Meeting Her Master (14 page)

“Every time you hurt yourself, you hurt the people who care for you. I forbid it! Do you understand? I forbid you to do anything other than love yourself and let yourself be loved.”

“
No
!”

“You will allow yourself to be cared for by me and I don
’
t care if it means you not sitting for a week.” Blake released a flurry of swats to the backs of her thighs. “And you will know how much I care for you every time you try to sit. If you
ever
try to leave me without giving us a chance to talk things through, I swear, I will blister your fanny every day for a month and not let you go into subspace.”

“You wouldn
’
t!”

“Wanna bet?” he asked, slowing his spanks to emphasize his seriousness. “I know what you need, Dahlia. Slow and hard brings you to that place, doesn
’
t it?”

Dahlia nodded, already feeling her endorphins building. “Don
’t stop
…”

“I
’
m done for now,” he said abruptly.

Dahlia bit his thigh angrily, trying to provoke him. “You fucking sadistic bastard! Why did you stop?”

“Because threatening to hurt yourself is a punishable offense. For you, that means bringing you to the edge and stopping before you get the chance to go over.”

“
You make me so damn angry! I just wanna
…”

“Scream at me? Throw something? Do something other than hurt yourself?”

Dahlia stared at him, dumbfounded. He was right! He had brought her to feel anger, rather than hide from it. The thought of stabbing herself had not crossed her mind once as she directed her anger outward. She looked at Ginger. “Say something. Please.”

“What? That this moron managed to succeed where I could not? He made you
feel
. I also suspect, by the color of your ass, that you will be feeling for several days.”

“That is not want I wanted you to say,” Dahlia grumbled.

Blake lifted Dahlia from across his lap and placed her on the floor between his knees. He cupped her chin in both his hands. “I am sorry I walked out of your room the way I did. I was so afraid of hurting you that I ended up doing just that.”

“Can I have a hug?” Dahlia asked timidly, unable to look him in the eye.

“A hug? I figured you would want to punch me,” Blake chuckled, straddling her on his lap and holding her tightly against him.

“Not now. Thank you,” she whispered, clinging tightly.

“For what, cupcake? I
’
m not understanding something.”

“For coming back for me, for making me feel, and for giving me what I asked for.”

“A spanking?”

“I swear, Blake,” Ginger cuffed him on the back of the head, “a freakin
’
hug! She has never asked for affection before, you big dummy.”

“You forget your place, Dr. Franklin,”
Blake snarled.
“Must I call Giada in to deal with you?”

“No, but I will take up an offer for that adorable little blonde who showered me last night,” Ginger grinned.

“Get your ass out of here and go do something useful,” Blake laughed, his hold on Dahlia firm. “I have a girl to wine and dine.”

“You do?” Dahlia pulled back, looking frightened.

Blake nodded. “I do, young lady. She is the cutest thing imaginable, especially when she has a bright red bottom and is sitting on my lap.”

“Oh!” Dahlia blushed. She looked at the rising bulge between her legs and smiled. “Is that part of the dining experience?”

“Maybe. Give me ten minutes to cancel my appointments and we will be on our way.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“It
’
s a surprise. Grab some comfortable clothes for both of us and meet me out at the truck.”

Dahlia winced as she scurried to their rooms and rummaged through the drawers for clothes. Comfortable to her meant sweats and an oversized t-shirt and she grabbed the same for Blake. She paused to look at her swollen backside in the mirror and gasped. To say that he used every color on the palette to paint her backend was an understatement. A smile lit her face. Blake was truly a masochist
’
s dream, of course until he said ‘no
’
! She ran her hand along her marks and shivered with joy. He had given her what she wanted, when she needed it most. How did he know, though, that his refusal to let her escape into her mind allowed her to fully experience the event? His lecture had kept her bound to him, had kept her connected in a way no one had ever done. It had felt so… intimate.

