Meeting Her Master (19 page)

“This is amazing. I didn
’
t know you were so talented. Blake was right in getting you to switch your major.”

“You have a lot to do with this too. Thanks for being, well, you.”

“Even the ‘mean
’
me?” Giada asked, hugging Dahlia to her.

“Especially the ‘mean
’
you. You showed me that I could screw up and not be thrown away like a piece of trash. And last night,” Dahlia stammered over her words, “what you had me do…”

“Suckling at my breasts? It felt good, didn
’
t it? Comforting?”

“Yeah, in its own weird way. I didn
’
t feel rejected by a mother figure.”

“That is what I was hoping, child. I can
’
t undo the crap your mother pulled on you, but I can give you ways to get beyond it. How did you feel with me watching you?”

“I was so turned on it wasn
’
t funny,” Dahlia confessed. “I think I could get into exhibitionism.”

“
Weren’
t you the one saying that you weren
’
t interested in public humiliation?” Giada asked casually.

“Yeah, well, I said a lot of stupid things. I
’
m glad you and Blake know better. If it were up to me, I
’
d still be wandering dark streets in the hopes someone would hurt me.”

“Is that why you were out that night?” Giada asked softly.

“Yes. I was hoping that something horrible would happen. I didn
’
t care. I just wanted…”

“Tell me what you really wanted, baby. You
’
re safe with me. Tell me the truth.”

“I wanted him to see that I existed. I thought that maybe if I was seriously hurt or even dead, he would finally acknowledge me.”

“
Your dad?
” Giada asked. Dahlia nodded, curling up in her arms. “Could I make a suggestion?”

“I guess. I feel so stupid right now.” Dahlia buried her face in Giada
’
s arm.

“No, not stupid. Honest. I think it would be good to confront your father with the truth. Don
’
t accuse him, just tell him what happened with your mother, and the way he treated you, and how it made you feel.”

“He won
’
t care. He washed his hands of me once Blake walked into the picture.”

“
I don’
t think he washed his hands of you, child. I think he finally realized that he needed to let go. He
’
s a sad man and has his own ghosts to deal with. God only knows the things your mother said to him, and vice versa. There are many things we do not know, so we have to be slow to jump to conclusions.”

“What if he doesn
’
t believe me? What if he calls me a liar or acts like I
’
m a mental case?”

“Have you shared the truth with Blake and me?”

“Yes. Everything.”

“Just because someone denies the truth does not mean it is less truthful. If he rejects your words, it is because he isn
’
t ready to accept them. His attacks would be a measure against himself, not you.”

“Would you two be there with me? For support?”

“Certainly. In fact, we will have him come to the hacienda so that this occurs on your turf. It will give you more strength.”

“Can I get high first?” Dahlia asked, partially serious.

“No, but I am sure Blake will be happy to session with you beforehand. It always gives you a sense of peace and helps you focus.”

“I have to think about it. I need more time.”

“Take as much as you need, honey child. We will be here for you.”

Blake walked in an hour later, covered with hay dust and smelling very much like the stables.

“Hello, ladies. How was your morning?”

Giada filled him in as he showered and changed into clean clothes, while Dahlia sat quietly and fiddled with her sketchpad. Blake sat next to her on the bed, towel wrapped over his shoulders. He pulled the pad from her hands and studied it thoughtfully.

“What
’
s this, cupcake?”

“It
’
s nothing. Silly imagination, that
’
s all. Give it back.”

“What is it? Oh, my,” Giada held her hand over her mouth, “this is… is…”

“A self-portrait. You have no idea how happy it makes me when you see yourself so beautiful and fairy-like,” Blake said, touching Dahlia
’
s face with a gentleness that made both her and Giada sigh. “I am so proud of you. So incredibly proud.”

Chapter Eleven

Blake glanced in the rearview mirror at the two women.

“I wish you would wait for me,” he said in good humor. “I would like to get in on some of the action.”

“We aren
’
t doing anything that you would be interested in,” Giada giggled, wrapping her arm protectively around Dahlia
’
s shoulders and kissing her cheek.

