Meeting Her Master

by Hayse, Breanna

  “You will not ingratiate yourself in the lives of the submissives in this house. If they are interested in you, then they will make the move. There is nothing more pathetic than grasping for scraps when a table is full of other things. You must discover your own life apart from this house and become secure with it. Only then will you be perceived in a less self-absorbed light. Empty her.”

  Dahlia gasped as she felt the plug being captured and the painful sensation of it being yanked from her body. A torrent of warm water was sprayed upon her back as her bowels exploded out from under her. She wept loudly; the humiliation and discomfort made her feel both debased and elated. Her sobbing continued as a warm, soapy sponge cleansed her still-bound form.

  “There is a place for everyone in this world, child,” Mrs. Alonso cooed, patting water from Dahlia’s face, “and just because we think we want to be in one specific place, doesn’t mean that we belong there. This may, or may not, be the place for you, but you will never know if you try to manipulate your circumstances.”

  “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” Dahlia sniffed. She wrapped her weak arms around the neck of the man who lifted her from the platform and buried her face under his neck. Mrs. Alonso tucked a dry blanket around them.

  “Become your own best friend. When you accomplish that, then you can become a friend to others. Work right now on getting to know yourself and worry less about seeking pleasure. There is a time and place for your hedonism. You will know when it is time to move forward when you are free from petty jealousy, possessive demands, and, most important, the insatiable need to be the center of attention.”

  “In other words,” Dahlia sniffed, “you want me to become invisible.”

  “In a sense, yes. Stop trying to gain attention, especially negative attention. Learn to become cheerful, supportive, encouraging, and independent. There is nothing Blake loathes more in this world than people who reek of desperation. Trust me, the negative, ‘poor me’ attitude gets real old after a while and only succeeds in chasing away quality people. Who you are will draw the same quality kind of people that you are. Think about that. Bring her to my room,” Mrs. Alonso ordered. “I will be there shortly.”

  The man placed Dahlia on a large brass bed covered with a soft hand-made quilt. She shivered despite the warm air blowing in through the window, and clung tightly to the blanket over her shoulders. The housemistress’ words swam around in her mind, not lost in the midst of renewed stomach cramping and the unending burn to her overstretched bottom-hole. She looked up as the older woman entered, carrying a silver tea service.

  “I thought it would be good for us to share some chamomile tea and talk some more,” she said, gracefully pouring the pale amber liquid into a clear glass cup and adding two teaspoons of raw sugar. Dahlia silently accepted, noticing the shaking of her hands as she attempted to steady the cup on her lap. “How are you feeling?”

  “My stomach still hurts and…”

  “Not that. I want to know what you learned about yourself today.”

  “Other than you think I am a terribly selfish person and that I use people to get what I want?”

  “Miss Covington, you can start this conversation without the bitterness.” Mrs. Alonso shook her head. “Be angry, but not with me. I merely provided the means to flush you of the poison you fill yourself with.”

  Dahlia stared at her and then felt her face heat up. She glanced at the liquid swirling in her cup and inhaled deeply. “Thanks for the tea. It’s really good.”

  “You are most welcome. Was that difficult?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Now tell me how you are feeling.”

  “I don’t know… angry, ashamed, scared…”

  “I would expect that after what you just experienced. Let’s get a little deeper into your needs. How did the loss of total control make you feel?”

  Dahlia pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped the blanket tighter around her body as she clamped her jaw shut. Mrs. Alonso sighed and placed her own cup down. She reached into a drawer on the nightstand and pulled out a hair dryer.

  “One thing most of us experience when we discover how helpless we really are in this world is that we need other people,” the older woman said and she began to run the warm air over the girl’s wet scalp and finger combed the pale blond curls. “Our pride inhibits us from asking. Do you know why?”

  “Because we are afraid that our requests won’t be understood and that we will be rejected?” Dahlia half-stated, half-asked.

  “That could be one reason. Another could be because we are afraid of the depth of our own desires. We have been taught by society to be ashamed of being different.”

