Acting Dominant
Prologue: Don't Call Us
by Tigger c2008

"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" Ty Edwards railed, even as he slammed his apartment door closed behind him.  "Dammit _ALL_ to _HELL_!"

Another audition down the toilet.  Hell, the eight hours of minimum wage pay he MIGHT have earned had he not been standing around waiting for his turn to read for this part had long since spiraled down the porcelain throne, too. That fifty bucks wouldn't have paid the (overdue) rent, but it would have meant something more appetizing than the three-day old bread and the pitiful bit of moldy cheese that would now be his dinner.

But the worst - that absolute worst - was getting slapped squarely in the face with unequivocal proof of something he already should have known.

Deep in his heart, anyway.  

He wasn't going to make it as a serious actor.

The proof of that had come when he’d gone back to the theater to retrieve his forgotten umbrella. . .

~-~

Ty slipped back into the theater, and found that the audition room door was barely cracked open. Crossing to the coat-tree from which his umbrella hung, he was able to make out voices from within the audition room - voices he recognized - all too easily - as belonging to producer and the director who'd conducted his audition. Unable to resist, and hoping to hear something positive, he stole over to the door for a quick, furtive peak through the tiny opening. He wasn't able to see much, but apparently the two men had been joined by a woman who had not been there for his reading. She was seated facing the two men with her back to the door.  He couldn't see her face, but Ty could tell from her relaxed manner that she was perfectly at ease being so close to the brusque producer. 

"I really liked that Edwards-kid's delivery," the director said.

"Too damned short," growled the producer, making the statement sound like an epithet. "And he can't sing for shit."

"We might be able to work around his height - Alan Ladd was short, and he did just fine with the ladies.  As for the singing, all he really needs is to be heard and understood.  I'm sure he can. His enunciation and delivery were great."

"This isn't Hollywood!  "This is live theater and you can't hide the fact that he's barely five-five when he has to trot out on stage or dance with the rest of the cast.  Hell, Roxie Hunter is gonna be the female lead, and she's five-seven in her stocking feet! Not only that, but the only time she's EVER in only her stocking feet is when she's changing from one pair of spike-heeled shoes to another."

"Darling," a feminine voice put in, "Language, please."
 
"Sorry, luvie," the producer's tone became instantly contrite, but only in response to the woman's admonition. His voice hardened again when he turned back to the director. "Roxie's a freakin' dancer! Her legs are her best feature so we have to play to them, and that kid can't. Forget him."

"But he dances well - really gracefully - you saw the tape of his workout, Jazz," the director said, evidently to the woman because Ty thought he heard an affirmative murmur from her. "He'd be easy to choreograph, and he's got a real feel for the part..." The director's persistence gave Ty hope.

"Look, the broads are taller, so the studs have to be taller, too.  He isn't, so he isn't getting the part!  Got it?"

"Dar-ling," the woman called Jazz's voice was sharp now. "I WON'T tell you again.  Watch your mouth!"

"Yes, sweetie." That must be some woman, Ty thought.  He found himself wondering about a woman who could shut up the boorish producer in mid-spate - even if only for a few seconds.

"He did move very well," she continued speculatively.

"But, luvie," he continued, "What happens if he drops Roxie during one of the dance routines? The show would be ruined."  Then, he changed the target of his remarks back to the director. "Don't waste my time with him, again - got it?" 

"Got it," the director sighed with an awful finality.

"Look, Roxie would make your guy look fragile and dainty, for go. . goodness' sake.  Find me somebody who's tall enough to make our star look dainty."

"Okay, you're the boss."

"Glad you finally remembered that fact."

~-~

The utter finality of that pronouncement was still ringing in his ears when Ty had crept away from the theater to wander aimlessly about the streets of downtown New York.  For several gray, wet hours Ty had tried - really tried -  to find that hoped-for something positive in what he'd just overheard.  On one hand, the director - that is to say - the TRUE theater professional in that damned room had wanted to give him a chance at the lead role.  He, at least, had recognized Ty's professional acting abilities and had valued them.  Unfortunately, the money men - the *angels* - and wasn't THAT term a joke when applied to that unfeeling oaf of a producer - were the ones who provided the monetary grease upon which the wheels of theatrical world turned.  

And this show's angel had just cast Ty out of the theater's bright lights and into the darkness of the 'real world.'

Ty told himself that it was past time that he had accepted the harsh realities, and took stock of what passed for his life in this big, bad and lonely city. As he began to slowly make his way back across downtown toward his little apartment, he began mentally ticking off these painful truths on his fingers.

Truth 1. He hadn't had a real acting job in nearly six months. 

Truth 2. What money he could make as a waiter, or short order cook, or in retail sales, was barely enough to keep him afloat here in the big bad city, and with the economic down turn, even those lousy jobs were hard to come by.  Hard to keep, too, since most employers preferred 'reliable' workers, which they defined to be a species that did not include wannabe actors who regularly asked for time off to go to auditions.  Or who would quit without the desired notice if a 'real' acting job came along.  Not that he'd seen one of those real acting jobs recently, anyway - see Truth 1 above.

Truth 3. He currently didn't have one of those lousy jobs, either.  He didn't have ANY job - period.

Truth 4. He was flat broke.  See Truth 3 above.

So here he was, broke, out of work, three days from eviction from a ramshackle room, and looking forward to a meal that just might give him food poisoning.  Not much to show for years of education, training, hard work and sweat. Fighting back the dark emotions that closed in about his soul, Ty cursed the gene set that had given him the talent and the drive to succeed, but had denied him the scant inches he needed to have the opportunity to express that talent.

It was probably just as well that Ma Bell had cut his phone off last week, he mused ironically.  Otherwise he'd have to deal with the decision of whether he should call home to ask for money.  Wouldn't his father just relish that 'I told you so' opportunity? 

Okay, he thought, let's call that 'Truth 5.'  He had what almost any sane guy would call a great job waiting for him back home - good salary, great benefits, a share of the company, and the fast track to the president's corner-office in a few years.  God, but the last thing Ty wanted to do with his life was to 'work his way up the ladder', busting his ass to prove he had the 'right stuff' for the corporate world until his father finally deemed that he was ready to take over the family business.  There WAS more to life than making money. 

Wasn't there?

Ty had always hoped so - believed so - but what other choice did he have now?  Being homeless and hungry on the streets of New York would flat-out suck.  Even fuel injectors had to be better than that.

Acting Dominant
Chapter 1: Casting Call
by Tigger c2008

The schizoid ringing of his door bell ("Be it ever so humble" with five or so of the notes randomly refusing to play) was a welcome distraction from that line of thought.  A true survivor of the 'hard-knocks' school of city dwelling, Ty checked his peephole before starting to unlock his door. What, or rather who he saw on the other side had him hurrying to undo the four independently-keyed deadbolt security locks he'd installed at his own expense when he'd moved in so many months ago.

"ShaJuana!" he said, real pleasure suffusing his tone.  "What's up?"

"Eaten yet?" The ebony-skinned goddess in jeans and a "Gold's Gym" muscle shirt asked, holding up a bulging bag with the logo of a nearby Chinese take-out place. "I have sweet and sour pork," she said, teasingly.

"No!" he said in a rush, and then stepped back to let her in. "I was just trying to figure out what culinary wonder with which I would tempt my palette."

"Well, if you're gonna cook, this can always get eaten as leftovers," ShaJuana offered.

"No, I think this will be much better all around.  Not to mention safer."

"Great.  You get some plates and stuff, and I'll lay this out and open the wine."
 
In the little niche that the landlord had proudly advertized as a kitchen, Ty's mind was only half on sorting out knives, forks and plates - the rest was focused on the magnificent ShaJuana Price.  ShaJuana was a singer/dancer who kept the wolves from her door by working part-time as both a fitness model and as a personal trainer when she was 'between acting engagements'.  She was five feet, ten and a half inches and one hundred and fifty-nine pounds of tautly muscled, yet shapely black beauty.  She was, in Ty's opinion, about the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  

ShaJuana's problem in the theater was exactly the opposite of Ty‛s own. In three inch dancing heels, she towered over most leading men and just about every male principal dancer.  Few if any of the current crop of actors or dancers could partner her in a serious modern dance without risking a hernia. Last Ty'd heard, she was looking to put a girl-group together - sort of a ‟Destiny‛s Child Grows Up and Joins the WNBA‟ with some of her taller girl-pals.  Since she hadn't invited him to attend so much as a rehearsal, that probably wasn't going all that well either.

"Hey, Ty-RONE," a voice called from the other side of the studio. "You gonna bring those plates or let us starve here?"
Suddenly, he was ravenous.  "Coming.  And for calling me Tyrone, YOU have to surrender ALL the sweet and sour!"

"Dream ON, Ty-RONE, you dream on."

After the disappointments of the day, it felt good to laugh.

~-~

Somehow, over the meal, she had teased him into talking about the audition.  When he'd asked her how she'd heard, she'd simply informed him that, "A little bird told me."  And then she'd just listened, saying only enough to keep him talking until he‛d finally run down.  Only much later did Ty realize just how skillfully his friend had drawn him out, how much he had revealed that he might otherwise have preferred unsaid - even to as close a friend as 'Juana.

"So," ShaJuana said, topping off his wineglass, "What are you going to do? Go back home to sticksville? Make fuel injectors for the rest of your life?"

Ty sighed.  "It's either that or porn, I guess."  At the startled look on his guest's face, he chuckled. "One of my, umm, co-stars from an earlier acting gig shared a dressing room with me.  He does the occasional adult video these days.  Anyway, he calls me about once a month or so to ask me if I'm ready to earn some 'real money'.  He thinks I've got - how do I put this politely? Ah, yes, I'vee got 'what it takes' to make it big in the skin-trade."

"Oh really?" ShaJuana cooed, infusing a world of mock sensual interest into those two words. "Packin' large, are you, cutie? How many inches?"

"'Juana!" Ty yelped, and then glared at her as the tall woman dissolved into a surprisingly girlish giggle fit.

"The..  hee hee hee. . LOOK. . on your FACE!" she managed to gasp out. "Oh, god, Ty, that LOOK!"

"I cannot say how glad I am to have provided you with such amusement, I'm sure," he replied, calling upon the starchy, pompous dignity of a character role he'd once played in an Agatha Christie production.

And then laughed back at ShaJuana when she started to babble out an apology.  "Oh, you," she finally muttered when they'd both calmed down. "So, will I be able to see this. . .'what it takes' in Debbie Does Dallas 15, coming soon to an adult vid-shop near you?"

Ty didn't answer immediately, and instead sipped his wine reflectively.  It wasn't like he hadn't given the concept a good deal of thought. Truth to tell, the money would have been damned useful, but in the end, it wouldn't work for him and he knew it.  "No. Too public, too much baggage.  Even if I were never to work in the legitimate theater again, who knows who might recognize you from the few face shots a guy gets in one of those vids? Might make it hard to sell fuel injectors in the Bible Belt, you know?"

Now it was the elegant black woman's turn to gaze thoughtfully into her wine glass.  "You say so, but from what I've seen, about the only thing in the world more faceless than the chick doing a porn shoot is the stud doing her, but I can see it your way, too. So, it's the, ahhh, public nature of doin' porn that really stops you from goin' there?"

"I guess so, when you put it that way. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I just might have a proposition for you, Ty.  It's a little off in left field - okay," she grinned wickedly, "Maybe it's a LOT out in left field, but if you agree, you're guaranteed $250.00 for two hours work - maybe twice that, with the chance for more of the same if things work out."

"Who do I have to kill?" Ty demanded flippantly, and then saw the serious look on his friend's face.  Suddenly, he put things together.  "Not public. . .you want me to . . .to become a prostitute?" His voice cracked in shock.

ShaJuana sat up and leaned towards him. "Not quite. What I have in mind isn't prostitution - not under the legal code of the City and State of New York, anyway.  Look, Ty, my. . . employer and I have this client who likes to play on the edge.  She's looking for some way to . . . to meet his needs without," she hesitated, as if seeking the right words, then shrugged.  "Without things going too far. Let's just leave it at that for the moment, okay?"

"Okay, but I'm not sure what I could do to help you with a client of yours in that vein.  I thought you were a personal trainer. Besides, isn't going to the edge with that kind of thing dangerous?  What about heart attacks and. . ."

The black woman's cheeks darkened as blood rushed to her face.  She held up a hand to squelch his questions. "Well, I am a personal trainer, Ty, but just not quite the way you mean, and I do have a client who you COULD really help me with him. Without havin' to worry about a heart attack or such."

"Oh, really? If you're not THAT type of trainer, and this ISN'T hooking, just what kind of client are we talking around here?"

"A submissive," was her soft, almost whispered reply.

"A what?" Ty asked, confused.

"A submissive," she reiterated more firmly. "To put a point on it, the guy pays big bucks to be my part-time sex slave."

"A sex slave," he repeated.  "You said this wasn't about prostitution."

"It's not prostitution because there is no intercourse, no oral sex, not even a hand job - by me, that is.  If he gets off, he jacks off.  I just watch, and give him some. . .pointed direction and make a few snide comments from time to time while he does it."

"And you think I can help?  How? I'm not exactly Mr. Studly, you know. . . Oh. . .you want me to play the part of another, what did you call him? Oh, yeah, another submissive with him?" He shrugged away the twinges of emotion - embarrassment and annoyance, that idea evoked in his heart. He was, after all, an actor, and a role was a role, and money was money! 

"No. . ." ShaJuana said, drawing out the word, "I want you to be the other dominant in a scene with him - a very passable TV mistress."

"Huh? TV? Mistress? Don't tell there's some kind of reality show on the tube about learning to be a dominatrix now!? Must be one of the cable access channels 'cause I sure haven't seen it on my over-the-airwaves-only rabbit-ears."

Chocolate brown eyes rolled heavenward in laughing disbelief. "Not TV - as in TELEVISION -, you knucklehead! Cripes, Ty, you kill me! I want you to be a TV - as in TRANSVESTITE - Mistress! I want to rig you out in leather, lace and latex, squeeze you into a corset and too-tight, too-high heels, slap a big-hair wig and some Goth-girl lip gloss on you and have you there when I work him.  At the critical moment, we'll just,  ah well, spring your true nature on him - literally."

"You're kidding me, right? This is one of your practical jokes, isn't it?"

"If it is a practical joke, it's on him - my client, that is - not you. Really, I'm serious about this, Ty.  My, ah, boss is serious, too. Look, I'm not supposed to get into this with you, but she's already talked money with me about this.  It's her idea, but she asked me if I knew anyone, from my actor friends, who might be able and willing to pull it off."

"She talked money?"

"She talked money - some of it up front, assuming you give it your best shot and don't wimp out on me.  And if we can pull this off and really screw with his head for him?  Maybe enough to give you some breathing space with your landlord."

"He'll know I'm a guy from the beginning," he protested weakly.  "There won't be any surprise or shock value or whatever it is you're planning."

"Oh, trust me, cutie, just trust me. I've made over uglier men than you into passable girls in my time as a 'personal trainer'. You'll be  drop-dead sexy.  And you'll be disguised so he'll never know what you really look like - as Tyrone, that is.  Heck, the whole public thing won't even be an issue.  He could meet you at the bus stop right after the session, and unless you forget to cream away your makeup, never even know you've been almost introduced."

"Great, just what I need to hear," he groaned.  

"Huh?" Juana interrupted, confused.  "What's the matter now?"
Ty could only shake his head and laugh. "What's the matter, the woman asks me.  Shit, Juana, I'll tell you what's the matter.  The very first time - in my WHOLE life - anyone has EVER said I could be 'drop-dead sexy?' She's talking about dressing me as a woman.  What a world."  Juana didn't say anything, letting her friend stew over it in his mind. Then, he turned back to her. "What makes you think I could pull this off? I have to tell you that in my sadly limited romantic experience, I haven't ever ravished anyone." 

ShaJuana tossed her head back and laughed. With a saucy, suggestive smile, she purred, "Honey, it ain't about ravishin', it's about dominatin', and trust me, you can handle that part just fine." 

That stopped Ty in mid-argument. Dominating? Him? Well, that was certainly paradigm shift for his self image. It was rather exciting that a woman like ShaJuana Price thought he could be dominant. "You think I could pull that off?" he asked, hesitantly. 

The cackle of laughter that answered him sent shivers up and down his spine. "WHooooeeee, ty-RONE, How kin you axe me that?" his guest demanded in the heavy, city-black accent of a younger, less self-assured ShaJuana.  "ME? Homegirl herself? Keee-ripes, sugah, ya most scared me white tryin' to teach me to talk good for that turkey play we was in, boy." 

Ty had to smile at that memory.  He had first met the statuesque actress when they'd both been hired for the cast of an off-off-off-Broadway show about a mind-swapped couple. ShaJuana, as the maid into whom the Master's mind was swapped, had needed to recite her lines using an aristocratic English accent. Tyrone, as the Master into whom the maid's mind resided, had needed to learn how to 'shake his booty' for several dance sequences. Neither of them having the financial wherewithal to pay for acting or dancing lessons, they'd coached each other, becoming close friends in the process.  Ty had learned his lessons more easily than had ShaJuana, but by god, she'd eventually learned them.  

In time for the ill-fated show to fold before its third performance, but she HAD learned them.

"Will you do it?" ShaJuana asked again.

For a moment, Ty thought about refusing, only to remember that sticksville and fuel injectors still lurked out there in the darkness - waiting to pounce, waiting to suck the creative juices from him forever. As long as there was hope, another way open to him, he couldn't give up his dream and go crawling back to his father's business. Ty shrugged, and tried to smile. "Okay, when? I really do need money that badly."

"The session is scheduled for two days from now, in the afternoon. How about you come to my place tomorrow, and we'll see what we can do to make you pretty, okay?"

Ty hesitated just a moment more.  If she could pull this off, it would just about put paid to his dreams of ever being a serious stage actor. Serious stage actors had to be 'leading men' - they didn't 'lead men' about while wearing leather catsuits and stiletto heels. 

Still, it was paid 'employment' - even acting - and it was legal.  Or at least, it wasn't actually illegal.  

And it wasn't fuel injectors, which was all that needed to be said. "I'll be there," he promised.  "10 o'clock okay with you?"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 2: Stage Test 1: Act 1, Scene 1: Costume Fitting
by Tigger c2008

Ty was far less certain about his decision the next morning when he presented himself at ShaJuana's flat.  He'd almost called Juana twice to beg off.  Vandalized public phones and his own disconnected service were all that had gotten him this far.  He'd just have to tell her to her face that he couldn't do it.

Unfortunately for that plan, telling ShaJuana Price 'no' was not something at which Tyrone Edwards had ever had any degree of success.  Nor was this time the exception that would prove the rule.  Juana had literally dragged him inside the door of her small flat before Ty had so much as drawn breath to speak.  And then, she'd laid a finger across his lips to keep him shut up with one hand, while she passed a heavy parchment envelope to him with the other.  "Not a word, Ty, until you've opened that and read the note inside."

Baffled, he nodded his head and saw his name written on the envelope. The first thing he noticed was the handwriting. It was exquisite, and somehow, he knew without reading the first word that the author was female and proud of that fact.  "Your boss?" he asked, holding up the envelope to ShaJuana.

"I said 'not a word,' Tyrone, until you'd read it," his friend replied sternly. "Either read it, or put it down now and we'll forget the whole deal."

Seeing the resolve on her lovely features, Ty broke the old-fashioned wax seal on the envelope.  Inside were two items - a note on parchment stationery that matched the envelope, and a crisp, brand-new fifty-dollar bill.  Ty glanced longingly at the bill before turning his full attention to unfolding the note and reading its contents.

'Dear Mr. Edwards,

Since you are reading this, I must assume that ShaJuana has managed to convince you to attempt my little project.  Once you have read this note, you may keep the enclosed $50.00 even if you elect not to take this any further.  ShaJuana has been directed to give you a quick quiz on the contents of this note should you decide to leave that you must pass in order to keep the money, so I suggest you finish reading my little missive.

What I have in mind is for you to help me play with one of my favorite clients.  However, I am a perfectionist when it comes to my vocation, and I must have confidence that you can and will give satisfaction in the role I intend you to fill.  In order to evaluate your abilities in this area, I propose two tests: one today, and one tomorrow.  If you pass today's test, you will be given the opportunity to attempt tomorrow's challenge.  Let me assure you that I will pay you at the end of each test, provided that you make an honest attempt.  

I point this out because, in honesty, the tests will be demanding, and for many men in our society, unacceptable to their basic self image.  All I ask is that you start each test, and if you do reach a point where you find you cannot continue, be honest enough to share that with ShaJuana and myself. 

Today's exercise will be simple enough for you if you are, indeed, the actor ShaJuana believes you to be.  You must try to dress passably as a woman.  Between your own talents and those of ShaJuana, that should not be difficult.  Complete this day's challenge successfully, which I insist you prove by having a photograph of you taken en femme, and you will be given another $150.00. 

I hasten to add that the picture is not for the purposes of blackmailing you. As an actor, it would be very easy for you to pass off any such attempt as being required for a role - which in fact, it is.  No, the picture is to ensure that ShaJuana fulfills her part of this exercise, which is to dress you properly.  I know of the friendship between you, and of your current financial need.  I also know that you have refused direct financial help from ShaJuana on at least two occasions. Unless she shows me 'before' and 'after' pictures of you, any money you receive will be deducted from her next paycheck.

For an actor, this should be the easiest two hundred dollars you'll ever make, and it will be the prerequisite for taking tomorrow's test.
 
For now, I won't go into specifics about what I intend to ask of you in that regard as I want your full attention on completing today's test to the best of your ability.  I will say that tomorrow's test will be more in nature of 'method' training for the role I have in mind for you should you decide to play with us.   If you come tomorrow, and give it your honest, best attempt, I will pay you $1,000, even if in the end either of us decides you cannot go any further.

Consider your options carefully, Mr. Edwards.  You risk very little, as anonymity is every bit as vital to my clients and me as it would be to you.  No real harm will be inflicted on any person involved in this venture as that would both violate my personal ethics and would ruin my personal pleasure in my play.

I hope to see you tomorrow at 10:00 AM.

				Sincerely,
				Maitresse Solange'

"Holy shit," Ty muttered softly as he digested the unknown woman's words for a moment.  She was right, he told himself.  There was nothing about what she wanted him to do that couldn't be written off as preparation for part in a play - a strange play, certainly, but a play nonetheless. Come to that, it wasn't any more off-the-wall than learning to dance like a hip-hop music video girl for that first play with ShaJuana.  And if no one was going to get hurt in all this. . . well, for TWELVE HUNDRED BUCKS, cripes, but he hadn't had that much money at one time in - well, he couldn't even remember when he had.  He could handle a whole lot of teasing for that kind of money.  Smiling for the first time that day, Ty raised his hand in the air like a school boy who needed to go to the bathroom.  "Can I talk, now, teacher?"

"Smartass," ShaJuana said with a rueful grin.  Then she picked up a small recording device and turned it on.  "Are you going to stay and finish today's exercises, Mr. Edwards?" she went on, in formal tones.

"Yes, ShaJuana, I will stay and do my best."

For just a moment, she shut her eyes in something like relief, before reaching over and turning off the recorder.  "Glad that's over.  The Maitresse can be the most total bitch when she's crossed.  Now, you can keep that fifty without worrying about whether it is really my money."

"She evidently knows a lot about me," Ty said carefully.  "Including how close our friendship is."

Serious again, ShaJuana nodded. "She had to know, Ty, before she decided to trust you even this far.  She has to protect our clients and the other girls who work for her at the dungeon. I think it was the fact that you wouldn't take any money from me, even when you needed it to stay in that rathole flat of yours is what convinced her to give you a try in this role."

"Okay, I can understand that.  So what's the plan for today? Leather bustiers, latex panties and fishnet stockings?"

"Hah, you wish!"

"What?  I wish?"

"Can't go for a nice walk in the park in full-up Domme gear, honey."

"HEY, no one said anything about going out. . "

"And we won't, unless I think you'll pass and you're willing. . "

"Which I won't. . ."

"For another fifty bucks," ShaJuana said coaxingly.  "Which, combined with the other two hundred she promised you will be enough to keep your landlord off your back for a few more days.  Maitresse said that if the after pictures come from that little photo-booth outside the park, she'd spring for the extra fifty as a bonus," 'Juana wheedled.
That stopped Ty in mid-sentence.  Unfortunately, her assessment of the current state of his finances and his landlord's patience was only too true. "Bitch," he finally breathed, before giving her a bashful smile.  "You promise you'll be honest with me?  About passing?"

"Would I lie to you, Ty-RONE?!?"

"I won't answer that," he sniffed, and barely managed to duck the flying pillow that answered him.   "So, to ask again, what's on the costume manager's list for today?"

"Nothing too unusual.  Couple outfits, actually - just basic everyday stuff. Think sexy girl next door. .," then she grinned wickedly, "except for a pair of two, well, maybe three inch high heels.  You'll need the practice."

"Three inch heels?  You're kidding, right?"

ShaJuana smiled wickedly. "Nope. If you pull this gig off, you'll need them.  Hey, the shortest I wear when I'm working a sub measure five inches, honey. For the scene, Maitresse will probably put you in four-inchers, at least, but you'd be kinda conspicuous walking around downtown in those ankle-breakers - particularly if you're a slow learner.  Think of it as easing yourself into the role slowly."

"Slow learner, my ass.  So, where do I stand for my before-pic?" he asked, looking around for a decent backdrop for his first portrait of the day.

~-~

"Into the shower, ty-RONE," ShaJuana ordered sternly from behind the small bathroom's closed door.  "That hair remover should be just about done."

"Thank you, God," he breathed as he scampered for the relief of cool, running water to wash away the liquid fire she'd rubbed everywhere that wasn't covered by the Speedo swimsuit his friend had provided for his modesty.

ShaJuana peaked through in the doorway, smiling as she heard heartfelt sighs of relief issue from the other side of the shower curtain.  "Better get those trunks off, Ty, and soap up your crotch and butt real good.  The hot soapy water will soften those pubes of yours and make them easier for me to shave for you."

Ty's head burst out from a crack between the curtain-halves, the two panes clutched tightly about his body to preserve what little dignity he still possessed. "Shave?!?  Down there?!?  You're shitting me!"

Smiling, 'Juana shook her head slowly, while dangling an unopened economy package of pink "Lady Bic" razors up for his examination.  "Gotta be done, boy. Part of the costume, Ty. Maitresse's orders. Don't want no scraggly ol' guy-pubes showin' when you work our client.  So, either you shave off what's left, or I do. And I figure those precious jewels are gonna be a whole lot safer in my hands than yours.  Least-ways, I can see what I'm doin' down there, but hey, it's your choice. "  She watched her friend struggle with this next step.  Clearly, he hadn't fully digested that they were going to have to be nude or nearly nude in each other's presence; something that brought a whole new level of intimacy into their heretofore platonic if flirtatious relationship.

In a less teasing voice, she said again, "If we do the scene, I'm going to see your treasures in all their glory, anyway, so it might as well be now.  I am pretty good with a razor around the, ah, sensitive bits, ya know.  I do mine every week, and have done more than a couple of my darlin' little sissy boys, too," she added, "at the dungeon. Of course," she added, in an exaggeratedly reflective tone, "I did those with a straight razor.  I think I have one if. . ."

"NO!" Ty bellowed, retreating back under the shower and letting the water stream down his body. Then, with a dripping shrug, he slipped out of the trunks, extended them out between the curtains, and tossed them to the floor at ShaJuana's feet. They made, he decided, a rather satisfyingly wet 'splat' when they hit, and he could only hope they'd splashed Juana. "Those safety razors will be just fine, thankyouverymuch!" 

~-~

"Relax, Ty, I promise I won't cut off anything important!"

"I know that in my head, but . . . "

"I know," ShaJuana said with a giggle, "It's your little head down here that's not getting the message.  Not that it's all that little.  Maybe you do have a future in adult vids, after all." She gave the length of his penis a sensually teasing slide with her soapy hand. "Mmmmmmmm," she purred suggestively from deep in her throat, "You DO have a nice one, white boy."

"Juana! Don't DO that!"

"Oh pooh, Ty.  Just relax and enjoy it, okay? Besides, it's easier to get a smooth shave when the skin is taut." Another fondle had him shuddering.  Women and sex, like money, had been sadly in short supply in recent times.  It was all he could do to hold back the eruption that nearly overwhelmed his control as his ebony Amazon drew the razor down the center of his scrotum.

And besides - this was 'Juana!  His best friend, the angelic-Ty standing piously atop his right shoulder reminded him.  She was, in the final analysis, just another buddy, for all she was a girl.  Kind of like a sister, right?

Like HELL, the little devil leering at her form his perch on Ty's left shoulder shouted in his mind. ShaJuana wasn't his sister and she wasn't JUST a girl - she was a damned GORGEOUS girl, and to hell with this 'just buddies' crap!!

Before the little angel could retaliate with a suitable riposte to that argument, the little devil won.  "I get to do you!" Ty blurted, and instantly regretted it as her grip on his manhood suddenly tightened reflexively.

"Do me. . .WHAT, Ty-rone?" she demanded, her eyes wide and her lips a tight line.

Swallowing hard, he considered backing down and making a joke. Only, he realized, he didn't think it was a joke. "I want to shave you," he managed to get past the lump in his throat.  "Ummm, down there. . . . some time. . ."

For a moment, he was sure he'd blown it, and then her face relaxed into the teasing smile that he'd learned to beware.  "Do you really?" she mused, her hands returning to her task. "Well, maybe I'll let you." And the smile went from teasing to . . . something more.

Ty goggled, and ShaJuana laughed.  "Maybe," she repeated.  "Afterwards."

"After what? You're done doing me?"

Juana laughed throatily at that.  "Hell, no, sweetie. Sometime AFTER we blow my slave boy's mind together and after Maitresse pays you for what had damn well better be the most stellar performance of your acting career tomorrow."  She leaned over, hinting at her mouth going to his now-throbbing manhood, then bent back up and gave him a quick pecking kiss on the tip of his nose.  "Consider that offer as motivation for getting into your role, sweetie."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 3: Stage Test 1 - Act 1, Scene 2: Just a Walk in the Park
by Tigger c2008

"That wasn't so bad, now was it. . . Tyra?" Juana asked with the smug assurance of a parent whose child had just learned - the hard way - that broccoli wasn't poisonous.  She was slipping the two strips of photo-booth pictures into an envelope for later delivery to her boss, confident that Maitresse would love them.  "Don't leave your purse in the booth, sweetie."

"Oh! Right!" the blonde came up short and hurried back into the booth, returning moments later carrying the small day purse over her shoulder. "Forgot about, well. . . and  I guess it wasn't too bad - the picture taking I mean. It's not like I was in a war zone, being shot at. . ."

"Or you could be in your daddy's factory, fiddling with carburetors."  At her companion's reluctant nod, she smiled. "How about a little walk, girl friend?  Not to put too fine a point on it, but honey? You could use the practice." 

"Okay, I guess," was the softly spoken reply.  "And it's fuel injectors."

One nice thing about trained actors, Juana mused, they already knew how to modulate their voice to suit the part they were playing.  Ty's pitch was already good enough to pass - they just needed to work on a few minor touches, and then only if Maitresse decided to give him a speaking part in her little comedy.  However, her friend's body-carriage and movement still needed some pointed reminders that Tyra wasn't Ty and she shouldn't be moving like him. ShaJuana leaned over to whisper, "Don't clomp like that! You'll hurt yourself and call attention to yourself!"

"Oh!" Ty repeated, "Got it. I'll try, but let's not go too fast or too far from your place?" Ty asked, "I know these shoes aren't quite three inches, but I don't want to have to limp back to your place barefoot over the streets of New York because I got carried away in your enthusiasms."

"No prob, Tyra.  Just keep movin' them hips to the rhythm of the city and you'll be just fine.  You try to stride out like a guy marching and those heels'll come back and bite you."

"I suppose," distracted by the reflection in one of the glass storefronts, Ty slipped up and fell back into 'male voice'.  He'd played many roles, he thought wonderingly, from a teenaged boy to a stodgy, geriatric British aristocrat whose body had been taken over by the mind of a Jamaican tweenie.  He was USED to seeing himself transformed by the magic of costume and makeup into someone completely different.

But this?  This was different. 

The person who stared back from those murky depths would have been at home on any college campus in the country. She, for the reflected person was definitely a she, was of average height for a woman, thanks mostly to the aforementioned high heels.  

Because the shade suited Ty's natural coloration, the 'she' in that window had straight blond hair which Juana had combed back into a simple pony tail.  Gold wire-framed glasses were perched on the nose of a very lightly made-up face, giving the reflected 'she' the large eyed look of a startled fawn. A figure hugging t-shirt clung lovingly to a modest, yet shapely bosom and was tucked into skin-tight, calf-length jeans that showed off very womanly hips and a rounded butt.  

This was a very different, indeed.

Still amazed, Ty turned away from the glass, arched his back and looked over his shoulder at back of the reflected girl. "I still can't believe you let me wear jeans. . ."

"Voice!" ShaJuana hissed urgently, bringing Ty up short. 

Taking a deep breath, the blonde nodded, and started moving down the sidewalk. The tall black girl relaxed, as they put some distance between themselves and anyone who might have heard her partner's momentary slip.  As mistakes went, it really hadn't been that bad, she thought, recalling her experiences as a dominatrix who often pushed her subbies out into the public world en femme, but then again, there was no point in taking undue risks.

"Tyra? Why don't we take a turn around the park? I know you've got questions, and we'll have some privacy there for the answers." And if you slip up again, she thought, there won't be so many people who might pick up on it. With that, she took Ty's elbow gently in her hand, and firmly guided her creation across the street to the park entrance.

~-~

"Caught you by surprise, didn't it?" Juana asked when they were in a quiet section of the park.  "When you saw yourself in that window and saw what other folks were seeing?"

"My Go. . " Ty's voice started, and then modulated into Tyra's, "od, Juana.  You told me to swing my hips, and then I saw myself! I mean, I really have, well, hips to swing!  I mean, I've heard of falsies - what guy hasn't - but I always thought that meant, well, you know," and Tyra's hands made a subtle cupping motion in the general direction of her modest bosom. "and. . and these aren't even very big. I sort of expected, well, more. . ."

Juana laughed at her friend's confused rambling.  "Hey, some girls need help up top and some need booty-buildin'. Now, most of my special clients - the ones like YOU - well, they need help both ways, so we keep a supply of both types of falsies at the house.  As to why your figure is closer to J-Lo than to Dolly Parton? In case you never thought about it, hon, it ain't boobs that say 'girl!' and bring out the 'yee hah' in a guy's hormones.  It's hips and it's a great ass that flare out from a small waist.  Thanks to those falsies and that bit of corset, you, baby, got back!"

"And the makeup? I know I told you I could do it, but. . "

"But you would have done what you've been trained to do with makeup, Ty, not what was needed today. It would have been more dramatic - stage makeup - much too obvious for this outing.  I wanted your face to be subtle for the same reason I had you wear jeans instead of that skirt set. We don't want you getting too many second looks because you don't know enough about your role yet to pass the closer second look.  You don't understand how to operate in a skirt without flashing half of Manhattan.  Jeans aren't out of place.  That light makeup isn't out of place.  So, YOU, Tyra-the-girl aren't seen as being out of place.  Got it?

"Hiding in plain sight?"

"Exactly! Any other questions?"

"Can we go back to your place now?  I need to get out of these shoes soon or I won't be able to walk tomorrow, let alone perform."

"Sure, hon. Feel like some eggs and toast? I'll give you some 'Eating like a girl' lessons while we have lunch."

Acting Dominant
Interlude: A Family Affair.
"Mistress?" a male voice called to her, interrupting her anticipation of tomorrow's little play.

The woman addressed looked up from her desk, and fought back the smile that threatened to soften her aristocratic features.  He was a sight in nothing but his absurdly small mob cap, the white lace apron and the men's size 13 EEEE, six-inch-tall stiletto heels. A feather duster hanging from a leather lanyard at his wrist was his only accessory.  Ridiculous as his costume might seem to others less discerning than herself, he was, in a word, perfect - at least for her.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked sternly.

"I've finished cleaning up after dinner and am about to go down to prepare the dungeon, Mistress. I just wanted to know what type of wine you would like for afterwards?  I have a very nice red that I could set to breathe, if you think that would suit?"

She didn't answer immediately, as if she were carefully considering the possibilities.  In reality, she was simply reveling in her view  of her submissive flushing red with excitement from this mild humiliation she had imposed upon him. The 'unsightly' bulge beneath the lacy apron proved that she was not alone enjoying this little warmup scene before the night's main event.  

