Chapter 6

Page released Willow from the belt restraint and the ball gag.

"Clean up this mess. Shower and then come find me. Present yourself like you think a slave should. You have two hours."

Page left the room and went to fix a small bite to eat. Willow would eat later.

Two hours and seven minutes later Willow found Page in a chair looking over blueprints of some kind. Willow stood by her chair and quietly coughed.

"Ma'am? I am done ma'am."

Page did not move for a minute then looked up and smiled.

"Well, let's go see shall we?"

Ten minutes later Willow was sure she was in trouble again. Page had found black hair all over the bathroom Willow had been told to clean. Page did not even need the white sticky tape she was using to find the smaller pieces. There were long hairs in the shower, under the chair and on the clippers Page had used to shear Willow's head.

"I am beginning to see what we have to work with here.

"Slave, count the offenses.

"You did not complete the assigned task on time.

"You did not compete the assigned task properly.

"You did not approach your trainer with respect nor address yourself correctly.

"Slave, how many strokes punishment is that?"

"Ma'am, I, I mean this slave has 6 strokes due."

"Six? I think you need a lesson in counting. We were at three earlier. Then you forgot to thank me for your punishment so we were starting with four. Then these three infractions mean... ?"

Willow tried to count what that would mean. She was beginning to shake.

"Ma'am that would be 22 stokes." Willow was almost sobbing.

"Really? What about your incorrect count. What about that? I asked you how many you had coming and you got that wrong. That means the count doubled.

"44 strokes punishment are due." Page pronounced.

The bald slave fell to her knees and began to plead, but Page cut her off.

"Silence. Let that untrained mouth start blabbing and you will end up with a hundred strokes before you are two minutes in.

Page stepped up to Willow and took her chin in her hand. Page looked deep into her eyes and said in that calm, cold voice. "Try harder."

Page stepped around Willow and was pulling her down the hall. Instead of turning into the bedroom they had shared or into the adjoining bathroom, Page went straight down the hall to a door Willow had never seen open.

"Down on your knees." Page commanded. Willow dropped like a stone into position.

"Slave you will never enter this room on your feet. You will never enter this room alone unless you have been sent on a task and you will still crawl. I will use many names for this room because it will serve many purposes. I may call it the Play Room. I may call it the Room of Wisdom. I may call it the Room of Enlightenment. Whatever it is called you will come to this spot, sit and wait. You will then be asked why you are here and you will beg to enter and be allowed to partake of the virtues of this room. Be creative and be passionate that this is what you want. Fail at this task and you will have cause to regret it.

"Now slave, why are you here?"

"Ma'am, this slave is here to be punished for the mistakes and errors of her ways. She ... she begs to be given a chance to improve and learn."

"Good beginning, but it must improve. Inside"

Page opened the door and Willow crawled behind.

An hour later Page took a break half way through Willow's 44 strokes. Willow was fixed face down to a padded bench in a Y shape. Her hands and feet were cuffed and chained to the ends of the Y shaped bench. Her hands were together over her head and her feet were spread apart. There were very regular red strips on her each leg from calf to the bottom of her ass. There were exactly 11 stripes on each leg. There were none directly on her ass and none on her back. Willow was quietly sobbing as Page stepped away for a moment to towel off her sweat.

"So Slave, where are we?"

"Ma'am, that was stroke 22 of 44 that I have earned for sloppy work and lack of decorum. Please continue your patient instruction of this slave."

Page had given Willow time between each stroke to recover and think of an appropriate response. She had to admit Willow was quite good at creating phrases that fit the moment.

"Slave, I am growing weary of this activity. Would you be willing to bargain some of your strokes away?"

"Ma'am please could I?"

"I don't know. What would be a good bargain for 22 crop strokes on this beautiful ass?

"Ma'am I would do anything to make this stop, please."

That was the opening Page had wanted. Willow needed to learn that things can always get worse. Much worse.