“Really? Then why is your hand hiding under her skirt?”

“
Busted,
” Dahlia snickered. “She was distracting me from this upcoming visit to your friend. Are you sure I can play? I
’
m still bruised and tender from last time.”

“Both of you will play. He was at your, uh, ‘‘coming
’
out party. Giada knows him well.”

“Very funny. Ha-ha, see me laugh?” Dahlia groaned. “Who is he?”

“
Master Broen,
” Giada said pleasantly. “Nice enough guy, when he isn
’
t in leather. He is the scourge of the North Americas according to his pets.”

“Scourge? That doesn
’
t sound very inviting.”

“He runs a house of terror,”
Blake laughed.
“All his boys are purchased slaves and constantly fight to see who gets to serve their master
’
s needs next. Hell, even my pets don
’
t get into fights for me.”

“About that, Blake…”
Dahlia began.

“Please don
’
t tell me that you want me to stop playing with our pets,” Blake stated, frowning at her tone. “Even if we were, well, in a committed relationship, I would still want to engage in non-emotional play.”

“I was not gonna say anything about that. Wow, you are sensitive today!” Dahlia exclaimed, leaning forward in the seat. “What brought that on?”

“He
’
s feeling protective, possessive, and paternal since his Hallmark moment this afternoon,” Giada teased gently. “He
’
s really in touch with his feminine emotions under all that bluster and bluff. Don
’
t worry about it, child.”

“I
’
m not amused,” Blake grumbled. “What were you going to say, Dahlia?”

“I was going to ask if it was okay for me to play with your pets, too. Giada was telling me about their expertise and I thought it would be fun to learn new things.”

“Of course you may, under the condition that you don
’t ignore me.
”

“How could I ignore you? I hear you snoring in the room next to mine every night.”

“If I am that annoying, then I suggest you come in and wake me.” Blake
’
s eyes glittered.

“You want me to force myself to climb into your bed and discover a way to plug your mouth and stop your snoring? Sounds intriguing. I might just do that.” Dahlia offered a cheesy smile, squealing as Giada pinched her thigh and returned her hand between her knees.

Master Broen’
s house stood out like a monument on a lone hill. It was dark, intimidating, and an architectural eyesore.

“I
’
m sorry, but that is one of the ugliest houses I have ever seen. Who designed this place?” Dahlia asked, taking Blake
’
s hand as he helped her from the borrowed SUV. “Please tell me that I am not the only one here who thinks this.”

“I agree,” Giada whispered. “He needs some serious design work.”

“He needs glasses. Blake? Are you sure of this?”

“Of all people, you know never to judge a book by its cover. Often we show a different exterior to hide what is on the inside,” Blake scolded gently, ringing the bell. “And each of us has reasons to hide certain things.”

“Master Turner! How good of you to come. Please, enter,” an impeccably dressed butler stated, stepping aside to allow entry. “
Master Broen is expecting you. Ladies
… I must ask you to remove your clothing.”

“What?” Dahlia gasped as Giada immediately began to strip. “Blake?”

“House rules, cupcake. Remember what I said,” Blake crossed his arms, “you never know what waits behind closed doors.”

“But you…”

“I am a top and have the privilege of clothing. Giada, assist Dahlia.”

“Relax and enjoy, honey. You are beautiful and the masters are going to enjoy watching you respond to their play,” the older woman reassured.

Dahlia blushed as the butler eyed her naked body skeptically, twirling his finger in a gesture for her to turn. He touched her multi-colored buttocks with a small pointer that he had hanging from his waist.

“Will she be able to participate in the testing? We have no wish to draw blood.”

“Nor do I. We will allow her to continue until I say otherwise. Besides,” Blake shrugged, “there are plenty of other places upon her body that have not tasted the lash. I wish to explore some of her limits.”

“Very well, sir. I will fetch the master and then prepare his new inventory. You two!” The butler snapped his fingers and two blond men raced inside, dropping to the floor at his feet. “Take our guests to the playroom and prepare them on the wall.”