"I think I'm in the mood for something bubbly tonight.  Put some Krug on ice, and then go wait for me in the dungeon. I'll be down shortly. I expect to be pleased with your cleaning and with your personal presentation."  There was an implied 'or else' in her tone that sent shivers racing up and down her submissive's spine.

As she'd intended.

"Yes, Mistress," was the quick response.  She heard the eagerness in his voice, and smiled as she watched him scurry from the room, his heels clicking on the hard tile of the hallway floor. Those size-13's had been expensive, but well worth it for the fun they both had whenever she prescribed their wear for this task or another.

With the preparations for the evening's entertainment now well in hand, she turned her attention back to the parcel she'd just received from ShaJuana. She laid the two strips of photographs carefully on her desk and examined them closely under the light of her lamp. 

The pictures were snapshot quality, but still sufficient for her purposes.  The potential she'd expected to find was there, captured in Kodacolor. The child had made the effort to 'be in role' for the pictures, too, for the classic images of the 'just-barely-adult' female were there - the head cocked, teasing smile; wide eyes peaking over the lenses of those cute glasses (props to ShaJuana for that little embellishment) at the camera; the half-grin, with the glasses dangling near her mouth, and so on.

However, it was the final picture that caught her eye, and that gave her confidence that this one could indeed pull off the role she envisioned for ShaJuana's friend. Lips tight and showing white teeth in a feral grin, and the manicured middle finger of one hand presented in the classic gesture, the sweet girl of the other photos was no where to be found in this one. No, this was the picture of a female predator, ready to pounce on her prey and then happily play with it before finally deigning to make the kill.
  
If the young actor did as well tomorrow when she gave him his go-no-go test, then they'd see, wouldn't they?  The possibilities, she mused, there were just such interesting possibilities.

Smiling at the thought of those possibilities, she put the photos back in the envelope, carefully filed it away, and then rose from the desk. She had other things to do now, such as inspect her 'maid-servant's' housework. 

Her poor subbie had yet to do a really thorough job of cleaning anything the first time when she had him in those stilts. She had never figured out if it was because, 

a. being that tall meant he didn't see the dirt that well, or 

b. that he rushed so he could get out of the shoes as quickly as possible, or 

c., because he liked being punished as much as she liked punishing him.

In any case, she headed for the dining room and kitchen with every expectation that her darling mate would have to sleep on his tummy tonight; his penance for yet another botched clean-up assignment.

When she finally let him go to sleep, that is.  She had other tasks for him that would, she was sure, take up a goodly portion of the night, to their mutual pleasure.

Acting Dominant
Chapter 4: Stage Test 2 - Staging and Scenery
By Tigger c2008

The sounds of the big city during rush hour assailed their ears as ShaJuana led Ty through the theater district towards an area currently undergoing serious regentrification.  Ty expected that they would continue through that neighborhood and into the rougher section of town on the other side.  Surely, he thought, that was where such establishments as 'dungeons' could thrive without bothering (or being bothered by) the neighbors.

So, he was a bit surprised when they stopped in front of a large, former warehouse that had been converted into what appeared to be a very ritzy street bazaar, with stylish boutiques and shops offering everything from designer clothes to designer foods to designer hair and grooming. This couldn't be a 'dungeon', he thought. It was too, well, out in plain sight.  How could they hide what was going on with so many people about?

Smiling at his obvious confusion, Juana took him by the arm and led him to a door at the far end of the block of store fronts. A sign on the door indicated it provided access to the "Service Associates."   The door opened onto a well appointed foyer.  A perky, blond receptionist, seated on the other side of the well appointed room, greeted them. "Hi, Juana.  The Boss told me to expect you. You and your friend are set to meet with her at 10 AM in Room PR-3.  Prep Room -1 is assigned to you now for your setups."

"Thanks, DeeDee."

"Have fun," the Little-Mary-Sunshine clone chirped as ShaJuana stepped up to the door next the receptionist's station and quickly keyed in a code on the electronic keypad next to the doorknob. When a soft buzzer sounded, she opened the door and indicated that Ty was to enter.  Inside the door, a set of stairs led up to the second floor, where a complex of the expected offices were located.  Juana led him down the hallway to a door marked "Office Supplies" and entered.  It seemed like a dead end to Ty, and he was about to ask when the entire back wall of the space, shelves and all, swung open to reveal another waiting room. They went inside and the hidden door closed behind them.

"You need to understand, Ty, that you now have enough knowledge to do a lot of damage if you were so inclined, or if you slipped up and told the wrong people.  The location of this dungeon is known only to the people who work directly for Maitresse and those people she trusts enough to take on as clients."

"This is it? Really?  I mean, this is not what I think of when I hear 'dungeon', Juana."

The beautiful woman's face relaxed into a broad smile. "Oh, you just never know, and besides, who says you gotta have a castle for a real dungeon, right?" Then she became serious again. "You do understand that Maitresse is trusting you, and I'm the one vouching for you?"

"I won't violate either of your trusts, Juana." and there was a stiff, almost offended tone to his voice.

ShaJuana relaxed, and smiled again. "I know, but I had to hear you say it.  Okay, let me give you the nickel tour.  The dungeon takes up the rest of this floor and all of the third floor.  From here to the other end of the block are the public rooms - where folks do the meet and greet, get ready to play or come down off a scene.  There's even a real clinic down here, as opposed to the play clinic upstairs"

"You ever needed that?"

"Not since I've been here.  Maitresse is very careful who she lets play here and how hard she lets them play, but you just never know for sure, right? You never need something like a clinic in-house until you really need it.  Come on.  Don't know how complicated today's gonna be, but we'll find out what Maitresse wants us, well, what she wants you to be and do today."

The 'ready room' or prep-room was a cross between a locker room and a theater dressing room.  There were large, metal lockers on one wall opposite a large mirror, a multiple seat vanity and a dressing screen against the facing wall.  The other two walls were lined with clothes racks filled with garments of all types and all materials.  Beneath the racks were what must have been more than one hundred pairs of shoes, while the shelf on top of one rack had mannikin heads, each sporting a different wig in a variety of colors and styles.  The shelf on the other rack held a large number of headgear (Ty couldn't call them hats).

One thing was immediately obvious - none of the garments, shoes, wigs or headgear were in any way masculine.   Well, Ty thought, no surprise there.

While Ty had been staring at the room, ShaJuana had moved over to the vanity and picked up an envelope.  Opening, she scanned the note it contained quickly, then shrugged.  "Okay, Tyra, time to get you fitted out.  Skin out of them boy clothes and put them in one of the lockers.  All the way!  It's just nine and we only have an hour to get ready.  Good thing we got rid of the body hair yesterday," she added, more to herself.

Ty just stared at her for a second, then turned to the locker and began to strip.  "Gonna give me an idea on the script for this play, Juana?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

And nearly gave himself whiplash when he snapped back to see the gorgeous Juana already down to her bra and panties.  "Umm. . . Juana? Don't you think you should use the screen?"

"No, we don't have time," she replied forcefully, "And didn't I just tell you to strip, boy?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and resumed his undressing, caught between that angel and devil again, wanting to respect her privacy while at the same time, wanting to enjoy her tall, voluptuous beauty.  

"Hurry up! We've got to get you into this corset, and that will take time."

"We've got an hour," he offered, as he tossed the last of his clothes into the locker.  Juana pushed her own into the same locker, and then set the combination lock.  

"Didn't you learn anything yesterday, knucklehead?  Guess not!  Okay, over to the corseting trapeze - NOW!"

"Corseting trapeze? What the hell is that?!?"

As he found out, he didn't want to know.

~-~

At 9:45, both he and ShaJuana were mostly in costume.  She hadn't been kidding about the heels, either.  Hers were easily five inches, probably more, and his were four inches at least.  Other than that, their costumes couldn't have been more different.  Ty wore a classic French Maid's dress in black satin,the skirt stiffened from waist to hem so that it's lowest point was but bare inches below the smallest measure of his tightly corseted waist.  Impressively realistic breast prosthetics gave the illusion of a full bust and incredible cleavage. Black satin garters, attached to the corset, held up black fishnet stockings.  He had a bow tie collar and cuff-linked wrist cuffs that looked like they'd been borrowed  from a Playboy Bunny.  A blond wig, this time done up in a chignon, was on his head, and was accessorized with a lacy cap.

"I feel like a kinky Mary Poppins who swallowed her umbrella," her groused. "Does this skirt have to poof out like this? It covers nothing and I can't even see my feet!"

"Hey, 'least you ain't havin' to wear the hip and bun pads, boy.  In case you haven't figured it out yet, Ty-RONE, it's not s'posed ta cover anything. It has a built-in petticoat to make it stand out like that because that's what a French Maid's skirt looks like, and they're part of that skirt because it's easier for us dominatin' types that way.  Ya see, only the skirt has to come off when it's time to get the client stripped for action. Petticoats just delay the inevitable and time flies when you're havin' fun." and then she cast a teasing eye-twinkle at her friend. "You'll see. . . maybe."

"Great.  Oh well, the show must go on, even for Practically Imperfect in Every Way French Maids with poofed out skirts."

For her role, Juana was clad head to toe and throat to wrist in a white, leather catsuit that was so tight, it had taken both of them to get her zipped. The contrast between her flawless black skin and the white of the suit was both shocking and erotic. Moreover, the deeply cut bodice made her breasts look huge. So huge, in fact, that Ty wasn't entirely sure how what little of Juana's boobs that were covered stayed covered.  Just one deep breath, he thought longingly, and all that glory would be just . . . out there to enjoy.

"Do your own makeup, Tyra," Juana ordered as she moved to the vanity herself.  "Think about your costume, and think theater.  In other words, lay it on thick 'n heavy."

Obeying, Ty moved to the vanity beside his friend. "What about the script?"

The tall woman gave what might have been a sigh.  "That's just it, Tyra, there ain't no script. This is all on the fly, improv-stuff, okay?  You're a guy, masquerading as maid.  Maitresse and I are gonna be the ones you're serving.  The thing is, that if you're not spot-on perfect in both the servin' and the girl-stuff, you're gonna get punished as part of the scene."

"Punished?  I thought you said I was to play a dominant role in this little play!  Punished, HOW?"

"Dominant role's tomorrow, honey.  You ain't gonna be a Domme today - not rigged out like that, okay?  Maitresse wants to make sure you won't break, won't, well, go spaz during the real scene and ruin it for everyone.  So she's going to try to push your buttons.  As for the punishment?  I'd guess some teasing - heavy teasing, maybe some bondage, and probably a spanking." ShaJuana considered that more carefully and continued. "I'd say a spanking's gonna be a 'for certain', Ty. Maitresse likes handin' out sexy spankings."

Ty was flabbergasted. "SPANKING? She said no one would get hurt!  When the hell did THAT change?!  Let me out of here, dammit!" he snapped, bending over to undo the straps that held the inflexible shoes he already hated on his feet.

Strong hands gripped his wrists, pulling him back upright so that he was looking into the depths of Juana's chocolate eyes. "It won't hurt - not really - trust me, Ty, okay? Sting a little, maybe, but no more than that, I promise you.  I went through worse during my training to be a Domme because I had to learn what everything felt like and how to control my strength.  This test is to see if you can control yourself, stay in character when things get a little rough.  So you won't mess up the works with Bil. . .I mean, my client.  No more than that - believe me."  

Ty didn't answer, but she could see the doubt and scepticism  in his eyes.  "I don't know HER," he finally managed to get out.

"Ty, if I thought she'd hurt you, you wouldn't be here, and neither would I, okay?!  And if she does hurt you, even by accident - and I truly believe that is the ONLY way she would hurt you  - I'll have you out of there in a New York second!  Got that?"

"Okay, so if I mess up, and get spanked, I lose my 'Get out of dungeon free card',  do not pass Go, but collect 1000 dollars on my way out? I mean, if I'm not feminine enough, I can't do the thing tomorrow, is that it?"

"Well, that's not quite what's goin' down, okay?  The thing is, Ty,  you ain't been doing 'girl' long enough NOT to mess up, and the Maitresse knows that - Hell, Ty, she expects it and more than that? She WANTS it.  What I think this is about is that if you can remain in character as a woman even during the scene, she'll figure you can handle whatever she has in mind for tomorrow, and give you the job."

Ty thought about that for a few moments, during which ShaJuana held her breath. Finally, he shrugged.  "Okay, I can always quit if it hurts. Guess that explains the REAL reason you didn't give me any fanny padding this time, huh?"

~-~

Climbing the stairs to the third floor in four inch heels was not the most fun thing Ty had done in his life. Especially since the steps weren't wide enough for him to put both the toe and the heel of the shoe on the step - the heel, such as it was, always hung over the edge of the step tread. They also messed with his center of gravity putting parts of his body where his muscle memory didn't expect those body parts to be.  He was damned grateful for the stair railing because, sure as anything, he would've found himself sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a very sore butt without it. 

They stopped at a door labeled PR (Play Room)-3.  "This is it, Tyra," ShaJuana said softly.  "From here, I go in and close the door.  Once we're sure everything in there is ready for us, you'll be summoned. Once you enter, the play is on.  Your safe word is 'Shakespeare.'  If you really get hurt, or if you just can't handle what's going down for ANY reason, before you hurt yourself or any one else, just say 'Shakespeare.'  Okay? If you say it, we stop, the scene ends, we go get your clothes, get you get paid for today, and you don't come back tomorrow. Understand?"

Ty nodded.

"I need to you say the words, Tyra."

"Yes, ShaJuana, I understand.  It's okay with me," he told her.  She nodded, and started to open the door.  "Except for one thing," he amended quickly.  Startled, Juana turned back to face him, concern on her lovely features.  "Je m'appelle Tia, s'il vous plaît?"

"HUH? What did you say?"

Ty grinned. "I said, my name is Tia, if you please. I'm not the one here who looks like Tyra Banks."

ShaJuana gave a laughing snort.  "Well, the only person I call Tia is my Tia Elaina.  She's my dad's older sister,  and you look a helluva lot more like Tyra Banks than you look like my maiden aunt. Hell, if she ever wore an outfit like that, she wouldn't have ended up an old maid. You're not going to sell yourself as *anyone's* auntie, girl."

The feminine face wrinkled into a frown. "Well, I still don't think Tyra works for me. I can't get my head around that getting into a role with that name. How about . . . Tysa . . . Tyma . . . Tyka . . . ummm . .I KNOW! Tina. That's a nice maid name, eh?"

"Tina," the tall goddess said, stretching the name out as if she were tasting it to see if the dish it came from was properly seasoned. "Yes, that works just fine - nice and girly," and then she grinned wickedly. "Just like you."

Bending down, she planted a soft kiss on Ty's heavily powdered cheek. "See ya on the other side . . . Tina."

And then she was gone, and the door was shut.

And Tyrone Edwards was suddenly very much alone.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 5: Stage Test 2: The Admirable Tina
by Tigger c2008

He was beginning to fidget in the uncomfortable heels when a stern voice called from within the room for 'the maid' to enter.  For just a moment, the man in him faltered, but only for a moment. Then the actor within him called out, "Curtain!" whereupon Ty released himself to his role.  With all his skill and will, he would become Tina.  Taking one last deep breath (or at least, as deep as the cursed corset crushing her diaphragm would permit) she opened the door, and stepped inside.
As the door closed behind her, the actor carefully scanned the staging provided for this stage test. Her first reaction was that this room had plucked directly out of the old 1930's, black and white version of the 'Scarlet Pimpernel', colorized and moved here.  There was a fireplace, what appeared to be authentic antique furniture, and an exquisite chandelier, designed to look as if it were lighted by candles instead of electric bulbs.  Moreover, like the old film's mood, the room still felt dark and shadowed, despite the light provided by the fire and the chandelier.

It was then that Tina caught her first glimpse of the woman who had to be the Maitresse Solange.  

If the room had been taken from a bygone age and a bygone style of living, then the woman who sat enthroned therein seemed utterly at home there.  She was, in a word, magnificent. In that age, and in that lifestyle, this woman would clearly have been the undisputed matriarch of the aristocratic family living here, in their ancestral home.

Maitresse Solange had taken as much or more care with her own costume as she had directed for Tina.  Oddly, her dress covered her completely, revealing only the skin of her face and hands, and yet, Tina wondered to herself, had she ever seen a more femininely enticing dress? The answer was a resounding "No!"  La Maitresse had done both her face and her hair in styles that appeared to fit the era evoked by the staging around them both, but it was her cool, grey eyes that captured and held Tina's attention. 

A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Solange's mouth, but that instantly curled into a sneer.  "Well, girl, what are you waiting for?"

Startled by the snapped out question, Tina almost slipped, but caught her balance at the last second. "Pardonez-moi, Maitresse. Vous me demandez?"

Tina was pleased to see the older woman momentarily hesitate at her use of her barely recalled high school French, but Maitresse recovered quickly.  "How many times must I tell you, girl, that not all my friends speak French and that I expect you to speak English in my employ?!?"

Tina flushed at the reprimand, and felt embarrassed at the imaginary failure, such was the power of the older woman's personality. How would a maid react to this type of reprimand? Okay, she thought, act submissive - what else? - and use a bad accent. 

Holding her hands together in front of her apron, Tina replied haltingly in her best, terrible French accented English, "Pah-done moi. .. Me, please, Maitresse,"

"And how many times have I told you to curtsy properly when you enter my presence?"

Curtsy? How the hell did a guy curtsy? Tina thought frantically, her mind going instantly blank.  Certainly, Ty had seen the movement done numerous times on television or at the movies, but being a guy, he'd been far too interested in checking out the girl doing the curtsy to pay any real attention to HOW the curtsy was done. Then she had a flash of memory - that play during college - when Ty had been cast as Cyrano! All the  actresses in that production had been required to learn the movement, and Ty had watched them, hadn't he?

But HOW THE HELL HAD THEY DONE IT?  All she could remember was that the girls had started out with their hands on their skirts and ended up in a deep bow, with one leg bent at the knee, and the other one behind them, with that knee almost touching the floor. Or at least, she thought that was how they ended up, but she had absolutely no idea how they'd gotten there.

Crap, she thought, here goes nothing!  "Oui, Maitresse, Par-don me, Maitresse," Tina replied as she took the hem of ridiculously short, umbrella-like skirt with the fingers of each hand, and tried to achieve the final position she recalled.

Unfortunately, sketchy memories, lack of practical experience, the inflexibility of that now seven-times cursed corset and gravity did her in.  When she started to bend her back leg, she could not get any purchase on the hard tile floor with the toe of the rigid high heeled shoe and it began to slip.  At the same time, more of her torso became involved in the bow than she'd intended because the corset wouldn't let her bend anywhere except from the waist where the busks ended.

She tried to catch herself, but what little she could do at that particularly tipping point just wasn't enough, and gravity won, taking the cross-dressed maid ignominiously down to the floor, face first, at the feet of a very startled La Maitresse. 

Fortunately, it was more of a 'slide-down' than a fall-down, and the foam and silicone of her fake boobs cushioned her impact so Tina was truly unhurt.  More than a little embarrassed, but unhurt.  Looking to get back to her feet as quickly as she could manage, Tina pulled her knees under her and began to push herself up off the cold floor.  She was surprised at what she saw in the older woman's face and eyes when she'd recovered her feet. There was real concern there, and something that might even have been fear.  Without knowing quite how she knew, there was no doubt in Tina's mind that Maitresse Solange was mere seconds from ending the scene and thus, ending Tina's chance at the role in tomorrow's play.  Tina went with her gut, improvising to head off what she was certain that the Maitresse intended, "Oh la la, je suis tres stupide!  My boo-bays, zey weel be noire et bleu!" she whined as she suggestively cupped and massaged their impressive bulk, all the while mentally cursing the infernal heels she wore.

Tina saw the uncertainty linger in Solange's eyes, and knew she was still considering whether they needed to stop due to possible injuries. "Maitresse," Tina said softly, but firmly, "I am - how you say? -  all right. It eeze ne pas necessaire pour moi to summon zee Bard Anglais."

Tina felt rather than saw the older woman give her a rapid but thorough visual examination.  "Very well," Solange replied, her voice once again firm and commanding, "I shall address these continuing failures of yours with the housekeeper. Rest assured, missy, you will not rest for some time to come when she has dealt with you."

Tina's mind was suddenly working at a breakneck pace.  She realized that, while she had prevented what she was certain had been Solange's intent to end the scene, she'd also screwed up and broken character.  What had Juana said?  The whole point of this exercise was to ensure she wouldn't break cover during the real scene when the pressure was on. 

Then she realized something worse.  She wasn't and had not yet been in character! Not really! Not the way an actor of her skill and training SHOULD be in character! Hell, she was even thinking of herself as a guy wearing a woman's costume - and for an actor of Tyrone Edward's caliber, that was pretty damned poor, wasn't it?

*IDIOT!!* her mind sharply reprimanded, *You are Ma'amselle Tina - la jolie maid francais, not M'seiur Tyrone, le petit actor. Geet your tete out of your cul and into zee role! Vite!*

Just then, a door that Tina had not noticed opened, admitting ShaJuana.  "Solange?" she called out in a disgusted voice, "What slut did your housekeeper assign to cleaning my rooms? They're filthy!"

Solange turned back to glare at Tina, who was knew what was coming.  "I believe that was you?" she asked, but it really was not a question.

Tina gulped, and then offered, "I weel go now, Maitresse, and clean eet up right away!"

"NO, you will NOT! I called you here to serve, and serve you will.  THEN you will go do what you should have already done, and THEN, I will . . . deal with you as you deserve."

"Oui, Madame," was the obsequious reply.

"Can't get good help these days," ShaJuana commiserated as she took the other seat in the room.

"She was probably dallying with that new footman," Maitresse replied as she swept back into her chair.  "You know these French girls - just can't keep their mouths shut and their legs together."

"Mais Non, Maitresse!" Tina squeaked, blushing furiously and looking very guilty, "Certainment, I deed not. ."

"SILENCE!" the Maitresse thundered. "I did not ask for any of your sass, girl!  Well, we'll deal with THAT problem soon enough, Well, don't just stand there, girl," she snarled back at Tina, "Serve the tea!" and she indicated the tea tray and service on the table between the two chairs.

"Oui, Maitresse," Tina replied as she picked up the unexpectedly heavy silver tea pot.  She was a bit surprised to find that the tea it contained was not hot at all.  It was barely tepid, in fact, causing her to wonder if she'd already taken too long for this act of the play. 

Shrugging mentally, she decided to press on and serve the tea, even if it wasn't hot. She'd seen tea served in the same play she'd learned to make a leg.  She only hoped that she'd learned that lesson more effectively than she'd not learned to curtsy. "Meelk and shu-gaire, Mistress ShaJuana?"  Tina handed the teacup and saucer to the lovely Amazon before turning to the hostess and asking "And pour vous, Maitresse?"

"Just lemon, girl. And I believe I told you not to speak French.  Yet another trespass we will soon expunge.  I think five lashes with the birch for every word that is not in English will get to the seat of your problem."

Tina shuddered visibly, but hurried to prepare the tea as ordered.  She was just beginning to bow and offer the cup to the Maitresse when suddenly, something goosed her - right between the cheeks of her bum. Squealing for real, Tina was instantly bolt upright and thrusting her hips forward in a vain attempt to escape the intimate invasion.  Her sudden movement launched the full cup of tea upwards and directly into her own face.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened.  Tina's mind was a blank and she had absolutely no idea what to do next.  She just stood there between the two dominatrices, cold tea soaking her face and wig, with her eyes starting to sting slightly from the lemony acidity of the tea. 

Finally, she could only think of one response.

"Merde!"

"That is the LAST straw! I have had QUITE enough from you, you little strumpet!" Tina found her self spun on heel so that she was facing ShaJuana.  A sharp rap between her shoulder blades had her falling over again, face-first, toward the chair.  Juana deftly caught her, preventing the disoriented maid from ending up face-down in her leather-clad lap, but then Tina felt her friend's strong grip shift onto her wrists.  The next moment, ShaJuana was sitting on Tina's hands, forcing her to bend over at the waist, her bottom protruding behind her, and her stinging eyes and face lodged firmly in Juana's cleavage.

RRRRrrrrriiiiippppppp!  The sound made Tina jump, but Juana's weight and strength kept her immobile. A draft across her backside told her that, somehow, her panties had been torn away.

"Well, my goodness, Solange, no wonder she's such a poor maid," and Tina's eyes crossed as something warm gripped and fondled her freed erection. "She's not even a maiden."

"So I see," was the catlike drawl from behind her. Another hand gripped her just above the testicles and pulled gently.  "Quite a. . .well, an . . . endowment for such a little maid."

"Well, take charge of these, please, ShaJuana," and Tina felt her scrotum transferred between the two women so that ShaJuana had both her cock and balls in hand.  "We wouldn't want them in the way of what comes next," and the Maitresse's voice dropped in both volume and pitch, becoming darkly husky and just a little menacing, "That is, unless we decide we want them in the way, later on."

Out of the way? Tina wondered, out of the way of WHAT? Then, a hand skimmed over her bare, taut buttocks and she knew what was coming next.  Hadn't Juana warned her?  ". . . a spanking's gonna be a 'for certain'. . ."

SpppLAT!  

Tina jumped, trying to move her vulnerable derriere out of the line of fire, but discovered that with her hands firmly restrained beneath ShaJuana, she couldn't move all that far.  Moreover, when she tried to move, Juana's firm hands immediately reminded that something really important couldn't move with her. Juana grip above her balls didn't REALLY hurt, but her brain screamed that it could – A LOT!  So she went very still, prepared to simply endure the spanking she still feared, and thus protect her genitals. 

By the third or fourth swat, however, she had managed to control the conflicting fear reactions sufficiently to realize that the spanking was delivering more bark than bite.  The Maitresse was delivering the swats in a rhythmic, regular pattern, but with little real force.  There was a little heat, a barely discernable sting, but no real pain.  And once she no longer felt threatened by the spanking, her attention returned to what was happening to her sex, which was, she realized, the complete opposite of painful. Her eyes nearly crossed at the sensations ShaJuana's skilled hands and fingers were teasing into her finally registered on her overloaded senses.

And then, the whole situation struck her funny bone.  God, it was LUDICROUS! Here she was, on a damned movie set, for crying out loud, with her face stuffed into the boobs of the most beautiful woman she knew.  Her very bare ass was hanging out in the wind so that a woman old enough to be her mother could whack at it with some type of spanking paddle.  And her BEST friend in the whole world was giving her the handjob of a lifetime. Cripes, take away the overt sex and it was like something out of an old slapstick movie short. 

Well, why not?  Hadn't Juana called this 'play', and told her to improvise? She was getting slapped, wasn't she?  Tina decided that she would add the shtick and start to play.

"Ooo ooo, Madame!" she squealed, dancing on toes of her high heels as much as she could without pulling too hard on something important. "Ooo la la, ma pauvre petite derriere!" She tried shifting sideways, and found she'd managed to get enough 'play' in ShaJuana's attachment to her family jewels to take a swat on her left bottom cheek that should have landed on her right.  She stamped her feet, squeaked, squealed and in general, threw a hissy fit that would even have embarrassed her diva baby sister, all the while using the most atrocious French accent possible.  

That's when she started to sense the urgency building in her core - the erotic tightening of muscle and flesh that signaled rapidly approaching climax. ShaJuana's increasingly delicate and knowing teasing of her sex was incredible, and it had been so damned long since anyone other than Merry Hand and her five sisters had done anything like that with her!  It felt so GOOD!

God, she thought, what happens if she did cum?!?  What was she going to do?  ShaJuana had her, quite literally, by the balls so she wasn't going anywhere, even if she did free her hands.  And dammit, she wouldn't want to escape even IF her hands and balls were suddenly free because nothing in her recent experience had felt anything like this wonderful.

Well, it certainly appeared to be inevitable, and just look where her face was.  Beautiful woman playing with her sex, and that same beautiful woman's gorgeous breasts just right there at mouth level. Lost in the utter sensuality of the scene and her role in it, Tina reached out her tongue and began licking the warm, humid flesh between ShaJuana's incredible boobs. At one point, when her nose butted up against the line where the ebony amazon's catsuit ended and bare bosom began, Tina felt the leather move, baring even more flesh! Without stopping to think, she curled her tongue under the edge of the leather garment and managed to catch it in her teeth.  Her next jump succeeded in completely freeing Juana's left breast from the confines of the too-tight catsuit.

Tina felt, rather than heard, Juana's surprised intake of breath at her sudden wardrobe malfunction. Immediately thereafter, the hand on her penis disappeared, and there was something pushing her face hard back into the cavern of Juana's cleavage.  Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the red-nailed hand struggling to get the leather bodice back where it belonged, but that was futile.  It would take more than one hand to capture all that gorgeous she-flesh and re-imprison it in the 'two-sizes-too-small' bustier-bodice.  She felt her captor give a sigh, and the hand was back on Tina's erection, with a new determination and increased intensity.

For her own part, Tina again had free movement of her face and not surprisingly, found herself up close and personal to a large, dark-chocolate nipple.  It was too much for her - she just had to know if it was as tasty as it looked and took a lick.  One lick led to another and another, and damned if Juana's nipple wasn't even tastier than she'd thought it would be!   Tina couldn't resist just one little nibble.

Well, maybe a couple or three nibbles, along with a sucking caress or two. . . 

"Eeeeekkkk!" ShaJuana shrieked and jumped, freeing Tina's hands and pushing the lust-dazed maid-slave back from her chair.  Unfortunately for Tina in her current state, that release had been just in time to disrupt her imminent climax.

The spanking also stopped, and Tina heard Solange's voice ask.  "What's the matter?"

It was just too much for Tina - the swirling emotions, the suddenly interrupted play and the sheer pleasure of the acting - just overwhelmed her.  She started giggling. 

Solange, more imperious now, demanded again, "What HAPPENED?"

Juana, who was starting to have suspiciously laugh-like shudders coming through her diaphragm, burst out, "The little bitch BIT me - right on my nip!" and offering the bared globe in her hands, as if presenting it for Solange's inspection.

"NON," Tina managed between giggling gasps, "Eeet was just -tee hee - leetle neebles! Nosing more, I swear!"

ShaJuana and Maitresse looked at each other in disbelief, and then began to giggle themselves.

Finally, the older woman managed to regain control enough to order, "ShaJuana, get that wench out of my sight!  Have the housekeeper oversee her cleaning your rooms with a birch rod.  I will deal with this disobedient twit later when I have more time to get to the seat of her problems."

Fighting back her own giggles, ShaJuana pushed Tina aside and rose to her heel-augmented height.  "Certainly, Solange. I might even do a bit of direct supervision myself, if you take my meaning?"  Juana took a moment to repair her maid-induced wardrobe malfunction before taking hold of Tina's still nearly erect manhood, and using it as a leash to lead the maid-dressed male out of the room and back into the outer hall.

Once the door closed, ShaJuana's entire demeanor changed.  "You're all right?" she demanded, searching Tina's laugh-tear streaked face.

"I'm mostly okay, Juana," Tina said softly.  "Except now that the adrenalin is wearing off, my eyes are starting to sting again from the lemon in that tea, and it's a little drafty about the bottom without my undies, but other than that, I'm okay. I would like to rinse my eyes out.  Is there a bathroom on this floor?"

Juana nodded, and indicated her friend should follow her.  "You okay with what went down in there?" she asked as they walked down the hall, unable to suppress the bubbling worry that gurgled up from her belly.  This was her best friend, and he'd just been stripped, gently in her opinion, but stripped nonetheless, of what most American males would consider to be their manly pride.

Sensitive to his friend's emotions, Ty reached an arm about the taller woman. "No problems there. Not even as bad as shaking my booty the first time for that director in the mind swap play. I don't  figure I'll be working here tomorrow, though. I don't suppose many Mistresses have giggle-fits in the middle of their scenes."

"Well, you just saw two of us have one even if I can't say it's ever happened to me before.  I laugh sometimes, but usually when I do, I do it for effect. Having a bitch-goddess laugh at a sub is usually a major mind-fuck for our guys."

Before either could say anything else, a disembodied voice from the ceiling ordered, "ShaJuana, Mr. Edwards? Would you please attend me in my office? Now?"

Ty recognized the voice of the Maitresse Solange.  "Guess it's time to face the critic, Juana.  You know where this office of hers is?"
" 'Course I do, boy. Come on.  'Leastways we'll get you paid," she said, her voice sad.

Acting Dominant
Interlude: The Critic's Review

The office was, in comparison to the playroom, rather modest - something that any business mid-level manager who had just earned his or her way out of the cubicles might have been assigned.  The furniture was simple - a desk, two visitor chairs and a sofa along one wall.  The typical paraphernalia of the corporate world were in their places including a computer, printer, phone and fax.  Surprisingly, given that there had not been time to change into more common garb, there were large windows that looked out of the second floor room onto the street, and cast the room in golden, natural light.  For the first time since he'd walked into the third floor playroom, Ty became aware of his dress, and moreover, his lack of covering below the waist.

The sunlight streaming in through the windows made his sensitized eyes sting even more, and they began to tear up again. Sighing, he realized he would not be able to make it through even a short meeting in this condition.  "Maitresse Solange? Is there a restroom?  I really need to rinse the lemon juice out of my eyes. They're still stinging and the tears are blurring my vision."

"DAMMIT!" Solange snapped, causing Ty to back away.

"Well, if you'll just pay me, I'll leave you to. . ."

"No, no, no," the older woman broke in, clearly upset.  "You don't. . .you CAN'T understand. . . " She paused, and then looked to ShaJuana. "Show him to my private washroom, dear, and then come back here.  We need to discuss that. . .experience and we might as well be as comfortable as we can be, given the circumstances."

Having expected to be, at best, paid off and shown the door just as quickly as could be managed, Ty was uncertain what purpose the regal dungeon owner felt they needed to discuss.  Whatever he'd anticipated when he'd let himself consider what that little stage test might have entailed, he'd been pretty far off the mark.  He shouldn't have gone off like he did, but dammit, it had been surprisingly fun.  He hadn't had much fun lately, and none that had called on his acting skills.

Returning to the office, they were motioned to take seats in the two chairs that faced Solange's desk.  She considered him, and quietly marveled at what she saw now as opposed to what she'd seen just a short while earlier.  Part of it was that he'd removed the petticoated skirt and replaced it with a towel from her washroom that he'd wrapped about his waist,  man-style, to cover his bare backside and genitals.  And while he hadn't removed either the corset or the breast inserts, he had taken the opportunity to clean away his tear-ravaged makeup and remove the blond wig. He was now, Solange observed, a man wearing articles of feminine attire, where before, Tina had been very much more than that.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Why didn't you safeword when you got the lemon juice in your eyes?  I know ShaJuana explained the purpose of that tool to you, and that lemon had to hurt, so why. . .?"

Ty considered the question and tried to remember what had happened when.  "Couple of reasons, I guess.  First, and I'm being honest here, I really do need the money that Juana indicated I might earn if I got the gig, working with you tomorrow.  Just before she left me, she told me that if I said 'Shakespeare' during the scene, I wouldn't get the role."

Solange nodded. She'd expected that answer, but thought there was more, and so she waited, and gave him time to continue.

He did.  "Then there was the time I fell trying to do that stupid curtsy - I saw the concern on your face - and I was sure, somehow, that you were about to call things off to make sure I hadn't hurt myself in the fall."

"You'd be surprised the damage that can occur when someone who is unused to such shoes falls and bends an ankle or worse," Solange replied.  "But you say you saw concern?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  That's why I said we didn't need to talk about the English Bard just then. I was pretty sure you wouldn't have continued just then, and well, the fact that you WERE concerned, made me start to trust you.  Up to that point, the only person here I trusted at all was Juana, and she wasn't even on stage yet."

"You got all that from just a momentary look," Solange murmured, "And I thought I had more control."

"You're a very good actress, Ma'am," Ty hurried to reassure her, "It's just that I'm a very good actor.  One of my strengths as an actor is being able to react to unexpected situations that occur, and read my fellow players, so that I can keep things together and moving forward."

"I see.  And that's why you didn't safeword, even when your eyes hurt?"

"Well," Ty drawled, and then a florid blush colored his features as he cast a sidelong glance at ShaJuana lounging in the chair next to his.  "Umm, well, things happened pretty fast after I got, uh, prodded, and got the face full of lemon-tea."

"That was the plan," Solange told him.  "We wanted to see if you could keep things together if you were suddenly out of control."