  “Are there a lot of people like us?” Dahlia asked timidly.

  “More than you realize. The key is finding balance and that is where I will be your best friend and your worst enemy. Like pain, you will both hate and love me,” Mrs. Alonso said, putting the blow dryer down upon the bed. “Lie down on your stomach, hands underneath your body. Toss that blanket aside; you don’t need it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever I desire. Mind me, child. Keep your eyes closed.”

  With some hesitation, Dahlia obeyed.

  Chapter Five

  Warm hands ran over her shoulder blades and down the length of her legs. Strong fingers covered with lavender-scented oil dug into her muscles, kneading and pulling the taut knots that riddled her body. The pressure of the massage increased as the fingers worked their way to her lower back and hips, and Dahlia expelled a groan of pain.

  “Does this hurt?” Mrs. Alonso asked.

  “Yessssss… but it feels wonderful. Thank you. No one has ever touched me like this before.”

  “The human body is blessed with many zones of pleasure and sorrow, cara mia. I will teach you that there is more to your need than what you have experienced. I will teach you the true nature of pain. Of the body and of the heart. Hold still and breathe… in and out… slowly.”

  Dahlia swallowed audibly as she felt knuckles bearing down on either side of her neck to the shoulders, then moving their way down either side from the spine to the lower back. She forced herself to breathe as the pain rippled across her buttocks to the backs of her knees. Oil was lavishly poured over her skin and expertly massaged in, causing Dahlia to sink into the mattress. Her eyes shot open when a sharp smack landed across her cheeks.

  “What the…?”

  “Hush,” a deep male voice ordered. Blake! “Stay put and do not budge. This is the finest grade bull hide,” he rumbled as he began to stroke something wide and heavy back and forth over her upturned cheeks. “It is a work of art. Feel these edges? They have been beveled and oil-sanded, and the craftsman designed a cherry wood handle to perfectly fit my hand. Can you feel how long it is? No? It is three feet of ¼-inch–thick leather that he weighted and balanced to penetrate deep and leave a lasting impression. Take a deep breath and exhale…”

  Dahlia obeyed as goose bumps raised the hairs of her arms. She closed her eyes anticipating the first true fall of the lash. The searing bite of the weighted leather embraced the roundness of her buttocks and she lifted her head in stunned silence while catching the breath that threatened to abandon her.

  “Not a sound,” Blake warned, slowly pulling the strap from her body. The feeling of the warm material leaving her was as shocking as the impact. He waited, allowing the oiled area to cool in the open air before bringing his arm back. The leather made no audible sound as it cut through space before it again splattered across her flesh. Dahlia bit her lip, her desire to cry out overwhelming as she cringed against the violent caress. She panted as the strap rested where it had struck, reminding her that she could not abscond from the instrument of her pain. Blake lifted the leather from her again, pausing before he ran the edge over the welted skin and up and down the crease of her ass.

  “What is the strap doing, Dahlia?” he asked, his voice murky as she felt her mind distancing i
tself from her body. “Dahlia? Stay with me. You are not permitted to leave.”

  “I’m… I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured as a sense of drunkenness began to overtake her.

  He replaced the strap with his hand, smacking her in six quick, staccato swats across the tender flesh. She yelped in surprise, not expecting the assault.

  “Oh, shit!” she called out.

  “Are you awake now?” Blake asked, lying next to her on the bed.

  “What is happening? What are you doing to me?” She began to cry.

  He pulled her against his chest. “We are experimenting with your tolerance, honey. You have the ability to drift into subspace like no one I have ever known, so I need to learn how to draw you out if I am to use physical pain to discipline you.”

  “She already punished me today with that awful enema. I told you I didn’t want medical play,” Dahlia sobbed. She felt the bed sink on the other side of her body and a warm hand began to stroke her hair.