Dahlia suddenly understood what he had tried to tell her. She ignored her aching bottom and thighs and raced as quickly as she could, clothes in hand, to find him.

“I get it! Blake! I get it!” she squealed, jumping into his arms and covering his face with kisses.

“Get what?”

“Intimacy! It is about trusting someone with your deepest dreams and hopes and knowing they will never laugh at you and, if they can, will help see it through. Sleeping next to someone is so domestic and safe, which is why it is intimate for you, right? It is opposite of your regular life. Just like me asking for affection.”

“It sounds like you got it, all right. Promise me something.”

“Anything,” Dahlia smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Don
’
t withhold asking me for anything. I want you to trust that, even if I tell you no, it is not rejecting you.”

“Under one condition.”

“Yes?”

“That you never, ever say no when I ask for a hug.” She looked up at him with trust gleaming in her eyes.

“It
’
s a deal. Now hop in the truck, I have somewhere I want to take you.”

“
Over the Barrel
?” Dahlia asked eagerly. “I know you own it.”

“No, not there and stop being so nosy. I am taking you somewhere
intimate
.”

Dahlia fidgeted uncomfortably as they drove down the gravel road and then swerved to catch a small, unleveled dirt road that was lined by old trees and brush. Blake laughed as the girl propped herself on her knees, trying to avoid jarring her tender bottom, before firmly reminding her to put her seatbelt on. She scowled at him as she tried to lift her bottom off the seat using her arms. The road grew rougher, jarring her more uncomfortably.

“Having fun?” Blake teased as Dahlia released a series of ‘ows
’.

“My ass is not happy with you right now but, other than that, yeah. It
’
s pretty out here. I never noticed so many trees around here.”

“The big river feeds lots of tributaries on the property. Have you ever gone tubing down the Guadalupe?”

“No. I
’
ve lived in San Antonio all my life and have never been anywhere other than the Alamo and shopping along the River Walk which, incidentally, was
boring
.”

“You
’
ve never been to the caves either?” Blake sounded surprised.

“Nope. My father decided to put me on permanent lockdown after my mother left,” Dahlia explained, looking out the window. “I guess he thought that if he kept me under guard, then I wouldn
’
t leave him either.”

“Is that when you started stabbing yourself?” Blake asked gently.

Dahlia shook her head. “No, I started after I caught my mother naked with the housekeeper and she called me a perverted little slut. The first time was an accident. I was so angry and confused that I jabbed a fork into my hand during dinner and just sat there and watched it bleed. The housekeeper finally noticed it and cleaned me up, but her touching me made me even angrier. It just started a series of events and, eventually, I found better things to use that allowed me to hide the results easier.”

“I
’
ve known cutters before, but stabbing is new to me,” Blake admitted, pulling the truck under some trees and parking.

“Ginger says the only difference is the type of pain. With a cutter, the sensation is sharper, more superficial, and the results are definitely more visible. The chance for self-harm is higher too. With stabbing,” she shrugged, “we try to feel something deep inside, like we are trying to tap into a well. The penetration and depth is the key, plus it is easy to hide. Most of us use needles and long pins.”

“How did you feel afterwards?”

“Like I was hiding a dirty little secret. I felt like… like my mother,” Dahlia admitted. “It wasn
’
t that she was having an affair with a woman that bothered me. It was that she acted like I had done something wrong because I caught her. And then she tried to convince me that I had not seen anything and when I told her I was going to tell Daddy, she called me…”

“What, honey?”

“She called me a parasite.”

“Which was the term Giada used to break down your wall, isn
’
t it?”

“Yeah. Giada brought that night back to life for me. My mother told me that if I said anything to anyone, she would leave because she hated being around me. That is when I really started to stab. She caught me doing it and suggested I use something longer and maybe go for a vital organ.”

“Oh, sweetheart… I
’
m so sorry.” Blake held her hand. “Did you finally tell your father?”

