Meeting Her Master

Meeting Her Master

By

Breanna Hayse

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Breanna Hayse

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Breanna Hayse

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Hayse, Breanna

Meeting Her Master

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by The Killion Group featuring Jason Aaron Baca, Bigstock/Vlntn, and Bigstock/Miro Novak

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Foreword

BDSM presents itself in many shapes, colors, textures, and flavors, from the simple to the extreme. Ours is a small community and, as such, we should each be quick to accept the differences present in the lifestyle, and offer respect and understanding toward others who might not share our particular interests. However, we are also obligated to ensure that safety plays a primary role in anything we indulge in—not just our physical safety, but mental and emotional as well. As a professional counselor in alternative lifestyle choices, I have encountered many different situations that can, and cannot, be helped by exploring the lifestyle, and I try my best to responsibly educate my readers as to the different lifestyle choices and provide tools for ‘real
’
world scenarios.
Meeting Her Master
ventures into a particular situation about self-destructive behavior and an approach taken to understand, and redirect, the unusual needs experienced by the heroine. Please remember that this is a work of
fiction
and if you, or anyone you know, are practicing self-mutilation (e.g., cutting or stabbing), please seek help from a qualified individual whom you can trust. This practice, as well as any other behavior that has the potential to cause harm, is never to be made trivial or ignored. Embrace your life… It is a gift that is much too precious to throw away.

Luvs,

Bree

Prologue

The Present Day

The St. Andrew
’
s cross stood in the center of the room, its very presence causing shivers to flow through the hearts of even the most seasoned player. Dahlia trembled, her body soaked in sweat, as she waited breathlessly for the next delicious stroke.

The sound of leather meeting bare flesh nullified her shriek of pain and ecstasy. She stiffened, absorbing the pain as her stretched, swollen back threatened to split. Trickles of sweat ran over her hips and followed the path of raised welts that navigated over her crimson buttocks, thighs, and calves. Dahlia slumped against her restraints, panting from exertion. Seconds passed and she lifted her head, signaling she was eager for the next brutal lash.

It did not come.

“More,” her raspy voice begged, “don
’
t stop now. I need more.”

“You have had enough
. This was for your stress relief, not punishment
,” a deep voice rumbled back at her. The large, hooded man snapped the whip against the flagstone paving before walking to the implement rack. He handed it to a woman who stood naked if not for a tight black harness. Her head bowed in deference as he approached, the chained collar around her throat preventing her from prostrating on the floor in fear and respect.

“Clean this,” he ordered, handing the sweaty instrument to the young slave after petting her head. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small piece of red licorice that he held to her lips. “Open up. That
’
s a good girl.”

Dahlia glared at the slave girl, jealousy brewing. “When are you going to make me part of your stable?” she demanded. “I am tired of waiting. I have earned it!”

The man pulled off the hood to reveal bright blue eyes framed by ebony hair.
The session was over.
A frown settled upon the clean-shaven face as he continued to stroke his lovely human pet. “
This again?
I am the one who issues the invites to those I desire to be part of my harem. You
know that you cannot
demand
to
become part of my dungeon just because you enjoy pain
. No, darling, there is a different place for you. A better one. Be content with it
.”

Dahlia resisted the show of
frustrated
tears as her body was carefully released from the device and gently lowered to the ground. She fell upon her hands and knees, forehead nearly touching the floor as her limbs refilled with blood.
She still wanted more from him and was unwilling to end the scene just yet.

He squatted alongside her, catching her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. “You must learn the art of true submission if you ever
want to be part of the harem.
I enjoy giving you pain, but I want your reverence even more
if you are to be a slave. We both know that type of service is not part of your nature
.”

“You fucking asshole,” Dahlia hissed, hoping he would abandon his control and slap her viciously across the face. Just once… One slap… That was all she wanted.
Just to help her abandon that last bit of stress and fear that loomed over her.
She knew in her heart that it would not occur. Sadistic as he was, Master Blake would not abandon his policy against face slapping, bloodletting, or non-scripted rape scenes. He was a dominant with a code of ethics, one that he would kill to defend.

She loved him. Even as he inflicted the cruelest of beatings onto her hungry body, she always wanted more from him. Ownership of his voice, his strength, and his presence were her greatest desire.

“You cannot provoke me, Dahlia. The scene is over.
Take her to the back and wash her bruises. Make sure you rinse them well with salt water,” he commanded the two men decked in black spandex biking shorts. “If she behaves herself, you may apply Icy Hot to her bottom.”

“Salt water and Icy Hot? Oh, thank you!” Dahlia squealed gratefully, straightening as the two men lifted her to her feet.

Blake lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, his tongue probing with possession as it dominated her mouth. “You are welcome. I am sorry that I cannot give you more, but I refuse to harm you,” he said softly. “I
’
ll see you at home. Tonight is the night to face your fears.”

