Meeting Her Master (6 page)

“It
’
s none of yours, or anyone else
’
s, fucking business and…”

“
Stand up, Dahlia,
” Blake commanded, his voice taking on a menacing timbre. Slowly she rose and he stood, pointing to the table. “Bend over and place your hands on either side of your placemat. I am not going to repeat myself.”

Dahlia’
s eyes visibly widened as these words left his mouth. She obeyed, her hands shaking with excitement, causing the silverware to rattle as she braced herself on the edges of the wire mesh mat. Blake plopped something onto her chair before positioning himself to the left side of her body.

He pressed his left hand to the center of her spine, and drew back with his right. His callused palm thundered loudly against the curve of her lower right mound, causing Dahlia to wheeze as she inhaled.

“Oh, my…” she sputtered as a second, third, and fourth blow clapped furiously. She danced on her toes, fighting both the urge to crumble and the desire to offer her bottom for more. She had no choice, however, as Blake pushed the dinnerware out of the way and pressed her chest flat against the table.

He could already see the glistening wetness peak out from between her legs, and a trill of pleasure quivered through his body. He knew that he was the first man to spank that beautiful bottom and demonstrate the carnal strength that she had been longing for. His palm reddened her pale skin quickly, and traveled to the backs of her thighs to test her reaction. Her groaning grew more pronounced and he could see that her wetness seeped down both her thighs. Her pussy opened, inviting penetration, and he knew it was time.

To stop.

“Sit,” he commanded, pushing her bare bottom to the chair upon which he had placed a cocofiber mat. “Spread your legs as wide as you can.”

He quickly lashed both ankles to the back legs of the chair, forcing Dahlia to lean slightly forward. “Do not bulge from that spot until you are dismissed from dinner. If I see even a smidgeon of a fidget, I will tie your wrists behind your back and make you eat from the table like a dog. Do you want that?”

“No! This is… wow…” Dahlia winced as the rough material pressed against her tender bottom, thighs, and wet pussy.

Blake returned to his seat and called for dinner to be brought in. Dahlia stared in dismay as her soup bowl was filled.

“
You can’
t be serious.”

“Eat it.”

“Menudo makes me sick. I hate this stuff.” Dahlia gagged at the odor. “It smells like sweaty feet. Why aren
’
t you eating any?”

“Because I prefer corn chowder. Thank you,” he said to the server, kissing the back of her wrist. “Would you prefer corn chowder?”

“Yes.”

“Where are your manners, Dahlia?”

“Yes, please. I would rather have corn chowder,” Dahlia said, wrinkling her nose as her stomach released a very loud, unladylike growl.

“It is very good,” Blake commented, sipping the sweet, creamy broth from his spoon. “What did you have for lunch today? I hear the campus cafeteria is pretty good.”

“I didn
’
t eat, okay? I skipped classes and hung out with Ginger.”

“Now we are getting somewhere. Lock your hands behind your back. Open,” Blake said, depositing himself next to her and lifting a spoonful of chowder to her mouth.

“Oh, that is good,” Dahlia said, allowing him to feed her. Blake studied her body language, noting that she was relaxed and that her demeanor had softened considerably. He finished feeding her and gently dabbed her mouth clean.

“
Still hungry?
” he asked. Once again, her nose crinkled with distaste as the meal was brought to her.

“Did you ask Ginger what my least favorite foods were? Lima beans? Spinach? Liver?”

“I have a knack for knowing certain things. I especially know when someone is being dishonest or hiding something from me. Did you spend the entire day with Ginger, and what did you do? Open.”

“Do you want me to puke?”

“Take one bite of everything and maybe I will let you off the hook.”

“No way. eww!” Dahlia made a gagging sound as Blake shrugged and began to eat. “You actually like that shit?”

“Only when it
’
s cooked right. The beans and spinach were picked fresh from our garden and basted in white wine, butter, and garlic. And the liver is simmered in homemade applesauce, which takes away that chalky taste. Sometimes,” he took a bite, “the best way to see if we like something is by pushing aside old beliefs and trying something new. Now and then, we are pleasantly surprised.”

