Ging… Not this again. We mess around purely for pleasure, but I like cock. I mean,” Dahlia blushed. “I’m pretty sure I will once I finally get to try one.”
“You can’t fault me for trying,” Ginger laughed good-naturedly. “You are just so beautiful and taste so delicious. Mmmm, and you know how much I love biscuits and honey. I want you as mine.”
“You make it sound like my pussy is a side dish to fried chicken.”
“I would love it as a main course even more,” Ginger hinted.
“You can have me now, if you like,” Dahlia purred as Ginger’s fingers began to knead her breast.
“I feel so used,” came the muffled response from the mouth now wrapped around the pert nipple. Ginger slowly kissed and fondled her way down Dahlia’s body, working her head between the supple thighs and kissing the top of her pelvis.
“Such a pretty girl,” Ginger hummed, stroking the fine blond hair that had been dyed to match her ombre. “Pink hair and the pinkest pussy I have ever seen. It looks like cotton candy and tastes as sweet.”
She tenderly kissed Dahlia’s inner thighs, moving down one leg and up the other, stopping only to give her pussy a quick, teasing peck. Dahlia groaned, wriggling impatiently as Ginger repeated the journey, this time up her ribs and arms.
Ginger prided herself on being able to give the best oral sex that money could buy. She considered herself a connoisseur of the female body, and she craved Dahlia’s soft, warm pussy that dripped with sweet nectar… Eager to satisfy her appetite, she ran her tongue from the bottom of Dahlia’s slit to the top, opening her lips to reveal the small, dark pink jewel. Ginger blew gently upon it before closing her mouth around it, applying soft suction as though she were suckling a nipple. She then swirled her tongue around… Tickling, lapping, and flicking, using her entire organ. Dahlia’s unfettered jerking, followed by the entwinement of fingers in Ginger’s bright red hair, was all that Ginger needed to dive in with greater gusto. Her tongue swirled faster, followed by moments of suckling.
“I wanna fuck you,” Ginger whispered.
Dahlia nodded, briefly wondering when the other woman had managed to slip into her strap on dildo. She spread her legs wider, waiting eagerly for the monstrosity to penetrate.
Ginger crawled up Dahlia’s body and boldly engulfed her mouth, plunging her tongue inside the soft, wet confines.
“Your mouth is as sweet and soft as your kitty. Can you taste yourself?”
“Uh huh… Mmmm,” Dahlia murmured, wrapping her arms around Ginger and pulling her tightly against her. Ginger reached between their legs and placed the head of the rubber cock at the drenched entrance
, easing just the tip inside.
“Are you ready to be fucked hard? Tell me you want it,” Ginger commanded, stiffening her back so she could aim the impaling device directly at its target.
Dahlia’s eyes glazed over. Finally! Rough play was about to begin! “It’s too big! You are going to hurt me!” she feigned protest.
“Too bad. Take it, girl! Take all of it!”
Dahlia released a cry as Ginger plunged the dildo within her in one, hard stroke. The length and width stretched her even more than she had prepared for, making her insides burn and attempt to expel the invader. Tears spilled from her eyes as the dildo sunk in and out of her hungry slit, making her dangle on the edge of pain and pleasure.
Ginger stopped when she heard Dahlia’s breathing change. “Oh, no, you don’t. You aren’t going to come until I say so. On your knees!”
Ginger unstrapped the imbedded cock from around her waist and harnessed it to Dahlia, who was forced to keep her knees spread wide apart to accommodate the size. She pressed Dahlia’s head to the ground and then secured her wrists to the harness at her thighs.
“This restraint will prevent you from closing your legs and denying me access. Arch your back and show me your asshole. I think I might take that today too. I have never double fucked you, have I?”
Dahlia shook her head, both excited and terrified at the idea of being completely filled. Ginger pressed her tongue to the puckered hole, kissing it gently.
“Yes… This little asshole needs some special attention today. Before I fuck it, though,” she ran something down Dahlia’s crack, “I think I want to punish it. This is a rubber stringed flogger. It is small but leaves a nice little sting when bad little assholes are spanked with it.”
She ran the thread-like tails of the small flogger across Dahlia’s moist pussy, then snapped it cleanly to nip the flexing sphincter.
“Yow!” Dahlia exclaimed, clenching her cheeks without much success.
“Can’t you feel that I used the harness to keep these lovely pieces of flesh pulled apart? You can’t hide this naughty little thing from me, you bad girl,” Ginger scolded, snapping her again.
“I don’t think I like that thing,” Dahlia complained, unable to crawl away or collapse to escape the smarting stings.
“You? Not like pain? Since when, darling?” Ginger paused to rub her fingers up and down the offended crack.
“I like thuddy pain, not sharp. This shit hurts.”
“Are you calling your safeword? If you do, the scene ends,” Ginger warned her, smacking the protruding bottom several times. Dahlia groaned as the dildo was jarred inside of her.
“Ohhh… That is what I like. Please…”
“No. I lost interest,” Ginger remarked cruelly.
“I’m sorry I complained! Do whatever you want. I promise, I will be quiet. Nooo…” Dahlia whined as Ginger released her and yanked out the rubber cock. “Let me come at least!”
“Absolutely not. Give me a kiss and get into the hot tub.”
Dahlia obeyed, hugging Ginger tightly to her heaving breasts. “Thanks. You always know how to make me suffer.”
“Just think, baby,” Ginger cooed, playing with Dahlia’s nipple, “the day I finally allow you to come will be spectacular. I really wish I knew what made you tick, though.”