“No. She left about a week after that, and told him that my mental illness frightened her and made her afraid for her life. He had no idea what I was doing until then, and that
’
s when he blocked off all my interaction with the world and put me in therapy. The nannies he hired were informed of my ‘
sickness’
and kept me confined to my room. I even had to start doing school online because he did not want the world to know about me and what I did. He then used finances to bribe me to live at home after I turned eighteen and was going to start college.”

“This isolation worsened things, didn
’
t it?”

“Yeah.” She became quiet. “Can we change the subject? I don
’
t think I have even shared this much with Ginger and it
’
s really bothering me.”

“Of course. I have something that will make you smile. Hold my hand so you don
’
t trip.”

Dahlia picked her way through the overgrown footpath, paying more attention to the ground than where Blake was leading her. She walked into him when he stopped in front of her.

“What the… oh, my,” she exclaimed, stepping forward to stare.

The waterhole was lined with large cypress trees and moss-covered boulders. Dense ferns filled nooks and crannies between the rocks and a tiny waterfall splashed into the clear pool from one end. A small log cabin was visible through the thick trees.

“This is my special getaway. I built the cabin myself as a retreat from life. No one has ever been here except me. Not even my brother.”

“It
’
s the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Dahlia leaned against him.

“Let me show you around,” Blake beamed, dragging her into the cabin. It consisted of a small bedroom, a living area/kitchen, and a bathroom complete with a copper tub.

“Please tell me that there is running water,” Dahlia pointed to the toilet. “I
’
m a city girl.”

“Yes, indoor plumbing, hot water, and electricity. I had all that set up before I built. Even I have some comforts I won
’
t do without.”

“Is this a feather mattress?”

“Yes, ma
’
am. Pure goose down. What are you doing?” Blake asked as Dahlia began to remove her clothing.

“I need to see how pure this goose down is. Oh my, this is glorious,” she purred, plopping on her back. She patted the space next to her. “Join me.”

“
Dahl
…”

“I need a hug,” she grinned, holding her arms out. “You promised not to deny me.”

“You
’
re a stinker.” He shook his head, crawling on the bed next to her and placing his arm under her head. “What are you up to?”

“Making you be intimate,” Dahlia snickered.

“You also wanted to test my promise.”

“Yup, that too. Blake? I think I like hugs.”

“I do too. There is something I want to do. Are you up for it?”

“Does it have to do with sex?”

“Maybe. But not here. Up you go.”

“Put me down,” Dahlia laughed as he slung her over his shoulder, “you are acting like Fred Flintstone!”

“If I was a caveman, I would be dragging you out by the hair.”

“Oooh, that sounds like fun. Whatcha doing?” Dahlia asked as he set her down on the bank next to the swimming hole. Blake grinned, quickly stripping off his clothes and doing a running jump into a cannonball.

Dahlia squeaked as the water splashed over her. “It
’s cold.
”

“You
’
re standing in the shade. Jump in.”

“No.”

“
Chicken?
” Blake teased.

“
Nope, just don’
t wanna.”

“It will feel good on that bruised bottom,” Blake stated, treading water. “Please?”

“Well, since you put it that way… Cannonball!” Dahlia yelled. She clambered up his back and tried to dunk him, only to find herself being tossed up in the air and being dunked. Their laughter was loud, rambunctious and free, and Dahlia accepted that she could, indeed, be happy with this man who accepted her as she was, flaws and all. His caring was genuine and unselfish, thinking of what she needed to help her become strong and confident. She suspected that he had no agenda other than the desire to love her, and for her to love him in return, but intimate love was a foreign emotion to the man and she knew he had a difficulty expressing his feelings in words. She was patient, though.

“Blake? We need to talk,” Dahlia said abruptly.

He swam to her side and pulled her naked body against his. “What is on your mind, cupcake?”

“Why do you call me that?” She screwed her face.

“Isn
’
t it obvious? Besides the fact you are so delicious, sweet, and moist, your hair reminds me of pink frosting on a vanilla cupcake. What did you want to talk about?”