  “No, darling, that was not punishment. That was cleansing. And I told you that I would evaluate your claimed limits. If it is something I believe will help you, then we will explore it. You needed that enema to learn how to release your control. You also had to submit to a woman, which added to the humiliation.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Take her across your knee, Giada. She needs a good spanking.”

  “No! Blake, please…” Dahlia’s eyes were wide with panic.

  “You heard him, young lady. Stand up,” Mrs. Alonso ordered as she sat down in a straight-backed chair across the room.

  “No, please don’t,” the girl whimpered, true fear in her eyes. “I don’t want you to spank me.”

  “You have been very naughty and we are very disappointed in you. Over here now, and face the consequences of your bad choices,” Mrs. Alonso scolded softly. Dahlia broke into a torrent of tears as she looked at Blake for sympathy, and only saw a stern, no-nonsense tilt of his chin. Her limbs shook as she obeyed, lifting her naked body from the bed and approaching the older woman.

  “Stop dragging your feet, Dahlia. You are going to have a very sorry bottom today and will learn a lesson that you desperately need,” Blake said, crossing his arms.

  Dahlia hiccupped as she stood before Mrs. Alonso, her head hanging shamefully. She whimpered as her firmly gripped wrist was pulled to the left, drawing her across the woman’s long thighs. A neatly manicured hand rested on the still-welted globes and gently squeezed, eliciting a yelp.

  “You can’t be that sore yet,” Mrs. Alonso stated. “Save those tears for when you really need them.”

  Dahlia howled after the first series of relentless spanks upon her sit spots. Unknown to her, the older woman had slipped a hand paddle over her palm, providing a thick, smooth surface to add to her strength. The spanks were fast and unyielding, not allowing Dahlia to either anticipate or to adjust to the rhythm or the intensity of the slaps. She began to kick and squirm, only to find she was restrained by Mrs. Alonso’s long leg wrapped neatly around her own flailing legs.

  “You are not going anywhere, child. I am an expert horse trainer and participate in archery competitions. Trust me when I tell you that I am able to go for hours without tiring and that my muscles are well accustomed to repetitive motion. You are going to be sporting a well-painted backside by the end of this day if you do not submit to the fact that you are cared for.”

  Those words struck Dahlia harder than the ferocity of the smacks covering her bottom. She attempted to resist the welling of agony that bubbled inside her chest as the swelling tide of emotions that she was neither equipped nor willing to face began to surface.

  “…you will have a family here,” Mrs. Alonso was saying, not breaking the cycle of swift drumming. “All of us are involved in each other’s lives once you accept your place. You will have brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and, like it or not,” a blur of spanks ambushed Dahlia’s bruised posterior, “you will also have a mommy and daddy who care enough to say no.”

  The spanking ceased as abruptly as it had begun as a wail of honest distress filled the room. Mrs. Alonso held Dahlia across her knee, her now-bare hand softly caressing the multi-colored backside that shivered from the sobs. Dahlia clutched the woman’s leg, not caring that she was leaving a puddle of tears upon the floor. Mrs. Alonso allowed a few minutes to pass with her in this position, giving Dahlia the opportunity to experience the full impact of true emotional release. She then patted her back and ordered her to sit up.

  “Look at me, child,” the warm voice said, lifting a hand to the red and puffy face.

  “I’m sorry,” Dahlia sniffed pathetically.

  Mrs. Alonso smiled. “You are forgiven. Go with Blake now and remember what you have learned today.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dahlia accepted Blake’s hand and began to walk out, still quite naked. She paused and turned, broke his grip, and raced into Mrs. Alonso’s arms. “Thank you,” she sobbed.

  “You’re welcome, baby girl. This is one mama that won’t walk out on you because you have needs. I promise.”

  Dahlia did not see Blake mouth ‘thank you’ to his old friend as he gently pried her from the woman’s arms. He lifted the naked girl and held her snugly against his chest as he carried her to his chambers. He settled her on the bed and, once again, lay down next to her. “How are you doing?” he asked with a gentleness that only made her sob louder.