“I do too. Not that it matters,” Dahlia laughed, splashing her friend, “as long as I know someone is in control, I am in heaven. Especially if I am being denied what I want.”
“We will have to talk about that during our next session. I am assuming your daddy still wants you to see your therapist regarding your ‘unnatural attraction to pain,’ as he puts it.”
“Little does he know, but making me go to a therapist was the best thing he ever did for me. I hope he will be given a good report about my progress,” Dahlia snickered.
“I feel guilty about taking his money, but hell,” Dr. Ginger Franklin smiled, coaxing her finger inside Dahlia’s stretched pussy. “He knew my methods were unconventional when he hired me.”
Chapter Three
Blake slammed the notebook closed after glancing up at the clock sculptured directly into the plaster wall. The artist has designed it as a message that time was solid, unwavering, and immoveable. Blake was much like that clock. Nothing could budge him or distract him from his focus.
Except Dahlia.
He had never met a true masochist before. His curiosity about her ‘condition’ had led him to the Internet to research. Like those drawn in as sadists, Blake discovered that the masochistic personality was as varied as the individual. There was no specific limit or direction, and only time and patience would reveal the exact nature of Dahlia’s needs and desires.
She had commented that she needed pain to feel. Feel what? Alive? In control? Wanted? Desirable? He knew she enjoyed a certain degree of physical pain, but what of psychological? He had spoken with her father briefly and was told that the girl had been seeing a therapist for eight months now and the only change was that she no longer hurt herself.
Dahlia had been a stabber, and used to self-inflict puncture wounds using needles and other such pointed instruments. She had not harmed herself to the point of needing hospitalization, but the fear remained that she could do so one day.
Mr. Covington revealed the name of the therapist as Ginger Franklin. Blake knew the woman well and had even engaged in unidentified hooded play with her in his private dungeon located at Over the Barrel. He knew the names and professions of all his clients, and was simply known as Master. No name and no initials to give away his secret.
Blake scrubbed his forehead, wondering what type of insanity came over him when he showed his personal dungeon to Dahlia the second she arrived. Was it because she had tried to gain entry to his club and been refused? Or, perhaps, something within him whispered that she was the one he had been searching for.
He was definitely physically attracted to her. Despite his tendency to desire more mature women, this young beauty had a quality to her that he found irresistible. It was not those long, shapely legs that had been strengthened through years of riding English saddle and going on mock hunts. Nor was it those large, dark blue eyes that reminded him of a baby doll, or the naturally pink lips that peaked in the perfect Cupid’s bow.
Maybe it was the freshness of her rebellion. The pink ombre hair, which, on anyone else, would have looked clownish. The piercing to her left eyebrow and to her labrum looked natural on her slender face and complemented her delicate features. He wondered if she bore any other piercings or body art, and tapped his pen against the glass top of his desk. Indeed, such modifications, if they existed, would tell him more of her story.
Blake looked up as Mrs. Alonso entered carrying a tray.
“Your coffee, sir. Please allow me to serve.”
“You may, and then I want you to sit. I wish to speak with you.”
“Have I done something to displease you, Master?” The woman looked alarmed, her hands trembling as she poured the beverage.
“Not at all. You please me greatly, Giada. You always have. But, isn’t this your afternoon off?”
“Humberto had his nose in the accounts and I try to make myself scarce when he balances books.”
“I see. I also gather you did not tell him you were coming here,” Blake tsked. “I want your impression of the Covington girl.”
“May I speak freely?” the woman asked. She inhaled after seeing his nod. “She is a spoiled, whining child who lacks boundaries and respect. She seems to be under the impression that the planet revolves around her needs and desires, and anyone that attempts to correct her is disposable.”
“You don’t like her,” Blake observed.
“No, sir. I am hoping the day she leaves our household will come soon.”
“What if it does not? What if I desire her to stay?”
“This is your home, Master. You pick and choose who you want and who you do not,” Mrs. Alonso said through clenched teeth.
&n
bsp; “Speak to me as a friend. You have known me the longest and have been the most loyal of my companions. I trust you and your instincts.”
“I am also the one who gave you your very first blowjob and taught you how to please a woman,” Giada relaxed, smiling. “I love you in a special way. I do miss our encounters.”
“As do I, but I will not defile your marriage bed. Your husband agreed to allow you to continue in my service under the condition I don’t give myself to you sexually. I respect him and will honor that request.”
Giada snorted. “Do you always have the need to keep your promises? And what do you mean by your giving yourself to me? As I recall, it was the other way around.”
Blake laughed. “Very true. So speak to me. You obviously do not care for the kid any more than she cares for you. On that note, feel free to push her if you must. She needs to learn how to submit to your position if she is to stay.”
“I gather you have already made up your mind to keep her. Foolishness, if you ask me.”
“Your jealousy is very attractive, but it still won’t change my mind. Answer this question… How can one punish a masochist? Other than by denying them punishment.”
“Every masochist has certain ways they enjoy pain and suffering, but that doesn’t mean they enjoy them all. For example, she might love being whipped, but hates being paddled. You need to discover what she hates, and use that to discipline.”
“She reacted adversely to the rattan cane last night, and I did not deliver punishing strokes, either. She did enjoy tapping…”
“Who doesn’t enjoy tapping, Blake?” Giada giggled. She straightened her face. “You mentioned earlier that she is seeing a therapist. Perhaps you can make an appointment and get some information.”
Blake hummed, thinking. He already had an appointment with Ginger set up in two days. The difference was that she was the client. Yes, he could find some very pertinent information if he played his cards right.
Meeting Her Master Page 3