"Right.  Anyway, the next thing I know, I am face down in Juana's . . umm, chest. . ."

ShaJuana went on alert, her eyes suddenly intense and fixed on Ty.  "And?" she asked, drawing the word out.

Ty looked down, his face still bright red in embarrassment. "I liked it there," he managed to choke out.  "I liked it a lot more than I didn't like my eyes burning.  I didn't want to quit.  I figured if you really spanked me, and I cried? The tears would wash out the acid quickly enough."

ShaJuana burst out laughing and Solange could only shake her head.  "It was never my intent that the spanking should be that intense, Mr. Edwards.  Truth to tell, my intent was that you would orgasm to show that this type of play could be both fun and rewarding."

"Kinda figured that out, too, when Juana was so intent on playing with my, ah, that is, Tina's erection."

"Ty-RONE, you make me feel bad.  I figured I'd have you off in no time!"

Ty laughed.  "Actually, it was all I could do not to shoot, Juana, but it was close for a few seconds there.  If you hadn't stopped when you did, well, it would have been all over for me and, ah, all over you."

"Excellent discipline, Mr. Edwards," Solange complimented him, "but why did you need it?"

The laugh he gave was self deprecating.  "Like I said, I liked where I was, and figured that would be the end of Juana's hand job.  Besides, there was . . ."

"There was WHAT, Ty-RONE?" the ebony goddess demanded, still smarting that he hadn't succumbed to her talented and determined ministrations.

At the confused look from both women, Ty shrugged.  "I've read a few Penthouse Letters in my time, so I know what gals like you do to guys dressed up like me who climax without permission."

Howls of feminine laughter answered his admission while he sat there, trying for what dignity he might still manage.  "You thought we'd make you clean up your spending with your tongue," Solange said, when she'd managed to calm down.  "You know, I hadn't even considered that since I knew you weren't really a player."

"I'd have made you do it, too, Ty-RONE," ShaJuana added, still miffed.  "I'm fond of this outfit and I'd be real unhappy having your nasty ol' cum-stains on it."

Smiling when she saw the young man blush furiously at ShaJuana's teasing, Solange asked, "Would you have safeworded in that event, Mr. Edwards?"

She saw that he nearly answered instantly, but was pleased when he caught himself and began to consider his answer more carefully.  Thinks before he speaks, she told herself. Doesn't that pose some interesting possibilities?  

Finally, he gave a half shrug, and looked her directly in the eyes, which also surprised the regally imposing dominatrix. Most men in her experience, dressed as he was and having just been through what she had done to him, would not have been able to hold her gaze that evenly. 
"The honest answer is I really don't know. Right now, or before we'd started? If you had asked me if I'd use that safeword thing against having to do something like that?  The answer would be 'Not only yes, but hell, yes!' Anything to keep from having my nose shoved into that.  That's beyond anything I'd considered having to do here, or what I thought I'd be willing to do for you. But you didn't ask me that ahead of time."  He paused again, clearly choosing his words for what he had to say next. "In that room, at the time it would have been an issue? When I'd finally managed to get into the character of that role as the cross-dressing maid?" He started to say something more, hesitated and then shook his head. "I am not sure how Tina would have responded."

"Hmm, interesting how you put that. 'How TINA would have responded', not 'how I would have responded.'  Being in the role consumes you that totally that you can speak of yourself and Tina as separate persons?" Solange observed softly, "It would seem you are quite an actor, indeed."

"Oh, I can confirm that for you, Solange," Juana put in. "When Ty is in a role, I mean REALLY in a role? It's . . . awesome." 

And that was awe in the younger woman's voice, Solange thought. "I see."

"I believe that I am good at my art, Ma'am," Ty said, without arrogance or artifice, Solange noted. "You know, Juana, there's something else, too. What would have  happened if I'd given that code, and said 'stop this - it's all over.' That's what this safeword thing means in this context, right?"  

When both women nodded, he continued. "That's not natural to me.  I mean, you don't get to safeword out of doing something that might be personally embarrassing to you when its called for by the script of a play - you just figure out how to do what the script and the director says you have to do or you go find another line of work. Back there? When we were on stage? It just wouldn't have occurred to me because you can't do that and be an actor.  I'd have fought hard not to cum, I think, but not very effectively. Juana's pretty good at . . . ummm. . .  what she was doing, so I was pretty limited in my options just then.  And I was 'in character.'  Yeah, I'd might have ended up wearing a bunch of my own semen on my face, but I wouldn't have thought to say 'Shakespeare.'"

"I find that quite remarkable, Mr. Edwards.  Were you an experienced submissive or even a switch, I'd understand that response, but it is clear you are neither.  What were you doing in there? What sustained you when things went so . . . so off?"

Ty grinned.  "Like Juana said - I was an actor embracing his character.  Before she left me outside the room, she told me this would be improv, that is, improvisational acting, so I went with the flow and improvised.  I'm sorry I didn't react as you expected, but I did do the best I could with my limited and admittedly skewed knowledge of your scenes and stuff.  Guess I won't be coming back tomorrow," he added finally.

Solange almost told him that he would not be brought back, and then caught herself.  He was right, he didn't know enough about the Dominance and Submission scene to react in a way she expected, but he'd done all right for all that.  And he SAW things - sensed things during the interplay of people and emotions that surprised her. He had an innate empathy she'd never encountered in a male before, and in very few women. He might be an asset at that.  Certainly, few men looked that good when dressed as women - a little more training and with the right costuming, he'd pass almost anywhere she wanted him to pass. 

And surprise the hell out of another client or two of hers when she DIDN'T want him to pass. That ability would definitely be an asset to her little business.

Definite possibilities.  She'd know tomorrow, after they tried the scene with Juana's client.  If he did well then, and things went well?  Possibilities might well abound.  

Besides, she thought, glancing at the tall girl seated next to the corseted boy, she had other motivations in this regard, didn't she?  

"No, I still want you for that scene tomorrow.  I think we can set things up nicely so that Billie will have an experience he'll never forget.  That is, Mr Edwards, if after our little experience today you think you can handle being in on the other side of the scene."

"I'd like to try, Ma'am," he replied carefully.  "The simple fact is I really do need the money, and as long as this isn't illegal, and nobody's getting hurt, I'd like to try."

"Very well, then, we have an agreement. When we're on this floor, Mr. Edwards, you have my leave to call me Solange.  Upstairs, I am Maitresse unless I tell you otherwise on a case-by-case basis."

"Yes, Ma' . . .umm, Solange.  And please, all me Ty, unless I'm Tina at the time," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Scamp!" she laughed, before looking to ShaJuana.  "Dear, if you would, please get this wretch cleaned up and take him to the deli downstairs for lunch - charge it to my account.  Then take him home and give him the script for tomorrow.  Work out how much you'll let him actually participate and when you will spring his trap on Billie.  Be here tomorrow at 9:00 AM to clear everything with me."

"Sure 'nuff, Solange - see you tomorrow," the ebony goddess said as she rose to her feet.  "C'mon Ty-RONE! Hope you like good Kosher corned beef!"

They were almost to the door when Solange remembered a question she had. "Mr. Edwards? One last question before you leave?  Where ever did you learn that movement you THOUGHT was a curtsy?"

That earned a chuckle from the young actor. "I played Cyrano De Bergerac in college production.  The girls all learned to curtsy - like they were at court, or something.  Well being a guy, you tend to watch pretty girls doing things like that when you get the chance, but I never actually had to do one myself."

"Cripes, Ty, didn't you ever see the little bob-curtsy all the female servants do in the old 1930's black and white movies?" Juana was bubbling with mirth now.  "You idiot, you were a servant, not a lady being presented to some queen or king!"

"Oh my God, I knew that!" he muttered.  "I played Bunter in "Clouds of Witness" for, hell, three months of summer stock one and the damn maid did just that half a dozen times a night. I'm sorry, I should have done better than that." 

"Hey, you were a little distracted at that moment," Juana started to soothe, but she was cut off when the older woman stood, and raised a hand in a clear command for silence. 

Ty watched as Solange's face somehow transformed, until it was the austere aristocrat from the upstairs room who faced him.  "I see," she said quietly, and then her voice became stern.  "Tina, curtsy when you leave my presence."

Caught off guard, Ty goggled.  "Huh?"

"I. . . SAID . . . CURTSY, MAID!" Solange was not actually yelling, but the impact was the same.

Tina started to bob a curtsy, but the towel Ty had wrapped about her waist started to fall, and she tried to catch it.

"Leave it!" the Maitresse ordered, and Tina let the towel slip to the floor, leaving her bottom and sex bared once more.  "Now, give me your curtsy!"

"Oui, Maitresse," Tina squeaked, and bobbed the little curtsy Ty had seen 'half a dozen times a night for three months."

"Better, but not good enough.  You will also practice that under ShaJuana's supervision today so that you can do it per-fect-ly," and she enunciated each syllable as if each were a complete word, "for me tomorrow.  Is that clear?"

"Oui, Maitresse," and Tina couldn't stop the reflex to bob another curtsy to this powerful, authoritative woman.

"Is that clear, ShaJuana?" and that gimlet eye focused its power on the tall black woman.

"Clear, Maitresse.  She'll be spot-on perfect at it tomorrow.  Trust me."

"See to it.  Then that concludes our business today.  Be off with you both.  I have work I must finish before I leave for the day."

And it wasn't only Tina/Ty who breathed a sigh of relief when the door to Solange's office closed behind their departing backs.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 6: The Scene from Both Sides Now
by Tigger c2008

"OH - MY - GOD! Can you make it any TIGHTER?!?"

Amused, Solange looked into the mirror so she see eye-to-eye with Ty's reflection.  "Yes, if you like."

"Heavens, no! Ummm, Are we there, yet?" Ty asked in a softer, less aggressive voice.

Solange came out from behind Ty to give him a thorough once-over, as he dangled from her corseting trapeze, his toes a few inches off the floor.  Excellent, she thought smugly. She'd gotten a good two inches more off his waist than ShaJuana had managed.   That combined with the high quality faux-breasts she'd glued to his chest, gave him the illusion of a nicely feminine figure without the necessity of a girdle, or the hip and butt padding.  Yes, he'd do quite nicely, she thought.  "You'll do."

"Then, please, may I get down and get loose?  PLEASE?"

"Oh, if you insist." A flick of a switch lowered him until his four-inch high heels were again on the floor, whereupon Solange pulled loose the Velcro strap holding his right wrist, leaving the left one for Ty to undo.  "Over here," she ordered, indicating a three-panel, floor-to-ceiling mirror, "Let's have a look at you."

He obeyed, managing the ridiculous heels quite well for someone who'd first worn such things only two days before.  Not all of the Solange's selected costuming was visible on the blond reflection.  She'd decked him out in a satin garter belt and black, full fashion stockings to go with the black patent leather, open-toed heels.  She'd specified the open-toed shoes just to be wicked, because they'd given her the excuse to require toe-nail polish - bright RED toe-nail polish.  Carefully selected undergarments kept fake and real parts under control, enhancing the illusions of cleavage and a smooth skirt front. A white peasant blouse, also intended to show off cleavage while hiding the arms, and a very short skirt completed the costume.  Solange was particularly pleased to see how much bare white leg flesh showed above the stocking tops and below the skirts hem. Perfect.

"Come with me," Solange ordered, and led him up to her surveillance room on the dungeon floor.  Inside, they watched Juana beginning to work her client.  She already had him bound - face down, laying lengthwise on a coffee table.  Both ends of him were dangling - with his knees on the floor on one side of the table and his head hanging over the other.

They had time to talk, Solange thought. Good.  "All right, you know what the goal of Juana's scene-plan?"

Ty nodded. "She wants him to get all excited about a two Mistress-scene, and then find out that I'm not female.  Evidently she is known for, well, using sex toys on her clients' butts, and I'm supposed to be like a real one he wasn't planning on."

"Correct, and we want to spring it on him when he's fully erect.  Do you know why?"

Ty blushed, the color evident even through the thick layer of foundation Solange had used on him. "Ummm, well. . "

"SPEAK CLEARLY, young man!" Solange snapped out.

"As ShaJuana explained it, this fellow is rather, umm, proud of his masculine endowment. . . "

"You mean he thinks he has a big cock and is smug about it!" Solange interrupted. "Start thinking and talking like the bitch you're supposed to be when you go in there! Part of your job is to tease and then humiliate him verbally! You won't do that using words from your tenth grade health or English classes."

"Right, he's a arrogant sonuvabitch with a big prick who thinks he's cock of the walk.  When Juana gives me the sign, I show him mine."

"Exactly."

"Maitresse?" Ty asked, his voice uncertain. 

"Yes, Mr. Edwards?"

"Juana called this a mind fuck.  What is going to happen in there?  After I go in and show him my. . .ummm, dick?"

Solange felt her stomach clench.  "We didn't discuss that with you, did we?" she asked, very softly.  How could they have forgotten he had no idea what happened in these scenes.  "We don't have much time before your curtain.  Recall please what you learned yesterday about safewords?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  Is that the goal of this? To make him safeword?"

"No.  That would mean we'd violated his limits which might harm him and could definitely damage my house's reputation - even if it were unintentional. We never intentionally do that with a submissive in our keeping.  However, sometimes we do push those limits very hard, and use another safety tool in such cases.  Let me explain the concept of a caution word to you. . . "

~-~

Tina slipped into the playroom, and called out, "Hey Juana, what's happening?"

The ebony Domina turned to face the door, a huge smile on her face. "Hey, Tina!  Oh, nothin' much.  Just an asshole male with a big ego who needs some attitude adjustment."

Tina walked over and stood with the taller woman, and looked considered the straining submissive who was fighting futilely against the cuff and chain restraints that held him tightly against the table.   She saw the man's buttocks and thighs were already a pale pink and that something - one of those plug things - was sticking out from between his asscheeks.  "Getting to the seat of the problem, I see," Tina offered.

"Yeah - fool male thinks that because he has a fairly decent sized cock he's something special.  I'm about to show him different!  Anything he can do with that thing, I can do better, harder and LONGER with MINE!" and she hefted the black strap-on she wore about her loins for Tina to admire.

"Nice one!  Sounds like fun," Tina replied.  "Mind if I watch?"

"Sure - have a seat, and I'll show you how to unfuck a male's head by fucking his ass!"

"Well, I'll just make myself comfortable and watch the Mistress at her work," Tina said, as she moved a chair so that it was directly in front of the bound man's dangling head. Once she was seated, she crossed her legs slowly, dangling her shoe no more than an inch from his nose.

~-~

Somehow, Juana'd managed to get the large toy into her client's backside without him screaming, and was now deep stroking him with such force that each in-stroke pushed his nose into the open toe of Tina's dangling shoe.  He was groaning in deep pleasure now, and straining against his bonds to meet each stroke half way.  Tina saw Juana signal her, and nodded her understanding.

"I don't know, Juana," Tina spoke up, "I don't see how you're going to teach him anything when the little slut is enjoying everything you're doing – I mean, the little bitch even has a hard-on!.  Why, I think he must misbehave just to have you work his ass over for him.  Maybe you need to get something bigger to make your point?"

"Maybe, but we ain't got nothin' bigger on hand to do that."

"It isn't THAT big," Tina retorted.  "Hell, you want to use mine?"

"You got one to put the fear of Mistress in this slut?" Juana asked, with a particularly firm stoke.

"Oh, yeah, I do."

"Well, hell, girl, go get it!"

Tina stood up, and unsnapped the back of her gaff.  "Don't need to go get anything, darlin'  - I always have mine on me," she said as she popped out her semi-erect penis from beneath her skirt.  Making sure she was no more than a foot from the man's stunned face, she began to stroke herself to full arousal, using the catsuited perfection of ShaJuana Price's body for 'inspiration.'  "Gonna let me have a turn back there, Juana?"

"Why sure, . . . "

"LEMONADE!!" Billie-the-Client yelped, interrupting both women.

Juana gave him a sharp slap on his ass.  "You say somethin' , asshole?" she demanded.

"Yes, Mistress, Lemonade - I can't  - no, please don't, . . "

"I guess we'll wait a bit for that, Tina."

Tina sat back down heavily, lounging with one knee over the chair's padded arm, splaying her legs wide so that her erection eye-to-eye with the bound submissive.  "That's no fair!" she pouted.  "I want to play with him, too!  You said I could!"

~-~

With the immediate threat of Tina's entry into the fray (and into Billie) allayed - at least momentarily - the highly skilled Juana soon had her client lost in pleasure once again, moaning aloud and begging her to go "Harder, Mistress, please!"  Tina merely sat in front of him, keeping herself erect for when he opened his eyes.

"Is it MY turn YET?" she demanded when Juana signaled again.

Juana never got a chance to answer because, evidently, Billie wasn't as out of it as they thought. "Lemonade!" he yelped again, clearly wanting NO part of Tina's larger-than-his-own, very real endowment.  This earned Tina a grin and a thumbs-up from Juana.

"Nah, not now.  I'm having too much fun myself.  Maybe another time, Tina.'

Tina jumped to her feet, her erect penis barely missing the cringing sub's eye as she leaned over him to get into Juana's face.  "THAT'S NOT FAIR!" she yelled furiously, "If I can't have my turn, I'm going HOME!" With that, Tina spun on her heels to leave, careful to ensure her cock swiped Billie firmly across the cheek as she turned.

As she sailed out of the room, she heard what sounded remarkably like the sounds Ty made just as surrendered to his climax after a protracted session of hot and heavy sexual stimulation.

~-~

She was met outside the door by a smiling Solange.  "You did GREAT!  You had him really going! He practically moved the table when he came, and it's bolted to the damned floor!  Hell, he almost unseated Juana, he came so hard!  We're going to be YEARS trying to top that one for him!  Come with me and we'll get you out of that corset.  Juana will finish up with him in another fifteen minutes or so, and then we can talk about what happened in there."
~-~

"I can't believe we forgot to explain caution words to you," Juana muttered for the fourth time since she'd joined them in Solange's little office.  "You really thought I was going to try to get him to stop-light us?"

"You said 'code-word' whenever we talked about it, and that's the only code-word I knew about." Ty replied, relaxing in the floor-length bathrobe Solange had provided after getting him out of the corset.

Solange smiled ruefully over her tea cup at the two younger people.  "Just goes to show what can happen when you assume everyone already knows all the nuances. Normally, the distinction between caution and safe words is learned during a newbie's first or second visit to one of my Mistresses, during the very extensive pre-scene negotiation script I require of them.  Since you weren't really a client, I stupidly forgot to put you through that."

"Well, we got what we wanted.  Billie plunked down a thousand dollar bonus for that scene before he left.  I'm splittin' that fifty-fifty with Ty-RONE, here," ShaJuana said, stretching out her long legs in front of her and pointing her stocking-ed toes.  Ty nearly wished he was still wearing the gaff, and hurriedly crossed his legs to hide what was suddenly growing between them.

"So, tell me, Ty.  Would you consider taking a position here - at my dungeon - on a more regular basis?"  Solange asked quietly.

Caught off-guard by the offer, Ty spun about to stare at the older woman.  "Me? Work here? Doing what? More of what we did today?  After what almost happened?"

"Ty, any problems or near problems that occurred today were not your fault, and in fact, because you asked the right questions at the right time, they didn't even happen.  You did well today, and I believe, you have the potential to do a good deal more, as well.  Are you willing to learn more about what we do here?  Because that will be the first step so you can make informed decisions.  Before you answer, let me caution you - I'm talking about practical experiential learning under the whip-hands of my very skilled, very STRICT Mistresses.  Very little of what I anticipate you will need to learn will be even half so gentle as this today's or yesterday-morning's play.  However, if you are willing, I will offer you a flat salary of twice your monthly rent, plus event fees for those instances you work with a client.  You won't be paid the extra fees for scenes that are conducted purely to train you or to prepare you for an event.  The extra pay will only occur when you directly assist one of my Mistresses in working with a paying client."

"How much time will I have to be here to earn that?  I'd still want to be able to audition for any roles that I think suit my talents."

"I'll want forty hours a week.  Unless something comes up, I'll expect you to work Monday through Wednesdays from 8:00 AM to 2:00 PM, and Thursdays and Fridays from 2:00 PM to 8:00 PM.  In addition to that, I will expect you to work at least one six-hour shift on either Saturday or Sunday which are usually our busier days. There's a great deal of cleanup and stage setting that needs be done before and after each session, and the Mistresses can use all the help you can give them in that regard.  In addition to whatever grunt work I give you to do during those hours, we'll plan your training sessions so that they occur during your normal weekday working hours. You will be available on twenty four hours notice for events.  If I need you on short notice, you'll get a bonus if you can make it. We'll start with a two month trial period for both of us to decide if this is working.  At the end of that time, we will mutually decide whether we want to continue our relationship.  Does that meet with your approval?"

"I guess I'm going to spend a lot of my time here in skirts, heels and girlie underwear, right?"

"Is that going to pose a problem?"  Solange was crossing her fingers beneath the desk.  "Obviously, you do it very well, and I would like to exploit that capability to both our profit."

"A role is a role, and costumes are costumes.  I can handle it."

"Then we have an agreement?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  Thank you."

"I believe I told you that you were to call me Solange when we are not in a scene?"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude: It's My Party and They'll Cry If I Want to. . .

Solange had rushed through her post-scene toilette and she was STILL late.  She hated being late under any circumstances, but most especially under circumstances such as the present.  Tyrone was making a special effort to accommodate her schedule by attending her after his normal workday and without the advanced warning she'd promised to give him.  It didn't matter that she was going to pay him time and a half for sitting outside her office - it was the principle of the thing.  Tardiness was rude, and she was never rude without good reason.

Ty was waiting for her, leaning against the doorjamb of her outer office.  Smiling, he came over to her, and much to her amusement, made a great deal out of bending over her hand and making as fine a leg to her as could any courtier of an earlier time.  "Told you I could do it," he said, his eyes twinkling as he looked up into her eyes after rising.

"So, as with most social courtesies, it takes more talent and skill to be female?"

"Perhaps, although I'm not sure I'm any more ready to make that particular movement in heels and a corset than I was to do that formal curtsy wearing them."

Solange laughed, and beckoned him into her office, whereupon they got down to business. "I don't see much problem with your Halloween party, Solange.  It will be no problem to handle the food and drinks.  I'm not sure what to do for D/s play entertainments you told me are part of it, but. . ."

"I can think of one I'd like to do," she half muttered, half growled, surprising Tyrone.

"What did you say, Solange?"

Annoyed at herself for being unable to let go of the just completed scene, she sighed.  "Nothing, Ty.  I'm just out of sorts because I'm a little disappointed with the submissive I was working before I came here. He's why I was late."

Ty nodded.  "You said that you knew an entertainment you'd like to do.  I assume it is something to do with this fellow?"

Solange sat back in her executive office chair.  "Not that I could, but it is a lovely fantasy, nonetheless," she said wistfully.

"Why can't you do it? I thought fantasy come safely to life is what we do here?"

"My, you have been listening," she replied, amused approval in her tone. "But this is my fantasy and I don't see how, under our code of ethics and safety, we could pull it off.  I mean, I think he has the same fantasy, but he won't admit to having it."

"Umm, Solange? You need to remember that I really am the 'newbie' that you and all the girls delight in calling me.  What are we talking about?"

"This client that I just finished with? He's what you could call an attention slut.  He gets off on some fairly intense humiliation play because it makes him the center of attention, only he insists that it can only be done to him in strict privacy. He needs ME because without me his fantasy doesn't work - he won't humiliate himself by himself so someone has to do it to him, and moreover, he trusts me because he knows that I will, if you will pardon the cliche, still respect him after having done the deed."

"Sounds like you're giving him good value and service for his money. So, what's the problem?"

"You make me sound like a damned insurance salesman, Ty! Giving good value and service, indeed!" she flared.  Solange knew she was getting agitated, but she didn't care. It was Ty's fault for being so sensitive as well as somehow able to pull it out of her. "The problem," she said darkly, "is threefold.  First, and foremost, I am NOT a god-damned insurance salesman. This is NOT just a job to me because I don't need a damned job.  I do this because I LOVE it and because dominating my partners satisfies something intrinsic to my very nature."

Ty nodded understandingly.  "I have sort of figured that out, but how is that a problem here?"
"Smartass - don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, and it won't work!  I'm going to stay angry about this for a while!  And don't think I won't remember that bit of impertinence when I provide your next experiential lesson!" she threatened, grinning wickedly.  

Then she became serious again."Everything I've learned in more than twenty years of playing these head games with the male of the species, and more specifically everything I've learned about this particular male in the, oh, four years he's been my client, leads me to believe he truly wants to take his play to the next level, to some sort of semi-public play situation - like a play party, okay? I mean, when we play together, just the barest hint that I might require something public of him and both his mouth and cock literally drool!  There's a saying among women that a hard-on doesn't lie, but every time I so much as think about involving even ONE other person in one of these humiliation scenes, even a DOMME he KNOWS? Then the sonofabitch safewords me!  So I have to stop, and he learns NOTHING from the experience.  He just gets his physical and emotional rocks off and I get NOTHING back for all my efforts!  He just sucks me dry emotionally and leaves me exhausted.  More than once, I've come within a breath of telling him to find another Mistress."

"If it is that difficult and that draining for you, why haven't you done that? Maybe another woman could get him over that hump, or at least, not care about anything beyond the payoff at the end of the scene."

"Send him to the Mistress equivalent of our insurance salesman, you mean?" Solange tossed her hair angrily and her dark eyes flashed.  "Like hell!  He's one of mine now!
But in a roundabout way, that brings me to my last point.  I am a Mistress, dammit! A skilled and, I hope, caring Domina! Beyond the play and erotic aspects of my craft, my goal in this role is to help the submissives in my care overcome false limits they impose on themselves because they're like children afraid of the dark!   So that they see they can be more than they are letting themselves be. That is the most fulfilling aspect of my vocation: helping one of my submissives grow!  Only. . . he . . won't . . .let . . me. HELP his sorry ass!"  

She realized she was yelling, and caught herself back.  "My apologies, Ty. That outburst was. . .uncalled for."

"No apologies needed for me, Sounds like you're owed a few, though.  Feel better for having said it?"

Wearied by the emotional upheaval immediately after the emotionally draining scene, she sighed.  "Somewhat."

The young actor reached into his pocket and pulled out a snowy white handkerchief that he offered across to Solange.  "Here, wipe your tears and blow your nose.  Tell me, does this guy have any wishes that you've not fulfilled to date?  Ones you could have done, but just haven't yet? Or is this humiliation gig the only thing he's interested in doing?"

"No, not really.  He also likes bondage and corporal sessions, too, so long as there isn't a humiliation aspect to the play.  He'd like a scene with several of the girls all ganging up on him at once, but he can't afford that here - at least he can't afford that and get his regular humiliation fix from me!  And I'm not giving him a break there because that's the only way I get back ANYTHING for what he takes from me when we scene."

"Hmmm. . . Do you have any parlor games at these parties?"

Solange considered that. "Well, we don't have dunking for apples or anything of that nature.  Sometimes, one or two of the Mistresses have their lifestyle subs put on little informal shows, and if we have any new equipment or devices in the dungeon, we might demonstrate them.  Other than the fact that many of our regular guests tend to favor rather outre costuming, it's a fairly ordinary adult party.  Dancing, conversation, buffet snacks - that sort of thing.  Later in the evening, a few of the upstairs playrooms might get used, but we monitor that pretty carefully to make sure no one is dominating or submitting while intoxicated or gets into something they aren't equipped to handle."

"So, I could have, say half the upstairs? The third floor, I mean?"

"I don't see why not.  What is going on in that cute head of yours, Tyrone?"

"Well, back home? Dad used to set up a House of Horrors for the neighborhood kids in one of the warehouses at the plant.  He'd rig these partitions up - make a maze out of it with all kinds of ghosts and skeletons and stuff.  On Halloween night, he'd turn off the lights and let the kids go in, one at a time - the ones who made it to the other side got a dollar, and the fastest one got five dollars.  The ones who didn't make it out got candy.  Maybe we could stage something like that upstairs . . . "

"Ty, look at the invitation list - counting staff, other local Mistresses and guests, we could have upwards of two hundred guests."

"We wouldn't want everyone to play, so we'd have to have a drawing but rig it so that this guy got one of the chances to go through the maze. Your guy and maybe three or four others," Ty's words were soft, contemplative, as he staged the scene in his mind's eye.  "If they make it through in under the time limit, or if they complete their forfeit for failing, they win a scene of their choice. . . Hmmm. . . how do we make them not want to quit after they try for the carrot?  We'll need a stick. . . lots of them here. . . "

"TY!!" Solange's voice broke in sharply. "I AM still here, young man, and those are my, uh, sticks you're mumbling about.  What type of Cecil B. DeMille blockbuster is stirring up in that head of yours?!?"

Ty grinned rakishly, and Solange felt a catch in her throat.  No wonder ShaJuana moons over him, she thought.  "Can I think about it a bit and give you a staging plan?" At her reluctant nod, he continued. "And tell me, is there any other player here you'd really like to nudge?  If this works, we could probably do two real contests out of the four.  More than that and the attendees might see through the setups."

"Well," Solange considered, and an image of another of her favorites came unbidden to Solange's mind, and what she had not yet dared do with and for him.  Was this the opportunity she'd been trying to find for him? Could Ty help her pull this off?  In just the short time he'd been here, she had seen in him demonstrate a remarkable ability for staging and directing action in a scene.  She'd worried that she'd never figure out a way to solve this particular tangle, but maybe. . ."Ty, there is this fellow who visits here on a regular basis, and he hasn't missed one of my parties since he first became a client . . . "

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude: Last Minute Costume Adjustments

Solange listened to the phone, a satisfied smile on her face.  "Yes, that will do quite satisfactorily. " Listening again, she made a quick check of her appointment calendar, and nodded to herself.  "Yes, 9:30 will work for me. Very well.  Please don't be late as my schedule is quite tight. Thank you for working this in for me. Good day."

She hung up the phone and made a few notes on her calendar.  She had just finished when there was a knock on her office door.  Checking her wristwatch, she smiled.  Punctual as always.  "Yes?" she called out.  "Come in."

Ty stuck his head in and asked, "You wanted to see me, Solange?"

She nodded and indicated he should take a seat.  "You're scheduled to assist Mistress Isolde tomorrow." It wasn't a question.  "Are you clear on what she intends to do with her client and what your role will be for the scene?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  She's going to be the female executive with a submissive male subordinate.  She'll work him over in the near privacy of her office - I've already got that play room set up and she's approved everything - and I'm her nosy secretary who keeps interrupting at inconvenient moments to get things signed, get appointments approved, and so forth.  At some point, she'll give me a signal and I will notice his semi-nudity and things will move on from there with Mistress Isolde directing us both."

"She is aware of your limits, I trust?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  ShaJuana has been tutoring me on how and when to do that ever since I got my buns scalded by DeeDee.  Basically, she can touch me, but he can't, and I won't touch him in any sexual manner or at all below his waist before or after my real gender is revealed to him. Mistress Isolde can spank me, or use the rubber flogger on me, but nothing more serious. I'm still a little gun-shy about whips and crops and the like."

"I think those are fair, given your background and current comfort level with what we do here at the dungeon.  Ty, you aren't here for the reasons others are.  You're here because you have useful skills and an open mind that allows me to make use of those skills in a, shall we say, irregular manner."

That elicited a chuckle from Ty, "I'll tell the world."

"Yes, well the point I'm trying to make here," she said repressively, "Is that both my clients and my ladies are here, doing what we do here, because it fulfills a deep, emotional and physical need for them – top or bottom, Mistress or slave."

"Ummm. . . even ShaJuana?" Ty asked before he could stop himself. He'd always thought she'd gotten into this for the money, to tide her over between acting gigs.

"Even ShaJuana," Solange affirmed. "Tyrone, you've seen Mistress ShaJuana in action here in my dungeon.  Do you doubt that she is enjoying herself hugely, regardless of how much work and effort it takes for her to do this thing properly?.  Do you truly think she'd be as good as she is if she didn't like dominating males?"

"I take your point," Ty said quietly, promising himself he'd consider that point in much more depth later.  "And I'm not like that, I guess." He finished, wondering if that was really true.

"Well, you don't appear to mind doing what we've asked of you all that much, so long as we recognize and stay within your limits.  My concern here, however, is that you've been essentially thrown into the deep end of the pool with very little in the way of training and experiences. What might or might not be a limit may well change the more you experience and the more you are trained. Your limits will and should evolve, and you need to be aware of them at all times so that you avoid situations that could, even by accident, violate them."

"I understand that it would be bad for the client," Ty observed.

"Having someone break a limit is bad for everyone involved, including the Mistress and especially for the one whose limit is violated.  That makes people stop playing this way out of fear. or out of other darker, worse emotions. For those of us who do this because it fulfills something in our basic nature, that's a very great loss. I do not want that happening to you or to anyone who is playing or working with you, so I'm going to require something of you that was not part of our original agreement.  You will do it outside your normal weekday hours here.  Keep track of the time you spend on this task.  I will pay you for the time."

"Okay, what do you want from me, Solange?"

"I would like you to keep a reflective notebook while you are here.  As a minimum, I want you to self-analyze what your limits are after each scene in which you participate, whether it is a training session, a client's session, or one you do for your own pleasure should such ever happen." 

Ty gave a snort, to which Solange responded with a teasing smile before becoming serious again. "It might happen - there are some lovely, caring women here who would jump at the chance to have their wicked ways with you.  Be that as it may, I want you to write down your thoughts and your feelings with regard to your limits in that notebook.  I want to discuss your reflections with you on a weekly basis – probably on Fridays, but we'll see how that works out for both of us.  I expect you to be brutally honest with yourself in these written reflections, so I won't expect you to show me the notebook, or let me read it. I will, however, expect you to discuss what you have learned about yourself and your limits, as it relates to your work here with me openly and frankly. I cannot help you nor can I protect you if I don't understand what is going on in your head.  With my clients, this isn't usually a problem for me, as I understand their basic emotions and motivations.  As I said, you are different and I don't want any mistakes that hurt you or damage our relationship.  Do you have any problems with that assignment?"

Ty didn't answer immediately, and took the time to consider what she wanted.  Then he nodded.  "As an actor, I've done that type of writing before. I'm sort of surprised I didn't think of it myself because I've used it to deal with other emotional stuff in the past. As to talking with you about limits and such?  Now that I think about it, you're probably the best one for me to talk to about such things. I've talked with ShaJuana some about these things, but it's hard there because sometimes it feels like I'm imposing on our friendship, bringing all my emotional baggage to dump on her."

Solange considered saying something, and decided against it.  She'd bide her time for awhile and see what came of her little weekly chats. "I'm glad you feel you can talk about this with me. Now, I have a small problem as regards your scene with Isolde tomorrow."

"Something I can do to help, Solange?"

"Yes.  I had to move a personal appointment to tomorrow morning, so I cannot be here in time to let you into the wardrobe and help you select your costume.  I can give you a key to one of the prep rooms, but we'll have to pick out your costume tonight and have it on hand for when you get here tomorrow. . ." she glanced at her computer, and then muttered, "Damn!"

"What's the matter, Solange?"

"All the prep rooms are in use for the rest of today.  I can schedule you one for tomorrow morning, but you won't be able to store your costume there tonight. Damn!  I'll have to reschedule my appointment.  I knew my luck getting in so quickly was too good. I'll have to call my doctor and see what the next available appointment is."

"Um, Solange? If you don't mind me taking the costume home, I'd just need a garment bag for the suit and a rolling suitcase for the wig, shoes, cosmetics and other stuff.  I'd look like just another New York yuppie coming or going to the airport. The only part of the costume I have a problem putting  on by myself is the waist cincher, and I could get Isolde to help me with the corset when I got here."

Solange looked at her young employee consideringly.  "That could work, I suppose.  You wouldn't mind taking all that feminine finery home with you and bringing it back in the morning?"

Ty shrugged that off. "Who'd know besides me? Heck, I'll even get another half hour's sleep out of the deal if I don't have to be here in time to spend half an hour going through wardrobe with you before spending my two hours in make-up and costuming.  I can be here at 8 AM instead of 7:30 AM, and still have plenty of time to be dressed and ready to help Mistress Isolde with any last minute details."

"Very well, we will do it that way.  I believe I even have the necessary luggage here as well.  One thing, Mr. Edwards, doing me a personal favor does not absolve you of your professional commitments to me and my organization.  As always, I expect your to be undetectable as a cross-dressed male, and I expect you to be there for Mistress Isolde when she is ready to do the final preparations for the scene.  Anything less, and you will be disciplined either by a docking of your pay, or a scene of my choice with one of my ladies as we have agreed in the past. Is that understood?"

