“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.”
Dahlia was dragged down the corridor and to the adobe house that held Blake’s dungeon. Instead of entering through the front door, she was taken to the back and led inside a room filled with medical equipment and gynecological furnishings. She fought the hold of the two men as they half-dragged, half-carried her into an adjoining room that was tiled from floor to ceiling. Various hoses and showering devices hung over wall faucets, and Dahlia froze before a rack of both known and unknown instruments. She did not like what this was suggesting.
“You are to release me his instant! I told him no medical play!” she ordered, powerless against their strength. Neither answered her as one held her immobile while the other stripped her of all clothing. Her wrists were bound together in front of her body and she was stretched lengthwi
se over a cold vinyl bench that looked much like a pommel horse. Her wrists were anchored to the underside, forcing her to hug the uncomfortable device, followed by her legs spread apart with her knees and ankles restrained in a frog-like pose. The rounded platform was lowered, placing her bottom higher than her head, and she protested loudly against both the discomfort experienced by her breasts and stomach, and the horribly lewd position she was suspended in.
Dahlia’s restraints prohibited her from turning to see what the men were doing and she strained to hear what they were saying without success. The clipping of heels alerted her to Mrs. Alonso’s entry.
“Please tell them to let me go. I promise to be good. Blake promised no medical play,” Dahlia begged.
“He did no such thing, nor is there any play involved in what you are about to experience. Well, well.” The woman’s hand ran down her bare back and across both cheeks. “You don’t appear to be quite as cocky in this position, do you?”
“I am really sorry. This is all new to me and…”
“And what? Do you think that a new situation gives you the right to display abhorrent manners and disregard for your host’s home and rules? I promise you, baby doll,” the woman bent down to whisper in her ear, “when I am done with you today, you will feel and act like a completely different person. Boys? Wash her down.”
Dahlia screeched as a hard flow of icy water descended on her. Once she was thoroughly drenched, the two men began to scrub every exposed inch with strong-smelling soap, using rough washcloths and bristle brushes. Dahlia tried to twist away from their rough hands, yelping as their fingers sunk into her body to hold her in place.
“I am not a fucking bowling ball!” she yelled. “Get your goddamn fingers out of my ass!”
“Easy, boys,” Mrs. Alonso laughed wickedly, “we don’t want to traumatize her enough to make her leave, do we?”
“Is that what you want?” Dahlia hissed as she felt the washcloth being pressed against her pussy and the sting from the soap against her delicate tissue. “He made a deal with me! He wants me to stay!”
“I know what he thinks he wants,” Mrs. Alonso scoffed, “and it isn’t you. He needs control and you are uncontrollable. He wants reverence and you,” she slapped Dahlia sharply across her wet buttocks, “care only what you can get for yourself. He is too generous a provider to allow a parasite like you to suck life from him.”
“I’m not a parasite,” Dahlia suddenly began to cry. “I’m not! Please, don’t call me that. Don’t call me bad things! I just wanna fit in. Please, don’t…”
“So she has some emotions after all?” Mrs. Alonso observed, pulling up a stool near Dahlia’s head. She ran her hand gently over the girl’s wet hair. “All right, darling, name-calling is a definite limit for you. That is good to know and we will respect that. That was an honest reaction and one that will not be used against you. I promise.”
“Thank you,” Dahlia whispered, her tears still flowing.
“You are welcome. Now, you and I are going to have a long talk. Just be advised that the longer you take to satisfy my curiosity, the longer your discomfort will be. Depending on the type of masochism that interests you, you will either love what we are about to do or hate it. Either way, I will get what I need from you.”
“You are a raving bitch! When Blake finds out…”
“Name-calling goes both ways, honey. So does manners. Is the solution prepared, boys? Excellent. Proceed,” Mrs. Alonso commanded, folding her arms and crossing her right knee over the left. Dahlia squealed as she felt her bottom-hole being probed with something large and firm.
“It is a special type of plug, darling,” the woman explained. “Not only does it hurt like a mother going in, but it can be inflated to the size of a softball. Ease it in, boys. Use plenty of lube; we do not want to tear anything.”
“Oh, God, no! I have never had anything bigger than a finger there! You are scaring me!”
“Really? Oh, you poor thing. Make sure you stretch her well before you seat that inside of her.”
Dahlia cried out as she felt a finger penetrate her tight ass and begin to press along the edges to force the muscle to stretch. A second finger moved its way in and spread the sphincter uncomfortably wider. Dahlia jerked as she felt a third digit pressing on the opposite edges, opening her for view. Embarrassment flooded her senses, picturing how she appeared to these strangers who flagrantly probed her asshole like it was attached to a rubber doll instead of a human being.