"Ok, here is my offer. I will trade you your 22 strokes on your ass for ... five on each breast ... or five on your sweet virgin pussy. Choose quickly, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock ... time is..."

"Breasts!" Willow cried.

Page unlocked Willow's feet but was able to turn her without unlocking her hands. She relocked her feet in place then came up near Willow's head.

"There will not be time to count these strokes, nor will you be able to speak for a few moments."

Without any other preparation Page laid five strokes on Willow's left breast including the last one across her nipple. Willow arched her back and screamed. The scream lasted for a minute before it became as loud sob.

Again without warning Page laid the last five on Willow's right breast. Again Willow was caught up in a spasm of pain and wailing.

Page stepped away and waited for Willow to regain her equilibrium. After about 10 minutes Page walked up near her head again.

"Slave, you have endured your first punishment session in the Room of Extraordinary Truths. We now begin again as all is forgiven. In simple terms, you fucked up and you paid the price. Learn and grow."

Page released Willow from the Y bench and led her out of the Play Room and into the bathroom.

"Let's see what you have learned today. You will clean the bathroom and shower. Present yourself to me in two hours."

Page stepped out of the room as Willow reached for the cleaning supplies.

Exactly two hours later the timer Page had set went off. When it did she looked up from the blueprints of the new house she had been studying to look for Willow. Willow was at her feet kneeling and quiet. Page stepped into the bathroom to inspect it and found it adequately clean for a first time. When Page returned Willow was still in the same place quietly waiting.

"Much better effort slave. It is not perfect but that must be taught. I wanted to know if you were able to learn."

Page stepped into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of raw vegetables, diet style crackers and a glass of water. She placed the bowl and glass in front of Willow.

"Eat quietly."

Page went back to her blueprints trying to find a place to allow access from the garage to the side garden. It was an exercise in compromise and that was not in Lord Blackmon's nature. There had to be a solution that would be perfect and Page was determined to find it.

Page was pleased that the hour she had spent working on the problem had not been disturbed by Willow eating her meal. She looked down and Willow was still kneeling with the empty bowl and glass in front of her.

"Slave, clean up your meal things and make sure everything is put away in the kitchen. Then go to the bathroom, take care of yourself and brush your teeth. Return to this spot in 30 minutes. Go."

Willow moved without grace to begin her new tasks. Page made a note that was another area Willow needed work.

When she returned Page stopped her at the door.

"Slave, it is time to learn about the kneeling mat."

Page placed a dark red rug about two feet square in front of the chair where she had been sitting.

"Kneel there." She said to Willow. Willow did so quickly.

Page took a moment to look at Willow on the mat. Her bald head was startling, no question, yet in its outrageousness, it was very sexy. It made Willow even more naked. A desire, long dormant, stirred in Page. Willow was making progress in other areas as well. Her face had cleared up somewhat due to proper skin care. She had begun to lose some of the "hide me" weight and there was even some sign of muscle tone in her legs and arms. Page was more and more convinced she was going to be a beauty. However it was going to take more than beauty to make Willow into a pleasure slave for Lord Blackmon.

"Slave, this is a tradition of Lord Blackmon and a few others." Page thought back to her meeting with Shadow just the day before when she was on the kneeling mat.

"Masters can play word games and lay verbal traps for slave so they can be punished or humiliated. Puzzles and riddles are used to trip up or confuse a slave.

"But sometimes it is important for a master to get clear, uncluttered information from his slave. If a master seeks information about the health of a slave, he does not need information withheld or obscured because the slave is afraid of an ulterior purpose. Also there are times a slave may need to ask a question or make a request. At other times a master may need to teach a slave an important task that may require the slave to ask questions to become competent in the task. All of these require a protocol for effective communications.

"The kneeling mat is just such a place and time. Respect and decorum must to be maintained, slaves and masters are never equals. But this is a place to learn, to speak, to express truths clearly and without games. Here a master can ask a slave a question and the slave knows that what is being sought is the answer. A slave can ask a question and the master may choose to answer or not, but the act of asking is not considered rude.

