“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?”
Dahlia’s eyes widened as the master coiled the whip in his hand and approached Giada’s stretched body. The woman’s breasts quivered in anticipation as he ran the soft hide over her skin before stretching the ends out.
“By coiling it like this, I can control the length and placement of the lashes. As a short whip,” he snapped the freed, one-foot-long end with eight dangling tongues, “I can make her beg for more.”
The whip licked Giada’s breasts lightly, the tapered tongues kissing her nipples as Master Broen flicked it with a simple twist of his wrist. She groaned, jutting her breasts out to him. He lashed her again, this time across her naked pussy and upper thighs.
“Oh, my God,” Giada groaned, “this is amazing!”
Blake chuckled, studying the technique demonstrated by the whip-master. He lifted an identical device from the cart and coiled it in his hand.
“Let’s see what you think of this, cupcake,” Blake purred, mimicking Master Broen’s actions with confidence. The tongues nipped Dahlia’s breasts like warm kisses followed by tiny nips.
“Shit… that is… awesome, Blake. More.”
“Gladly,” Blake chuckled, laying down another lash across her stomach and around her hip. Dahlia growled, wiggling for more. A third stroke sailed over her thighs and several of the tongues nibbled at her spread womanhood.
Blake followed Master Broen’s lead and extended the whip to wrap more completely around her body. Both Dahlia and Giada groaned as the two men laid stroke after delectable stroke over their flesh, leaving behind multiple pink lines and fully aroused flesh.
“This is a cat-o-nine tail,” Master Broen said, picking up a second piece. “It’s shorter than the regular whip and has nine lashes ending in a monkey’s fist knot. Strength is not required for this piece at all. Giada? Tell Master Turner what this feels like.”
Giada tensed her body as he turned her back to face him. The little whip looked intimidating and she knew that a monkey fist had the potential for harm due to the density and edges.
She held her breath and waited.
“Oh…” she called out as the knots flailed over her back. “Again!”
“I think she likes it,” Blake laughed as Giada demanded more.
“It’s like a deep massage. We need to get one of these,” Giada moaned, offering her back for more.
“What about me? I want some too!” Dahlia ordered, stomping her foot.
Master Broen lifted his eyebrow. “What a demanding little sprite! I have something different for you, you little minx. May I, Turner?”
“Of course.”
Master Broen produced a leather strap attached to a gripped handle. He fingered it lovingly as he showed it to Blake. “This is a slapper. Notice the three panels of leather all perfectly lined up, giving the appearance of being a single piece. One side,” he turned it, “is lighter and has a softer surface. The opposite is heavy and hard. The centerpiece is thick and provides weight for impact. I also made the whole piece wide so it covers maximum area. Bend her over.”
“I don’t want that one. I want the one you used on Giada,” Dahlia protested, unable to avoid Blake’s attentions as he bent her forward, using his right thigh as support and anchoring her with his right elbow so he could watch.
“You will feel the one I want you to feel. She is yours,” Blake stated.
Master Broen rested the wide strap over Dahlia’s exposed bottom. “I am going to use the soft side right now. Let’s see what she thinks. I am sure she has no problem voicing her opinion.”
“That is true. Please, proceed.”
“Yeow!” Dahlia yelled as the wide strap slapped loudly across the entirety of her tender bottom. “Fuck! That damn thing hurts!”
“Not enough to provoke silence,” Master Broen stated, smacking her again.
“You are a beast!” Dahlia hissed.
“Use the other side,” Blake stated, watching the whip-master grin sadistically as he flipped the broad strap in his hand.
Dahlia’s voice was caught in her throat as the hard side of the strap sailed into her bruised flesh, feeling as though a fire was burned upon her. A second splat pounded against her and Dahlia broke into tears. Blake held up his hand, preventing Master Broen from delivering a third stroke.
“What’s going on, Dahlia?”
“It’s wicked! It is too deep and…”
“Let me try,” Blake stated, unbothered by her outburst. “Loosen her restraints so she can touch her toes.” He ignored her plea to release her as he aimed the heavy slapper against her lower bottom. He lifted the strap to the side and allowed its natural momentum to deliver an exacting blow to the intended target.
Dahlia howled again, shifting and dancing upon her toes in pain. Blake slid his hand over her skin, inspecting it for damage.
“I’m impressed. It is as though it doesn’t touch the outer layer. There is no evidence of edges or leather burn at all. I will have to add this one to my arsenal as well. Release her, please. She has had enough for today.”
“This is one of my favorites as well.” Master Broen was pleased, signaling the slaves to bring Dahlia some water as she sank to the floor. “My intent is to bring lasting pain, not damage. Giada? Would you care to try my little strap?”
Giada quickly shook her head, taken aback by Dahlia’s guttural response. Master Broen chuckled, stroking the older woman’s face.
“Smart girl. She knows the difference between pain and punishment. I have one more thing to show you. Giada will hate it.”
“Then by all means, please demonstrate. She was getting a little sassy on the way over and could use a reminder,” Blake requested as he sat upon a large settee and pulled Dahlia face down across his lap. She whimpered as he massaged lotion into her roasted skin, his fingers digging painfully past the deep bruises. Once again, Blake had been correct. She’d had enough for the time being.