"Yes,  Ma'am.  So long as I can safeword the scene, that's fine."

"I will never deny you the use of a safeword, Tyrone. However, in this case, please recall that safewording forfeits the event fee since you are doing the scene to keep that bonus," she reminded him.

"I understand and agree.  Do you have time to go to the wardrobe with me now?"

"I have to make a few phone calls first, one of which is to make sure Isolde knows you'll need help with your corsetry tomorrow.  Shall I meet you there in say, fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  Is that all for now?"

Solange smiled, and nodded. "Yes, thank you for your time and cooperation in this, Ty.  I'll see you in wardrobe."

She watched him leave, and close the door behind him.  She waited a few moments to ensure he wasn't going to recall something and come right back, then she picked up her phone.  A wicked smile lit her regal features - one that had sent shivers dancing up and down the spine of many a submissive in her time.  Tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day, indeed.  Now all she needed to do was ensure that the last of the preparations were in place.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 7: The Thickening Plot
By Tigger c2008

It was dark by the time Ty finally made his way home from the dungeon, and of course, since he was weighed down with about seventy five pounds of luggage, the elevator was not working.  Murphy had always had a lousy sense of humor.

Still, the thought of what he'd be able to do with the two or so hours worth of bonus pay he'd earn playing the bimbo secretary tomorrow kept his spirits high as he lugged his heavy burden up to his apartment.  His regular salary covered the necessities of life in the big bad city, so he no longer had to worry about paying the rent, and his diet had improved significantly, as well.  He'd even managed to collect a few pieces of clothing that weren't from thrift stores, but New York was still New York and the cost of living sucked.  So the extra money here and there for an hour or two of his time, even in skirts, had been a god send.  His back rent was paid as were his delinquent union dues. The phone on the floor by his bed had been reconnected (even if it could not be used to call long distance - YET) and he'd even managed to make a dent in the principal on the one credit card he permitted himself.

This bonus, however, would be used to get a cell phone, even if only on the 'buy minutes up front' plan for now. He wanted that cell phone zealously. There was just something about having been deprived of that basic service over the past few months that had screamed 'failure' to him.  

Reaching his floor, he opened the door and quickly brought the luggage in.  Painful and hard-learned lessons had him closing and locking the door's multiple locks again before even walking across the tiny room to turn on the one lamp he owned.  A beer was in order, he thought as he went into his tiny kitchen, by way of celebrating his return to the world of cell phones. Another little luxury that his time in Solange's employ had restored to his lifestyle - a cold beer in the evening when he wanted one.  

As he passed the rickety excuse for a kitchen table, he saw the application he'd gotten, and started to fill out.  Odd how working at the dungeon had planted this idea in his head.  Certainly, the program could be seen as an extension of some of the aspects of his new job that he'd found surprisingly fulfilling, but would he actually see that type of work becoming his career?  Was there a calling in this for him?

He didn't yet know the answers to those questions, but there was potential there, and the possibility of an opportunity to continue working in the world of theater.  Ty sat down and scanned through the nearly-completed paperwork, wincing once again at the part that discussed costs.  

He'd need a whole lot of financial aid, and precisely where that money would come from he didn't know.  Not from Edwards, Inc.,  that was for sure.  Dad had not been happy with his undergraduate program of studies, but had paid for it because Ty had agreed to minor in business administration - the only student in his dramatic arts department to do so.  Dad would NOT be willing to pay for this, but that didn't matter because Ty didn't intend to ask him. If he was going to pursue this, he'd have to find his own way.  Who knew - maybe he wasn't too old for student loans, and with that thought, he finished the last few items before signing signed the document with a Hamiltonian flourish. 

A surreal sense of accomplishment wafted over Ty as he sat there, staring at the completed and now signed document. He'd have to wait until his next bonus session in order to pay the application fee, but he'd made the decision to go for it.  Now, he'd find a way to make it work.
Collecting his beer, he stood up and noticed that he'd left the luggage on the floor, blocking the door.  Setting the beer bottle back down, he went over and hoisted the shoulder bag and gripped the handle on the rolling suitcase.  When he did, he saw an envelope on the floor where someone had obviously pushed it under his door earlier in the day.  He set the luggage aside, away from the door, and then returned to pick up the note.  He opened it, and was surprised to see it was from the building super.

"Mr. Edwards:

Your annual safety, fire and pest inspection is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 8:30 AM.  It should take no more than an hour, but as you know, this is an unannounced inspection to ensure you are complying with the terms of your lease as regards to cleanliness standards. You or your designated representative must be in the apartment with the inspector and myself during the inspection.  Failure to be present will necessitate rescheduling the inspection, and you will be billed $125/hour for the inspector's lost time. A minimum of two hours will be charged, payable with your next rent payment.

If you have any questions, you can reach me at my office number during the hours of 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM.

Jon Smith, Building Superintendent.

Ty couldn't believe it.  The guy had to be kidding. Surely he rated more warning than this 'be there tomorrow or else' note?  Furious, Ty snatched up his phone and dialed the super's number, which of course, went to voice mail.  A quick check of his watch showed that it was almost 7:00 PM, and Ty figured the realty management company didn't pay this guy enough to hang around after hours just on account.  Grasping at straws, Ty ran down the stairs to the Super's first floor apartment, only to find no one home.

Returning to his apartment, he called the dungeon hoping for a reprieve on the scene assignment for tomorrow, but neither Isolde nor Solange were there.  ShaJuana was just about to leave for the day, but she was still there, so he asked to speak to her. 

"Hey, Ty-RONE, what's up?" she asked when she picked up the line.

"Juana, can you cover my apartment tomorrow morning? I've got a session assignment in the morning working with Isolde - doing the role of her sexy secretary - and  when I got home tonight there was this notice of an unannounced inspection that I have to be here for tomorrow.  The inspection is at 8:30, and the session with Isolde is at ten!  I can't get do that and still get there in time to change. The note says I could have a designee here to do stand in for me if I can't be here, but it will cost me more than twice what I'll earn for doing the scene with Isolde if they come here and no one is here."
"Wow, Ty, that's a bitch.  I wish I could help, I really do, but I've got a dance audition tomorrow morning.  I've got to be on stage and ready to go at 9:00 AM."

"Damn.  This blows.  I can't afford the penalty, and I can't be here the inspection and make the 10:00 AM scene with Isolde.  Unlike you, I need at least two hours to make myself beautiful."

"Nice line, boy, but flattery ain't gonna get you nowhere, this time. I really want that part!"

"As if I'd ask you to give it up!" Ty responded, real heat in his voice.

"Okay, okay, just teasin'.  I really do wish I could help, Ty.  Want me to ask around, see if any of the girls still here can come by your place and help?"

He thought about it, but, dammit, it just wasn't fair to any of the women still at the dungeon. They were all working the evening shift, so they wouldn't be free until one or two am in the morning. By the time they got home, they'd get less than three hours rest if they were going to be at his place in time to stand in for him with the superintendent. That would just mess up their schedules too much.  Unfortunately, this was his problem and he only saw one solution at this point. "No," he replied on a gusty sigh of resignation.  "Could you leave a note for Isolde, or maybe call her at home? She lives on Long Island and I can't call her with my phone setup. Suffolk is a long distance call from here."

"Sure, if you want. . . " and Juana's voice trailed away.  "Say, Ty?  You did say a designee was okay for this deal, right?  And that it would be done in an hour, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, you said you were doing the sexy secretary in a ritzy office bit, right?  And that means the outfit should be suitable for street wear. Is it?"

"Pretty much," he affirmed. "It's really tight in places, naturally, and the skirt's a little short, but nothing too far our of the ordinary, Why?"

"Okay, so you could wear it on the street and walk to the dungeon wearing it.  Suppose I go get your girl stuff before I go home.  I'll drop it off at your place, and tomorrow, you could dress up and be your own designee, only as Tina.  Then, you just walk to the dungeon with the rest of the folks heading off to work and be on time for your session with Isolde."

Stunned silence was all Ty could come up with in response to that solution to his problem.  It might work, he thought. No client had read him yet, at least, until he'd been unveiled. And he had everything already, right?  Then he remembered the cut and size of the suit Solange had selected for him, not to mention the shoes and groaned aloud.

"Ty?" ShaJuana snapped out. "TYRONE? Are you all right? What's the matter?"
"I've already got my stuff for tomorrow here, Juana, 'cause all the prep rooms were in use tonight."

"So? You're good to go, right?"

"No. Two problems.  The costume won't fit without the waspie laced up tight, and it laces from the back."

"Okay, I can see that. What's the other problem?"

"The shoes - the ones that go with the outfit are more than four inches tall.  I can't walk that far in them - not and then spend two hours in the playroom with them.  I'll be lamed."

"Hmmm, 'see your point, Ty.  Well, the shoes are no problem, are they?  Women wear socks and sneaks over their stockings to walk to work all the time, don't they?"

"I suppose, but the only sneakers I have are practically falling apart.  I think folks would notice a secretary in a too-tight dress wearing four year old high tops, don't you?"

"You're right.  Okay, I'll bring you over a pair of mine tonight - they should fit you with a thick enough pair of socks.  And while I'm there, I'll do up your corset for you."

"But I'll have to wear it all night!" he yelped protest.

"Hey, it's either that, or let Isolde and Solange down, or get one of the girls to come in and help you tomorrow.  'Sides, you don't really need that much taken off your tummy, do you?"

It was the principle of the thing, he told himself.  This was his home, such as it was - his castle - and he wanted to be king here, not queen.  Still, it was a solution that didn't let anyone down, and didn't cost or lose him any money.  Resigned, he surrendered to the inevitable. "Want some dinner while you're here? I have beer and leftover chili-mac?"

Juana laughed.  "No thanks, but I'll bring a pizza.  We'll just have to lace you up before you overeat."

"Bitch," Ty said laughing.  "And that's just one of the things I love about you."

"See you in thirty, Ty-RONE!"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 8: On the Sidewalks of New York
By Tigger c2008

Ty tried to find a position where he could stand without falling into the bathroom sink, that still let him see the mirror's reflection of the crease between his own skin and the faux breast he'd just glued on to his chest.  It had been difficult enough doing up Tina's face and getting the blond, French-Twist styled wig on straight using the sorry excuse for a medicine cabinet mirror, but this - this . . . 

Words failed him for one of the few times in his life.  In order to blend the makeup that smoothed the transition from real skin to really good fake skin, he had to be able to seen that transition without shadows, except he couldn't twist his neck far enough to see it directly.  The only way he could even begin to see the sides of his fake boobs was to use a mirror.  At the dungeon, he'd used those marvelous wide-screen, lighted makeup mirrors, but he didn't have anything like that here.  All he had was a mirror that was missing a large chunk of its reflective silver backing, that was barely the size of a piece of notebook paper, and that was already slightly above comfortable face height for the inches-challenged actor. While doing Tina's face, he'd solved the height problem by slipping on those instruments of the Inquisition that Solange jokingly referred to as 'shoes', using the extra four and one half inches (he'd measured them!) to get his lips even with a part of the mirror that actually produced a reflection.

Now what he was doing was standing on top of an upside-down, metal waste can and leaning against the wall for support.  Once there, he used a flashlight in one hand for extra illumination, and his remaining free hand to brush the masking compound's pigment smoothly over the two surfaces.

All the while trying manfully not to fall off his precarious perch, smashing his head on the toilet flushing tank, thus killing himself.  Well, at least he'd thought to take off those damned shoes first.  Otherwise, he'd probably already be dead.

And for all his best efforts, 'Tina's' face was merely adequate from what he'd been able to see of the entire presentation in that miserable excuse for a mirror.  At least, he hoped it was adequate.  As soon as he finished dressing, he'd call the dungeon and see if one of the ladies who was especially skilled with powder, paint and brush would give Tina a quick make over once she got to work.  Someone was sure to be there by then, and Tina would need it.  Actually, Ty was perfectly capable of doing what needed to be done on his own.  He just couldn't do it fast enough for Tina to be on time in the playroom - particularly if that asshole super and his pal the inspector dawdled over their white glove treatment of the place.  

There'd be somebody at the dungeon who could help him.  There had to be!

With the last bit of cosmetic camouflage done and dried, it was time to finish dressing so he wouldn't have to greet the coming invaders in nothing but Tina's unmentionables.  Wouldn't THAT be a bloody thrill!

NOT!

The waist cincher had still been a problem - even after Juana's help the previous evening.  Over the course of the night, the waspie, and maybe the laces, too, had stretched so the thing had shifted up towards his rib cage.  Getting it back down to where it belonged had required a great deal of tugging and some rather inventive contortions on his part.  He'd managed, but it had taken time he didn't have and still left his waist not quite as cinched as it had been the night before.

He almost wished he'd accepted ShaJuana's kind offer to come here this morning before she went to her audition.  She'd told him she'd be here at six AM to lace him up so he could get a good night's sleep. Besides, Solange didn't like her girls wearing corsetry more than a few hours at a time because the garments tended to constrict internal organs if worn too long or too tightly.  Anyway, he'd blown her off.  For one thing, as Juana herself had said, Ty didn't need to lose all that many inches so Tina wouldn't have to be laced so  tightly that there might be a health risk.  More importantly, however, Ty wanted ShaJuana to be bright-eyed and ready for her audition and she wouldn't be either if she had to get out of bed at 5:30 AM to be here just to get hm laced up by 6:00 AM.

He remembered how she'd rebelled at his insistence she stay in bed and go straight to her audition, arguing that it would be no problem for her at all.  She was a great friend, he thought, but he had been determined to have his way on this.  She needed, no, more than that, she had EARNED this opportunity, and Ty was not going to have her go into this audition at anything less than her absolute best.  As her friend, that was more important to him than a few hours discomfort from having to wear a corset overnight. 

Now he had to get into costume and into character, but that was actually going to fun for a change.  This was the first time since Juana had first shoved him into her shower with that bottle of hair remover that he'd had any degree of artistic control over HIS character.  He'd spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about just that, too, and had concluded that the very sexy ditz who would serve as Isolde's secretary was all wrong for the walk across town to work.  That piece of work would have a car, or at least, would call a cab to get to the dungeon, and neither of those options fit into Ty Edwards' budget just yet.  So, he needed a different character for the next few hours.  

And he could see her in his mind.

She was a Midwestern girl, new to the big city, starting off a new life and a new job.  She was ambitious, ergo her decision to work in New York City instead of back home in Dubuque, but she was still just a little naive, a little too sweet and trusting, and secretly, just a little scared at being out on her own.  Think Marlo Thomas in 'That Girl' as a starter, he thought to himself. 

He looked at the padded girdle and bra set on his bed, next to the seamed stockings and a plastic bag with the logo of a local discount department store. It would have been so much easier to have had Juana help him slip into one of those all-in-one things last night, lace it up and be done with it all. Unfortunately for him, in his next role Solange already had a mental picture of how 'Sexy Secretary Tina' would dress and had issued him this stuff instead.  Evidently, Solange had decided that  'Sexretary Tina' wouldn't think anything of running around commando-style, even when dressed in a really short skirt and an open-bottom girdle.  'Dubuque Tina,' however, was not THAT type of girl!   'Dubuque Tina' was an old fashioned girl-next-door kind of girl.  SHE had been brought up by her Momma to be a Lady with a capital 'L'!

Which was why that plastic bag was there on the bed along with the lingerie provided by Solange.  While waiting for Solange to arrive last night, he'd run out to the local department store and had checked out the available selections in ladies undies.  One small problem had been that he didn't really know what size panty Tina wore, since such things had always been provided by the dungeon or by Juana.  Unfortunately, neither Ty nor Tina had thought to look for the tags.  He'd solved that problem by buying three pairs in three different sizes, starting with large.  He'd gotten a very funny look from the cashier, but he'd ignored it. Wouldn't be the first time someone had drawn conclusions about him based on his purchases of costume pieces or accessories.  That was just part of being an actor.

Ty decided he'd start with the smallest pair of panties, and then move up in size if it became necessary. 

~-~

At 8:14 by the radio announcer's disgustingly chipper weather report, Dubuque Tina  was busily putting the finishing touches on her attire. She was a little concerned because, with the padded girdle, Tina had a figure that just BARELY fit in the skirt.  And her voluptuously rounded bottom pulled the darn thing's already short hem up another two and half inches! She HAD to be dangerously close to having the dark, reinforced nylon of her stocking tops peeking out from under her skirt-hem.  On her first day as Miss Isolde's secretary, too! Oh, if only every stray calorie didn't run straight to her hips and bottom and take up permanent residence there.  If she'd had time for breakfast earlier, she'd be losing it right now!

So it was just as well she'd had to skip breakfast, because she didn't have time for that right now.  She still had to get the seams of her stockings straightened out, then get them hooked to the garters of that darned girdle, and manage it all in the 12 minutes she had left before Mr. Edwards' super and his pal the inspector arrived.

~-~

Somehow, she managed it, because just as the radio announced the 8:30 morning news, she was slipping on her suit jacket.  She'd even gotten the socks and running shoes on without falling on her face or ruining her hose.  Amazing, she thought, while hurrying over to her kitchen table so she could knock on the wood.

~-~

The radio station's regularly scheduled 8:34 weather report came and went, with no sign of the inspection team.

~-~

At 8:38, the local sportscaster was giving a cogent analysis of why neither the Yankees or the Mets were in the World Series this year, and could expect that to occur again next year.  There wasn't even the grind of the elevator hoist to herald the arrival of the inspector and superintendent.

~-~

At 8:45, her phone rang.  "Finally," she snarled as she snapped up the offending instrument. "YES!"

"Hello, is this Mr. Edwards' apartment?"  She recognized the voice of the building superintendent.

Tina realized that the superintendent had expected Ty to answer, but instead had gotten her.  She took a deep breath to calm herself.  "Yes, this is Mr. Edwards' apartment.  He had to go to an audition, so he asked me to be here for this inspection thingie you guys sprung on him. Are you calling about that?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am.  I'm sorry, but the inspector just called to tell me he can't make it today - he has a sick kid who can't go into school so he has to stay home with him. We'll have to reschedule for another day."

"Oh, I see. You can cancel without notice, but if Ty did, you'd fine him two hundred and fifty dollars?" she demanded primly.  "I'm sure he's going to call the management company about this.  He deserves a rent credit for this, at the very least!" she lectured into the phone.

A mocking laugh answered her. "Oh, you tell him to go ahead and try, but the penalty to Edwards is in the lease he signed, and there's nothing in there that says the landlord has any similar liabilities.  You have a nice day, Ma'am, and say hello to Mr. Edwards for me."  Then all she heard was the buzzing of a disconnected phone.

She looked at the clock, and saw that it was 8:49, and uttering a word that would have had her Momma reaching for a soap bar, gathered up her luggage and briefcase to leave.

~-~

For some unknown reason, the sign announcing that the elevator was out of commission was gone, and it appeared - miracle of miracles - that it was actually operating.  She reached out and tapped the 'down' button with the blood-red nail of her index finger.  

The elevator arrived and she stepped in.  Like many such conveyances, the inside was mirrored for the benefit of the security camera hidden somewhere in the car - assuming the camera worked which Tina figured was a very bad assumption. However, the mirrors still served to give Tina her first good look at 'the whole picture.'  Mentally, she ticked off the main elements of her presentation for her first day of work with Miss Isolde.

Her hair was okay - the blond French braids were still tight and still looked neat.  Her make up would pass, too, but she hoped she could manage a quick trip to the powder room for a touch up before she met with Miss Isolde to start her day. 

She looked at her body, and pouted a bit. Her suit was tight - VERY tight, but she didn't look fat - maybe just a little zaftig - her boobs, hips and butt looked in proportion - just a little too big for the suit, that's all.  And now that she was working and walking to work every day, she'd shed that five, well, ten pounds in no time.

She checked her legs and was pleased to see that she had managed to get the seams of the stockings straight, and there weren't any runs or ladders. . . okay - check.

Carefully, she lifted her skirt until she could see the darker material of the stockings' tops, and then a little more until she saw the white of the garters from her girdle, and sighed.  That was going to be a problem, after all.  She had a scant two inches to where the stocking tops became clearly visible and less than another inch before the white of the girdle garters would poke themselves into plain view.  Maybe she should go back on put on pantihose, she thought to herself, but no - there just wasn't enough time.  Besides, real stockings made her feel, well, more womanly and grown up - just the way a girl starting on her first real job in the big city SHOULD feel.  Ditch the pantihose, she told herself sternly.

Tina experimented with her stride, all the while looking at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator.  She'd have to be very careful to moderate her stride or she'd be flashing stocking tops and garters to the whole of New York City, she thought.  Oh well, it's not all that far to walk, she tried telling herself as an encouragement.

As the elevator doors whooshed open on her building's main floor, she thought, just for an instant, that she might be better off wearing the high heels that were inside the rolling suitcase she pulled behind her.  That would, at least, control her stride for her.  It would also just about destroy her feet and ankles before she was half way through her first day working for Miss Isolde.  She'd just have to remember and be careful not to over stride.  She could do that.

Only the awareness of the potential risk that her skirt might creep up her thighs as she hurried off to work would not go away, and she was overtly conscious of her appearance every step she took.  She caught herself, on several occasions, stopping to stare at her reflection in storefront windows, making sure those darned stocking tops and garter tabs weren't showing. One time, she caught a reflected glimpse of a tall, African American woman behind her and deep in the part of Tina's mind where Ty was still in control, thought "Juana?" 

But when she spun about to look, the woman had disappeared - maybe stepping into a store further back up the sidewalk.

She was about to walk back that way, but inadvertently looked inside that particular store's window and saw a clock.  To her horror, she saw that it was almost 9:15, and she was only barely halfway to the dungeon.  Her little window stops, along with her consciously shortened walking stride had cost her time she had not planned on losing.  First thing she'd buy with her first paycheck would be a business-appropriate ladies watch. She was a professional now, and professionals were not late for work or appointments.

She had to get to her new workplace by 9:30, so she considered her options. Her planned route to work was a bit roundabout because she intentionally avoided a street that had always seemed really dirty and unkempt.  She didn't want to show up soiled and dusty her first day on the job, but taking that street would cut ten minutes off her walking time.  Another look at the clock in the window made up her mind for her.  'You never get a second chance to make a good first impression,' she told herself.

With that, she turned and headed for the 'shortcut'.

~-~

The street was not only dirty, it was rough in more ways than one.  There were few, if any, pedestrians for her to join, and most of the people on the street seemed to be clustered in small, same-sex groups around someone who was clearly the 'ring-leader'.  Her lack of escort and her mode of dress made her stand out all the more. She had never been anywhere like this back home in Dubuque.  Anxiety bubbled up in her as she became more and more the center of attention, particularly among the male groups.

Unconsciously, her stride lengthened and sped up, with the consequence that her stocking tops started flashing with each stride, bringing her yet more unwanted interest from her audience. 

Suddenly, something caught at her arm, bringing her up short and nearly toppling her to the dirty sidewalk.  She just caught herself, and spinning about, saw the cause was a man - a teenager really, who had grabbed her by her arm as she'd passed by him. 

He was not a credit to his gender.  He had long, ill-tended hair, and a face that was marked by insufficient hair to be recognizable as a beard, and the pockmark-like scars of poorly treated acne.  He wore a filthy t-shirt and grubby jeans, under a New York Yankee warmup jacket.  The grin he gave her was frightening, and whether it was his breath or body order, the stench he gave off made her want to wretch right there.

"Yo, momma," he said arrogantly, "You be new here.  Gotta real nice ass on you. What say you come with me and we'll see what we can do with that fine ass, huh?"

A miasma of swirling, violent emotions nearly overwhelmed Tina - part fear, part humiliation, and the rest pure rage.  How DARE this. . . this punk accost her?  Without thought, the actor that was Tina slipped into the most threatening role she knew,  "Little man," Maitresse Solange said in cold, clear tones, "If you want those fingers back as more than stubs, you would be wise to remove them from my arm now while you can."

"Listen, bitch . . ."

"No, YOU listen," she snapped back, punctuating each syllable with a sharp finger stab to the punk's sternum, "You got ONE thing right, I AM a bitch, with sharp, shiny teeth,"  The smile that curled her lips showed those teeth, but didn't reach her ice cold eyes.  "You don't want me to show you and your friends just how sharp they are.  Do you think you're the first pushy little boy who has tried my patience?  I know just what to do to render a mere male - less than whole.  I've done it before and I LIKE doing it."      

For several, infinitely long heartbeats, the two of them simply stared into each other's eyes, and then he broke.  Solange-Tina reached over with her free hand, and peeled her attacker's fingers away from her arm.  Then she fastidiously smoothed the material, turned her back on him and, with a dismissive shake of her head, continued on her way, once again at the controlled, restrained pace she'd used when she'd first left her building. 

What she did not see was the teen recovering enough to start gathering his group for a response, only to have a mountain of a man, wearing a grey pinstriped suit, step between them and Tina's departing figure.  He made no overt threat, made no movements that might signal that he had or might use a weapon against them.  However, the unspoken message he conveyed was still clearly understood by the leader and his cronies. 'To get to her, you go over or through me.'

They decided they had better things to do at that point, and were all privately relieved when the suit slipped away in the direction that bitch had taken.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude - The Shadow Knows.

8:50 AM found Maitresse Solange just settling into the plush leather seats of her chauffeur-service car for the drive from her home to her place of business.  The car had barely moved from the curb when her cell-phone sounded the first bars of the refrain from John Cougar Mellencamp's "Hurts so Good."  She collected the sleek unit from her purse and saw that the call was being auto-forwarded to her from her private line at the dungeon.

Snapping it open, she put the phone to her ear and expectantly said, "Yes?"  She listened for a moment, and then smiled broadly.  "Ah, yes, Mr. Smith, this is she.  What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I see.  So Mr. Edwards arranged for someone to stay in his apartment to meet your supposed inspector?  A young lady, you say? Ah, must be a girl friend. Well, that's too bad as he'll no doubt arrive at work before we'll have had time to set up the decorations for his surprise birthday celebration.  What's that? Oh, you say his girlfriend told you he went to an audition? Well, maybe we can salvage the party after all." There was a spate of rapid speech on the other end, causing Solange to grin. "Oh, well I shouldn't worry, Mr. Smith. I'll make sure that both Mr. Edwards and his friend know that this was a ruse on my part so we could surprise him. No, I don't think you need to worry about a call to your employers about the inspection.  No, I'm very pleased with your effort, and will have the other fifty dollars delivered to you by messenger to you this very morning.  Thank you for trying to help us surprise Tyrone.  Good day to you, Mr. Smith."

Solange settled even more comfortably into the deeply cushioned seat, a self-satisfied smile on her face.  So, Ty had taken the challenge and run with it.  Tina was now operating on the grandest stage of all - New York City during morning rush hour.  How did the song go? 'If I can make it here, I'll make it anywhere. . ' 

A beautiful piece of feminine manipulation, she thought to herself.  She'd be sure to congratulate ShaJuana on her part in this little enterprise, as well.

She glanced at her watch.  She had just enough time to slip into her office and be well out of sight before Tina came sailing in to the dungeon to redo her makeup for the session with Isolde.

~-~

At 9:20, Solange was seated in her private office, a fresh cup of tea in her hand, watching the establishment's closed circuit television.  She'd installed the system so that any room in the place could be monitored for safety, sanity and consensuality - not to mention security.  She was about to select the camera that monitored the entrance foyer when the phone on her private line rang.  She picked it up, "Yes?" and then listened.  At first, she wasn't sure she had heard what the private security man had to say correctly, so she asked him to repeat it

It was just as bad the second time.  "She was WHAT?" Solange blurted, her voice jumping whole octaves. "Accosted on the street? Where? Why?"

"Merciful God in Heaven, Why EVER did she take THAT route?. .oh . . .running late?  I wonder why - I have an eye witness report that she left the apartment building in plenty of time to get here. She should have been. . .What about the suit?  Oh, I see, and they saw her garters?  How?"

The response was terse and to the point, and made Solange wince.  "My fault - I didn't think - it was the outfit Isolde and I had selected before I thought of this experience for her. . .I didn't think of how that would work out in public and I should have.  Was. . .Was she hurt?  Before you could intervene?"

She jumped at the bark of laughter that answered that question, then listened carefully. "You say she handled them? How? Did she break cover and - . . .and . . .she WHAT?!??"

The conversation, such as it was, devolved to the security operative making tight, pithy comments about planning, safety and consent when a submissive was put in such situations, to which a very chastened Solange interspersed with increasingly apologetic "I see's," and "I agree's."  It was a masterful chewing out, from a man she knew to be a highly competent, caring and much sought-after Master in his own right.  Worse, she knew she deserved every bit of it and more.
"No, you're quite right - this was poorly planned and poorly done on our part, and I'm giving thanks right now that nothing really bad happened to anyone involved."

"No, I don't know what I'm going to do - probably nothing at all until we see if there are repercussions."

"Yes, I know you're there if we need masculine support or assistance, but we'll start out playing it by ear on our own. Very well, then, and thank you for your efforts.  I very much everything you did to keep her safe."

Solange was about to say more when her in-house intercom beeped, and then beeped again.  That was the preset danger signal from the front desk - not an intrusion alarm or a crime alarm, but a warning of what the front desk considered to be a significant problem.

"I have to go - something on my in-house link."  Solange hung up the phone and opened the two-way circuit to the front desk.

"Solange? Deedee on the front desk.  "Tina just came in.  Something is just not right. Her face was . . .was, well, a little scary! I've never seen her look so, well,  hard is the only word I can think of.  And she's never talked to me the way she just did before."

"What did she say?"

"She said something like "Good morning, Dierdre, All's well here, I presume?" and just kept going.  Didn't wait for me to answer.  I've never heard her talk like that, and this is after she called me earlier this morning and all but begged me to help her with her makeup for her session when she got here. It was like she had never said it, somehow. . ."

"Thanks - I'm on it."

Solange turned her attention back to her CCTV station, and began scanning through the rooms on the second floor.  She found Tina in the prep room that had been assigned to her use for her final preparations.  Tina was seated at the vanity busily creaming away the makeup she'd put on before leaving her apartment.  Her movements seemed strange, for some reason, but Solange couldn't quite put her finger on why that might be.  In hopes of getting more information, she turned on the hidden microphones that were also installed in every room of the dungeon.   

Not able to make out much, if any detail in the fisheye lens of the security camera, Solange switched to the camera installed behind the one-way glass of the makeup mirror and just stared in confusion at what she beheld.  There was no apparent emotion on the young face, just a quietly intense focus on the process of applying fresh makeup. 

Why wasn't the girl upset?  Lord knows, if some jerk had grabbed Solange on the street like that she'd have been upset.  Hell, after she'd crushed the little worm into the nearest storm drain, she'd have run off to the privacy of her office and had a minor breakdown.  This girl had nearly been, no, she HAD been violated, but she wasn't showing a bit of that type of emotion.  That, somehow, seemed even worse than a breakdown.  At least Solange knew what to DO about a breakdown - equal parts caring, wine and chocolate, with an on-call rape counselor in the wings if needed.  She had to know more about what was going on inside that blond head . . .

Solange snatched up her phone and dialed an in-house extension that was answered on the first ring.  "Isolde, something went wrong on Tina's walk to work - some low-life scum accosted her on the street.  No, she wasn't hurt physically and I had someone following her for protection. No, she's not crying, and that scares the hell out of me. Look, I don't have anything more to tell because I don't know anything more, all right?  I need you to go to her and see if you can figure out what she's feeling right now.  You have an excuse to go looking for her so get down there and try to look surprised when you see her.  Once you're there you can call for help and I'll be able to say I was just arriving at work after coming in from my appointment.  No, I don't know if she can work a session or not, but I'm really not concerned about that just at the moment. Okay, Solly, thanks. She's in Prep Room 1, putting on makeup, for goodness sake. Great! Now move it, please."

Still fixated on the screen, Solange called the front desk.  "DeeDee, I want ShaJuana in my private office right now!  Tell her to take the back way, because I don't want Tina to see her.  What do you mean she's not here yet?  Oh, I see.  Well, then call her on her private cell phone.  I need to see her right away - tell her to shag it! Thanks, dear.  Yes, I saw it, too, and no, I've not seen Tina behave like this before, either.  Thanks.  She's one of us now, and we'll take care of her.  Right, now I have to go.  Find ShaJuana for me!"

~-~

ShaJuana burst in, breathing hard from running up the stairs and down the block-long corridor to reach Solange's office.  It took a few moments for the tall black beauty to be brought up to speed as they watched the monitor to see Isolde arrive at Tina's Prep Room.  Dumbfounded, they could only stare when Tina immediately began ordering the senior Domina around.  "This suit is too tight without the corset laced up tight. Well, what are you waiting for? Don't dawdle, Isolde, we haven't the time for that!"

"Where WERE you, Juana?  I thought you were going to trail after her, too? Make sure nothing went wrong while she was out on the street?" Solange's tones were accusing.

Juana didn't take her eyes off her friend's image as she answered the older woman.  "I lost her about half way here. That skirt really messed her up, Solange. It was just too short and she never got comfortable moving in it.  She must have stopped twice every block just to look at her reflection.  She even slipped into an alleyway once to pull it down in the back.  Anyway, I got too close once and I saw her catch sight of my reflection in one of the windows.  I ducked into a café and by the time I thought it was safe to come back out, she was gone.  I tried to catch up, but I never even caught sight of her again.  How'd she get here so damned fast?"

"She took the short cut through the bad streets, and got grabbed by some punk-bastard," Solange growled, her fury at herself only barely contained.
"Ohmigod," Juana said, suddenly dazed.

"Evidently, she backed him off, somehow.  My P.I. thinks she did it with just the power of her voice and the force of her eyes on him.  He was very impressed with her innate dominance, although he did step in after she walked away to keep the cowardly shit from jumping her from behind."

In the meantime, Tina was putting her blouse and coat back in order.  "Get my shoes out of the suitcase, please, while I see what I can do with this wig."  Both watchers were surprised at the continued tone of command in the younger woman's voice.  Certainly Isolde wasted no time jumping to obey the snapped out order.

"She just walked away? In that part of town? You're kidding!  "

"No, I'm not.  God, Juana, it could have been so much worse and it would have been my fault!" Solange's voice started to break.

ShaJuana put a strong arm around the older woman's shoulders and pulled her close as they both continued to watch Isolde try to comfort their friend.  "No, it would have been our fault, but mostly mine. It was my idea and I asked you to help set it up.  God, now she'll never want to go out and play with me in public. . . and I'm pissed at myself for being that selfish that I'd think of something like that before I think of what SHE must be goin' through.  DAMMIT!  How could I say something that stupid?"

"Language!" Solange corrected automatically. "And I think there's blame enough to go around, dear. I didn't even give her panties."

"She had panties - I saw them."

"She did?"

"Ty bought 'em at a store near his place.  Said something about Isolde's Tina was not the right Tina for the sidewalks of New York - or some such thing - so he bought hisself three pairs, 'cause he didn't know what size he wore and couldn't bring himself to ask the saleslady to help measure him."

"You know. . . " ShaJuana said thoughtfully, watching Tina, "I've never seen him, I mean her, like this, but . . . . "

"What?" Solange demanded, putting her nose closer to the monitor in an effort to see what ShaJuana might have noticed. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong," she said, letting the words slide away.  "But she's in character right now, and I feel like I ought to know who. . ."

At that moment, Tina issued another command to Isolde, who seemed to almost shrink under the power of this new and unknown Tina.  "I. . . I have to go make sure the room is ready, Tina," a quaver in her voice clearly audible over the monitoring system speakers
"Oh, very well, you are dismissed!"

"Thank you, Mis, I mean, Tina," and then Isolde almost ran from the room.

"Well, I'll be dipped," Juana said wonderingly.  "Isolde almost called her 'Mistress', and she actually bobbed Tina a curtsy!"

Solange scowled at that.  Isolde was HER submissive, and it annoyed her to have the woman react that way to anyone other than herself, and particularly to this untrained newbie.  

"I KNOW WHO SHE IS!" ShaJuana blurted out.  "She's YOU!  Or at least, how I think she SEES you, Solange."

"Whhaaaattt?!?  ME? You're joking."

"No, no - look at her.  Look at the way she's holding her head - just slightly cocked to one side, and look at that wicked little half smirk!  You look just like that when you've pushed somebody into one of your little traps.  Ty's in character and she's YOU!"