“Nothing will ever make me like any of that.”

Blake held the vegetables up to her nose. “Close your eyes and just smell it. If you start to salivate, open your mouth.”

Blake withheld laughter as Dahlia, indeed, started to drool. Little did she know, but he was instilling trust in her. She kept her eyes closed until he announced that she had cleaned her plate.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Please tell me it isn
’
t a cheesecake made of tofu,” Dahlia pleaded.

Blake simply grinned, producing a slab of chocolate cake with red chili-coconut buttercream frosting. This time, Dahlia needed no persuasion.

After dinner, Blake released the girl
’
s ankles and had her stand, holding her nightshirt up to expose her red behind speckled with tiny dots from the mat. He escorted her to her room and ordered her across the bed.

“What are you going to do to me?” Dahlia asked nervously.

“I am going to reward you for being honest with me about your whereabouts today. Then I am going to punish you for skipping classes and being late for pickup.”

“I said I was sorry. It won
’
t happen again, I promise.”

“I am sure it will not. What are your hard limits, Dahlia?”

“What does that mean?”

“A hard limit is something you will never consent to, a deal-breaker. It does not have to necessarily be anything severe, just a very strong personal boundary. We talked about it briefly the other night.”

“Like when I said I don
’
t do life-threatening stuff?”

“Exactly. Hard limits vary from person to person, and so do their categories. For example, I told you that I will never draw blood, be involved in a true rape scene, and never slap a woman in the face even in play.”

“I never really thought about saying no to much of anything. I
’
m really claustrophobic, so no breath play or locking me in an enclosed space. I also have no interest in those things I mentioned before.”

“Urine and scat? That is fine because we don
’
t engage in them here. How about medical play?”

“I
’
m not really sure. Definitely no sharp objects, like acupuncture needles, cuz of my history.”

“It is okay if you don
’
t know. Hard limits are important things to communicate. If ever we approach anything that you might consider a hard limit, you must say so. I ordinarily do not give my clients a safeword, but I do allow limited discussion at any time. If I find out that you deliberately hid a hard limit from me, it will cost you my trust.”

“
I don’t understand.
”

“Not only will I end the scene, but I will also cut off the relationship. Word will get around and you will never be welcome in any BDSM club or private party held by someone who has access to the Internet. You will be labeled as unsafe to play with.”

“That sounds rather harsh, don
’
t you think?”

“What is harsh is when you are either harmed or mentally snap because you refuse to be honest. Hard limits can be explored later if you desire, but in a controlled environment.” He then explained soft limits as being activities she was uncertain about but might be willing to try. As Blake predicted, she seemed to be interested in almost anything but hesitated at his more vivid description of his idea of medical play.

“Shame,” Blake said, producing a rubber glove from his back pocket and snapping it on. “I love medical play. I do think that is something I can introduce to you slowly instead of ruling it out. I am very adventurous when I play doctor. There are some techniques that I do apply that are not play, but punishment. That is where you have to learn to trust my judgment, especially if it is something you considered a type of limit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I intend to evaluate your limits, not just take your word for what they are.” He soothed some cooling ointment upon her bare, raw flesh, taking the time to massage it in gently. “I promise that I will not force any life-threatening or non-hygienic situations on you. There will also not be any needle or knife play.”

He smiled at Dahlia
’
s contented sigh, and patiently waited for the impact of the ointment to be noticed.

“Wipe it off! It burns!!” Dahlia attempted to fan her scalding bottom with her hand. Blake snatched her wrists and held them above her head as he pressed her tummy against the bed with his elbow.

“Stay put. I don
’
t usually use Icy Hot on a well-spanked bottom except to prolong punishment. In your case, I suspect this little technique might provide reward.”

“
I don’
t like the burning,” Dahlia whimpered, her squirming starting to slow, “but it is starting to feel good. Like the pain is real deep and warm.”