  Dahlia shook her head, unable to answer through the subsiding sniffles and hiccups. Each moment she felt she had finally cried herself to depletion, she felt another wave of sobs begin. “Will this ever stop?” she asked, her nose sore from blowing.

  “It will, I promise. Just let it happen right now. Feel the changes inside of you. This is healthy, cupcake.”

  “I can’t believe she did all that to me. I want to hate her, but I can’t,” Dahlia admitted.

  “Giada is one of the best at breaking down emotional walls and discovering true needs. She has instincts that I can’t even begin to explain, but I trust her.”

  “Where have you been?” Dahlia asked timidly.

  “I have been here all along, just watching and waiting. It took you a while to make your demand for attention.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Are you an adrenaline junky?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you love the thrill of speed and danger? Do you push yourself to the limits without knowing if you can overcome the instinct to protect yourself?”

  “Maybe. I mean I like roller coasters, and fast cars, and…”

  “Trying to get into BDSM clubs. I don’t think that you are the masochist you believe yourself to be. You use the pain to escape, not because it is pleasurable, but because it helps you disengage. Yes, you do enjoy some, but you have restrictions. We will explore them and see what works best for both of us.”

  “You aren’t going to give up on me?”

  “Nope. You are stuck with us. With me. There is something incredibly special about you that I want to discover.”

  “What if you change your mind?”

  “I will make you this promise.” He sat up in the bed. “If we are not mutually right for each other, I will help you find a dominant who will be the kind of man, or woman, you want.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes. Don’t be afraid. You are never going to feel alone again. And you will learn the beauty and power of the word ‘no.’ Turn on your back and spread your legs as wide as you can for me.”

  Dahlia blushed, suddenly uncomfortable with her nudity. She shook her head. “I don’t want to…”

  “Don’t want to what? Don’t want to feel my hands run down the inside of your thighs?” Blake asked, hovering over her body as his knees forced her legs apart. “You don’t want to have me kiss your skin or nibble on your flesh?”

  Dahlia shook her head as he held her wrists above her head with his left hand. “I’m scared and…”

  �
��Since when does fear inhibit your desire for pleasure, Dahlia? Since when,” he lapped her nipples, watching as they hardened under his tongue, “do you say no to your own pleasure?”

  “I don’t deserve it,” she cried out, her back cringing in a sharp arch as Blake pulled her nipples deeply into his mouth. “Please, don’t…”

  “This is not for your pleasure. It is for mine. I enjoy watching your response as I touch you,” Blake announced, releasing her wrists and running both hands down the length of her firm torso. He plunged his tongue into her belly button and then grabbed the silver captive ring with his teeth. “I will put a leash on this and teach you the joy of obedience. Or maybe,” his mouth traveled further and he nipped her nether lips, “I shall place a ring here and keep you chained to my bed. Will you say no to that, Dahlia?”

  Dahlia shook her head, her eyes rolling back as his hands and mouth touched her body with unyielding demands. His touch was so different from Ginger’s. Purely masculine and without playful hesitation.

  “Fuck me, Blake. Fuck me,” Dahlia begged, her struggling now focused on urging his hot mouth between her legs.

  “Maybe I don’t want to fuck you, Dahlia,” Blake said sadistically. “Maybe I want you to just beg and plead for my cock and deprive you of it.”

  “Oh, my God, Blake! Fuck me!”

  “I will never fuck you when you demand, my beautiful little pet. You will be my personal treasure and, when you feel my cock ride inside of you, it will be because I want to. Spread your lips for me.”

  Dahlia bit her tongue as she obeyed, her knees high to her chest as she slid her hands between them and spread her pussy wide for his view. She felt his breath upon her right before his mouth made contact. Something slid into the entrance of her wet slit at the same time her still sore bottom-hole was probed. He licked her clit again and simultaneously inserted the double-headed dildo within her. Dahlia called out in pleasure as he began to stroke the two-headed device in and out of her body while sucking and lapping hungrily at her swollen nub.