"But be warned. Masters can still become angry by what is said here. There is no amnesty for disrespect. A slave is never to lie to her master no matter where they are. Only a handful of masters use this tradition. Be glad your master is one of them."

"So here you are. I need some information from you and about you.

"Slave, are you truly a virgin?"

"Yes." Willow replied.

"Slave, let me warn you one more time. Maintain decorum and respect. You must address me correctly. Now answer the question."

"Yes ma'am, I am a virgin." Willow whispered.

"Slave, speak clearly when you answer. Instead of me quizzing you about everything, tell me about your experiences dating and with sex. Be clear, be complete, and be candid."

Willow blushed across her face and it spread down her pale skin to her throat and chest. She hated this topic.

"Ma'am, I ... I have been afraid. I had a friend that was raped when she was 13 years old and I saw what it did to her, ... to her mind and spirit. I lost the only friend I had. I was only 11. I wanted nothing to do with sex from then on. It was about hurting and hating and crushing someone. I made myself ugly and unattractive so no one would hurt me like they hurt her. I never talked to boys and almost never talked to girls. They only wanted to talk about boys!"

"Slave, do you masturbate?"

The blush of embarrassment spread further. The marks on her breasts from the crop were lost in the red of her blush.

"Ma'am ... I ... sometimes..."

"Slave, look at me."

Willow had kept her head bowed, mostly from embarrassment and her eyes were looking at the floor. At Page's words, she looked up for the first time since the questioning had started.

Page was sitting in the leather chair with her legs crossed and her hands on the arms of the chair. When Page saw her look up, she slowly uncrossed her legs and held them together for just a moment, then slowly parted her knees. This continued until her legs were as wide as the chair would allow.

Willow was transfixed by the sight or Page in this position. Ever since that first glimpse of Page at the auction house, Willow was transfixed by Page's beauty and poise. Willow saw in Page everything that she had tried to avoid, yet secretly longed for. If Willow looked like Page, people would notice her and talk to her. They would want to be Willow's friend. The events of the week in which Willow helped Page recover from the blast did nothing to diminish her near hero worship of Page.

There were so many things that Willow wanted to ask Page. She wanted to hear how she became a slave and what Lord Blackmon was like. She wanted to know what sex was like from someone other than silly teenage girls that made fun of her looks, social status, and ignorance. She wanted to know how to look like Venus Rising and be that confident without clothes. She wanted to be Page.

But Willow also had some new feelings too. She saw the curves and textures of Page's body and wanted to touch them. She wanted to know if they were soft or firm. She wanted to touch her beautiful hair and brush her lips. In ways that she did not yet understand, she wanted Page.

The harsh events of the morning had shaken those feelings. But now as Page spread her legs before her, those feelings came rushing back and pushed the aches of the crop well back in her mind.

Page could see Willow was transfixed by the display she was putting on. She wanted to begin Willow's sexual education and she needed her undivided attention. She got it.

"Slave, I said, do you masturbate? Do you touch yourself?"

"Yes ma'am. I have touched myself."

"Did you like it?"

"Ma'am, I am not sure ... it felt good I guess ... but..."

"Did you have an orgasm?"

"Ma'am, I ... I don't know."

"That is not the answer of someone that has had an orgasm, at least a good one." Page leaned forward and placed her hands on the inside of her knees. She began to slowly straighten back up while raking her fingernails up the inside of both of her thighs. Each nail pushed against the skin and left behind a red line, not unlike the marks Willow had seen across her own breasts.

"When you have a real orgasm, it is not something you would overlook."

Page's hands slid up to her stomach and began to slide down toward the junction of her thighs.

"Since the answer was unclear, let me break it down into smaller parts. Slave, have you touched yourself since you have been shaved smooth?"

"Yes ma'am, I have touched ... myself."

Page ran a finger across her own outer lips, making three complete circuits.