The Path to Her

Chapter Six

I did not have long to ponder what the mirror's presence and purpose was for. The door opened, shocking me. I had no time to even act like I could run for my kneeling pillow. The slaves who had served me the night before came marching toward me. One of them carried a chair.

Dahlia stood behind them, her hands behind her back, her look cold. "Apparently, you haven't learned your place at all," she said, and the tone of her voice made me shiver.

The slaves took a hold of me and held me in place as the chair was brought to me. In the seat, standing tall and slightly curved, was a long toy. These pleasure chairs were meant to keep a submissive in place. Pressure was put on me, and I was forcibly bent over this chair. "Take hold," Dahlia commanded me. "Look at what you'll be sitting on momentarily. If your eyes go anywhere else, I shall strike you harder. You. Slave. Watch her eyes."

I did as I was told, shuddering, feeling entirely too vulnerable. I saw one of the slaves move in front of me, but I dared not look up. I focused on the length stretching before me.

Dahlia's palm slid against my rear. "Your mistress commands you all watch her punishment, as you are her property, but it is your duty to report any misdeeds or bad behaviors. You will not always witness every punishment, as it is not your right to watch, but your privilege. You will, however, watch this one, and if you wish to touch yourselves, your mistress has allowed you to cum."

I heard a soft, excited murmuring among them, and even saw through my peripheral vision the skirt of the slave in front of me rising, rising.

Dahlia ran a palm up and over my rear, and suddenly, I felt a cold, hard leather paddle settle against me. She was aiming. "Rowan," she said sternly. "Where is your place?"

WHACK. .

I cried out in surprise and pain and shock. I hadn't expected it to sting so badly! "AHH!" I gasped. "Kneeling on my pillow!"

"So you know?" WHACK. The other cheek.

"YES!" I cried out.

"Then why were you up without permission, after being commanded to stay?"

I didn't have much of an answer, and for half a second, my eyes flickered back.

The slave noticed. "Her eye contact faltered," she said softly.

"Thank you, slave," Dahlia said kindly. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! came the paddle, alternating cheeks with each strike.

I wanted to look up at the slave with fury, but I focused all of my attention forward. I had to focus. I had to. The slave was only doing what she was told. And for just a moment, I felt her reach out and gingerly stroke my jawline, in silent apology.

"Rowan," Dahlia said. "Answer me."

"I was curious about the mirror! I'm sorry!"

"Curious, hmm?" Dahlia said, running the leather paddle along my stinging skin. "And is that your business?"

"No, ma'am!"

"No, ma'am," Dahlia echoed. "And yet you thought you'd just get up and no one would know about it?"

I couldn't answer.

WHACK! WHACK! "It's obvious you need to be taught a lesson about your place and following orders. Because you aren't above your mistress's commands, you are below them. You are to follow them to the letter."

"Yes, ma'am!"

WHACK! "This is the eighth blow. Your mistress requires ten. You're lucky this morning."

"Thank you, ma'am!" I mewled.

"We're nearly there," Dahlia said gently, and I noticed that gentle shift in her tone. "Your slaves are wet to see you beaten. Every one of them is touching themselves."

"Where do you belong, Rowan?"

"Kneeling on my pilow!"

WHACK!

"Where do you belong, Rowan?"

"Kneeling on my pillow!"

WHACK!

"Slaves, you may finish."

I gasped for breath, and dared to look up. The slave in front of me had her skirt tugged up, and she was stroking herself intensely. She gave me a flirtatious, sweet smile, and came with a happy cry and a gushing of juices down her legs.

Around me I could feel the slaves cumming, crying out, gasping and moaning and grunting in communal pleasure. It was passionate and had a powerful effect on me. To give them this ecstasy made me feel unusually desirous and aroused.

"Rowan. Stand." Dahlia commanded.

I did, and she turned me around in her arms, and wiped away the tears that were streaming down my face. "No tears now," she said softly. "It's time to sit in your chair. Let me help you. Slave, hand me the lubricant."

Dahlia's hands were quick, and she had me slick and ready within seconds. Slaves helped me balance, and Dahlia guided the length into me. I moaned and hugged Dahlia to me for a moment, shuddering in pleasure, seeking out a hint of comfort.

Dahlia held me for a moment and rocked me against her breasts. "You did so well," she said gently. "Now I'm going to leave you here for a short while. You are not to get out of this chair. You may cum as many times as you like. Do not leave the chair, or your punishment will be double what it was."

She pointed to the slave she had appointed to watch me. "Stay. Watch her. No, do not touch yourself, you already had your orgasm. The rest of you, with me."

They filtered out, and I was left to sit on this chair—which I realized, only later, was placed conveniently right in front of that mirror.