As tightly as she fought to clench her cheeks together against the intrusion, she also felt the walls of her pussy begin to warm and contract. Dahlia squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the relentless probing and stretching she was being subjected to.
“Would this treatment bother you as much if it were Blake performing these wicked deeds?” Mrs. Alonso asked. Dahlia squealed as she felt the tip of the cone-shaped plug being pressed firmly against the center of her aching hole. “Answer me, girl. The boys will not pause their work until I tell them. Harder, gentlemen…”
“No! Oh, my God… Slow down! Yes! I mean no!”
“Hold a second, boys. What is it, Dahlia? Would you rather have Blake’s fingers in your ass? Or maybe his cock?”
“Anything other than you,” Dahlia cried. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I disdain anyone who uses Blake and his generosity to gain for herself. What is your obsession with him, anyway? I hear that you are constantly asking the staff intimate details about their training, and that you feign caring about them in order to manipulate them into cooperating. One even said you paid for an Internet investigation service to get more information about him and his properties. Is this true?”
Tears ran down Dahlia’s face, the plug pressed halfway into her body and held secure, stretching her thin delicate skin close to its maximum elasticity. She also knew that the widest portion of the ominous device had yet to reach its full diameter. “Y-yes, but not because I am obsessed with him. I just need to know things.”
“No, I don’t think that is fact. I think you are a mental masturbator. You are person who gets off imagining yourself to be the one experiencing the stories told to you.”
“No! That is not true. I swear.”
“I believe that you have convinced yourself to be free of ulterior motives, but not that you actually are. Are you obsessed with Master Blake or with what he represents?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well, that answer is probably the most honest you have given. Push out,” she advised, nodding. One of the men held her buttocks wide apart as the other pressed the plug inside. Her scream of anger and pain was lost in the thick stone walls and high vaulted ceiling as the plug disappeared with a pop. Only the back flange nestled between her overstretched cheeks was visible.
“Now that the pleasantries are over, we can get down to business. You will be filled with hot, soapy water that has a hint of peppermint oil. This little plug will force you to hold it as long as necessary for a thorough cleaning. Of course, the time depends on your cooperation and honesty. Start the flow and take it slowly right now,” the older woman commanded. “Start and stop as you feel the need.”
Dahlia felt the warmth slowly enter her rectum and begin to creep along her belly. At first, the internal sensation was, if anything, mildly uncomfortable. The pressure to her stomach was easily dismissed, as were the gurgles she occasionally felt rumbling through her gut.
“What do you want from Blake?” Mrs. Alonso asked in a hushed voice.
“I didn’t volunteer to come here. He invited me,” Dahlia’s response sounded strained as a fine layer of sweat formed on her upper lip. “I beg you… Stop this.”
“Do you like knowing that you have no control right now? That your body and all the passion and pleasure it receives, depends completely on me?”
“No,” Dahlia groaned, the pressure growing increasingly uncomfortable, “this is horrid! Shit…”
“Would you b
e begging for Blake to fuck you right now if he were here? What would you ask him to do?”
“Oh, God,” Dahlia wept, “make it stop! It is making me sick…”
“Answer me. Tell me what you want, Dahlia,” the other woman demanded gently, lifting her hand and signaling to cease the procedure. “I want to know what you want and why.”
“I don’t know,” Dahlia sobbed, her swollen tummy feeling like it was twisting in rebellion. “He helps me feel!”
“Feel what?”
“Like I am alive and wanted! Like someone cares enough about me to stop me from running away from myself,” Dahlia bawled. “Instead of telling me that I was screwed up, he accepted me.”
“You need to know you have a place to belong, don’t you?” Mrs. Alonso asked, stroking her hand back and forth across Dahlia’s wet back.
“Yessssss,” the girl cried, “a place where no one leaves because of me.”
“Do you believe that your mother left because of you?”
The wracking sobs answered the question. Mrs. Alonso clicked her tongue as she massaged the back of Dahlia’s neck. “There, there… You cannot accept the blame for your mother’s decisions, no matter what excuses she might have used. You can only accept responsibility for your own choices. If you are to become part of Blake’s household, then you must change your attitude.”
“I will! I swear I will!”
“You have significant boundary issues and these must be addressed. First, you are to stop imposing upon the others. What he does with his harem is none of your damn business. If he chooses to take you on, it will be by his invitation, and forcing yourself in is not only disrespectful to the members of the house, but also of him. Being a pain slut does not automatically secure you a place in this house.”
Mrs. Alonso nodded toward the men and stepped back as they straightened the platform so that Dahlia was perched upon a metal bowl that emptied into an enclosed drain. She continued.
Meeting Her Master Page 5