"What are you talking about?" Solange demanded sternly. "This isn't a show.  This is real.  That child has been violated and I haven't the slightest inkling what to do for her. . . him, because she isn't reacting at all the way she should be to such an outrage!"

"Her," ShaJuana corrected without thinking.  "That's a 'her' right now, because that's the role Tyrone Edwards is playing.  Solange, remember when I told you that when Ty is in character - really in character - it's something awesome?"  The other woman nodded, and for the first time in minutes, turned her attention away from the CCTV screen.  "What it really is, Solange, is genius - maybe even something more than that.  And if I'm right, it isn't really Ty who was violated, and I'm betting, it wasn't the character he started out playing when he left the apartment.  Somehow, he shifted roles so that punk tried to attack the person Ty sees when he studies you!"

"I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand what that means here and now.  How can it not be Ty who was violated."

"Look, Solange, it just is because that's the way Ty is.  See, there was this play- a whodunit mystery thing, Sherlock Holmes detective story, a murder with too many clues and confusing as hell to watch. Should have folded in less than a week like that turkey when Ty and I first met, but instead, it had a pretty good run. Ty was this gay guy in a same sex relationship whose partner was the murder victim.  That play earned this, well, cult following among the local LGBT community around here, even though they originally came to boo Ty 'cause they felt a gay actor should have gotten the role instead.  Then, they kept coming because they loved his portrayal, and he wasn't even supposed to be the star.   Ty was great in that play, but the point is that every night, after the curtain went down, Ty was still grieving for his character's dead partner because that's how deeply he gets into his role, and how much he FEELS his role. Sometimes, he'd need a few hours to recover from what that role did to him.  Unless he had a major reason to shift into another role!"

"So what if you're right?"  Solange was dubious, but still interested.  "What would it take to get him to shift?"

"Well, I saw him do a shift for an evening show following a matinee a couple of times." ShaJuana told her, "And he usually only got a couple of hours of down time before he had to get ready to go again." 

"I still don't see your point, ShaJuana."

"You have to get through to Ty somehow, and get him out of that role."

Solange started to speak, and then stopped herself.  "There were fewer hours between the end of one show and the beginning of the next than what he usually needed to, oh I don't know, come back to himself?"

"That's JUST what I mean!" ShaJuana asserted. "Solange, he never missed a curtain or a cue; never gave a flat performance, even when there was only an hour or two between shows, but when there wasn't a show, he could take three, maybe four hours dealing with what the role did to him!"

"Remarkable."

"Yeah.  It was kinda spooky at first, if you know what I mean.  I thought it was like one of them multiple personality disorder things you hear about on Oprah, but that ain't what it is about Ty.  He's just a really, really good actor who can live in his role every show, every time.  I used to wish I could give him a few of my inches so he'd have a chance to show the world just how great he really is."

Solange considered Juana's words, trying to reconcile what she saw on the screen with what she knew about Ty, and what she'd just heard. Her eyes became speculative as she tried to decide what to do next.  "You say he was always out of the grief and ready to start when the curtain went up on the next show?"

"Always." was the uncompromising response.

"I see."  Solange became thoughtful as she turned her attention back to the CCTV screen.  "So, to recapitulate, what you believe happened is that, when the person that Tina planned to be this morning was attacked, some part of Ty saw that the script had undergone a major, unexpected change, and that he needed a new characterization - ME - to respond to that threat properly?"

"I think that's about the size of it. Like I said, it takes something pretty major to break Ty out if he's really into his role, but having some asshole look like he's gonna rape you on the street would be high on my list of major."

Before Solange could reply, her phone rang. She answered it, started to speak, and thought better of it.  "I'm going to put this on speaker. ShaJuana is here and she might be able to help sort this out.  I expect you to speak openly, Solly!" she finished in tones that Juana thought sounded remarkably like those they'd just heard from Tina.  Solange pressed the intercom button and set the handset back in the receiver.  "Can you still hear me, Silly-Solly?"

"Yes, Mistress.  Mistress, whoever that person in that room is, she's not someone I've worked with before.  If I didn't know that person was Ty and Tina, . . God, Mistress, that girl is so dominant she makes my knees go weak.  I wanted to kneel to her in there, and damn near did to help her on with her shoes."

"I see."

"Mistress, I can't do this scene with her today - not like we planned - not with her like that!" Isolde wailed, her tone rife with arousal and frustration.  "She's like YOU!  If I tried to scene with her right now, with me like this and her like that?  Cripes, Mistress, I'll end up getting MY butt smacked, and that just wouldn't be good for my bitch-goddess image. . .even if I did like it."

"Slut," Solange said, the word conveying an affection totally out of keeping with its literal meaning.

"Maybe, but I'm YOUR slut, and I was almost swept away back there.  Mistress, I think you better get to her and see what you can do about this."
.
"On my way. You go and get ready to do this scene solo if I can't help with Tina," she answered and then looked to ShaJuana who was doing her best to stifle a giggle-fit. "And what, may I ask, is so funny about this . . .this debacle?!?"  

"It's no wonder that Isolde ended up submitting so quickly, Solange," ShaJuana replied, mirth lighting her face.  "Tina was pushing a bunch of buttons you'd already put in place! Solly sees you in Tina, even if you don't!"  

"As that may be," Solange said quellingly, but to very little affect. "You stay here.  You're not supposed to be here and in her current mood, you may not like the consequences she'll impose for lying to her about your supposed audition."

"I hear that, Solange. Might not be all that good for my bitch-goddess image, either."

"Oh, I quite agree, my dear. Well, what do you say in the theater?  Not 'Action,' is it?"

"Nope. That's film work.  We do 'Up Curtain!'"  Juana replied.

"I see.  Well, 'Up Curtain,' and cue La Maîtresse, Stage Right, " the older woman replied.  Then she sailed toward her door, hoping she understood the actor well enough to do what needed to be done.

"Hey Solange?" ShaJuana called out just before the older woman reached the door.  When she turned to look at her tall colleague, Juana gave her a broad grin and a thumbs up sign. "Break a leg, Maitresse."

Acting Dominant
Interlude - Meeting Yourself Coming and Going

Solange stood outside the prep room, quietly gathering herself.  A great deal would depend on what came of the next few moments.  It would thoroughly infuriate her if plans she'd set in progress were derailed because she'd given into the impulse to play this, well, prank wasn't too far off the mark.  That having Tina operating in public, en femme and on her own was something those plans required was a given and something she'd eventually have had to instigate, but this had been done too casually.  

She knocked on the door, and was surprised at the command, for that is what it surely was, that responded.  "Enter!"  Wasn't that how she'd commanded Tina-the-maid to enter the room wherein Solange had been waiting to give Ty Edwards his first taste of sexual submission?  A little cautiously, she entered.

The face that greeted her was femininely handsome, rather than pretty.  Her posture was ram-rod straight, her demeanor direct.  Moreover, the girl conveyed an air of aristocratic command that was almost palpable.  The look Tina gave Solange as they approached one another was one the older woman had seen in her own mirror uncounted times over her life. In truth, it was one she'd practiced in front of her mirror when she'd first began her avocation as a dominant woman.  It was rather disconcerting to have it turned on her.

"Are you all right, Tina?" she asked, by way of starting the conversation.

"Of course," was the positive reply.  "Why would I not be?"

"I understand you had an altercation on the street - a friend called to tell me about it.  Some young tough grabbed you?"

"No problem, Solange.  He was a rodent, and I squashed him."

"I see.  Well, then, what do you plan to do now?"

"Now?"  For a moment, the aristocratic presentation faltered in confusion. "Why, I'm going to work with Isolde in her scene in, oh," she checked the clock, "about ten minutes."

"I don't think that's possible, dear." Solange said, apprehension coloring her tones.  If she was wrong about how to handle this, they could lose Tina and Ty both. 

"I beg your pardon.  I am here, dressed in the outfit you provided, and fully prepared to do my part in this session."

"No, you're not," Solange contradicted, a sad look on her face as she pointed to the mirror.  "Look at the woman in that mirror, dear.  Is that the person Isolde needs in this session?"

A frown wrinkled the smooth forehead, and the blond-wigged head bent to one side as Tina complied with Solange's request.  "What do you mean?" she finally asked.

"Not to put to fine a point to it, dear, but Isolde expects and needs a bimbo for the maximum effect in this scene.  Remember, we discussed this yesterday?"

"Yes. . ," Tina replied, hesitantly, still staring at her reflection.  Or had it been Tina who'd answered?  Solange wondered if it had been her imagination, or had the timbre in that simple 'yes' been different?   Almost more like . . . Tyrone? 

"Where are the flirtatious looks, the giggles?  You look like you're about to play drill instructor and order him to give you fifty, but that is not your role in this play.  Isolde is the Domme in this scene, not you. You were to be the distraction, the eye candy, the cock tease - until the trap was sprung.  You were supposed to be non-threatening, at least in comparison to Isolde, and right now, dear, you almost frighten me."

"Really?"   And now the tone was definitely Tyrone.  The head tilt was gone, as was the half smirk.  A frown had replaced both, but it was a very firm frown that still had no hint of the seductive pout Solange hoped would indicate that bimbo-Tina was surfacing.  

"Yes, dear," Solange said firmly as she tried to press on. "You are completely out of character for this role, and you will destroy the entire atmosphere of the scene if you go in there as you are now.  In fact, I've ordered Isolde to rework the plan and be prepared to go solo."

Tyrone's head snapped around at that.  "She can't do that!"

"Dear, she can't do anything else with you in this character mode," and there was steel in Solange's voice.  If nothing else, she would make sure that Tina did not detract from the client's experience in her dungeon.  "I really think that. . ."

Solange never got a chance to finish that thought as Ty abruptly stood up and held out a hand to stop any further comments.  "Give me a minute," he ordered, and stepped away from the mirror, away from Solange, into a place only he could go.  His eyes closed as his head sagged until it was impaled on the long-nailed fingers that were aimed at his temples.

Then, seconds later, the frown disappeared and the head came up.  

"Well, that's just so totally not going to happen," Tina retorted, in a tone Solange had not heard this day.  "You just give me like, a couple of minutes to fix my face, and I'll be ready.  I'll totally like, mess with that guy's head - both heads - You'll see!  He won't know what hit him," and she giggled, "Until Isolde breaks out her flogger, anyway.  Hey, Solange-honey, could you help me with my face?  I don't work as fast as you do and I don't want to be TOO late for the party.  They might start without me and then I'd have to play catchup!"

Solange was stunned.  In mere seconds, the posture had relaxed to a hip-shot stance that had her skirt riding up to expose bare flesh and white garters above the stocking tops.  Her eyes softened and her lips seemed to relax, taking on a promise of easy sensuality and easier morals.  Even her movements as she creamed away her cosmetics were less precise and more haphazard than they had been but mere minutes earlier when Solange had watched her on the security camera hidden behind the mirror.

Taking up a pot of foundation, Solange moved in to help Tina with her makeup.  Throughout their impromptu make over session, the older Domina tried to break Tina's new characterization and discovered she couldn't.  Tina, or perhaps it was Ty, had reacted to being told she wasn't ready to go on stage by shifting into the correct role.  She was now the bimbo secretary that Isolde needed and expected.  And it wasn't just the overtly 'sex-on-the-hoof' face that she had just painted on the girl - it was much, much more than that.

It was, Solange realized, that the person behind the face had become the role - just as ShaJuana had said she, or rather he, could and would, if presented with a sufficiently important reason.

"Neat! You're the best, Solange.  I think I'm ready to paint that guy's balls blue for him, don't you?"  She nearly choked on her laughter, but Solange managed a nodding agreement.  Tina got to her feet, and gave a quick hip shimmy to check her balance in the skyscraper heels, and then grinned down at her boss. "Great! See you laters, Moms, and thanks for the assist." Tina gave the still off-balance dominatrice a quick air kiss on the cheek and then giddily pranced out of the room.

"Moms? She called me MOMS? OOOOooo, just wait till I get that girl in a training session.  She wants to call me Moms, does she?" And then Solange stopped.  That was perfect for the role, she realized. 

Solange got up and headed for her office.  This was one scene she wanted to watch in its entirety.  Something told her that Bimbo Tina was going to surprise more than the client today.  She'd already surprised Solange.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 9: Secretary's Day at the Dungeon
By Tigger c2008

Tina hurried (as much as she could in the lovely shoes Solange had given her) up to the playroom that had been designed and decorated to look like the corporate office of a mid-to-high level manager type.  She swept in, looking for Isolde, but she wasn't in the secretary's reception area, and the door to the main office was closed.  Absently, she glanced at her wrist and pouted when she didn't see wristwatch.  She didn't know what time it was, but it had to be close to the time when Mr. Jefferson was supposed to meet with Miss Isolde.  

And they weren't ready!

She knocked on Miss Isolde's door, and received the expected order to "Enter!", so she did.  The look she got from Miss Isolde was one of horror.  Quickly, Tina closed the door and hurried over to her 'boss.'  "What's the matter, Miss Isolde?"

"What are YOU doing here?" the tall, Nordic blonde managed to get out.  "Maitresse Solange told me to plan this as a solo when I told her I couldn't work with. . . I mean, when I talked to her earlier."

"Oh, that," Tina scoffed in exaggerated, emotive tones.  "That's all fixed.  She said I could come and play.  That way, we won't have to change to plan.  Won't that be fun?!?"

"Just loads of fun," the Domina replied, apparently unconvinced. "And your role in this plan is?"

"Oh, I'm just gonna come in and flit about whenever you signal for me - chat him up and make him notice me, but not notice anything. . . umm. . unusual about him until you signal me to do that.  Then, you can punish me for intruding and he gets a look at my special parts, and you play it by ear from there."

"And you can do that?  JUST that?"  Tina saw the sexy blonde lick her lips, and noted that there as a bit of a shine on her cheeks - like she was glowing.  Heck, she'd have said Isolde was sweating, but then, everybody knew women like her just totally didn't sweat - that would be TOO outre.

"Well, like for sure! We're gonna just completely screw with his head - the big one, I mean. You know I don't play, well, hands-on-like, with his little head, right?"  Isolde managed a hesitant nod.  "FAR-OUT!  Ummm, you got the squirty thingamie?"

"Squirty Thingamie?" Isolde asked, completely confused.

"You know, the squirty thingie I'm supposed to have with the man-made spunk it!" Then Tina broke down into a fit of giggles. "Well, I guess I should have said 'fake' spunk, 'cause, like, the real stuff is man-made, too!"

Wide eyed at this total ditz occupying the same skin as had the Uber-Domme who not fifteen minutes before all but had her rolling on her back like a puppy begging for a tummy-rub, Isolde had to shake her head to get back into her own role.  She opened the desk-drawer and pulled out a plastic tube, perhaps two inches long and a half-inch in diameter, that was topped by a plunger and hanging from a fine gold chain like a locket.  It was filled with a thick, semitransparent white fluid.  She handed it to Tina. "You'll need to keep that close to your body so it is good and warm when we use it."

"Okie-dokey," was the chirped reply.  "Ummm, Miss Isolde? I had this teensy idea that I think might be really cool - I just don't know if it would work and since you are totally more experienced than me, maybe you'd tell me why it won't do, 'cause it's like majorly messing around my head and. ."

"ENOUGH, already!" Isolde yelled, closing her eyes tight and pressing her palms to each side of her head as if to keep her skull from exploding.  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to glare at Tina.  "WHAT is your idea?  Make it quick, Jeffie will be here in a few minutes.  He's already waiting in the foyer downstairs."

"Okay, you know how I'm s'posed to squirt this on his back from behind when you give me the signal?  Well, I sorta had to wear these panties today, and what if . . . "

~-~

When the client finally arrived in the play-room/office suite, Tina was sitting at her desk, legs crossed, a delicate high heel dangling from her extended toe, filing her nails.  She didn't acknowledge him, letting him just stand there, in front of her desk, while she finished shaping her thumbnail.

Finally, he cleared his throat, noisily, causing Tina to jump. "Oops, sorry.  Big date tonight and he just LOVES my pretty nails," she cooed, flashing the blood-red claws up for his inspection, "Don't you?"

"Don't I . . .What?" he finally managed to choke out. 

"Like my pretty nails, silly." Pouting, Tina put her hands together on the desk, as if hiding the nails if he wasn't going to properly appreciate them.  At the same time, out of sight of her visitor, she carefully toed a hidden button beneath her desk.  As she waited for the response, she flirtatiously made eye contact with the client. "Ooooo,” she purred appreciatively as her eyes ran slowly up and down his tall frame, “And what can I do for you, tall, rich and sexy?" she asked as she leaned a bit towards him, a movement that might have meant interest, but was intended to unveil more cleavage.

The man nearly drooled, she thought smugly, as she gave him a quick once over while he dithered in front of her.  Six feet one, and one eighty, maybe a bit less, and in the kind of shape that said 'health club four times a week.'  Brown and brown as the guys on the cop shows would say.  She wondered if he'd tell her his hair stylist - it had a nice wave to it.  Great suit, too – Brooks Brothers, probably.  One of those meterosexuals she’d read about in Cosmo.  She arched her brows in query, which didn’t do much good since his eyes were fixated somewhat lower.  She cleared her throat instead.

"Ahem, errr, yes," he finally got out, trying unsuccessfully to clear the clog in his throat.  Tina gave him a brilliant smile that seemed not to help him at all. "Ummm, I have an appointment with Ms. Sigurdsen. My name is Jefferson."

Tina flashed him her best vacuous smile, and reached for the keyboard that was in front of her on the desk.  Using the nails of her two index fingers, she slowly pecked out a series of key strokes, and then frowned up at her visitor before turning back to the monitor.  She typed again, just as slowly, and then turned a worried face up to the power-suited man.  "You're late!" she accused as she toed the floor button again.  "Ms. Sigurdsen expected you ten minutes ago!"

Suddenly, the intercom on Tina's desk buzzed raucously.  Before she could make a move, a clearly angry feminine voice demanded, "Is that idiot, Jefferson, out there yet?!?"  

Tina gave a visible shudder before she toggled the intercom switch to answer, "Yes, ma'am, he just arrived." 

"Well, tell him to get his slow-moving ass in here right now! I don't have time for any more of his nonsense!"  

"Yes, ma'am!" Tina chirped, hopping out of her chair to hustle toward the door behind her desk.

The man blanched, but managed to get out, "but I was here 20 minutes ago - the receptionist wouldn't let me pass."

"Well, you can tell Ms. Sigurdsen that, maybe that will work," Tina said from the door, not sounding at all convinced of that.  Jefferson watched in mild horror as the now cowed secretary cautiously opened the door, peaked around it and then announced  "Mr. Jefferson is here, Ms Sig. . "

"JEFFERSON!  Get in here! NOW!  Tina - you get out! NOW!"

Tina only just barely got her head out of the way as the man literally ran into the office.  Fighting a smile, she closed the door and hurried back to her seat.  The digital video camera in the inner office was already up on her computer screen so all she had to do was open the window, turn on the speakers, sit back here in the wings while she waited for her cues.

~-~

Isolde was dressed in a severely cut dress suit of unrelieved black. She'd accessorized with a brightly striped regimental tie that matched her scarlet lip-gloss, black-framed glasses and five-inch black pumps.  Jefferson had barely made it to her desk, and  she was irritably smacking a rolled up sheaf of paper held in one hand against the palm of the other.  It made, Tina thought, a rather impressive sound.  Jefferson evidently thought so, since he winced at each smack.

"Do you know what this is?" Isolde demanded, offering him a close look at the paper roll as she rose to her feet.  In her ice-pick heels, the blond dominatrix stood almost three inches taller than the man - an advantage she used most effectively as she rounded the desk so she could stare down into his eyes.

"Um, no, I don't!"
"THAT'S 'NO, MS. SIGURDSEN,' Jefferson!"

"n. . NO, Ms. Sigurdsen," was the half-mumbled reply.

Isolde grabbed his chin and snapped his head back up to face hers, so that their noses were all but touching.  "It is that sorry excuse for a monthly report you just sent in.  Not only did you fail to make your quota of sales - AGAIN - but you falsified your report so that I wouldn't CATCH it!  WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY BEFORE I FIRE YOUR LYING, USELESS ASS??!"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sigurdsen," he whined, wringing his hands, "REALLY, I am.  And I really need this job."

"I need someone who can DO your damned job!"

"I can do it, Ms. Sigurdsen, really I can.  Just give me a chance."

"I've given you a chance - several chances, and THIS," she snarled, all but spitting her fury into his face, "Is what I get!"

"Just once more, I can do it - you'll see! I'll do anything you say - however you say!  Just one more chance, please."

Isolde stood up and stepped back, a thoughtful finger at her lips which then curled into a thoroughly frightening smile. "Anything, eh? However I say?  All right.  Perhaps what you need is motivation. DROP YOUR PANTS!" she snapped.

"Huh, what? My pants?"

"You heard me, asshole.  I want your ass bare and your hands flat on my desk in ten seconds or you can leave by way of payroll for your last check! 10. . . . 9 . . . 8. . ."

By six, his belt was undone, by two, his pants and shorts were at his ankles and his hands hit the desktop just as Isolde reached "Zero."

She kicked his legs apart until his pants were taut about his ankles.  With her elbow resting on his bent over shoulder, she hissed out, "If you so much as move your hands, I will call security and tell them you are a flasher, got it?"

"Yes, Ms. Sigurdsen!" he yelped.

"I think I'd prefer you call me 'Mistress' just now, Jeffie.  Got that?"

"Yes, Ms. Sig, I mean, Mistress."

"Better - not good, mind you, but better.  Now, I want you to find out what happens to bad little boys who lie!" With that, the stern-faced blonde smacked the paper-roll against 'Jeffie's' bare buttocks.  She reversed into a backstroke, only to have the rolled up 'report' buckle in her hand.  "Look at that," she snapped, sticking the wad of paper under his nose, "it's not even good enough for this!"

Tina watched as Isolde began to spank her sub by hand, building up in both frequency and intensity, until both buttocks were noticeably redder in color and he was starting to whimper or cry out with each stroke of Isolde's hand.

Tina almost missed it, she was so engrossed in the harsh eroticism of the scene, but she did catch the second beckoning motion that was her first cue.  She hurried over to the door, knocked twice and began to open the door.  "Ms. Sigurdsen?" she called out.

Jefferson, upon hearing the new voice, stood straight up, glanced about and saw his chance.  He plopped his burning bum down the office chair that faced Isolde's desk, and faced away from the door so that only his head and shoulders would be visible from that vantage.

"I told you not to disturb me, girl," Isolde said ominously.  "What is it?"

"It's the president, Ms. Sigurdsen," Tina said in a very small voice. "He wants to know if you still need that meeting to discuss personnel actions?  He has a few minutes right now?"

Isolde seemed to consider that, and then scowled down at the man in her guest chair.  "Tell him I'm working on it.  Ask him if he could find a few moments for me after lunch?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tina replied quickly, and started to leave.

"Tina? Only come back if the answer is no. Now, do not disturb me again."

"Yes, Ma'am. No, ma'am."

~-~

Tina closed the door and rushed back to her ringside seat.  This was fun!  More than that, it was exciting being part of Isolde's game.

Isolde turned ice-cold blue eyes on her subordinate.  "Didn't I tell you to STAY WHERE I PUT YOU?" she yelled, grabbing the lobe of his ear using the nails of her thumb and forefinger and pulling him to his feet.  "It seems you can't do something even so simple as that!  Do you want to lose this job, Mr. Jefferson?"

"No, Ms. Sigurdsen! I really need the job."

"That's 'No, Mistress,' fool.  Okay, you get ONE. . . .LAST. . . CHANCE!  Screw up, and you're gone - Got it?"  He nodded, and winced as the motion made the blonde's sharp nails dig deeper into the flesh of his ear.  "I didn't hear you, Mister Jefferson.  I asked if you 'Got it?'."

"Yes, Mistress, I got it."

"All right, then, since you can't seem to stay put, I'll help you.  First, I want you to strip - down to the skin.  RIGHT NOW!" 

With great haste, Jefferson began getting out of his clothing as quickly as he could, given that his trousers and boxers had him nearly falling over.  "No wonder you can't do anything correctly, Jefferson! Evidently your Mother didn't see to your education properly.  Fold those garments neatly and be quick about it or you'll not sit easily for DAYS!"

Isolde was berating him for effect, now, Tina realized, and evidently the guy liked it on some level. He was fully erect by the time he'd managed to fold the last of his clothes to Isolde's demanding standards. He was directed to a coffee table against the wall between inner and outer office spaces, requiring Tina to switch cameras in order to continue to follow the action.  It was a very heavily built design with leather cushioning along the edges of the upper table.  Isolde and Tina had specially repositioned it just before they'd called down to let Jefferson.  As it was, anyone entering the room would have to get all the way in, and look around the door in order to see the table, or as Isolde had put it, anyone attached TO the table.

From a hidden wall locker, Isolde removed four leather cuffs which she attached to her sub just above each elbow and knee.  She positioned him so he was laying over the top of the table with his chest and stomach on the flat surface.  Then she attached turnbuckles to between the D-rings on the cuffs, so that the right knee was connected to the right elbow and the left elbow to the left knee beneath the table.  Isolde used an odd-looking hand tool to tighten the turnbuckles, carefully pulling the knees and the elbows together.  By the time she was finished, perhaps half a foot separated elbow from knee, and his thighs and upper arms were hugging the underside of the table top. Only his toes and fingertips could touch the floor, and then only to little benefit.  Finally, she added two bungie cords, attached to the turnbuckles on one end and to two of the table legs, so that the cords pulled the bound limbs outward, forcibly spreading the hapless victim's legs. Stretched out to his limit, his position provided the lovely Mistress easy access to both his dangling genitals and his ass.  He could, with a great deal of strain and effort, pull his limbs back together to protect his precious parts, Tina saw, but the unrelenting force of the bungie cords would ultimately win out, sooner or later.

"Hell, Jefferson, you call that a penis?" Isolde demanded from behind her straining submissive, using a long, thin leather crop to poke at his still rigid manhood.  He instantly lurched in an effort to close his legs protectively.  He managed to do it, but bare seconds later; the bungies began their inevitable contraction, leaving him open  to and helpless against whatever his Mistress had in mind for him.

"Now, we'll get on with that learning experience you weren't man enough to take standing still, Jeffie," Isolde said.  "Try not to yell too much.  Tina is SUCH a gossip, and believe me, you'll have every girl in the office, from the typing pool to the boardroom talking about your cute little ass and your tiny little dick.  Maybe even some of the boys.  Now THERE'S an idea! Want me to find you a boyfriend, Jeffie? Maybe a tough Dom to help you keep you on track?" With that, she lashed out, flicking the crop across his tautly stretched bottom, earning a squeal, but leaving no mark.

Tina marveled at the control Isolde demonstrated with that implement.  She knew, from her experience with DeeDee, that the crop could leave marks, and had done on her own bottom, that lasted a couple of days.  Isolde was GOOD!  

Suddenly, she stopped, and strode over to her desk.  She buzzed the intercom.  Tina answered immediately, "Yes, Ms. Sigurdsen?"

"Bring me a bottle of cold water, please."

Tina was in the room in about two minutes, and as planned, stopped just out of the line of sight to the bound man.  "Mr. Jefferson, do you want some water?"

He took a minute to realize that Isolde wasn't going to answer and that he had to.  "Umm, no, Miss, thank you all the same.  I'm . . . fine, here. . . just as I am."

Isolde closed the door and walked over to the chair that fronted the table cum spanking bench.  Sitting down, she began to sip from the bottle, her eyes watching him watch her.  She saw it in his eyes the instant he caught her "Basic Instinct" moment.  Languidly, she toed off one of her heels and put the balls of one stockinged foot up under his nose, forcing his head up so he was looking at her face and not her crotch.  "You aren't, by any chance, looking up my skirt, are you?" she asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice, before slipping her foot down to give him a little upward kick under the chin.  "And don't lie, Jeffie," she ordered as she resumed wiping his face her sole.  "Or you won't be able to sit until sometime next week!"

"Umm, Yesth, Mistresth," he said, sounding as if his head were stuffed - which it was - only with Isolde' s toes.

"Well, you must like looking," she observed as she reached out the crop to gently swat the crimson head of his erection, "because one of those doesn't lie."   She reached over and ruffled his still groomed hair.  "Good boy."  She rose from the chair and stripped off her skirt, tossing it negligently so that it fell over his head, effectively blinding him in any direction except straight ahead.  He could hear her rummaging around behind him, but could see nothing.  "I think that deserves a reward, Jeffie," There was the ominous and unmistakable snapping sound of a pair of latex gloves being donned, and Tina saw the sub go rigid.

Tina was becoming more and more engrossed in the scene, watching as the tall blonde dominatrice used something from a tube to lubricate her hands.  She reached down to the crack of her client's buttocks, and let him try to close up.  He almost managed it this time, but not quite.  Moments later she was carefully rubbing the gooey substance up and down his crease.  "Yes, since that pee-pee of yours is never going to do any girl any good, I think we'll just give you a little practice so you're ready for those boys, instead."  A shriek of dismay signaled her penetration of him.  "Ooooo, you like that, do you - feel how you're gripping and massaging my finger, Jeffie.  Oh, you're going to be SO popular - I can tell."

Removing her finger, she cautiously probed him again, while watching the reaction of his erection.  Tina could see it starting to flex in time to Isolde's stroking finger.  The tall blond removed her finger and picked up a long, thin dildo.  "I think you're ready for this, Jeffie, and if you're not, well, you will be.  Now hold still!"  She gave him a jab with tip of the sex-toy, and he went mad.  He pulled, he pushed, he danced, he wiggled - anything to make the slightest movement so she couldn't line the toy up to penetrate him.  She slapped him hard on the ass, "Stop that and stay still, you naughty boy!"  

She could have gotten it in, Tina realized, without any trouble.  He simply couldn't move that much, but that wasn't in the plan.  Isolde had told Tina to expect Jefferson would respond like this - fighting the consummation he devoutly desired.  Well, that just wasn't in the cards today, she thought smugly, as she saw the signal for her final cue.  Isolde strode to the desk and pressed the intercom call button.  "Tina, get your ass in here - I need you now!"

Tina hurried in, and closed the door behind her. "Yes, Mistress?" she asked, in the role now of submissive instead of the ditzy secretary.

"Get over here," Isolde snapped.  "I need some help here!"

Tina turned and saw the flesh and blood version of the man she'd seen on screen.  "Oh, Mistress, are we going to play with him?"

"No, you silly slut.  I'm trying to train him!  Look at that miserable excuse for a dick - he needs to learn to be the fuckee, because he sure as hell isn't going to be the fucker."

"Oh, that sounds like fun! What do I do??"

"Come over here and hold his head tight between your thighs, then bend over him and hold his ass apart!  I can't get him to stop wiggling!"

Tina did as ordered, being sure to use the reinforced tops of her stockings to give his ears a bit of a rub, before settling down to do as she had been ordered.  Tina had to give the guy credit - he kept fighting, despite orders and threats to the contrary, he didn't keep still.  She figured he'd have a bruise or two or three tomorrow, around his anus, as Isolde kept 'missing' her target with the hard plastic sex-toy.

"Oooohhh, Mistress Isolde, all his wiggling is, like, making me just totally wet between my legs," she cooed, and gave another shimmy and ear-rub to Isolde's willing victim.

"Everything makes you wet between the legs, slut," Isolde retorted, "And I'm getting tired of this nonsense.  You said you'd do what I told you to do, Jeffie, and you haven't!  So I guess you're lying to me again.  What did I tell you would happen if you lied to me?"

"You said I wouldn't sit for a week," came the muffled voice from under Tina's skirt. 
"Close enough!  Tina?  Jeffie here is about to get whipped for his failures -  maybe that will make him move enough to really get you off, slut."

"Oh, but Mistress.  The company president is here today, and I don't think your office is soundproofed on the wall to his office.  I mean, well Jeffie's kinda cute in a girly-sort of way, but he just doesn't look, you know, really tough to me.  I bet he just, like, majorly screams, you know?  Louder than me, even."

"Hadn't thought of that, slut.  Yeah, I think a baby-dick like him is going to scream.  Well, it's too bad, but I guess I'll just have to gag him.  You say he got you wet, slut?"

"Oh, yes, Mistress, my panties are just dripping! OOOOOooohhhhhhhhhh!" Tina groaned, suddenly squirming vigorously on Jefferson's head to fake an orgasm.

"Are they? Well, Jeffie, I guess you get a choice.  I have this lovely ring gag, but if you'd prefer, we can use Slut's wet panties. and a lovely leather strap to hold it in."

"Panties, please Mistress."

At Isolde's nod, Tina hopped off her perch and sat on the seat the dominatrice had recently vacated.  Palming the 'squirty thingie', she reached under her skirt and drenched them and herself with fake semen.  She lifted her bottom off the chair, making sure Jefferson had a clear view of her crotch, and pulled off the dripping panties, and showing off her own very hard erection.  "See, Mistress," she sighed, holding the panties out so that they dripped onto the top of the restrained man's head.

Jefferson took one look at Tina's hard-on, felt the warm thick liquid dripping on him and put two and two together.  "YELLOW!" he bellowed.  Isolde shot Tina a knowing smirk from behind her sub.

"I think we'll go with the ring gag, after all.  He doesn't deserve to have your juices, slut.  He hasn't earned them."

The gag was quickly installed.  Tina thought he looked like a hooked largemouth bass, and giggled, earning another smirk from the dominatrice.

This cropping was much more in line with what Tina had experienced under Mistress Deirdre.  As per plan, Tina stood in front of Jefferson, her penis swinging about freely and, to her surprise, still hard.  She hadn't planned on this being sexy, but it had been. She giggled again at the situation, finding the man's predicament and her role in creating it more than a little humorous.

The cropping slowly subsided, leaving the restrained man sweaty, shaking, and still hard as a rock.  Isolde set aside her crop and picked the dildo back up.  She teased him with it now, her free hand gripping and releasing his cock.

"Did I tell you, Jeffie, that Tina's dick will fit through the ring gag just fine?  Would you like to try," she asked, her voice offering both dark menace and promise.  He shook his head wildly, a sound like "OOOOOOHHHHH" issuing forth from him due to the gag making it difficult for him to make the 'n' sound and say 'no'.

"Well, you aren't fighting anymore," she said thoughtfully as she stroked his erection more quickly, "But you don't seem to be really relaxed about this - maybe you'd rather Slut do you?"

"Oh, Mistress, Can I?" Tina squealed, prancing around behind him.

Isolde changed from the hard plastic cock to a soft, lifelike silicone toy and puts that to his ass, "Okay, slut, that's right, and I've already lubed him up.  Just take a deep breath, and. . .".

Two things happened nearly simultaneously.  Isolde's stroking pushed him over the edge and he came with a roar of "AAAEeehhhhh-OOOOHHH!!" – which both women recognized as a ring-gagged Yellow-code.  Smiling with satisfaction, Isolde removed the sex-toy, and gentled her strokes, soothingly pulling the last dregs of orgasmic release from him.  

Tina stamped her foot at that.  "Well, darn it, Miss Isolde, Like, can't I still do it?  I, like, totally want to do that cute little butt!"

Jefferson began snapping the fingers of both hands in a repeated two-beat rhythm – which Isolde had told Tina was his gagged yellow code.  Well, she thought, at least we heard ‘Yellow’ correctly.

"Maybe next time, slut,” the dominatrice replied, as she stood up behind her sweating, submissive. “That is, if you've been good and he's been naughty."  Then Isolde winked at Tina, and motioned her to slip out of the room.  It was time for scene aftercare, and that was the responsibility of the Mistress in charge of the scene.

~-~

Still so aroused that her erection tented the front of her short skirt, Tina sat at 'her' desk watching the end-game between Mistress and slave on the screen of her computer.

Isolde, again fully clad in her skirt, had ordered her submissive to dress.  Now she stood before him, leaning against the front of her desk, arms crossed beneath her substantial bosom.  Her sub, still recovering from the scene's intense emotional and physical outpouring, sat - rather uncomfortably, Tina noticed - in the office guest chair.  "You came without permission, Mr. Jefferson," Isolde said, her voice much like that a teacher disappointed at having to award her pet student a grade of D-minus.  "You know the rules, and yet you didn't even ask for permission.  Care to explain why?"

"No excuse, Mistress," he replied.  "I was distracted by your secretary and was not paying attention."

"Exactly, and what are the consequences of such behavior, Mr. Jefferson?"
"I have to select a punishment card and comply with the card, or cease being allowed to attend you."

