The Path to Her

Chapter Three

I pondered those consequences keenly. I wondered what my mistress's discipline looked like. Would I dare to test it on my very first night? Or did I seek the answer Dahlia wanted and show prowess for obedience?

I had an incense stick's time to decide.

I realized what Dahlia needed. She wanted me to admit that I had orgasmed without her say. I wondered if I would be punished anyway. If that was the case, I had better be truthful. It would not do for me to put on a display of idiocy. My mistress deserved better.

The incense was fragrant and heady, making me lightheaded and swaying a little when Dahlia came back in. I straightened myself, and waited.

Dahlia stood before me and crossed her arms. "Tell me what you did that you should not have."

"I came without consent," I murmured, flushing.

"Louder."

"I came without consent!" I cried out.

Dahlia reached out and pinched both of my nipples, causing me to give a high-pitched moan. "You will say ma'am when you address me, Rowan."

It was the first time Dahlia had used my name, and she did so making direct eye contact with me. I nodded vehemently as she tugged and pulled. "Yes, yes ma'am!"

"Good girl. You understood your transgression and you're learning how to properly address your betters." Dahlia stroked my face. "Now rise. Let us go to the closet and put you in something appropriate. You will be eating supper soon."

We went into the closet, and I watched as Dahlia picked from the many outfits. My mistress had already told her what to choose, the same way she would decide what I ate every day. I was at the whim of the unknown. How thrilling the thought was.

Dahlia picked out a blue silk robe adorned with chrysanthemums and swirling foliage, and wrapped me in this. "Your mistress has requested you wear clothing that leaves you easily accessible. No pretty, lacy underthings for you, I'm afraid. No underthings whatsoever." She wrapped me in this robe, the fabric of which was so rich, selling it could have fed my family for a year. And here I was, wearing it.

"She loved your hair. We shall accentuate it with the right scents and make your hazel curls more exquisite. Perhaps a light trim, to frame your face." Dahlia cradled my face in both of her hands. "Yes, perhaps."

She turned and rummaged through a drawer. She came up with a plain leather collar with three O-ring attachments. "Before I forget. This is your training collar. We must be able to hook you to things, after all." She traced this around my neck and locked it shut. The O-rings jingled merrily. What followed was a leash, wrist cuffs, and ankle cuffs. They were all rather simple, unadorned and efficient, and Dahlia told me they would remain there until I graduated.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said quietly.

Dahlia stopped, tilted my chin up. "While your voice should only come out at your mistress's direction, thanking your superior meaningfully is always appreciated. Now come. Your dinner waits."

Dinner was sumptuous and laid out on a wide round table. Slaves were there to serve me, which I didn't understand. I was a slave. Why were others serving me? I gave Dalia a questioning look.

"You may speak."

"Why am I being served like this?"

Dahlia smiled. "Your mistress is wealthy enough to provide you with a comfortable life. The slaves serving you now will be your property as a graduation present. They are in training, too, learning how to serve you."

I blushed deeply. My mistress was ever so thoughtful.

Dahlia clapped her hands, and the slaves backed away from the table. She crossed her arms and looked at me. "You will eat. I will always supervise. You may choose to not finish a meal if you wish, but you must without fail finish every last drop of your milk. Your mistress has worked hard to pump it for you."

I had been looking at the crystal glass filled with milk. I looked up, shocked. "She—what?"

"She pumped that milk for you personally. You will drink what she gives you from here on out, and none of it is to go to waste."

I couldn't speak for a moment. I wasn't sure how I felt. I was deeply honored, but curious, and uncertain. I held the crystal glass to my lips and tasted what had been so beautifully given.

It tasted divine. I had never tasted anything so utterly cloying and perfect before. I gulped down every last drop and even slurped a little to get the last of it. Dahlia reached for the glass, checked it, and handed it back to me. "You missed a drop. Tilt your head back, let it fall."

I obeyed and got the last droplet from the glass. I handed it to Dahlia, who inspected it and handed it to a slave with a few quiet words. The slave disappeared.

Dahlia pointed to my dinner. "Eat," she commanded.