Master Broen produced a split cane and Giada’s eyes widened fearfully. She looked at Blake, dismayed to see the interested smile upon his handsome face.
“I haven’t tried this beauty on flesh yet. It took some time to make it, as you can guess. I hand-shaved the rattan into about fourteen slices, soaked it for a week in linseed oil for added weight and flexibility, and then fine sanded it to remove any splinters or joints. Bring me a wet towel!”
Dahlia lifted her head from Blake’s lap, watching with fascination as Giada was bent, face first, over a flat bench and her wrists were secured behind her back and to her hips. Her feet were then firmly tied apart, stretching her bottom and upper thighs tightly. Master Broen laid a wet towel, folded in half, over her buttock.
“I suspect,” he stated, swishing the split cane in the air, “that Miss Giada will feel this quiet well through the towel. Since she is my first subject, I want to practice some restraint.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Blake commented, his hand still on Dahlia’s backside. “Will the towel prevent marks?”
“Yes, but she will still feel the pain. Plus it allows you to thrash her bottom more thoroughly without worrying about harming her. Observe.”
Giada screeched as the cane slapped the wet towel. Her eyes were wide with both surprise and fear. “Blake!”
“Continue, please. I don’t mind if she cries,” Blake said, dipping his finger into Dahlia’s moist slit.
Master Broen held the cane in his hand with his elbow tucked into his body and, using only his lower arm, flicked the cane against the towel with a fast mo
tion of the wrist. A loud swish was heard just before Giada expelled another loud cry. Satisfied with her response, he then lifted the cane and brought down his arm, putting the force of his shoulder behind the stroke and finishing it with a flick of the wrist. He then left the cane firmly planted on her bottom, making certain that all the energy of the stroke was passed on for her to experience.
Giada released a hearty scream and began to thrash against her restraints. With a nod from Blake, Master Broen delivered another heavy stroke against the wet towel. Giada’s tears ran freely and he lifted the material, showing the absence of cane marks.
“Fascinating,” Blake said, inserting his fingers into Dahlia’s canal and stroking in and out. “May I see the stroke without the towel?”
“Blake! God, no… please!” Giada begged, straining to break free.
“You have forgotten your place, my pet. You do as I command and are to keep silent. Please,” Blake said firmly, “deliver your best, Master Broen.”
“I will set down three for you,” Master Broen stated, ignoring Giada’s sudden attempt at wild kicking and twisting, “then I will demonstrate the bastinado technique. You might have heard that this is only used on the soles of the feet, but it can also be applied to the buttocks. Very effectively, might I add.”
Giada’s shrill scream was heard throughout the large house as the split cane directly struck her bare, wet skin. Instant purple welts erupted, as did her sobs of pain. Master Broen surveyed her skin, pleased to see that no splitting had occurred. He lifted the cane again, angling it so that the marks would crisscross one another in a gating pattern. Giada slumped, weeping heavily as the third, and final, lash cut across her sit spots and to the upper thighs.
Without a sound, Master Broen proceeded in performing the bastinado upon her welted backend, applying a rapid, continuous drumming to her skin using his wrist. Similar to tapping, the technique allowed the sting to be reduced to a thuddy numbness, calming the pain without completely removing the sensation. Giada’s tears of pain gave way to pleasure and she sank in a reeling climax.
As they witnessed Giada’s explosion of joy, Blake’s stroking within Dahlia grew more insistent. With an excited purr of her own, her muscles pulsated in frantic waves around his fingers as she started to grind her pelvis against the hard, denim-sheathed cock.
“Giada,” Blake panted, “adorn yourself. Take her from behind.”
Giada stood on wobbly legs as the slaves secured a long, black strap-on cock to the front of her pussy. Blake tore off his jeans and rested back upon the settee on his back, slowly lowering Dahlia upon his rigid pole and rocking her upon his shaft. He leaned her forward and Giada ran her hands along the girl’s hips and rubbed the lubricated tip of the dildo against her ass before slowly sinking it inside of her. Master Broen leaned back in his own chair to watch the three, reaching to stroke the head one of his blond slaves. As Dahlia began to gasp in ecstasy, the master pressed his slave’s mouth toward his crotch.
“Worship my cock,” Master Broen whispered. With a happy smile, the slave obeyed.
Chapter Twelve
“Did you girls have a nice trip?” Humberto asked as the six settled down for dinner a week after the Montana trip.
“It was incredible. Thank you for letting me go,” Giada said to Blake as she raised her glass.
“I hear you had a little breakthrough, Dahlia,” Ginger commented, sipping her wine.
“She did a self-portrait and it was stunning. I am having it framed,” Blake said proudly. “She also wants to talk with her father about her mother and the elephant in the room.”
“You call it an elephant,” Dahlia sighed, leaning against his shoulder. “I call it a tyrannosaurus rex.”
“She will approach him when she is ready,” Giada said softly, squeezing the girl’s hand. “We also brought home several new toys. Some that should be added to the next bonfire, might I add.”
“Oooh, I need to see those. Anything that you wanna burn is something worth looking at,” Ginger teased.
