Meeting Her Master (7 page)

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 lengthwise 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 be 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.

“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.