"Correct.  I see that you at least KNOW the rules, even if you do not seem to be capable of following them consistently.  Are you willing to accept the luck of the draw, Mr Jefferson?"

"Yes, Mistress, I am."

Isolde picked up a deck of what might have been ordinary playing cards from the desk, fanned them between her two hands, and offered the fanned deck to Jefferson.  He selected one and immediately looked at it.  Grimacing, he offered it to Isolde.  She read it, and smiled.  "Which do you select, Mr. Jefferson?  At least one week locked in a male chastity device which may only be removed by me during a session, or two months of forced abstinence from my presence and dungeon?"

"I will take the chastity," he said, with a small smile on his face.

That tall dominatrice moved behind the desk and retrieved a small box from one of the  drawers. This she handed it to her submissive. "Then go into the powder room and put this on.  I will affix my personalized plastic lock to it before you leave.  Remember, if there is an emergency that requires you to cut off the lock to remove the device, I expect to be called as soon as possible to be given the particulars."

~-~

Tina couldn't help staring at the man's crotch when he stopped by her desk to thank her for her participation and to leave a sealed envelope with her.  He saw her staring, and blushed to the roots of his restyled hairline, which made her giggle. Maybe he looked a little less flat, but she couldn't tell.  He left, and shortly thereafter, Isolde came out.

"That was like, totally COOL," Tina gushed, "I mean, like just frosty!"

"It went well," Isolde agreed, leaning a shapely hip on the corner of Tina's desk.  "We messed with his head, and he will not be quite so complacent about his trips into my little play-world.  He's not all that strange a combination.  He's almost bi-curious in that he really loves anal play, but at the same time, he's not able to make the leap to accepting that pleasure from anyone but a female.  I find a lot of hetero guys are like that once they get their bottoms broken in by a woman who knows what she's doing.  They just can't accept the final step in real life, even if it excites the hell out of them when they dream their deepest darkest fantasies."

"Well, you were just the ult in there.  I'm just, like, SO impressed."

"Hey, tone down the Val-speak, girl.  He's gone!" Isolde laughed.  "I accept that you're not going to jump my bones and blister my butt for me, okay?"

Tina giggled at that, and then relaxed.  "Okay.  But let me know if you change your mind about you butt.  I mean, anything to help, y'know?"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude - Reflections: Some Don't Like it Hot

Solange turned off the playback of the security video recording and sat back in her chair.  She hadn't realized she'd literally been on the 'edge of her seat' as she'd watched the recorded scene.  

Just as she had each of the other four times she'd watched it in its entirety.  From one perspective, she was forced to conclude that the experiment had not been a success, and yet, it had gone much the way she'd expected.  

The lack of success had not been because either participant had failed to give their best. Heavens, she mused, Deirdre had been at the top of her game, using every trick in her considerable repertoire to reach into her partner and pull him into that timeless time and placeless place called 'sub-space'.  The bottom in the scene had tried, too.  That was clear from the visual and audio evidence.  

It may well turn out to have been an error on her part, she thought, but she'd wanted to know how Tyrone Edwards, not any of his 'Tina-characterizations,' would react when bottoming in a scene.  What clearly had been an error, and only time would tell how major an error, had been Solange's choice of the type of scene and her choice of the Mistress who had orchestrated the 'experience' for Ty.

Tyrone had, indeed, tried very hard. He'd 'submitted' willingly and had endured every implement, every stroke.  He had gone beyond her expectations, clearly trying to find in the experience what he'd been told others found in this type of scene. Too far, she told herself, because he'd finally had to give DeeDee the red light stop-the-scene safe code.  The genital restraint DeeDee habitually used in major corporal sessions, primarily to protect his privates from any missed blows, had slipped.  The device had become painfully tight about his scrotum and testicles, which was potentially dangerous. Deirdre had correctly ended the scene immediately, freed her partner and signaled for the on-site nurse.  Fortunately no real physical harm had been done to the actor/trainee, but the potential damage this could cause to Solange's long-term plans might be considerable.

Well, now she knew for certain what she'd already suspected before watching the recording one last time. Not once during the entire scene had he become fully erect.  He'd nearly made it right at the very beginning, when he'd first seen DeeDee enter the playroom in all her fully leathered glory.  Of course, that wasn't surprising, Solange admitted. The perky little cheerleader-cum-whip mistress could pull wood from a dead man when she really dressed for effect, and she had done just that.  Solange wondered what Tyrone's reaction would be if he learned just how much extra they'd charge one of their regular clients for such a scene?

Shocked disbelief, probably.
A knock on her door roused her from her ruminations.  A glance at her computer monitor told her that, as usual, he was right on time. "Come in, Ty," she called, and smiled as he let himself into her office.  She indicated his usual chair opposite her desk, then noticed how carefully he settled his body down and resisted the urge to sigh. "Still so sore as that?" she asked.

The young man winced, and then smiled wryly.  "I'm okay once I'm stationary, and I'm okay once I've been moving awhile, but In between? I hurt . . . a lot."

"You waited too long to call an end to it, Ty.  I told you that there would be no salary penalty for using your safe code."

He shrugged, and the thoughtless movement cost him. "I know you and DeeDee told me that there are a lot of guys out there who get off on her stuff - that corporal and whip play? I guess I sort of kept waiting for that 'flying thing' to happen.  It didn't. I'll tell you up front, that since this is our weekly reflection on limits meeting?  No way am I one of those guys that get off on this!  I'd say that, from now on? Whipping and heavy stuff like that is a limit for me,  I won't hesitate to safeword if I so much as even SEE that long, what did DeeDee call it? Oh, yeah – that single tail thing." 

"I would agree with your assessment of heavy corporal play being a hard limit for you," Solange agreed carefully. "In my after-scene discussions with her, Deirdre indicated that at no time during the actual scene were you in the least aroused."

'Well," Ty demurred shyly, "Maybe a little when I first saw her, and during the hand and light paddle spanking.  She's good at that, if not as good as you are."

 "Yessss," Solange replied, stretching the word out, "You did seem to enjoy the spanking I gave you the other day.  As I recall, Tina made a rather large mess all over my gown in that training session.  And nary a finger touched her private parts, either."

Ty frowned in thought, "Yeah, but that was different."

Solange nodded. "Agreed, but what MADE the experiences so different?"

Ty opened his journal, and scanned a couple of pages filled with his handwriting. "Part of it, I think, was intent, and another part was the intensity."

"I think I understand the bit about intensity.  Explain what you mean by intent."

"You intended to arouse me, Solange," the young man said confidently. "You may not have provided much in the way of direct stimulation to my cock, but it felt like you were looking for, I don't know, a connection between my very warm ass and my erection.  Once you found it, you started teasing at that connection instead of just swatting me; playing around the 'magic spot', drawing the whole thing out.  That was pretty obvious, even in my then sensory-overloaded condition."

"I'll have to work on not being so obvious about such things," she murmured, but her eyes twinkled in obvious amusement at his observations. 

Encouraged by her acceptance, Ty continued, "Another thing, I think? Once you found it, and you were sure you'd found it?  Look, I don't know how I know this, but I'm positive you could have gotten me off that way anytime you wanted, and you DID want to, just not quite then. That's what I mean by intent.  All that role-playing in our scene? The stern school mistress, the naughty little school girl and all that?  Just window dressing for the main plot of your scene – your intent was to make me cum from that spanking.   And I didn't even mind the sore fanny afterwards, either."

"Hmmm, yes.  That odd, almost-female empathy of yours at work again, I see.  Well, you're correct. I DO rather enjoy getting my toys to soil themselves by methods such as that, when pain so clearly becomes pleasure. However, suppose I were to tell you that, by my orders, that was precisely the same 'intent' that Deirdre had for her training session with you?  She was to find the right tool and the means to push you into sub-space, and then beat an orgasm out of you."

"I didn't experience anything like that," he replied earnestly, wincing again as he instinctively shifted his position forward in his seat to make the point.  "I mean, I really like Deedee, and I know she likes me, so I knew she didn't go into that scene to really hurt me, okay? And I accept that there are guys who come here just so she can have at them. It's the other part I don't get, particularly after spending a not-very-pleasant hour in her keeping.  WHY do they do it, or rather, PAY her do that to them?  If freakin' hurts! Hell, it STILL hurts! I just don't get it."

"Obviously.  Ty, there are essentially two reasons a person submits him or herself to a session with someone like Deirdre.  The first reason is the one you tried to achieve, but evidently find yourself constitutionally unable to do – that is – find physical pleasure from the pain, to the point of climax and release.  And before you ask, let me assure you that, on any number of occasions, I have witnessed DeeDee accomplish just that, with only the use of her corporal implements and skills.  When she decides to combine the 'thud' with verbal and physical teasing, or better yet, a penis flogger, she can be devastating on the senses and psyche of someone who is in sub-space.  I've seen clients simply pass out from the force of the orgasm she pulls out of them."

"Oh, I believe you, Solange, I just don't believe that would ever be me!  I don't think I heard any teasing or felt anything but the strikes because I was too busy trying to control myself."  The older woman nodded her understanding.  "You said there were TWO reasons?"

"Actually, three, now that I think about it.  You did it because I told you to do it as part of your on-the-job training.  Others do it to, I guess prove something is the best description.  Most often, that type of submissive, for it almost always is a submissive, accepts such a scene to prove themselves to their dominant partner.  Like a knight in shining armor fighting a trial of some type to the honor of his or her lady fair."

"And getting beat all to hell doing it!" Ty blurted.  "Sorry."
Solange shook her head. "No need to apologize, for there's some truth in that. There are people within the BDSM community for whom the 'S' for Sadism part is very much integral to their sexual make up.  So long as their play is safe, sane and consensual, and does not go too near the edge, we accommodate them here at my dungeon.  DeeDee has the skill to take a submissive right up to that edge, yet no further.  Many experienced players know they are not nearly so accomplished, and so they come here for Deirdre to work with their submissive while the Sadist/Dominant partner assists or simply watches from the sidelines.  I'm told that knowing they are the reason their submissive accepts the scene is almost as good as doing it themselves," She shook her head. "But, truth to tell? I don't get that part, either."

"Like doing it to them yourself a whole lot more, eh?" Ty asked, grinning.

"That's not what I meant, although again, you are correct.  No, that level of play – the intensity as you called it - that doesn't work for me.  I want my subs going into places they wouldn't willingly go without me pressing them to go, but it is their heads I really want to mess with, not their bodies.  I want their emotions, not their endurance."

"I think, that if I was connecting with someone, a domme, who was really, really into that kind of stuff? Who needed that type of tribute?  It would fall into the category of irreconcilable differences.  I mean, I can see enduring pain for a goal, or against a real measurable challenge. You know, like training for a marathon, or one of those Iron Man things – that would hurt, but in the end, you'd have accomplished something.  You'd have won.  I'm not sure I could say the same about passively taking a beating to make my Lady Fair feel good.  Seems kind of, I don't know, transitory, and would have to be done again and again.  No, not for me!"

"Well explained. You know, I never thought of ordering a submissive to train for a marathon before." Solange's voice went dreamy as the image of herself on a bicycle, following a running man dressed only in shorts and road shoes with her favorite paddle carried conspicuously in the bike's basket.  "Lovely idea," she said, and then brought herself back.  "So, what do we say we've learned about you as a player in my little world, Tyrone?"

"I'm not going to be playing with DeeDee again, that's for sure!"

Solange laughed.  "Yes, I think we've established that you are not a masochist.  And I think, not a sadist either.  Neither am I.  Many of my Mistresses are not.  Being a Dominant is not synonymous with being a sadist, nor is being a submissive mean one is a masochist."

"But you and ShaJuana both use whips in your scenes – I've seen you – heck, I've FELT you!"

"True enough, but using them on our subbies' hides is not the focus of what either of us do in our scenes.  Look, let's take ShaJuana as an example since I'm far too modest to brag about myself. . ." She smiled at Ty's snort of laughter.  

"What are the primary aspects of Mistress ShaJuana Price's bag of tricks as a Domina?  First and foremost, our Juana is a cocktease of the first order.  She's absolutely gorgeous, knows it and knows how to use her gifts to drive men helplessly into lust. She thoroughly enjoys getting a client mad with desire only to deny them any form of release again and again throughout the scene.  Unfortunately for her clients, she is also an accomplished bondage Mistress, so there's not much they can do about her cockteasing ways or their ever growing frustration.  Sometimes she combines that with sensory deprivation, such as blindfolds and earplugs, or she'll use a steady patter of verbal teasing and abuse to key up the client further.  She also loves humiliation play with a client who gets off being forced to be the center of attention, supposedly against his will, and she's superb at forced femme play."

"No kidding!" Ty laughed.  "Never would have guessed that!"

"Scamp," Solange smiled affectionately.  "And, while ShaJuana does use a whip or some other corporal punishment implement in most of her scenes, it is usually no more than a prop – or a badge of office - something that says, 'I'm the Domme here, buster, so you better behave.'  Of course, she will give her subs a fanny slap or two, maybe swat their butts with a crop or paddle – we all do at some point or another – but it is never severe or intense.  Usually, it is nothing more than a 'wake-up' or a stinger.  Something to get the submissive's attention back on her program and to remind him who is in charge."

"I see. Well, Juana told me that she had to do all the scenes as a submissive. . "

"We prefer the term 'bottom' for a Mistress or a Mistress in training," Solange interrupted, and then apologized. "Sorry. Please continue with your question."

"Okay, she got everything done to her in her training, I guess that since I safeworded with DeeDee, I won't be working as a TV Domme or male Dom here very often?

"Would you still want to, Ty?"  She asked, carefully.

The look on his face was telling, she thought.  "I, ah, well – umm, don't you have any woman clients?"

"Some, although most are looking for a Mistress who will 'force' them to explore their bi-curiosity.  A TV Mistress, or even a dominant male, you say?" She allowed some time to pass as she looked to be considering that.  "You've already served as a TV submissive in some scenes and as attendant in others.  After your admittedly unpleasant experience with Deirdre, do you think you would be able to bottom as a male to a client, that is, to a female client?"

The answer was immediate.  "Only to a female, Solange, and only if it did not require any of the heavy stuff that DeeDee does."

"I see.  May I ask why you're looking to broaden your scope, as it were?  Are you becoming enamored of our lifestyle here?"

The face that looked back to her was open, earnest and very, very young.  She would have to remember that fact, she told herself.

"Partly.  The acting is fun and challenging, and of course, unlike anything I've ever done before.  The staging and the props – well, I'm using my training for that here even if I am way off-off-off Broadway.  I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to get to play Broadway – not as a leading man, anyway, and there are already a lot of good character actors out there.  Here at your dungeon? I get to star, or at least, be first supporting actor or actress, and I get to see lots of pretty girls in very sexy outfits.  But the biggest reason I'm thinking about something like that is I'm thinking of going back to school and I kinda need the money.

"School? Doing what?"

A livid blush colored the young man's face, so Solange knew this was important – very important – to him.  "Ummm, could I keep it a secret, at least until I know if. . .if it is possible?  I'm enough of a theater rat to want to avoid jinxing myself."

Solange smiled.  "Oh, all right.  But I think you sell yourself short as being just a character actor, but you know the world of theater better than I, I'm sure."

"Well, thanks.  Do you think it is possible there might be something in the idea – the me as the duty male/TV player for the house, that is?"

She waited again, looking pensive.  "There might be some profit to be had in that.  But you'll have to be able to work independently – without one of my ladies as the Domme-in-charge. Now that I think about it, there are some of the female clients I believe might consider a 'Mistress', but who would not want a 'real' woman in there with them.  Your, ah, male attributes would make you acceptable to them, even if you will look better in a short skirt, hose and heels than they will. Yes, I think there might interest, but it will mean advertizing your true gender to those who might consider such a service.  In addition, there is a great deal to know about safety, first aid and, believe or not, customer relations when you are the only person in the playroom with a client. "

"I knew that when I asked, Solange.  It's okay. So I'll need more training.  I can do it," Ty observed, lightly.

"Indeed you can and will, young man, for there are a couple of experiences you will need to face before you can take up such duties.," Solange said smartly, "And, I think, a final exam, as well."

"A what?"

"A final exam, my dear, to prove you are ready to be in charge of a client's submission and their pleasure," the smile she gave the young actor was one of her best - feline, predatory and a lot frightening. "And now that I think of it, I do believe that I have just the opportunity for Mistress Antinea to pass her final exam and then win her spurs. . . "

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 10: A Mid-Autumn Day Dream-Day
By Tigger c2008

"Please move more smartly, Tyrone," Solange said sharply, "We have a great deal to accomplish before your playroom session today."

Bemused by his mentor's obvious haste, Ty stole a glance at his watch.  "But, Solange, it's just barely past eight in the morning! That scene doesn't start for another six hours yet!"

"No, your session starts in six hours, but the entire scene starts now," the regal Mistress replied, a slightly scary smile curving her full lips.

"We'll be in Prep Room 8 today," she continued, surprising him down to his toes. Despite his short time working at the dungeon, he’d learned just how rarely that prep room was used.  In fact, he'd only seen it occupied twice. The first time had been when a high profile visiting Domina had made use of one of the dungeon’s playrooms and had wanted to see personally to her submissive's preparations. The other time had involved a wife-mistress who had relaxed in there watching DeeDee work over her subby-hubby on the closed circuit television system.

They reached the room and Solange entered first, and then made a grand gesture of waving him into the room "My dear, the experience of your lifetime awaits you!"

Ty cautiously entered the room and made a quick scan of the room. He took in the dainty lingerie laid out on the duvet of a canopied bed.  There were elegantly strict heels on the floor beside the bed.  Then he saw the rest of the costume, sealed in plastic, hanging from the canopy's frame, and felt the world around him slip away.  He didn't even hear the door latching behind him as he realized exactly what Solange intended for him.

"You have got to be kidding me!?!"

"As I have told you on numerous occasions, slave, I do not EVER kid.  And from this moment until you are told the session is over, you are in scene and the only way it ends before you are released by the Mistress-in-charge is to use your safeword. Do you understand?"

Ty looked around the room one more time, swallowed hard, and then, resigned, sighed, "Yes, Maitresse, I understand."

"Do you consent?"

Now, Ty swallowed, and momentarily closed his eyes.  He needed the money or he'd lose the opportunity before it was even fully offered.  He nodded. "I consent, Maitresse."

"For the record, speak you safeword."

"Maitresse, my safeword is 'Shakespeare,'" he answered solemnly.

"One last thing, Mr. Edwards.  You understand that you do not have a caution word in this scene?  The play continues at the discretion of the Mistress in charge and at the pace she sets until the scene ends, either by her order or your safeword.  Do you understand that?"

All or nothing, he told himself.  "I understand, Maitresse."

"Very well, then.  Strip out of those ridiculous clothes and go use what I've laid out for you  in the bath to remove all your body hair – everything below your eyes.  It has been entirely too long since you have properly depilitated yourself.  Then, we'll see to your bubble bath."  When Ty hesitated – just slightly – Solange snapped. "Move it, young man, unless you would prefer to experience an all over Brazilian body waxing while strapped into a torture rack!  I have three Mistresses standing by in the Torquemada Room, just itching for the opportunity to help prepare you!"

Ty moved it!

~-~

"Isn't this just a little over the top, Maitresse? Even for here?"

Solange fought back a smile, and continued brushing out her slave's now long blond hair.  "Even for here?" she asked, in offended, exaggerated tones. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"All. . . .THIS," Ty replied, gesturing with one hand to indicate the entire room, "I don't get why it's necessary.  I mean, I agreed to. . ."

"You agreed to do this scene," Solange replied, her tones implacable. "I told you that I would script this experience for you.  I think what I have planned for you is more than reasonable given what you claim you want to do here. Lord above, slaveboy, I even permitted you your choice of the attending dominatrice.  Let me tell you, there was quite the hue and cry over that leniency on my part. I even received a petition, signed by almost every Mistress on the dungeon's staff, requesting that I rescind that concession, and instead, hold a lottery of some type with you as the prize.  That way, all my ladies could have had a chance to 'help you' through this experience.  Why, two of my ladies went so far as to offer to bribe me for the opportunity to be the one working you today!  I must say, it quite tore my heart out to disappoint them, particularly poor Deirdre," Solange said in a light, teasing tone.

"DEEDEE??!? Maitresse, she's not going to . . "

Solange became quiet, and there was none of the tease about her any longer.  "I would not violate your trust that way, Mr. Edwards, nor ignore the limit we negotiated regarding you being attended by Deirdre.  You should know better than that by now."

Ty's face reddened under the heavy foundation coat Solange had applied to him.  "I'm sorry, Solange.  You're right, I should have known better.  I do know better.  It's just this whole Cecil B. DeMille production you've laid on is messing me up."

"Accepted," she purred, putting down the brush.  She walked over toward the tall armoire.  "It's almost time for the second act of my extravaganza," she paused at the door and looked back at the face reflected to her in the dressing mirror.  "Just remember your role.  You are a cross-dressed male, much as you were in our first scene.  You, Tyrone Edwards the actor, are not portraying a woman in this drama.  You are portraying a male character who is pretending to be a woman.  Additionally, every other character in this drama knows up front that your character is pretending and will react to him as such. This is the role most female clients will expect from you when they pay for such services as you are about to demonstrate that you can provide them."

"Yes, Maitresse," the cross-dressed male replied in a squeaky, patently overdone falsetto. 

"Very good, then let's put the finishing touches on your outfit, shall we?" La Maitresse asked, as she returned to him, a length of white lace streaming from her fingers.

~-~

Solange hummed Mendelssohn the entire walk up to the specially prepared play room.  "Have fun, dear," she whispered before planting an affectionate, almost motherly kiss on Ty's powdered cheek.  "I truly do want this to be fun - for both of you." Then she slipped out and closed the door, leaving him alone.

He wondered what time it was, but he didn't have a watch.  Brides, he mused, even cross-dressers rigged out as brides, didn't wear watches.  Moving carefully so he wouldn't trip himself by catch the long white gown's train on one or both of the high heels, he moved over to the floor length mirror on the other side of the huge bed.

It had taken Solange four attempts, working the back laces up and down the corset, to tighten the white satin foundation sufficiently that the gown actually fit him.  Ty had never before been laced quite so tightly, and had even needed to sit down once toward the end of the last pass due to shortness of breath. Solange had managed to squeeze so much off his waist that he appeared to be wearing the hip and fanny pads – even though he wasn't.  Those had not been a part of his costume for they would have, according to Solange, ". . . gotten in the way of 'thing'."

Ty just bet they would. 

Solange had also had a great time telling Ty in entirely too much detail what distinguished the design of this particular gown from any other very tight, long-skirted, white dress.  A bride, she had assured him, would be expected to  know and be very interested in such details.

Looking into the mirror, he could see that the bloody thing was strapless - obviously.  What else was there? Oh yeah, a cinched, pleated bodice with a drop waistline.  Well, he wasn't all that certain about 'dropped' anything, but Solange had sure cinched him, and yes, he could see the pleats in the bodice (that was the part that went around his chest, right?), too.  Looking over his shoulder at his right hip, he could see that rosette gee-gaw, not to mention the VERY full skirt, but he didn't know and couldn't really care less what made the train 'church-length'. . .or was that 'cathedral length?' Lord only knew 'cause he sure as heck didn't.  And . . and what the hell was Tulle, anyway???!

It was at that point, he noticed in the mirror that there was something strange about his face.  Moving closer, he tried to figure out what it was that was bothering him.  Certainly the make up had been applied expertly -  by Solange herself who was nothing if not expert - but there was something wrong about it, something almost, well, garish. . .

Ty's eyes snapped wide.  "That's IT!" he yelped as he took in the totality of what Solange had done to his face.  The colors were all wrong for his skin tones and blond hair, and Solange would never make such a basic error.  Which meant, of course, that she'd done it intentionally for effect. Her face was much too well defined. The various cosmetics had not blended at all and were much too thickly applied, to boot.  He looked like a very sexy clown in a wedding dress!  All he needed was white face-paint!

What had been Solange's intent, for there could be not question that this. . . this caricature of femininity was completely intentional on her part?

Ty thought hard about that question as he continued to study Solange's artistry in the mirror.  The only time he'd looked anything like this garishly overdone was when he'd done his own face for the French Maid scene with Juana and Maitresse Solange.  And then he'd been? Oh yeah, in the role of a boy pretending to be a girl. . . just like Solange had told him to be now.  Before, in the prep room, he'd been too overwhelmed by the whole "Mother and the Bride" pre-wedding experience Solange had orchestrated to take in what she'd done to his face.  Crap, but when was the last time he'd had a bubble bath, let alone one lasting a whole hour?  No wonder he was so off balance.

Which of course, was precisely her Dommely intent.

Okay, so now he had noticed.  Stepping back from the mirror, Ty again started, this time in earnest, to become his character.

Acting Dominant
Interlude - Romeo's Juliette. . . or Vice Versa?

"So-LANGE, I don't feel so very good! I think I'm going to hurl – right here, right now!!"

La Maitresse smiled up at her pacing, half dressed colleague.  "It's the bride who's supposed to have nervous-tummy butterflies, dear, not the groom," she teased.  "You're supposed to be snorting and pawing about like a bull in terminal rut.  Particularly since you don't have to worry about performance anxiety or . . . any, how shall I put this delicately? Ah, I know, any dysfunction erectally."

Juana spun about and glared down at the seated and composed older woman.  "Screw THAT!  This is just SO wrong.  I shouldn't even be considering this.  Ty's my FRIEND, dammit!  I could so mess that up with this!  WHAT WAS I THINKING!?!?"

"Oh, I suspect it had something to do with jumping his bones, dear, so I expect you to screw him instead of whatever 'that' is," Solange offered helpfully.

"SOLANGE!!" The black Amazon Mistress stopped pacing and began shedding the outfit she had been donning mere moments ago.  "I don't think I can DO this!"

"All right," Solange agreed easily, hope flaring inside her.  "We'll postpone this . . . get another Mistress in here to do the scene.  Deirdre's out - Ty's leery of her, and besides, I agreed to a 'no-scene-with DeeDee' limit for him after their last get-together.  Isolde could do it, or. . or, I know, Bettina!  I usually have my newbies start with her, anyway, because they often need to be broken in gently; something at which she is very good. Hmmmm."

The older woman saw hope warring with resistance in her young friend's eyes.  "It is a solution, dear," she said, her voice now very gentle and completely devoid of any teasing.  "But it is not the correct one. You know that you should be the one to do this.  He asked for you and after you agreed, I promised him it would be you."

The lovely brown eyes filled at that, "But, Solange, what if I hurt him?  Or worse, what if he cracks on me in there – BLAMES me, when push comes to shove?  I could lose him.  He's my best friend and I could lose him!"

"Lovers should always first be friends, dear," the older woman said softly as she gathered the now sobbing girl into her arms.  "And lovers are what you're going to become, if you strip away all the glitz, props and games - you're going to be lovers.  Certainly not in the normal way of such things, but in a way that works here for women like you and me.  Besides, who wants to be merely normal, anyway?"

"But what if . . if he doesn't want me?" the taller girl said, her tears still thickening her voice.

"He already does, or he wouldn't have asked for you.  You're gorgeous, but you're not the prettiest or the sexiest Domme in my stable. He asked for you because you're his friend, Juana.  He knows what this is about, and you're the one he asked me for.  He likes you, too, but more than that, he trusts you.  And yes, he wants you, too.  He has ever since he 'neebled' your boob, if not well before that!"

"Ya think?" 

"I know.  Now, go fix your face and get dressed.  Your bride is waiting!"  Solange gave her friend a bracing swat on her butt, urging her to get moving.

ShaJuana slowly moved back to her discarded shirt and shrugged back into it.  "Ummm, how does he look?  In the bride's dress, I mean," she asked as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. 

"Here," Solange replied, pulling a slip of paper from her pocket.  "I made him pose for bridal photos as part of the morning's entertainments." 

There was a noticeable trembling in the fingers that accepted the computer generated four by six inch glossy.  The picture showed a somewhat voluptuous blonde in a gorgeous white gown - bare shouldered, tight bodice flowing into a wide, floor-length skirt.  Her makeup was really overdone, but that was not a surprise given the scene Solange had laid on for Ty and Juana.

"Oh my god," the tall Mistress breathed, staring even harder at the photo as if she were trying to pick out every tiny detail. "Mine!" and it was a growl of feminine possessiveness that made Solange almost sorry she'd shown it to the girl.

Juana tucked the picture into the breast pocket of the ruffled shirt, and then reached for the jacket, leaving her shirt collar undone and discarding the bow-tie.  "The, ah, props in the usual place?" she asked.

Nodding, Solange took the tailed coat herself and held it out to help Juana slip it on.  "In the top drawer of the main dresser.  Your favorite style, too."

"How big?" Juana asked, shooting the shirt's cuffs as she turned around to face Solange.

They both knew what she wanted to know.  Solange only shrugged.  "Big enough," was her non-committal reply. "He has to know, dear, exactly what he'll be getting into if we really bring him into our menu of offerings in that capacity. Or more importantly, what will be getting into him. The clients will expect to be allowed more than baby-toys when they play with him."

"But we usually break the newbies slow - get them used to having something in their asses before we go to the full strap-on butt-fuck! You know - enemas, gradual stretching - that kind of thing first."

"Well, if he has any sense - and we know that he does - he'll have done as I directed last night and used the enema kit I gave him.  That nozzle is about the size of a number 2 plug – not to mention he's walking around right now with a number three I just put in him. ShaJuana, CHILL, okay? You've handled virgins before.  You'll do just fine."

"Yeah, but will Ty?"

Solange gave an unladylike snort.  "I expect you'll BOTH do fine.  Ready?"

Juana took a deep breath, and then another.  "Guess so.  Let's do this thing, then."

Solange took her friend's arm and gave her a little shake.  "Let's go do this thing WELL, dear," she said firmly.  "And if that boy doesn't faint from pure pleasure at some point in the next couple of hours? Well, I'll be very disappointed because you are that damned good!"

Juana started for a moment, and then looked down into Solange's clear, grey eyes.  "Thanks," she said, and then headed for the stairs that would take her up to the boudoir playroom where her bride awaited.

~-~

Solange peaked around the stairwell's corner and was relieved to find the corridor empty. There would be no witnesses who might question her purposes as she slipped into the playroom floor's electronic surveillance office.  

Experienced fingers flipped a number of switches, powering up the covert video and audio systems that she’d installed to ensure that all BDSM play in HER place was conducted safely and with the full consent of all players involved. Seating herself at the main control console, Solange powered up the bank of monitors on the wall immediately opposite the front of the console.  Moments later, the surveillance systems were configured so that each of the four cameras hidden in the boudoir playroom was feeding its own monitor.  

“Damn!” she snarled as she took in the main camera display.  ShaJuana and her ‘bride’ were clearly displayed on the forty-two inch wide-screen, facing each other uncertainly from opposite sides of the ornately decorated room with the huge marital bed between them.  It was like some kinky version of a Rock Hudson/Doris Day romantic comedy movie.  “DAMN!” she repeated.

She had not wanted this scene. She did not want this scene.  WHY had she ever opened her fool mouth?? The instant – the VERY instant - she’d seen the look on Ty's face after she’d told him what his next training experience would entail, she’d realized this was a disaster waiting to happen.  And worse? Just about everything she’d done since to try to prevent the scene from going forward had done nothing positive and more often than not, had made things worse! 

It just proved that every well intentioned act was fraught with unintended consequences. Solange had intended for Ty to back out the instant he’d understood what would be required of him in this scene.  She’d been so certain he'd drop the idea, she’d magnanimously offered him his choice of her resident Dommes as Mistress in charge of the session when she’d explained what he should expect during the scene.  Just so he'd see how 'fair' she was being about the whole deal.

Then, having dropped that in his lap, she’d waited expectantly for the safeword she knew HAD to be the next sound out of his mouth.  

Only, instead of yelping out a choked ‘Shakespeare’, Ty had simply said “When?”

And then, things had only got worse! Ty had requested ShaJuana for his 'groom.'  Even in her worst-case scenario imaginings, Solange had never dreamed he'd select his best friend to pluck his cherry.  Now she had a Mistress who was on the verge of a panic attack, working with a sub who had absolutely no idea of what might be in store for him.  Worse, that panicky Mistress was working with a sub who was predisposed NOT to use his safeword. For reasons she could not even begin to guess, Solange knew that Ty was prepared to accept any pain or humiliation she'd allow in her house because the additional earning power he might gain from it was so important to him.  

If that wasn't a recipe for disaster, she didn't want to know what could make it any worse.  Now, she had to be here, invading the privacy of what should be a special, first time intimacy, because she had to be ready to do. . . what??!?

She only wished she knew . . .

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 11: What's My Motivation?
by Tigger c2008

The sound of the door handle turning behind him had Ty nearly jumping out of the shoes Solange had told him were 'mules'.  All Ty knew was that they lacked any heel straps or backs to keep them securely on his feet, and were high enough to feel dangerous. He somehow managed to keep his balance as he turned to watch the slowly opening door across the ornately made bed.

He nearly gaped when he got a clear look at ShaJuana.  She'd slicked her usually curly hair back so that it clung tightly to her head, imitating a male comb-back style, with the bulk of her wild mane tied back behind her.  She wore a tuxedo jacket and slacks in a very becoming burgundy over a ruffled pink shirt.  The outfit was patterned after the classic groom attire, but were clearly tailored to emphasize that the wearer was all female - gorgeous, stacked and damned proud of herself.  As did her cosmetics - for despite her role as the groom in this little psychodrama, her face was all that was powerfully feminine.

Ty felt his groin begin to tighten as he watched her enter the room closing the door behind her.  Damn, he thought, if only our positions in this were reversed . . . 

But they weren't, and the two of them were here for a purpose - one that Ty had personally requested.  Okay, so he hadn't fully considered all the ramifications and consequences, but dammit, he needed the money if he was going to be able to pay the damned tuition without mortgaging his future and his soul.

Why wasn't she making the first move, he wondered, as ShaJuana just stood there, in front of the door staring at him.  Wasn't she supposed to be the Domme in this scene?!?  Shouldn't she be, well, taking charge and giving orders?

~-~

Solange swallowed hard against the gorge rising in her throat.  If something didn't happen quickly, she'd . . .she'd. . .

Hell, she didn't know what she would or could do. There didn't seem to be anything she could do that wouldn't mess things up worse than she already had done. 

DAMMIT, she could lose BOTH of them and it would be her fault.

Maybe she could yell fire and get them to evacuate. . . .

~-~

Maybe, Ty thought, someone would set a fire and they could just evacuate. . .

What was he was supposed to do now, dammit?  Help her?  Didn't Solange say that some of the women he'd have to work with as the duty male slave wouldn't really know what to do or how to do it? Only that they wanted to do it to some guy?  Well, hell, he grumbled inwardly, couldn't they have at least taught HIM how to do it first? 

The only thing he'd ever had . . . well, back there was the enema nozzle he'd used last night because Solange had told him that a good cleansing would make today's experience easier.  Oh, and not to forget that damned butt plug Solange had inserted this morning that reminded him of its presence with every step he took. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? Toss up his skirts, shake his booty at Juana and coo over his shoulder, ", , , lookin' for a good time, sailor?"  Yeah, that would work.

NOT!  It simply wasn't fair to expect a total virgin at this to do all the work his very first time! He sure hoped Juana agreed with his assessment of 'fairness' because, truth to tell, he was just a little bit terrified right now and WAITING for ShaJuana to DO something wasn't making his life any easier!

Hell, he'd ASKED for ShaJuana because he was pretty sure she knew what she was about in this kind of deal as much because he trusted and liked her.  He expected that she'd know enough to make . . . IT as easy as possible for him.

Several more tension-laden seconds passed, and still the ebony goddess did not make a move to initiate anything.  Okay, he thought, she's just going to keep waiting so I am forced to conclude that this must be part of Solange's test, too. Damn her, anyway!  

So what to do next?  A wry grin crossed Ty's ruby-red lips as a thought came to mind. Well, he told himself, you can't make love fully clothed, so. . .

Kicking off the uncomfortable and potentially dangerous shoes, Ty glided around the bed toward ShaJuana on white-stockinged feet.  "Hello, darling," he piped in the abysmal falsetto that Solange had approved, "I've been waiting for you to help me with my gown.  I can't reach all those teensie little buttons."  He turned his back to Juana, and pulled the veil and blond tresses out of the way.  "Undo me, please?"