“I have no fears as long as I have you.
I love you. Thanks for letting me slide back into my selfish-state for the moment. I needed to just let go and not be ‘mature’ and feel the need to edit myself. It felt good,” Dahlia whispered against his neck
.

“I am happy that you allowed yourself to regress a bit. Just watch yourself in the future with the language,” Blake smiled affectionately, stroking her face. “Do you feel ready for tonight?”

“I do now. There is nothing like a good session with the master to reduce my stress. I still want to be part of the harem, though.”

“I can think of some other things to help you with your stress, cupcake. As for the harem, you are greater than that to me,” Blake winked, gesturing for the two men to take Dahlia away for her ‘after-care clean-up’.

“Oh, alright. I’m still going to pester you now and then about it, though. Just because I can,” Dahlia threatened with a smile.

“You will do anything to get yourself spanked, won’t you? Take her away and let her sit on a cocofiber matt for a while. We want our girl to be happy,” Blake ordered the two men, returning the loving kiss delivered by his fiancée.

* * *

They had been together for over six months now, living two different sets of lives. To the world, Dahlia was a simple college student while Blake was a successful Texas rancher who bred and trained Arabian horses.

The community knew Blake as an investor and riding coach, and he had a flawless reputation for holding the highest standards in all that he did. His life was controlled, flawless, and without chaos or confusion. That is to say, that had been the course of his life until Dahlia arrived on the scene. Their first date had begun with Dahlia stepping in front of a moving truck.

Chapter One

Six Months Earlier

She stared blankly at the bright oncoming lights. Dressed in black clothes from head to foot, she would be virtually invisible in the dark if it were not for her platinum blond hair tipped with a pink ombre. As she stood still in the road, a truck skidded to avoid hitting her and smashed into a nearby tree.

Dahlia didn’
t budge, frozen with fear. She blinked absently as the driver exited the truck and started in her direction, pausing only long enough to curse as he kicked the bent tire.

“Damn it! What the hell is wrong with you, woman? Are you loaded?” He hovered over her with a commanding presence that seemed larger than life.

Dumbstruck, Dahlia nodded and then crumpled to the ground. She felt herself lifted and then placed upon cool, wet grass. Giggles escaped her. “I can
’
t find my feet. Have you seen them?”

“
I hate drunks,
” the man grumbled. He opened up her purse and removed her student ID. “Dahlia Ellyn Covington… Is your daddy Samuel Covington?”

“Yeppers!” She burst into a wave of snickers. “That
’
s my dad. Do you know him?”

“Yeah, my kid brother is his accountant. Does he know you are out this time of night getting yourself shit-faced?” Blake asked as he endeavored to keep his cellular from her groping hands.

“What he doesn
’
t know won
’
t hurt my wallet. He gives me money and credit cards and…,” Dahlia giggled.

“I get it. He pays to keep you living at home instead of making you live on your own. That
’
s what this world needs… Another spoiled, rich kid. Let
’
s get you home,” Blake grumbled. He called a tow truck and then a taxicab, and sat the woozy young woman up against a tree trunk. “Where were you partying, by the way?”

“At
Over the Barrel
. The jerks wouldn
’
t let me in the back, though. Said I was too young,” she hiccupped.

“You are nineteen and shouldn
’
t even have been allowed through the front doors! What the hell were you doing at a BDSM club by yourself? What were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to find me a nice, strong guy to help make me feel,” Dahlia yawned, closing her eyes. “I need to feel…”

“Feel what?” Blake asked. He gently shook Dahlia
’
s shoulder. “No sleeping until I get you home. Keep talking.”

There was no further discussion as she heaved the contents of her stomach. Blake held her hair, stroking her forehead and offering reassurance until the cab arrived. The ride to her home was short and Blake carried her to the main entrance of the large mansion. He rang the bell several times and kicked the door, hoping to wake the occupants.

“Who is it?”

“Blake Turner, Tim
’
s brother. Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour but I have your daughter,” Blake yelled through the door.

A heavyset man in his mid-sixties scowled from the doorway. “Damn, Blake, it
’
s been a while. Tim keeps mentioning getting together with you but never seems to get around to it.” Mr. Covington reached to shake Blake
’
s hand. “Please come inside.”

“Yeah, we both have separate lives now, you know. Do you have some water for her?” Blake asked, lowering Dahlia on a couch.

“What did she do this time? I swear, this girl needs a keeper. She is too much for me. Where did you find her?” The man handed him a bottle of water and watched as it was coaxed past Dahlia
’
s parched lips.

“Drink,” Blake ordered. He turned his face toward Sam, “She stepped in front of my truck while wandering down old 90. She was clubbing, apparently alone, got thrown out and took a bit of a stroll down a dark highway. She is also quite drunk.”