“Can we play with them?” Dahlia whispered in Giada
’
s ear as the two walked behind the sleek, muscular, and very naked slaves. “Talk about eye-candy.”

“
Master Broen doesn’
t allow his boys to play with girls. He wants to keep them pure and unsullied,” Giada giggled. “Besides, Blake will not permit you to touch, or be touched, by anyone outside of his house that he doesn
’
t know. He
’
s a safety freak.”

“I noticed that. It
’
s good, though, right? Oh, my…”

“
Ditto, kid,
” Giada said as they entered the playroom.

Garish was the best way to describe the overtly ornamented, painfully loud décor of Master Broen
’
s playroom. It was designed like a Victorian brothel of New Orleans with red velvet curtains, loud brocades, overstuffed furnishings, and gleaming crystal and brass chandeliers. A closer look revealed hidden hooks, peculiar furnishings, and a wall of whips and canes that, at first glance, was simply a piece of art.

Dahlia lifted her eyes to the stained-glass windows that filtered the sunlight from the ceiling, sending rainbows of color to dance over her bare skin.

“It
’
s like a BDSM Disney world!” she stated to the silent Giada.

“
Ladies,
” one of the blond gods called out, “your wrists, if you please.”

Dahlia shivered as his warm hands deftly locked her wrists in flexible handcuffs mounted behind a tapestry on a swivel. He tested her comfort, turning her around and ascertaining the degree of stretching she could handle. Dahlia glanced over at Giada with a frown. The other woman had been stretched against the wall, her long muscles already straining from the pull.

“She is experienced,” the bronzed god explained, “her limits are known. You are to be tested today and your limits determined.”

“What is it like?”

“Heaven,” the other man said, checking her cuffs. “The feel of the right whip wielded by the master
’
s hand is nothing short of euphoria.”

“Will he hurt me?” Dahlia trembled nervously.

“Oh, yes,” the first slave said, “he will bring you pain like you have never experienced. He has taught Master Turner all he knows as well, so once your pleasure is discovered, you will take it home with you.”

“There are my delicious subjects,” a booming voice filled the room. “Giada, how are you this fine day?”

“Permission to speak, Master?” Giada
’
s eyes were focused solely on Blake. He nodded. “I am honored that you are taking the time to be with me, Master Broen. Thank you, sir.”

“Well trained, Blake. She is, indeed, a jewel. Now, this one… What is your name, girl?”

“
Dahlia. Dahlia Covington,
” Dahlia stated, meeting his eye and lifting her chin.

“So you brought me a defiant, unbroken one, Turner? I remember her from the show. Quite a receiver.” Master Broen boldly studied Dahlia
’
s body. “She still blushes, too. How sweet.”

“She is different from my other pets. She is not part of the harem, nor will she ever be.”

“What do you mean, I will never be?”
Dahlia snapped, glaring at Blake.

“
Silence, chit,
” Master Broen ordered, holding her chin in his hand. “A harem is a place for those who conform. For the submissives. You do not conform or submit to anyone without force, do you, Dahlia?”

His voice was low and threatening, but she had no fear. Not with Blake standing close by and watching.

“Not if I can help it. That is why I am in this pickle.”

“Naked and tied to the wall?”

“No, with Blake. Of course, it worked out well for me in the long run. I hope he feels the same.” Dahlia stared bluntly at Blake.

Blake was amused at her candor. “Dahlia is the only person I have ever met who will be chained up, bare-ass naked, to a wall in a strange place and with someone she does not know, and still verbally present a challenge. She is an amazing little maso. Unfortunately, she does try to provoke me to disregard several of my own limits.”

“Well, then I guess we should check out some of her parameters. She has no whip experience?”

“None, so we must exercise caution. I don
’
t wish to mark her the first time. Is this your new line?”

“It is,” Master Broen said proudly, lifting a multi-tongued device from the table that one of the slaves had rolled in. “Pure butter elk, braided from eight strands and left with an open tip that I beveled to prevent cutting. It can be used as both a short and a long whip. May I demonstrate?”