~-~

Solange almost began to breathe again.  Ty wasn't fully in character, per se, which was a concern, but not nearly as big a concern as ShaJuana not giving him a foil from whom to take his cues. Well, he had taken the initiative to get things started, which at least was something positive.  Perhaps now the ninny would remember HER role in this scene and get on with it.

But she didn't.  

Solange shifted cameras and zoomed in on ShaJuana's face - and felt her heart nearly stop.  The woman was terrified - worse than she'd been in the prep room.

And now, she was alone with that terror.

This was Solange's worst nightmare - a Mistress completely out of control of a emotion-charged scene - only it was worse than that.  ShaJuana was deeply involved with this submissive on both personal and emotional levels, and this scene was heading in a direction that might actually damage that budding relationship.

In truth, Solange admitted to herself, Juana had NEVER had control of this scene, and she should have seen that in the prep room.  Instead of prodding the girl to get on with a scene she clearly had deep reservations about, Solange should have used those reservations as reasons the girl would have accepted to put a stop to the scene before it really started. She could have used any reason for Ty so long as Juana would accept ending it.  "Sorry, dear, but Juana is sick - some type of stomach virus or such - and can't do the session today.  And no, there are no other Mistresses here with the time or preparation to do this properly. I'm so sorry, after all the time you've spent getting ready, but we'll just have to postpone it for now."

Postpone it FOREVER if Solange had her way, and she'd have had the benefit of more time to do just that!

What had she been thinking when she'd agreed to ShaJuana for this scene?

~-~

He didn't feel any fingers tugging at those tiny buttons. Cautiously, Ty looked back over his shoulder and was stunned to see glistening tear-tracks streaming down Juana's cheeks.  "Juana?" he asked, reaching out to take her hands in his, and was surprised at how cold and stiff hers were.  Moving quickly, he led her over to the opulent bed and urging her to sit.  "Are you all right?"

"I. . . I can't . . .do. . ." she rasped, clearly fighting to gain control of her emotions.  "Can't. . do this."

Ty felt like he'd been punched in the gut.  He'd asked for ShaJuana because, well, she was ShaJuana.  Solange had said this Mistress-ing stuff was part of his friend's basic personality and identity, and he'd hoped she would see this as a sort of gift knowing that it was not part of his.  Or at least, it had not been up until now.  

Only she wasn't going to take the gift.

"You don't want me?" he asked, before the words had even formed fully in his mind.

That got a reaction.  Juana's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped in shock.  "Not WANT YOU? What, are you nuts!?!"

Ty had no idea what to make of that.  Maybe she just didn't want the responsibility of being his first, given the heretofore 'just-friends' nature of their relationship.  He should have asked her first so she could have said no, but he'd told Solange he wanted her.  Maybe that was it.  He'd wanted her because they were best friends and he trusted her.  It might be that she didn't want to mess that up and was worried that doing this with. . .TO him might? "Ummm, you want me to ask Solange to get another Domme to, uh, break me in, first?"

Suddenly, six-plus feet of enraged Amazon was off the bed, towering over him, staring down at him, her nostrils flaring, her eyes flashing fire. "ARE YOU NUTS?" she repeated herself, nearly deafening him.  "Any other bitch comes near you like that and I will have her ass!"

Thoroughly confused now, Ty muttered, "I thought we were supposed to be talking about you having my ass." and found himself eye-to-eye with ShaJuana, his feet dangling inches above the carpeted floor.

Heat raged between the two pairs of eyes, and it was the brown pair that broke away.  Juana slowly lowered her friend to the floor, and tried to gather herself.  "You're right," she said softly, and then went to the armoire.

Ty watched as she withdrew a mass of leather straps and a rather iridescent purple dildo.  It was, with the exception of the color, fairly lifelike. It was also, he thought as his bottom clenched spasmodically about Solange's plug, much larger than either device he'd used last night or this morning in preparation for this day's experience.  

His attention was diverted from the purple monster by Juana jerking open the armoire's  other drawers, and furiously searching each one in turn.  He thought he heard her mumble something like, "Where's the other one?" 

What other one? Other what? What was Juana talking about, he wondered to himself.

~-~
"It's not there because someone - ME - stupidly decided not to put it there," Solange growled to herself.  Even as she watched the two young people, her finger tightened ever so slightly on the switch that would signal all off duty staff that a scene had gone bad and assistance was required immediately.  ShaJuana had made the move to the armoire for the dildo and its harness, but the lack of the smaller toy she'd expected to find and then to slip into the harness once Ty's back was turned had undone all the good Ty's 'topping from the bottom' intervention had accomplished. Solange was now absolutely certain that it was simply a case of too much, too quickly for both of them.  

It was obvious that ShaJuana was having issues with the selection.  What would she do, Solange wondered.  How would she proceed?  In Solange's opining, there were three possible courses of action, two of which held some hope of salvaging this mess.

ShaJuana could simply end the scene with the intent to reconvene later, and take personal charge of the preparations so that everything would be to her satisfaction.

She could simply pick up the phone and have someone bring the dildo or dildos she wanted to use in this session. Under other circumstances, that was precisely what Juana would do.  She was, after all, the dungeon's most experienced 'cherry-picker' as that skill was a natural adjunct to the forced-femme play for which the black goddess was so well known.

Or she could do exactly what she was doing - nothing, which in point of fact was less than nothing because doing nothing was making things worse for both players. 

Solange was almost certain that she would have to step in and end this debacle before any real damage could occur.

Or would she, she thought as she continued to study the scene playing out before her on the screen.  There was something else happening in there. . .but what she asked herself?  Something she was sensing in the dynamic between the two but couldn't quite see. . .

Ty was clearly unnerved by the toy in Juana's hands, but. . . but he wasn't repulsed by it! And by god, he should have been!  It was too damned large NOT to unnerve - hell, frighten - a novice.  Why wasn't he having knicker-fits at the thought of having to accommodate that monster?  Her finger still on the panic-button on her desk, Solange leaned closer to the monitor, trying to figure out what it was that she sensed in there.

Then, she saw it! No, Ty wasn't repulsed by the toy ShaJuana held in her hands because his attention was no longer on that oversized fake cock.  

He was focused on ShaJuana!

~-~

ShaJuana's reaction to the things she'd removed from that drawer was setting off alarm bells in Ty's head.  She'd said she wanted him! And there was no doubt in his mind she'd meant that.  She'd also said that she kick the ass of any other Mistress who might be asked to give him this test - again, he had no doubt that she meant that.

So why were they both still dressed?  Why was she staring at that dildo and harness like she'd just uncovered a weapon of mass, or was that ass, destruction?

WHY wasn't SOMETHING happening?!?

Every empathic instinct he possessed went on full alert; telling him that this was just wrong.  It sure as hell was NOT fun, and hadn't Solange assured him that it was supposed to be fun?  Juana did not look like she was going to have fun, and if she wasn't having fun, Ty didn't see any way - AT ALL - that he was going to have fun, either.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Friendship counted more than money any day.

"ShaJuana?" he called, but she didn't react to his voice.  Instead, she just kept staring at the harness.  Grimly, Ty strode over to his tall friend, snatched the toys from her hands and tossed them into a far corner of the room.  "ShaJuana!" he barked louder.  This time, she looked down at him, but there was still befuddled confusion in her chocolate brown eyes.  "Shakespeare."

~-~

Solange nearly cheered.  "Thank you, God," she breathed as she reached for her house phone.  She needed to get those two out of those outfits as quickly as possible and into her office where she could somehow try to spin this to both their benefits.

"Thank you, God," she repeated.

~-~

"Wha . . .? What did you say?" ShaJuana finally got out, sounding like she was just waking up.

"Shakespeare.  Red Light!  Stop Code.  Whatever," Ty said,taking Juana's hands back into his own.  "I'm not sure what is wrong here, but we can't do this.   For whatever reason, you're not ready, and I just realized, neither am I.  I thought I was, but I'm not."

The tall woman's shoulder began to shake.  "I'm sorry, Ty," she cried.  "Solange said you wanted the extra money for something, but I just couldn't get my head around this.  I wanted to - hell, I want YOU . . .but. . .but I just couldn't . . .not now . . . here. . .I mean. . . "

Ty put a finger to Juana's full lips, "Shhhh," he said soothingly as he gently led her to the bed.  "Lie down," he ordered, and then laid down beside her, holding her as she cried.  "It's okay.  I don't think I could have, either, and I'm glad it was you here to see me wimp out instead of DeeDee or Isolde."

"Don't try to kid a kidder, boy," Juana grumbled, her face cuddled into Ty's bared shoulder.  "You saw that I was a mess and didn't trust me to be in charge of breaking in your butt."

Ty pulled back from her, and scooted down to look her directly in the eye.  "Now, that is just SO wrong, and I won't have you saying or thinking that.  I trust you implicitly, or I wouldn't have requested you.  Now that I think about it, and now that we've made this attempt, I will tell you this."

He waited for her to quirk her brows in query.  "IF I do this - and that's a pretty big 'if' given how I'm feeling right now - you, my dear ShaJuana, are the only person I'm going to accept as my first lover that way.  You know why?"

"Why?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"Because we HAVE already come this far together, and I think we need to see it through together, but more than that?  I don't want to be responsible for the surely fearsome ass-kicking you'd give some other poor hapless Domme who happened to be the one sent in to do me in your place."

That earned him a watery giggle and a rib-cracking hug from his friend.  Then they simply laid there on the satin comforter for a long time, locked in each other's arms, saying nothing and needing to say nothing.

A knock on the door roused them.  Ty called out, "Enter."

The door opened to admit Solange.  "Well," she asked softly.

"I safeworded," Ty replied as he rose from the bed.  "We weren't ready."

"We?" Solange asked, her voice neutral.

"We," Juana answered firmly.  "We need to talk about this some more, the three of us."

Inwardly relieved, Solange still played her part without giving away what she had seen. "The three of us?  I thought this was Ty's decision and my approval."

"I'm in on the decision now, and the approval, too," Juana replied.  "Like I said, we need to talk."

"Very well.  Go get changed, the pair of you. Come to my office and we'll have some tea.  I suspect that Ty is rather hungry just now," a smiling Maitresse said before slipping out of the room.

"Ummm, Juana?" Ty said, pulling on his friend's coat sleeve.

"Yeah, Ty-RONE?" she answered, some of her normal sass back.

"I, ah, still need help with the bloody buttons on this damned gown.  There have to be a hundred of them and I'm just not that flexible.  And then, there's this cursed corset!"

"Gee, ya mean I get to strip the bride anyways?"  

Juana wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the satin-covered pillow Ty sent flying at her in retaliation.

Acting Dominant
Interlude - More Rehearsal Needed

Later that day, after Ty and ShaJuana had both left for home, Solange unwound in her private office with a large snifter of brandy.  All things considered, these new plans suited her better than she had any right to hope for, given the potential disaster she'd nearly had on her hands.

Essentially, Juana was going to instruct Ty on woman-on-top anal play privately, and inform Solange when, in her opinion, Ty was ready to work independently with female clients.  She'd given them a toy-box with everything she thought they might need during their off-site 'training.'  

Training, Solange giggled like a school girl at the word.  Sure, they'd be training.  In any case, they'd be going slower, but as Juana had pointed out during their little after-scene critique over tea and scones, that was the way these things were SUPPOSED to be done. That way, the sub got used to the idea that such intimacies could be both natural and pleasurable for both participants.  

For her part, Solange had agreed to increase Ty's salary to nearly what he would have made as her on-staff TV switch while he underwent this training with Juana.  It wasn't as if he wasn't worth every penny she'd pay him just for all the other work he'd been doing around the place.  

So, both would still be working for her in the dungeon! She had not, as she'd feared she might, lost two valuable employees.  Better still, the increased intimacy the planned training would entail suited Solange's other purposes very well indeed.

Truthfully, Ty's surprisingly intuitive response to the day's crisis was a large part of why she'd been willing to increase his pay.  He'd sensed something was wrong, and had attempted to fix it  while keeping within the scene's proposed dynamic. Part of that, she thought, was that acting-honed sensitivity he had to the emotions of others around him. Another part was his sense of direction and improvisation.  Finally, and most importantly, once he'd seen that the scene simply was not going to work, he'd taken the responsibility to end it with his safeword. 

And then, to Solange's complete amazement, he'd stepped in and provided needed support and caring to the emotionally fragile top.  Aftercare was the term most lifestyle players used to describe the reassurance a dominant needed after a particularly demanding and emotional experience - assurance that the other player was fine, still trusted the dominant and would do it again with him/her.  In this case, Juana knew she'd messed up and was very upset, but Ty had known precisely what she'd needed, and had given it to her without stinting.

Remarkable.

Solange toasted herself and took a sip of the amber liqueur.  Yes, these new arrangements would suit her purposes just fine.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 12: Rescripting and Dress Rehearsal
By Tigger c2008

They sat together, just two friends sharing a booth in a Greenwich Village coffee-shop. Normally frequented by the members of the theatrical profession, the shop was mostly empty just then.  It was early evening, and the usual crowd were at work, preparing to raise curtain at the various theaters nearby. Neither friend said much, but instead cast furtive, fleeting glances at a large leather briefcase that held a prominent place on the table between them.

Finally, they both looked at once, caught each other, and looked away sheepishly.

Ty reached out a hand to cover ShaJuana's.  "It's not going to go away," he said with a wry grin, "And I have to admit, I'm curious to know just what Solange thinks is 'everything we might need'.  That's why I can't help looking at it, anyway."

"You ain't got x-ray vision to see inside it, Ty, but I get your point," Juana replied, a half smile on her own full lips. "I keep looking 'cause I pretty much know what she thinks is needed. I just don't know how or when or . . . or, hell . . ."

Ty reached up to tip back her face so they were looking into each other's eyes.  "Hey, Juana. It's okay.  We'll get through this. Look, why don't we just go DO it and have done with it."

"Why, you romantic fool, you!" Juana snorted, but Ty could tell she was using the sarcasm to mask her uncertainties.  The one great positive that he had garnered this day was learning, for certain, that Juana wanted him - at least as a D/s playmate, anyway.  Likely more than just that, too, if her reaction to having another Domme training him was any indication.

Ty really hoped that it was.  "Juana. I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I mean, hey, I'm still stretched, right?  Besides, the longer we wait, the bigger this thing is going to seem to both of us. If 'tis to be done, 'tis better done quickly, to quote the Bard. Speaking of quotes. . . "  A wicked grin lit his face, and he finger-beckoned her to lean over the table towards him.  A cautious look on her face, she finally complied.  Ty leaned over till his lips were near her ear, and putting a hand over them, he whispered, "Hey, you big studdette, take me to bed or. . "

He never got to finish because Juana fell back in her seat laughing like a loon.  "Studdette?" she managed to croak out between laughs, causing Ty to whirl about looking anxiously for any one close enough to eavesdrop. "Cripes, you knucklehead, okay, you got it.  Let's go for it, 'cause I'd purely hate to lose you forever.  My place okay with you?"

"Why, you romantic fool, you," he parroted her earlier complaint, happy that the shop was mostly deserted at that particular moment. Still, he'd made Juana laugh away some of her tension, and that was a good thing.

~-~

"Y'know," Ty said as he hefted one of the sturdy metal rings that had been welded on to each side of both the iron head and foot 'boards' of Juana's king-size bed. "I can't tell you how many times I've been in your apartment, but this is the first time I've ever been in your bedroom."

ShaJuana looked up from her inspection of the contents of Solange's 'toy box' and grinned.  "Well, if you'd seen those, you'd have known things about me that I wasn't ready to tell you."

"Well!  I must say that I'm shocked, just shocked, you kinky thing, you." 

ShaJuana laughed freely.  "Just the reaction I hoped for tonight, Ty.  Now you know the real me!"

"I guess I must, Tall-Booty.  Well, given what Solange told us to do, I guess I'm supposed to experience these things first hand tonight?"

He saw her go very still, but instantly realized it wasn't the fearful uncertainty she'd evidenced in the boudoir earlier that day.  "I know what she said, Ty," Juana began slowly, thoughtfully, "But I'm not so sure that having you tied up right and tight is the best way for us to do this, or the way I want to play this."  Quickly she outlined her alternative idea to which Ty readily agreed. 

"I guess I need to be naked now, huh?" Ty asked, his face reddening in spite of everything he'd said about being ready.

To his surprise, ShaJuana suddenly became diffident, almost shy.  Her coffee-colored cheeks darkened with her own blush, and she actually wrung her hands together. "Umm, Ty?  Solange. . . well, that is, she included some of the. . OH HELL!" Whereupon, she stomped over to the case and withdrew two handfuls of white silk, satin and lace.  "Would you mind wearing these while we play?" Then she hesitated and added, "Please."

Ty took the proffered material and realized that it was the lingerie - minus the corset - that Solange had used to dress him earlier that very day.  Everything else - the under-corset silk camisole, the suspender belt and stockings, even the thong panties - were there.  Ty certainly had no problem wearing them, particularly if doing so made this easier on Juana.  Then, that little devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear again.

"Sure, Juana," he said easily, and saw her face light up, "On one little condition."

Her face fell, just as he knew it would.  Holding back the grin he felt pulling at his face, he waited for her to ask.  "What," she demanded with obvious unease, "condition, and HOW little, boy?"

"Oh, nothing much, gorgeous.  Just, if I dress like that?  YOU dress the same.  Fair's fair, after all."

The relief in her smile was a joy to him.  It was going to be okay.  "Who ever told you that bein' fair has anything to do with a Mistress and her subbie, boy?"

He shrugged elegantly. "I can be naked." Her face fell again, so he began to wheedle. "Ah, c'mon, Juana.  GUY here," he said, pointing at himself. "I'm more likely to get excited looking at your lovely body all decked out in lingerie than lying here seeing you in jeans and a t-shirt . . . which is really worth looking at," he added quickly, "but I see that almost every day."

"Good save, Ty-RONE, but who said you were going to get to look at anything?" she replied, as she lifted an eyeless bondage hood from the briefcase.

"Now you're just being cruel."

"Part of the job description, cutie!" she retorted, and pointing at herself, "DOMME here!"

"Okay, okay! Look, you wear lingerie to match mine, promise me no impediments to my visual enjoyment of you gorgeous self, and I will wear the lingerie."

ShaJuana frowned fiercely at him.  "I'm the Domme," she declared arrogantly.  "I could just order you to wear them."

Grinning, Ty comically minced over to her, went up on tip-toe and air-kissed both ShaJuana's cheeks.  "But you won't."

"Fool," she said, half laughing as she walked over to her bureau.  "Okay, I won't.  This time."  Ty watched avidly as she rummaged through a pair of drawers. "I don't have anything sexy in white. . "

"You should - god, but you should," Ty breathed, "Spectacular."

She looked up from her inspection.  "You just keep dreaming, boy."  Suddenly, her hands stopped moving, and her head snapped back to look intently into that particular drawer. From her bemused expression, it appeared to Ty that she had found something she had not expected, and didn't quite know what to do with whatever that something was.  

For several very long moments, she stood there in front of her dresser, staring down at whatever she held in her hands.  Then she nodded as if she were agreeing with some decision and looked back at Ty, her eyes narrow and very intense. "Look here, Ty-RONE, what I'm going to show you are my absolute favorite undies, okay? And let me warn you - if you even LOOK like you're laughing? I'll LOCK that damned hood on you. Got that??"

"Got it.  No laughing. Promise!"

Very slowly, Juana held up three matching pieces to the light so Ty could see them clearly.  The demi-bra, garter belt and thong she held up to him were pink - not just mere pink, but hot, outrageous, glowing PINK!  And all Ty could think when he saw them, saw HER in his mind's eye wearing them was, "Oh . . . My . . . God. Forget white, please. Those have GOT to be. . . incredible on you."

She'd prepared herself for the laugh - had expected the laugh.  A tall, oversized female like herself? Indulging herself in such a girly, girlish color, as if she was some cute petite little bubble blonde? Hiding her sinfully luscious lingerie in the far back of her panty drawer and allowing herself to enjoy them only when she was alone in her own bedroom?  She knew that was laughable.  

Only Ty hadn't laughed. In fact, he'd just stared at her, looking almost dazed by the mere thought of her dressed in her special, very personal girl suit.  Incredible - he'd SAID she'd look incredible.

She swallowed hard, knowing that sharing this with him would be harder - MUCH harder - than simply strutting about stark naked.   

Incredible.  He HAD said 'incredible,' hadn't he?  

"Ummm," she started, gathering her private treasures to her breast and looking over her shoulder to where he stood watching. "Umm, you can get changed in here.  I'll . . . I'll just go slip into something more comfortable in the bathroom."

My god, she thought as she all but ran from the room, did I really just say what I think I just said?  How. . . girly.

~-~

Slipping silently back into her bedroom, she found Ty, sitting at her vanity, making final touch ups to his face.  She felt her heart simply melt and her insides go just a little more gooey.  He was making that additional, unasked-for effort for her.  

As she had for him.  She'd brushed out her hair and done her own face after she'd donned her lingerie.  Added smoke grey stockings and the heels she'd had dyed to match her secret undies, completing her own costume.  When he didn't hear her, she coughed to get his attention.

Ty spun about on the velvet stool and went completely still the instant he saw her.  Juana knew she'd remember that look on his face for the rest of her life.  Very slowly, he got to his feet and then just looked at her.  It took all the will power she possessed to simply stand there, head erect, shoulders back in presentation when every part of her wanted to squirm away or hide from that frank and intense examination.

"Wow," the word came out like a prayer. "God, Juana, I. . . I don't have words. . .  I can't.  You're . . . my, god, you're. . . " He gave up and shook his head in defeat. "Wow."

If anything, Juana stood even taller, pride swelling her breast and filling her soul.  "I think, Ty-RONE," she said softly, pointing to the bulge that was starting to disarrange the delicate gusset of the white thong, "That says all you need to say right now."

But he shook his head.  "That's just physical reaction, and yeah, it's real as it gets, but it's not all of it - it's a whole lot more. . ."

Unspeakably moved, she strode over to him and bent down to kiss him.  "C'mon, Ty-RONE," she said taking his hand in hers to lead him to her bed. "Let's get started and see if we can do somethin' about that painful-looking swellin' you have goin' down there while we're at it."

"I am utterly at your service, Ma'am."

A husky laugh answered him.  "Just as it should be, little man, just as it should be."

~-~

"I feel like I'm about to be launched into orbit on the space shuttle," Ty muttered as ShaJuana fiddled the strap about his waist, managing to tighten it another two notches.

The smile she shot him was pure wickedness and all female - it sent chills up and down his spine.  "Honey-lamb - that is JUST what I'm fixin' to do here!"

"Seems to me I'm the one in a fix," he shot back.  Here he was, flat on his back, but with his butt propped up in the air by this bondage bolster thing Juana had pushed under his hips.  The appliance was wedge shaped, making perhaps a thirty degree angle with the bed.  It was made of black leather stretched over the type of cushiony filling used in footstools or hassocks.  It was sturdy enough to maintain its shape, but soft enough not to be TOO uncomfortable.  The end result of this was that he was stuck in a position sort of like a sit-up or abdominal crunch, but with his back still flat on the bed and his butt and hips up in the air.  Additionally, it had velcro straps about half way up each side of the wedge that Juana had strapped around his thighs just above his knees.  When she pulled these tight, his knees were pulled up and apart, causing his butt to be pulled further up off the wedge. The end result of this was that his ass was pointed toward the ceiling and was easily accessible to ShaJuana's evil intentions.

"I thought you said no restraints?"

"No, I said I didn't want to tie up your hands, and besides," she said as she smacked his upturned butt eliciting a yelp from Ty, "this part isn't for bondage - it's for convenience.  Since your hands will really be free, you can undo it anytime you want," she smirked down at him, "if you decide to wimp out."

He snorted at that idea. "Explain this 'bound by the power of your will' bit to me again, please?  Just so I understand."

Juana sighed, but walked around to the other side of the bed so there was room for her to sit down.  "Basically, when I do this with a client or play-partner, I order him to hold on to the binding straps and restrain himself from moving, okay?  If this were a usual scene, any time you broke contact, you'd earn you a punishment – maybe a swat or two, or a hooding. That's not what I want now, though,  because, well . . ." she stopped, choosing her words with more care than she was ordinarily given to doing.  "Look, Ty, you're just not the ordinary, run of the mill guy I play these games with, okay?  First, you are not really a D/s player - you didn't come to the dungeon needing to submit yourself to a strong dominant woman.  You're learning to play, and I think you like at least some of it, but that's really not where you're at. So this scene I'm planning may not turn out to be something you'll enjoy. Some guys just can't handle it. That can be, well, really painful for everyone involved.  If you find you can't handle this, I want you to be able to stop me – physically, if that's what it takes.  Okay?"

Ty nodded his understanding.  "It sounded like you had another reason, too."

Taking a deep breath, Juana nodded. "I do.  Ty, I wasn't kidding this morning when I said I want you this way.  I really do, and the wanting's damned intense.  So I'm doing this to give you a way to reel me in if I get going too hot and heavy too quickly.  Letting go gives you a sort of physical 'yellow light' code in case you need me to ease back.  You just let go.  I'll either notice, and slow down or stop what I'm doing for a minute.  If I don't notice, you can reach out and touch me where ever you can reach me until I notice.  Finally, as I said, if I don't notice even then, you can start unstrapping yourself, which I guarantee I will notice."  She reached out to finger-stroke an unruly lock of hair from his eyes.  "Okay with that?"

"Sounds like a plan.  Good thing I'm still supple from my high school wrestling days, though."

"Ready to start?"

His grin was infectious.  "Yes, please," he replied in the pompous, overdone British accent of their first play together.  "Do carry on."

"Smart-ass," she laughed, and then became stern. "Bind yourself to my will, little man, and prepare to go into orbit."

"Yes, Mistress."

~-~

"What does my sweetie think of my toys, now?" Juana cooed as she held up the last of the dildos Solange had provided in the toy-box.  They both recognized that one from their time in the dungeon's bridal suite.  Juana held the toy to her cheek and lovingly stroked it up and down "This is Long Tom.  He's an honest eight inches long and almost six inches around.  ALL my girlie-boys learn to LOVE Long Tom," she smiled wickedly as she passed it before his wide eyes.  "I just KNOW you'll love him, too, cutie."

Maybe he wasn't quite as ready as he'd thought.  Unable to stop himself, Ty tracked the movement of that purple beast as ShaJuana completed the dildo-display she'd prepared from the contents of the case.  Counting the purple Long Ton, there were now seven sex-toys on the bedside table next to Ty's head. Arranged in the order she'd pulled them out of the case, they were also in order of increasing size.  They reminded Ty of a historic display of full-size ICBM models he'd seen during a tour of an Air Force base when he'd been in high school.  That was not a comforting comparison.

The smallest toy on the table was one of those butt-plug things - like the one Solange had pushed on him - in him? - that morning.  Without any reference to judge its size, Ty guessed it was about the same as the one he'd already endured. At least, he hoped it was about that size. Otherwise, he didn't even want to THINK about having those other toys work their way up his back door!  The next was another plug - about the same length, but thicker at the widest part.  The one following the second plug was much longer than either of those toys, maybe six inches in total, but narrower - no more than the thickness of his thumb at it's widest point.  After that one, there were two of what even he recognized as vibrators. They were both a little shorter than the smooth thing but a clearly bigger around.  The jet black dildo just before Long Tom was another 'life-like' toy. It was about the same length and girth as the larger vibrator, and it made Long Tom was made all the more imposing when Juana set the purple toy down next to it.

Long Tom had to be at least two inches taller and half again thicker than the black fake dick.  The comparison made Ty's bottom clench just from looking at them.  And Juana said he was going to LOVE that thing?  He might love doing a Lorena Bobbitt impression on it, but not much else!

Juana saw the dismayed look on his face, and held back the laugh.  Got your attention now, Ty, she thought, her Domme  juices starting to bubble.  Now you're going to find out what it takes to be MY subbie, boy!

She made a show of snapping a latex glove onto her right hand before picking up a plastic tube and squeezing its contents out with her left.  "You're gonna LOVE this stuff, little man," she told him as she spread the goop about her gloved hand with her ungloved one. "It's heat activated so when I rub it all over your cute lil' ass, it will start getting warm and slick.  You are gonna SHINE tonight, sweetcheeks, trust me!"

Ty flinched and clenched when she ran one slick finger along the crack of his buttocks.  "Now, you know that ain't gonna do you no good," she said sweetly, repeating the movement with her next finger and then the next.  "I got all night, and those poor ass muscles are just gonna give out long time before my fingers will." She squeezed more lube onto the upper most part of his elevated butt, and continued her surprisingly gentle strokes.

Whether it was surrender to the inevitable, the promised tiring of over-strained muscles, or his own determination to see this through, Ty quickly gave in, allowing Juana to begin massaging the ointment fully into his ass crack.  The almost feathery strokes and sensual warmth of the lubricant were having another effect, too.

Ty was getting hard – so hard his penis popped out the side of his thong - and ShaJuana noticed.  "Ooooo, well lookie here, cutie-buns.  Somebody must like getting his little bottie played with. . ." she sang, as she began stroking the hot, hard length of him in her greasy left hand in time with her ass-play.  

Ty opened his pleasure-fogged eyes to realize that the head of his erect cock was less than a foot from his head, and Juana was aiming it right at his face.  Oh, no, he thought, and gripped the leather straps more tightly and tried to pull himself closer to the head of the bed and away from the head of his increasingly aroused hardon.

"Goin' someplace, cutie?" Juana asked sweetly, her smirk knowing.
 
What little movement he managed did nothing to change his situation. The seatbelt that held his hips to that bolster simply slid as his upper body slid. Moving up in the bed did nothing to change his head's position relative to the head of his primed and loaded erection.  

Well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant.  He was gonna get a face-full if Juana had anything to say about it - which she obviously did.  Ty stole a furtive glance up at the wicked grin lighting her face and revised his estimate.  He'd be getting a mouthful. Sneaky bitch.  You had to love that about her.

Ty was so caught up in trying to hold back the coming eruption that he almost missed the quick insertion of one long finger into his butt.

Operative word is 'almost'.  His torso heaved at the invasion, like an untrained horse trying to throw its first rider.  All that did was seat the finger deeper.  Ty felt like an electric current run between his ass and every nerve ending on his penis.  Futilely, he tried to buck into her hand stroking his erection, trying to increase the feathery friction that was beginning to drive him mad.

Only to have her hands - both of them disappear.  Dazed, on the verge of climax, Ty only registered that he was just short of what he needed to finish and didn't see what Juana was up to.  An instant later, he didn't need to see as something hard and unyielding slid into his ass in one smooth movement. He did shriek this time when his sphincter stretched to accommodate the toy's widest point, and clamped down on the narrow neck of the toy.

"God damn it, Jua. . I mean, Mistress, I was so . . . so close. . " he groaned as he looked up at her grinning face. 

With the grace of the dancer she was, Juana lifted her right leg so that she straddled him, her left foot on the floor,  her right knee resting on the bed.   Sitting her butt down on his stomach, she ran the index finger of her still slippery left hand across his upper lip. "That's good, Ty, that's really good." Then she bent over to kiss his nose before smirking into his face, eye to eye.  "Good for me, but maybe not so good for you. I LIKE that you are ready to cum so early into our little game. Knowing I've got you RIGHT THERE at that edge makes me really hot, but ya wanna know a secret?" Ty nodded, careful not to head-butt her for her face was that close to his own.  Her eyes danced with wicked delight as she leaned further to put her lips right up against one of his ears. "I'm not gonna let you cum," she whispered, her breath hot on his skin.  She sat back up, arching her back like a satisfied cat, and purred, "I'm gonna keep you up and keep you up till you're beggin' for relief."

She hopped up off the bed. "And you know what I'll say to that, sweet-cheeks?  I'll say 'no'.  You're gonna be like this, right on the tippy edge, needin' to cum - DYIN' to cum . . all . . . night . . . long!"  She reached up and gave his only slightly less rigid penis a teasing stroke and earned another groan from Ty.  "Won't that be FUN?" 

"NO!" he grumbled back, and hurriedly added, "Mistress!" when the next stroke became a warning squeeze.

"Well, if you're gonna be that way about it. I know!  How 'bout this? I'll let you cum if you can sneak it by me. That's a good deal, boy.  I punish my other sissy boys for cumming without permission, but I'll let YOU go if you can manage to cum.  But there's just this one, teensie little thing. . ."

He couldn't help himself. He was so caught up in the drama they'd created, he had to ask.  "What, Mistress?"

"Boys never cum when I'M working them unless I let them cum or unless I make them cum.  Other than that? It's blue-balls city for subbies in Juana's little town!  I'm real good at this teasin' stuff, so get ready for a long, LONG night, sugar!"

Then she spun on her toes and considered the display of sex-toys on the bedside table. She picked up the larger of the two vibrators and the strange, long narrow toy.  "We're gonna play a game! I call it, 'Pick your own poison!'" With all the flair of one of Barker's Beauties from 'The Price is Right', she displayed each of the two toys individually in front of Ty's face, and then hid them behind her back.  The motion of her arms and shoulders gave the indication that she was shuffling the toys between her hands.  Then she stopped. "Pick a hand, any hand, and you get what you pick!"

With a few minutes of relief from Juana's sensual assault, Ty grew marginally more alert and aware of his surroundings.
"C'mon, boy, play with me!  Which hand?"

A grin lit his face as he took in where she was standing, and then he nodded to her right hand.  "That one - the one in your right hand," he said.

Juana brought the indicated hand forward with a wild flourish to reveal the long, narrow toy.  "Ta-Da!  You win!"

Ty chuckled. "Didn't matter which hand I picked - you'd already decided which one I'd get."

Her sexy grin faltered, and Juana nearly frowned.  "Did not - you got what you chose, fair and square!"

"Did so!" Ty retorted, in a tone that any big sister with a little brother would instantly recognize."

She actually stamped her foot and pouted at him.  "DID NOT!" she yelled, her demeanor all little girl foiled in her schemes.

"I guess you haven't ever played this game in this room.  Look behind you."  Juana looked over her shoulder and he continued. "You're standing in front of your bedroom door mirror, and you're tall enough I could see your reflection between your legs.  I saw you switch it into that hand after I picked it - so THERE!" and damned if he could stop himself - he stuck his tongue out at her.

"SMARTASS! That's not FAIR!"

"Who said what's fair between a Mistress and a sub?"

"YOU have to be fair, that's the rule! I'm the Domme and I make the rules!"

Ty started singing in his best Barry Manilow voice, "I am Mistress, and I make the rules."

For several seconds, Juana simply stared at him, unable to move.  When she did, it was to sent the two toys down and go to the case.  She extracted another latex glove and more of the lubricant.  "Hmmph. . . well, smartass, if you aren't going to play right, I'm gonna have to punish your tight little ass."

Her tone hadn't changed all that much - still outraged eight-year-old who didn't get her pony for her birthday, so Ty wasn't TOO worried about the punishment.  She donned the glove and lubricated her fingers copiously returning to her place immediately beside the bolster so she had easy access to his groin and his butt with each hand.

The plug popped out easily enough, and he took the two fingers she slid into him without trouble.  Gently stroking her fingers in and out of him, Juana wiggled their tips about on each downstroke as if searching for something. "You would have enjoyed my last game, but you had to play mean!"
Suddenly, Ty's cock jumped, earning a pleased grin from Juana. She repeated the movement, and was rewarded when it jumped again.  "Now, I've got you!" she said, triumph ringing in her voice.  Moments later, Ty was surprised to see milky liquid leaking from his cock - little dribbles that came out in time to Juana's stroking.  Strangely, while what she was doing didn't really hurt, it didn't feel all that good either.  There was nothing of the intense, almost mind blending arousal of their earlier play.  In fact, his hard-on was wilting , even as his seminal fluid slowly dribbled out.

"Did you know, smartass, that by massaging your prostate, like this?" and she gave a sudden twist of her fingers that cause a mini-spurt to erupt, "I can drain all your sexual juices out of your body, but you won't really cum.  And after you're all empty?  If you haven't recharged and try to cum?  You're gonna shoot a blank, but your poor dickie will keep trying to push out stuff that just ain't there. My subbies tell me it's like your cock has the dry heaves.  Not much fun, little man!  That's why it's one of my favorite punishments for naughty little sissy boys who sass their Mistress!  Are YOU going to keep sassin' me, Tina?