“Raise yourself on your knees and show me your pussy. Reach your hands behind and spread your lips for me to look at you.”

Blake watched with interest as she scrambled to obey. There was no hesitation or sense of embarrassment. He gently poked her soaking wet slit. “What is this? Do you like being humiliated as well as punished? Wider.” He smacked the insides of her thighs. “I understand that you have never been with a real man, only rubber ones. Is this true?”

“Yes. Big, thick ones.” Dahlia panted as his fingers began to stroke the inside of her folds, pausing only to pinch and knead her clit.

“In a few weeks, we will go to the doctor and get you completely checked out. Are you on protection?” Blake asked, his stroking fingers becoming more demanding as they slid into her body and he began to finger fuck her while flicking her clit with his thumb.

Dahlia groaned, lifting her bottom higher in response to his deep, steady plunging. “No… was going to get the implant but… oh…”

“You will give me your word not to share this pussy with any other man while you live in this house.” He began to rapidly move like a piston, making her ride his hand as he added two more fingers to her hungering cave.

“I swear. No… Other… Man…
argh
!” Dahlia shouted as the climax bowled her over in an unexpected jolt of feverish sensation. Her muscles clutched his fingers, sucking them inside of her, and she kept her ass high in the air like a cat in heat.

Blake shifted his stiff cock to a more comfortable position in his jeans. He had never desired to claim a woman as much as he did at that moment, and the site of her virgin asshole made him restless. He needed relief.

“Go to sleep. Good night,” he said abruptly, patting her back as he stood.

“Are you mad at me for something?” Dahlia panted, glazed eyes staring at him before dropping to the bulge of his straining pole against the denim of his jeans. She licked her lips.

“Nope. Just reminding you who is in charge.” With a peck on the top of her head, he was gone.

Chapter Four

Dahlia pouted, pacing the floor as she waited for Mrs. Alonso. It was her second week at the hacienda and she had not seen hide or hair of Blake since he had brought her to orgasm that night and then left her. She had kept her promise, leaving him voice messages regarding her plans, only to find herself canceling them last minute for reasons she could not explain. She began to act out, hoping to gain his attention. Her actions only succeeded in earning her extra work and, now, this summons by the hacienda
’
s headmistress.

Dahlia could not explain her distain for Mrs. Alonso if her life depended on it. Everything about the woman irritated her. She had hoped that, by throwing the last tantrum, it would earn her a session with Blake. She had not expected to be called to the house manager
’
s private office. She turned as Mrs. Alonso entered, her dark hair pinned in a neat bun, and dressed in a sharply pressed and starched black dress that, unlike the other staff uniforms, was tailored to compliment her curvaceous body. She wore high black heels that added length and curve to her shapely calves, and her slender neck was adorned with a silver chain bearing a lock.

The woman strolled across the room like a runway model, poised and confident. She stared at the window for a moment before turning to the scowling young woman.

“Would you care to explain yourself, Miss Covington?”

“Not really. I want to speak to Blake and…”

“Master Blake has left instructions that you are under my care until further notice. You deliberately broke the Quechan Indian vase in the foyer. Explain yourself.”

“It was not deliberate, I…”

“Picked it up, held it out, and dropped it to the floor. Several staff members witnessed this. Such childish behavior is unacceptable in this house and will not be tolerated.”

“I am not afraid of you.” Dahlia glared at the other woman. “There is nothing you can do to me that would bother me.”

“If you are trying to provoke me to strike you, I must advise you that you will fail. I do, however, have other means of making you more respectful.” Mrs. Alonso pressed the intercom button on her phone. “Please send in the twins.”

Dahlia frowned as two large men entered the room. Except for their hair color, they were identical in every way. Including the sardonic expressions on their faces.

Mrs. Alonso gestured toward Dahlia. “Take her to the bath house and prepare her for cleansing.”

“Cleansing? What do you mean? Hey! Get your grubby paws off me, you jerks.”