“How are things going with you two? I admit, I was surprised to hear that you guys hooked up, given Ginger’s history,” Blake asked Dr. Hodges.
“We simply started working on the project together and things got, uh, heated,” Manny grinned. “She tends to be very stubborn.”
“Yes, I know. But who topped?”
“I did, naturally,” Ginger shrugged.
“She tried,” Manny laughed. “I found that she responds very positively to the wooden spoon.”
“That is not a spoon,” Ginger shuddered. “That was a shovel belonging to one of those bulldozers. I swear, Blake, that thing was huge.”
“You are such a drama queen,” Blake laughed. “I’m glad we all are here together. I wanted to invite you to a special theater event. Dahlia will be my guest.”
“Event? What kind?” Ginger asked excitedly.
“The theme is Marquis De Sade, so dress accordingly,” Blake said. “Costuming from the mid-late 1700s, French food, and plenty of other delectable treats. It is scheduled for one month from now and by invitation only.”
“That sounds like fun! I’m gonna be a French whore!” Ginger bounced in her seat.
“I wanna be Marie Antoinette,” Giada giggled. “She was one kinky bitch. And I wanna give head instead of having someone take it.”
“That’s terrible,” Dahlia groaned in reaction to Giada’s pun. She turned to look at Blake. “I know you are up to something, but what?”
“Deriving my pleasure through your pain, my love. You will be the subject of a very special, and very erotic experiment.”
“Will it hurt?”
“I certainly hope so.”
* * *
Dahlia giggled nervously as one of Blake’s pets fashioned a corset around her slender waist, forcing her breasts to swell above the material and encouraging her nipples to spill out the top. The corset was designed for comfort as well as fashion, as was the tear-away gown that she slipped into afterwards. She wore no underthings except the four silken petticoats that Blake intended to ‘unwrap’ from her, and a pair of thin stockings without shoes.
She was to be a runaway girl, he explained, and he would be the lonely inventor who discovers her hiding in his secret laboratory. She knew nothing else.
“Are you excited, miss?” one of the pets asked as her pink hair was pinned up in an elegant bun on top of her head. “The master has never planned a party like this before. He said it is in your honor.”
“My honor? I don’t understand,” Dahlia said. “What do you know?”
“Nothing except we are all coming to the theater to watch. Afterwards, we are free to play, too. He’s a good man,” the pet said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know why he refuses to allow you into the harem.”
“Me neither. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough for it.”
“Dahlia? I don’t think that is the problem,” another pet said, handing her some tea. “I think that you are too good for it. He is in love with you, you know.”
“That is what I hear. From everyone but him. He talks about love and intimacy, but he never says the words.”
“He is a very private and guarded man. When it is right, he will tell you.”
Dahlia gazed at her reflection in the mirror. So much inside of her had changed because of the belief Blake and Giada had shown in her. The desire for pain had faded to only those times she wanted pleasure, not to hide from her reality. Even her art had taken a turn. Under the tutelage of Blake’s friend, she had discovered her ability to sculpt and had started producing graceful, seductive pieces of both men and women in the throes of glorious pain and pleasure. Her tabletop statues occupied every flat surface in Blake’s room, and he had framed her self-portrait and placed it on his wall. Everyone noted his pride in her accomplishments, and she was frequently teased about making him a proud papa during her frequent demands that the staff pose for her.
Dahlia loved the teasing and playful
banter that occupied the house. Instead of feeling like an outsider, the harem had embraced her and sought the opportunity to introduce her to their own special means of obtaining, and giving, pleasure. Giada had begun to instruct her on the running of the house, a job she found immensely boring. Her attempts at playing hooky from these less appetizing responsibilities led to several sessions with the ‘strap from hell’ and the ‘cane of death’ as Blake’s two newer implements were secretly named. She loathed the things, and when they were wielded by either Blake or Giada, she awarded her disciplinarians with genuine tears of guilt and remorse. The sadness upon their faces hurt more than the agonizing burns to her raw backside.
Dahlia looked up as a warm hand stroked the side of her face.
“You were deep in thought, cupcake. Are you doing okay?” Blake asked, sitting across from her. He was dressed in late 17th-century garb, his sleeves rolled up and vest unbuttoned.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about this last month and the things I’ve been learning. What’s that?” she asked, seeing something in his hand.
Blake grinned, hiding it behind his back. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What surprise? Tell me!” she demanded, reaching to grab the hidden object behind his back.
He held it over his head, far from her reach, showing her a piece of paper. “What’s it worth to you?”
“My undying gratitude and appreciation? Come on, Blake!”
“Very well. Here.”
“It’s a check for… oh, shit… fifty thousand dollars? I don’t understand.”
“Master Broen has commissioned you to sculpt a piece for him of his slaves. I’ve been showing off your work to our guests and everyone is quite impressed.”
Dahlia blushed. “I’m just a beginner! I can’t do that…”
“You can and you will, darling. You are immensely talented and all these people are seeing it. I have had several generous offers to purchase the sculptures already made, but those are mine. There is only one left that I don’t have.”
Meeting Her Master Page 15