Ty swallowed very hard, and tried for a suitably remorseful look.  "No, Mistress.  I'm sorry for not playing fair.  Honest."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 13: Opening Night!
by Tigger c2008

Certain she'd made her point, Juana returned her full attention to driving her playmate nuts. She teased Ty mercilessly, holding him right on the ragged cusp of climax.  At the same time, she was carefully, steadily 'breaking him in'; guiding him to the point where he was more than just willing, he was eager for the anal sex play.

Juana was, indeed, very, very good at keeping him on the hairy edge of orgasm.  More than that, the denial play did make her very hot - just as she'd warned him. A fact that became abundantly clear to Ty as he grew increasingly aware of a sweet, musky scent perfuming the air that his hormones told him was essence of aroused woman  That alone almost got him off.  Almost.

ShaJuana had thought it was the intensity her teasing that almost got him.  "Ooo, like THAT, did you? You're what we in the business call a hot-ass, little man, and I'm gonna get old Long Tom in you, yet." At that moment, the muscle spasms that signaled his imminent climax started. "Hey, hey, HEY! You don't think I'm gonna let you cum YET, do you?" she demanded as she gave him 'the pinch', completely unaware that is was her own pleasure driving Ty crazy. "Oh, yeah, that slowed you down, didn't it?"

He learned to hate that little pinch move of hers as the night wore on.  Whenever she'd sensed the onset of his climax, she would press her thumb against the underside of his cock at it's base.  It was like someone put a cork in his spigot and then driven it in with a bung hammer.
However, if he'd had time to think, hell, if he'd been able to think, Ty would have thought that this wasn't bad at all.  Well, assuming he finally got off, it wasn't. There had been that one time he'd had to use his free hands to stop her - because she'd been so into her scene.  

Juana had been working him over using both vibrators - one aft, one forward - and the intense, unrelenting stimulation with no release finally got to him. He'd started to hyperventilate, which had been exacerbated by his body's semi-inverted position.  With the weight of his lower body pressing downward against his chest, he hadn't been able to unload his diaphragm and that large muscle had begun to cramp.  Ty had reached out to tap her, but she'd been too gone into Top Space.  Flinging his arm out, he'd reached between her legs to grab a handful of muscular buttock and then pulled.  She'd nearly fallen, but had managed to catch herself.  Seeing the problem, she'd immediately dropped her toys and begun to massage the cramping muscle.  Ty had regained his breath quickly enough.  

Then, a very concerned Juana had knelt down beside him, taking his chin her her hand so she could look in his eyes.  "Are you okay, Ty?  Do we need to stop?  Do you WANT to stop?"

"Are you done, Juana?  Have you done everything you set out to do? Everything you NEED to do?"  He'd seen the answer in her eyes, and smiled.  "I hate to repeat myself, but I am utterly at your service, Ma'am."

Tears had glittered in her eyes, and her smile had been brilliant, "As it should be, my dear, dear little man." 

~-~

Time loses meaning when you are at the edge of the precipice staring down into insanity, Ty thought with what little of his brain still working.  His body was exhausted, too.  Hell, even his eyelids felt like his lashes were laced with lead.

And yet, his dick was still just fine and dandy, except for being so hard that using it might get him five to twenty in the state penitentiary for assault with a blunt instrument. A bleary eyed glance over at the weapons table told him that 'Long Tom' had entered the fray. . .or was that, had entered him? Whatever. Felt pretty good, too.

But when those painfully tired muscles again started the ball-tightening spasms that signaled the imminency of release, Ty knew he'd reached the limits of his endurance.  He felt Juana's hand sliding down him to the 'pinch-position' and he lost it.

His right arm swung out from his voluntary bondage, grabbing her from behind, curling around her left leg and pulling her to him.  Juana, taken by surprise, was pulled off balance and found herself falling onto the bed, her face towards Ty's groin.  Scrambling to regain her balance, she ended up straddling him.

Ty found himself face to face with the very wet gusset of Juana's hot pink thong.  She smelled like heaven.  There was only one thing a guy in his position could do and Ty did it.  Juana felt strong hands grab her hips and pull her back until she was sitting on Ty's face.  An instant later, her panties were brushed aside and she was being devoured.

She was the one sent into orbit as her first orgasm went off like a sky-rocket. Marvelous though that release was? It hardly touched the fires that two hours of non-stop foreplay with this man had stoked in her belly. It did take the edge off, though, and she realized she would be damned if that sneak was going get the better of HER!  She fell on his over-stimulated cock, mouth first, swallowing him whole while unleashing the full power of the toy still lodged in his ass.

The orgasm they built together was going to be epic - both knew it, and both fought that inevitable explosion with all their will power. Partly to make it even greater, partly to win this battle to get the other off first.  Finally, neither won, and neither lost, and their world dissolved into a galaxy of light, heat, pleasure.

And love.

And then their world went black.

~-~

He started to awaken when he felt the warm comfort of her body on his leave him.  Then the sound of the velcro straps on his leg being ripped open and the feeling of the last toy being gently slipped from his backside finished the job.  His brain somehow managed to convince his hands to unbuckle the 'seatbelt' that held him to that bolster.  He rolled off it but couldn't quite manage getting up from the bed.  That was okay, he decided, and kicked the bolster off the bed to make more room.  

He opened his eyes and was pleased to discover he could still see.   That was good - great even - being able to see in a world that included the tantalizing ShaJuana Price was a very good thing indeed.  In fact, he needed to see her right then! A quick scan of the room found her putting the toys back into the case.  

She saw him watching her and smiled at him.  "We'll have to clean these up, but that can wait 'til tomorrow. I'm just too beat right now." 

"Not too beat, I hope," Ty replied, his eyes hopeful. "I want more of you, Juana."

The smile that lit her face was magical, and brought with it some of the cockiness he so enjoyed about her.  "Don't you even think you're leaving that bed, Ty-RONE.  I ain't even half done with you, yet."

He started to get up anyway, only to have ShaJuana plant both hands squarely on the chest, and push him back down onto the bed.  "My pants - I have protection . . ."

He never finished because ShaJuana pounced on him, pinning him to the bed so she could lick his face like a hungry cat.  "Forget about the damned condoms, boy. I'm on the pill."

The kiss she planted on him melted what was left of his mind.

~-~

Dawn's first pink rays were peaking through the bedroom window shades.  Ty rolled over and gathered Juana's long, lithe frame to his, making sure to brush the 'V' of her bare bosom with his morning beard.  The responding shiver and the giggle delighted him. "Juana? You awake? Think we need to do the wedding night thing tomorrow for Solange, Tall-booty?"

Evidently not a morning person, Juana growled like a panther, and rolled over to hide her head beneath her pillow. "Shut up and go back to sleep, little man. You can't possibly be thinking about more sex - any kind of sex - not before next month at least."

Ty considered that for a moment, and then tapped her on the shoulder, "Uh, Juana?"

"WHAT?!?" she snarled in tones that would have sent lesser men scurrying for cover - or hiding beneath them.

"I'm more than thinking and it's gonna be a lot sooner than next month. . ." he murmured, nibbling his way the back of her neck to that spot he'd found JUST behind her ear.

"Huh?" she mumbled, confused, her brain about two seconds behind her body. "Ooooo YEaaaah. Shit, Ty! I'm gonna . . .damn. . .get you bunny ears and a damned. . oh yeah . . .just like that . . damned drum . . ."

"Later. . . you can do that. . Later." 

"Mmmmmm, okay. later. . . 

"TY!!!!"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude - Another Family Evening at Home.

She was seated in her hand-carved mahogany throne, thoughtfully thumbing through  a glossy pamphlet. A cheery fire danced in the gas hearth, casting magical shadows in the otherwise dark room.  At her feet knelt a man, nude except for a mob cap, a lace apron and six-inch stiletto heels, his head resting happily in her lap.  

Absently, she stroked him as she thought about what she'd learned earlier that day.  Tyrone and ShaJuana had gotten past the near disaster caused by her short-sighted planning, and had experienced the magic that came only when two people connected spiritually and emotionally as well as physically.
She wondered if either of them realized just how far they'd come in the short time both had been in her employ.  Obviously not.  Juana still thought she was going to be the exclusive top in that relationship, with Ty bottoming to her as a matter of course.  If Juana was thinking objectively about their night's activity, she'd realize that the power had been exchanged back and forth between the two of them several times.  But, she reminded herself, a woman in love is never objective.  It was a happy thought, and she leaned over to kiss the forehead of her slave.

Of course, Ty was no more objective than ShaJuana, and even more clueless as to the reasons why.  That was to be expected, she smiled inwardly.  For all his incredible empathy and sensitivity, his ability to take on the most feminine of roles without any apparent flaw, Tyrone Edwards was still just a man.  Well, an exemplary example of that breed, if Juana's goofy smile and giddy spirits were anything to judge by, but a man nonetheless.

The most important thing she'd learned today was the reason behind Ty's determination to become her dungeon's full-time transvestite switch.  After they'd spoken, she'd made some discreet inquiries, and had obtained the pamphlet she'd been playing with.  It explained a good many things, particularly why he was willing to take on that abortive scene the other day.  The cost would be steep.

"Slave?" she said softly.

He reacted as if a Paris Island Drill Instructor had called him to attention, and snapped into the at-attention position she'd taught him - back straight, eyes looking directly in front of him, hands finger-locked behind his neck, and on his knees.  She smiled as she saw his penis begin to erect, simply because he was obeying her, and presenting himself to her.  After all these years, she thought.  Well, she was a woman in love, too, wasn't she?

She handed him the pamphlet.  "What can you tell me about this place?" she asked, softly.

He glanced at the crest on the front page, and then looked back to his Mistress.  "Good place, Mistress.  Most all of the real professionals in the business went there or taught there.  There's a TV show on one of the cable channels where the head of the school interviews graduates who've made it big and gives their current student body a chance to ask questions."

"Did you attend there? she asked.

"No, Mistress, but then I'm really just an enthusiastic amateur.  I get my name on the posters and on the adverts, but I'm only the guy with the money."

"I can't recall you ever being involved in a failure, slave, so I would say you undervalue yourself.  That undervalues me, so don't do it again!"

He blushed - all over his body.  "I didn't mean it like that, Mistress.  Oh, I seem to have a feeling for what the public will like because I only back what I like, but I couldn't do the real work that makes the shows great.  That's what I meant."

She reached over to pat his head, and was rewarded with the look of utter adoration she found nowhere else.  "So you say.  I have a friend, slave, who would like to attend this place, and I would like to help him.  Do you have contacts there who might help us give this person something like an anonymous scholarship?"

He shrugged.  "I think so, Mistress.  Heck, I could endow a scholarship - put it in your name with the only stipulation that this person be the first winner.  I probably should do something like that anyway because it would be good for the business."

"You could do that? They'd go along?"

"I might have to sweeten the pot a little - you know, commit to having five of their students on every project as interns, but yes, if you want me to do that, I promise they'll go along, Mistress."

"If it is possible and reasonable to do from a business perspective, then yes, I'd like you do that for me."

He nodded, a most peculiar motion with his hands behind his neck and his bent arms extended like wings.  "I'll get on it.  Should have the preliminary arrangements complete by the end of the week."

She was so happy, she launched herself from her chair and tackled him.  He easily caught her, and ensured he took the brunt of the fall as they ended up on the floor with her on top.  She kissed him deeply, hugging him tightly.  "Thank you, darling," she said softly.

"It is entirely my pleasure, Mistress."

The warm glow of twenty seven years of love bubbled up in her, and she kissed her man, her slave again, more tenderly this time.  "I think," she said softly, "It's about time you carried me up to bed, slave. After that, I want you to go to your room and find my husband for me.  I feel like making love long into the night and his presence is required."

"Yes, Mistress," her hubby-subby breathed reverently.  "I'd be very happy to do that for you."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 14: As Maitresse Likes It 
by Tigger c2008

Solange made her way to the dais with the slow, measured elegance appropriate to the Queen of the Nile.  She had been very particular about the placement of the small stage in the dungeon's large, second-floor ballroom because she'd wanted to be able to see and be seen by all of her guests. Clearly, that goal had been achieved. By the time she reached center stage and took up the microphone, all conversation had stopped and every eye was fixed on her.

With a flourish, she set aside the cane and flogger she carried in lieu of Pharaoh's crook and flail royal scepters, and raised the handheld microphone to her face.  For several moments, she simply stood there silently, scanning the assembled guests - her subjects - before speaking. "Mistresses and slaves,  tops and bottoms, honored guests, it is time to begin what we hope will be the highlight of this year's festivities." 

From her position off to the side of the dais, Tina studied the two hundred or so attendees, seeing their attention so clearly focused on Solange's personal interpretation of Queen Nefertiti.  They were, she thought, a very mixed bag of folks, at least insofar as their varied modes of attire were concerned.

Certainly, all the professional Dominas associated with the dungeon were in some type of costume. Solange would have insisted in any case, but her intervention hadn't been necessary since all of them enjoyed being the center of attention too much to miss the chance to strut their stuff at a party. If there was a dominant female fantasy figure not represented by these ladies, Tina mused, it must be pretty esoteric - like maybe a dominant nerd or some such.  Certainly all the more common fantasies were in full evidence - everything from a very wicked looking nurse to a dauntingly stern schoolmarm (yardstick at the ready!). Not to mention Queen Nefertiti, up there on the dais, in full makeup, golden headdress and crown. Okay, so maybe the real Egyptian Queen didn't wear black silk or high heeled sandals, but hey, if the fantasy took some liberties with historical accuracy, Solange's costume and presentation were WORTH it.  

Most of the males in attendance had eschewed costumes, with the notable exception of those lifestyle submissives who were there to 'escort' to their individual owners/Mistresses.  There were a couple of leashed 'dogs' and one really buff Chippendale, but Tina thought the one dressed as Cupid, complete to his tiny wings, even tinier diaper and toy bow and arrow, was particularly cute. The pony-boy in his harness, bit and blinders was pretty impressive. too, but she wondered precisely what kept that tail in place.  Never ask a question to which you didn't want to learn the answer, up close and very personal. That  was now her motto -  especially since she'd come to work for Solange.  

There were also a couple of cross-dressed slaves in full drag-queen regalia. Their apparently intentional ineptitude gave Tina cause to wonder if anyone in the crowd had read or was reading her?  Probably, she mused – but more likely by the genetic women in the crowd than the men.  A couple of the unattached males had already hit on her. Her leather equestrienne outfit was pretty hot, if she did say so herself, but it did tend to draw the type who wanted to be on the receiving end of her dressage whip.  How, she wondered, did you 'beat them off with a stick' if being beaten was their whole purpose in being here? Challenges, challenges, she was always dealing with these little challenges.  

Most of male guests and clients were dressed in suits and ties, or in formal black-tie evening wear.  She wondered what would happen to all those spiffy clothes if the opportunity to play presented itself. Locked up in one of the prep rooms, probably, because good D/s play tended to get a little messy at times.  

There were also a few women in attendance who were not costumed - again mostly they were garbed in elegant evening wear - and they were, to a woman, the escort of one of the members of the mundanely dressed male client group.  Wives or significant others, she thought, coming to see what hubbie or SO really wants in the bedroom?  Maybe.

However, if there were a prize for night's 'outstanding costume'? Tina decided that she'd have to declare the contest a tie and award it to both Solange and ShaJuana. 

Juana was currently prowling about the ballroom dressed as a sleek, black panther - a hungry sexual predator on the hunt for her favorite prey.  The latex body suit she wore blended almost perfectly with her own coffee-colored skin tone, giving the casual observer the first impression she was nude.  Tina wondered how anyone could see that magnificent female animal in all her glory and not start howling at the moon? She certainly felt that urge just now.  

Juana's hands sported fingerless gloves made to look like cat's paws, and that showed off her off blood red nails, errr. . .claws. A bold tail curled up from her bottom (and Tina thought it unlikely that it was 'connected' in the same manner as the pony's had been) and a pair of alert cat's ears peaked through her wildly teased mane hair. White face paint and lipstick gave the illusion of a sexy feline muzzle that curled into a sexy, scary grin.  Just looking at her made Tina's hands sweat and her mouth go dry.

"Have I got your attention?" Solange called out. A few voices yelled out in the affirmative.  "Good! When each of you presented your invitation at the door tonight, you might have noticed that we peeled your name off the invitation and put it into a hollow plastic balls - much like this one."  

She held up a purple colored sphere, about two inches in diameter.  "Now, we're going to have a drawing, and the winners of the drawing are going to have a chance to win a free, full day session at the dungeon, without regard to cost.  You want my six sexiest dommes taking turns using your butt for spanking practice? You'll have them! You want to run the gauntlet of every playroom in the house, spending an hour in each room as the honored guest of a different Mistress? It'll happen!  You want the chance to hone your bound naked wrestling skills and take on a Mistress tag team with one hand - or both hands - tied behind your back? You'll get it!  You want to be one to dominate that special Domina who has driven you to the point of insanity when you were HER submissive? She'll be there and be yours."

She let the buzz of excited chatter build throughout the room before giving them the rest.  "Hey, now you all just calm down for a second! I didn't say the drawing winners would get the prizes - I said they'd get the chance to win - there's a big difference!"

"What would we have to do to win?" a voice called from the back of the room.

"Why, escape from my Hall of Horrors within three minutes of entering."
"What is it?  A mile long?"

Solange laughed at that, and shook her head. "No, silly - it takes up barely half the dungeon level - no more that a couple hundred feet or so.  Each of the four lucky contestants will enter on one side, and if he or she escapes out the other side in under the time limit, then we'll have a winner!"

Skepticism was clear on many of the male clients' faces, Tina saw.  They must know Solange pretty well, she thought amused.

"Can't be that easy!" a voice called out finally.

"Easy, who said anything about easy? Who would DARE expect anything easy in MY dungeon? Puuhh-Lease," Solange sniffed, earning an uneasy laugh from the males in the group and a heartier one from the dominant women.  "I will say, however, that there are three ways to win and three ways to lose. That's as fair as it gets, right?" 

She let that thought hang for a few moments, and then, smiling wickedly, she continued.  "Here's the basic premise. The player - that is, the person with the chance to win the free session of a lifetime - he or she isn't going to be in there alone.  Oh, no! There will traps set for the unwary intended to slow them down, or to capture them completely. There will also be at least one of my Mistresses in there, too, with the expressed goal of capturing the player, or at the very least, preventing the player from exiting my Hall of Horrors within the three minute time limit. She captures the player if she gets him or her down on the floor and holds them there for a count of ten."  Solange grin became wider. "Note, I said a ten-count, not ten seconds.  I'll be doing the counting."

That earned more laughter, just as she'd intended - some hearty, some anxious.  "If the player is captured," 'Nefertiti' continued, "Or if the player doesn't escape within three minutes, he has already agreed, by agreeing to compete in the first place, to belong to the victorious Mistress - or Mistresses," she said, put heavy emphasis on the plurality, "For the rest of the evening.  Just so you all know?  Each of these specially selected huntresses of the night have spent the last week preparing a VERY special challenge play scene for the lucky winner. . .I mean, loser."

"Hey, waitaminute," a female voice demanded.  "That sounds like two ways to lose and only one way to win."

"So it is.  Okay, if the player manages to capture the Mistress before the three minutes are up the player wins.  All a player has to do to capture the Mistress is take HER to the floor and hold her down for a ten-count without her escaping the hold AND without the three minute alarm sounding.  In addition to his prize, winning by capture includes getting the losing Mistress as his or her submissive, or as a topped from the bottom Domme, for the rest of the evening.  So that's two ways to win and two ways to lose.  Everybody got that so far?"

The crowd's vocal response was generally affirmative, so Solange smiled and continued.  "The other way to win is to complete the challenge play scene with the victorious Mistress before the stroke of midnight without safewording.  Since these Mistresses and scenes will be the result of a completely random drawing, we realize a player may get a scene that might violate personal limits. We will, as we always do, honor anyone's safeword.  However, safewording only stops the challenge scene - that player will still lose the challenge, which will entail an additional forfeit."

"That sounds a lot like being punished for safewording, Maitresse," one of the tuxedo-garbed men asked. "That's not fair!"

"You might well take it that way, and if you truly DO feel that way, I suggest you decline to participate if I select your name out of the basket.  These will not be normal play sessions, my friends.  These are challenge sessions.  For a prize of this magnitude, there has to be a comparable price," Solange said seriously.

"Does the player win the Mistress if he just escapes?" Someone called out.

"Of course not," Solange's tones were caustically dismissive.  "You want to own a Mistress, even for a night? You have to capture her, but she wins the contestant by either method."

"NOT FAIR!" someone in the back yelled out.

"And your point is?" Solange asked, her voice all saccharine-sweet, earning a mostly feminine laugh and a deep flush from her accuser.  "My game - my rules.  Play or don't play, it makes no difference to me!  Any other questions?"

One of the Dominas that Tina did not recognize stepped forward, pulling a leashed male costumed as a very ugly dog behind her.  "Before I'd order Muffy here take that kind of challenge, Solange, I need specifics on the forfeit. I don't mind another Mistress putting him through his paces, but I normally insist on being the one to evaluate his use of his safeword - after a little time for emotions to cool, and in the privacy of our home."

"Fair enough. First, let me tell you that I have personally screened all proposed scenes to ensure that physical injury is NOT an issue.  Sitting down comfortably afterwards may be, but not injury. All right?" A general murmur answered that question but Tina couldn't tell if it was positive nor negative when Solange pressed on, "If a player accepts the challenge, enters the Hall of Horrors and then safewords at any point from there until they've completed the challenge, we will lock the player in a gender appropriate chastity device and return their clothing to him or her.  The key to the chastity device lock will ONLY be given to the player when he or she decides to leave the party for the evening.  Once they have the key, he or she won't be allowed to return to the dungeon until Thanksgiving, when all the contestants, and their significant others, will be the guests of the dungeon for our holiday dinner and other festivities."

"So the forfeiture means no sexual release for the losing player until after leaving here?" the Mistress holding 'Muffy's' leash asked, sounding almost hopeful to Tina's ears.

"That's the plan.   Once all four contestants have made their attempts, the other playrooms will be open and monitored for safety, as we always do for one of our parties.  Challenge losers will be allowed to stay as long as they want, and they, like any other guest, will be able to watch the fun, but participating might be frustrating and uncomfortable for them."

Cupid raised his hand, and Solange acknowledged his Mistress, who gave him permission to speak.  "Maitresse, any clues as to what the challenge scenes will entail?"

"An excellent question, dear.  Not to give you too much information, but we will have a scene involving a truly whole-body massage, guaranteed by the Mistress in charge to send the loser out of body. There will also be a corporal punishment challenge, one involving an extended teasing and denial session, and last but not least, a very special slave scavenger hunt. That's all I will say for now.  If that's not enough information for you, again, I must suggest that you decline to participate."

"As if I'd let him wimp out like that," the Mistress standing beside him retorted before giving him a fierce look.

"If there are no other questions," Solange said, "Shall we get on with the drawing?"

"Sounds fair enough." 

"Okay with me." 

"When do we start?" 

"Ought to be fun!"  

"Can't wait to see what happens!"

"Hope you get selected, Muffy!"  

"Arf, arf, arf!"

"All right, then.  Mistress ShaJuana, would you do the honors and pick the first name, please?" Solange called, picking up a large bag from the floor beside her.

ShaJuana skulked up to the dais, every sensuous step emulating the great cat she portrayed. Once there, she snarled at the audience, and then proceeded to pull a single ball from the bag.  She handed Solange the ball, and stepped back to watch the rest of the selections play out.  Solange set it down on the table, and opened it up.  "Oh, my," she breathed, and then called out, "James Harris, will you accept the challenge?"

Tina almost giggled at the goggle-eyed young man. Then he swallowed hard.  "Ummm, yes, I guess. ummm, Maitresse."

"Come, come, James - yes or no.  This is no time to be wishy-washy.  Do you accept my challenge or not?"

There wasn't a man in the room, submissive or otherwise, who could have ignored the nearly derisive tone in Solange's question.  "Yes, Ma'am, I accept. 

Harris was then ordered to approach the dais and select the next ball. Solange grimaced extravagantly as she read the slip of paper she held up after opening the ball. "Hmmmm, I'm not sure I want to offer this one, since he's MY slave, and it would annoy me greatly for HIM to dictate his next scene with me, or to dare to attempt top me." She made a show of crumpling up the paper and looking around for a trash basket, then grinned. "Oh well, fair is fair.  Walter Evans, do you wish to accept the challenge?"

This was the one, Tina realized, the one Solange wanted to be challenged.  She saw the hesitancy in his eyes, but she also saw the hunger.  Empathy, along with a well-honed instinct for the right line delivered for best effect took hold of her. "Looks like he's either too happy with your current attentions, Solange, or too afraid of your wrath," Tina said lightly, but loudly enough to be clearly heard throughout the crowded room. "Perhaps you should select another in his stead?"

Her jibe struck home, for Solange's sub flushed bright red, and then blurted out, "I accept, Maitresse."

"Oh, very well."  Solange accepted with apparent disappointment, before offering the bag to Evans for him to select the next candidate. " And our next contestant is," she hesitated for effect, "Victor Davis.  Mr. Davis, do you accept the challenge?"

There was an uncomfortably long silence answering Solange's challenge. Tina thought he was going to say 'no' because the look he gave Solange revealed none of the fear and/or excitement she'd sensed from first two winners.  Then he shrugged, squared his shoulders and said in a very steady voice. "Yes, I'll accept the challenge."

Only Tina caught Solange's quick shiver of relief at his acceptance because she quickly turned to three Mistresses who had been waiting in the wings.  "Please escort the players to the waiting room and help them prepare."

'HEY, WAIT," an attractively plump Mistress yelled. "You said there would be FOUR contestants!  You only drew three names!"

Solange made a show of hitting herself in the head with her palm. "You, know? You're right! I almost forgot that I had already decided that two of my Dommes were going to go into the Hall, just to prove that everything's fair.  Because, as we all know, no TRUE Domina would willingly submit - especially to someone she competes with for subbies on a daily basis. And I knew, immediately, just who those two Mistresses would be.   You see, Mistress Antinelli over there," and Tina stood stock still as Solange waived the microphone in her direction, "Owes me a forfeit for - can you believe it? - being LATE to pick me up for lunch just the other day."

There was a collective gasp from most of the male contingent, and more than few feminine snickers from the many Dommes.

Solange brought the microphone back to her lips. "Mistress Antinelli, do you dare to take up the same challenge as our three guests? Or are you going to wimp out in front of all your colleagues and our clients, and refuse this challenge?"  There was a bite in those words, even though Tina had been prepared for them,  that got her ego juices flowing.

ShaJuana jumped up on the dais and snatched the microphone from Solange. Her grin was diabolical.  "Oh, YEAH! Go ahead and take it, cutie," she growled low in her throat at Tina, "I won't be . . . TOO. . . rough.  Not unless you beg real nice."

Tina slowly crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and stared hard at the feline-garbed Mistress. "Really? What makes you think I'd be paired against you?"

Solange snatched the microphone back before ShaJuana could respond. "Because," she said in very heavy tones, "In contrast to you, you naughty girl, Mistress ShaJauna has actually far exceeded my demanding expectations of her recently, and so I promised her a little reward.  She chose you.  I'm giving you to her, or rather, I'm giving her a chance to win you."

"Same thing, Solange," Juana interjected, leaning over so she spoke into the open microphone.

"Safely, sanely and consenually, of course, dear," Solange replied, casting a sardonic grin to the tall black girl.

"Oh, of course - wouldn't do it any other way," ShaJuana purred, for she'd been waiting days for another chance to get her paws on her diminutive friend, again.

"You did say, Maitresse," Tina asked, "That I could win HER by taking down Mistress ShaJuana in the Hall of Horrors, and then it will be me who gets to dominate HER?"

"Exactly, Mistress Antinea," Solange agreed.  "The same challenge, the same rules, the same prizes and penalties."

A ripple of disbelief and laughter floated through the guests, for Juana's intense style of play was well known by client and colleague alike.  Not many of the Mistresses in attendance would willingly give the tall, dark and lovely amazon carte blanche over their bodies - no negotiation, no yellow code, and a forfeit for safewording - even those who would privately admit to some submissive urges.

"Then, of course I accept the challenge." Tina said, her voice carrying over the continuing buzz from the crowd, "And Juana? You just keep enjoying those girlish little fantasies of topping me in that special challenge scene because that's all they'll be - fantasies.  I'm taking you down, Tall-Booty!  I have wanted that long, gorgeous bod of yours dancing to my tune for simply ages. Trust me on this! You're gonna be the one who'll need the safeword, not me!"
Stunned silence answered this unknown, not particularly physically impressive Mistress who'd just thrown down the gauntlet to one of the largest, strongest Dominas in the city. For her part, ShaJuana simply grinned, looking like a jungle cat who had just found a very confused, particularly juicy wildebeest stuck in mud.

"Very well, the challenge is accepted," Solange called out.  "Then, let us begin again. These Mistresses will escort you to the prep room we've set up for to get you ready for your challenges." 

The three Mistresses, Isolde, Bettina, and Vanessa, stepped forward to link arms with the four contestants. As they began to lead them away, Solange added loudly, "Bring their locker keys to me for safe keeping once they've locked up their clothes and you have them all kitted out."

Harris spun on his heel and stared at the Maitresse.  "Clothes? kitted out?"

"Of course there are some. . .little preparations.  Just to make things fair."

"Fair? Like what?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.  "That wasn't part of your description earlier."

Solange gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, since you ask, we thought that since we're giving you three minutes to escape, and since you are going to be challenged by mere women, Mistresses though they may be, we've added a few items to make the challenge more. . . challenging.  Nothing too restrictive - just trying to ensure that any physical contest a bit more even.  As for taking your clothes, well, it IS a Hall of Horrors.  If you don't mind having that lovely tux get slimed in KY-Jelly, or some other such indignity, we won't insist you go in wearing the, ah, somewhat skimpy attire we've selected for you.  Seems a waste to ruin such a fine suit though, when a shower after you . . . win?" and there was a questioning challenge in her voice, "will put things to rights.  It is, however, entirely your choice."

"You didn't tell anyone about that before hand," he repeated, his tone rebellious. "You call THAT fair?"

"Oh, very well.  if you feel that bit of non-disclosure was unfair, I suppose I MUST let you just quit now." She didn't say 'wimp' but the word was still 'heard' by everyone present - particularly Harris. "I won't even make you pay the forfeit if you quit on us now.  Anything unfair about that, Mr. Harris?"

Tina walked up to Harris and put her hand in the crook of his elbow.  "Shall we go, Mr. Harris? We don't want to miss out on the fun, do we?  Surely you intend to win in any case, don't you?"  For a moment, she thought he might still back out, but then he shrugged.  Turning, they followed the others toward the preparation rooms on the other side of the large hall.  A sense of anticipation hovered over guests as they settled themselves in front of the recently installed big-screen televisions, ready to be entertained.

~-~

The blond Valkyrie (Isolde) and Natasha Fatale (Betina) escorted the three men into one prep room while Venus, Goddess of Tough Love, (Vanessa) took Tina to another.  Tina had not yet had occasion to work with or be trained by the voluptuous red-head, but knew her casually through other members of the dungeon staff. 

Vanessa's specialty was age-play.  She was highly skilled at turning her clients into 'little boys or girls', subject to the whim of a stern mother, teacher or baby sitter played by Vanessa.  She always claimed that this was something that growing up in her Italian, mother-dominated home had well prepared her.  

"Don't think I'd have taken that challenge, Tina," she said as she closed the door of the prep room behind them.  I mean, ShaJuana is sexy as they come, and her clients worship her, but damn, she's BIG!"  Vanessa was even shorter than Tina, and it would have been no trouble at all for the powerful black Amazon to diaper HER.  "I KNOW I wouldn't have had the brass tubes to taunt her that way!  How in god's name do you think you're going to take her down?"

"Well, I admit it's a daunting proposition," Tina said, as she shed her costume's riding boots, coat, blouse and jodhpurs, "But you know what they say, 'the bigger they are,' et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.  Besides, if the taunting pisses her off, even just a bit? She might get a little careless."

 "And she might damn-well get YOU, Tina, and then where will you be? Either in her clutches or wandering around the dungeon in one of Solange's wicked chastity devices."  The petite domme gave an exaggerated shudder as she carried over the box containing Tina's 'kit' for the game.  "Here's the latex bra and thong," she said offering international orange-colored garments to Tina.  "Cripes, you're gonna glow in the dark in those things."

"Well, guess Solange isn't THAT concerned about making things fair," and then giggled at the goggle-eyed look from her helper.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 15: Things That Go Thump in the Dark
by Tigger c2008

The Valkyrie used her wooden sword to clear her path of any stray male slavesas she moved toward Solange.  She whispered something in the Queen's ear, then turned to leave once more.  Nodding her approval, Solange moved back to the dais and took up the microphone.  "Your attention, please.  We're just about ready to begin, but before we do, I want to discuss one more aspect of this game with you now that our contestants are isolated and cannot hear what I have to say"

The remaining guests gravitated back to the dais, their full attention on the Queen.  
 "Now, I mentioned earlier that safewords would be honored, but that they would be construed as a challenge failure.  That's true, insofar as that goes, but let me give you the fuller picture of how we will ensure safety in these sessions." 

THAT got their attention, Solange thought.  She had expected that the previous description of "being punished for safewording" wouldn't sit well with many of the more experienced players in the room, so she'd decided to share this aspect of her plans with the larger assembly.  It meant that watching the challenge-scenes would lack some of the drama she'd originally envisioned, but given the nature of the people she had invited, she'd known she would need to bring them more fully into her real plans.

Just not quite ALL the way in.

"Look, we know that we will be putting people in situations in which they may well – heavens – they WILL find themselves immersed in some pretty heavy play-scenes. I think it is likely that these will be scenes for which the contestants may have little or no experience.  As a result, we at the dungeon are very concerned about tripping hard over unexpected limits. In order that this potential is absolutely minimized, I have asked two of the most knowledgeable and intuitive Dommes in the city to observe all challenge play via closed-circuit video links. They will serve as dungeon masters for these challenge scenes, and as such, I have granted them final and ultimate authority to terminate any challenge scene at any time for any reason.  Additionally, if they terminate a challenge scene because they believe the player is or is close to violating his or her own limits - in other words, trying TOO hard - the involved player will still earn the winner's prize.  However, for reasons of safety, we will ask that player to refrain from participating in any more play tonight."

She saw the relief on the faces of key members of her audience and knew this had been the right thing to do.  "Thanks, Maitresse," the man who had voiced the original concerns spoke up.  "I feel better about this now."

Solange nodded regally, and then picked her microphone back up. "All Right, Then! Our players are ready.  If you will all look at the screen behind me, please?"

The screen split to show two views of the curtained-off portion of the upper floor.  There were clearly two breaks in the curtain.  On the left hand side of the screen stood a very nervous looking Walter Evans.  A murmur rippled through the crowd as they took in his 'kit', which consisted of grossly oversized boxing gloves tied on to his hands, a bright orange jock strap, and some type of chain between his ankles.

On the other split of the screen, they saw a thick-bodied brunette, garbed in a ripped 'Gold's Gym' muscle shirt, running shorts and sneakers,  waiting patiently at the break on the opposite side of the curtained area.  

The Domina was Mistress Emerald, a competitive body builder whose work at the dungeon helped defray the costs of her training.  Her domination specialty was using raw strength to overwhelm her clients physically, either in tests of strength or in wrestling matches.  She was also generally acknowledged to give the hottest hand spankings in the dungeon, usually as a forfeit for having lost to her in some test of strength. 

Solange lifted the microphone to her lips and called out, "Ladies, Gentlemen and slaves - ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE??!?"

A loud cheer answered her, and she grinned.  "I've always wanted to do that.  All right, then, Mr. Evans will attempt to evade or to capture Mistress Emerald within three minutes in the Hall of Horrors! But first, let me explain the kit we have provided for our contestant.  The orange, ummm, athletic supporter is just that, and it includes a cup."

She shot a frightening smile down at the two males closest to the stage.  "Just in case something happens. . . there? Don't you think, boys?" 

She was rewarded when both men reflexively clamped their legs together in Pavlovian response to the image she'd indirectly put in their minds.  "I see you do.  Now, about those boxing gloves. They've been tied tightly to his hands so that there will be no danger should he accidentally hit Mistress Emerald in his certain-to-be futile struggles to escape her clutches," Solange reported as an unseen operator zoomed the camera in on the oversized gloves.  "I'm told that this size glove is specifically used for training children to box, and that it is almost impossible to strike a hurtful blow when wearing them. They also," she added with an evil smirk to her audience, "Do interesting things to the wearer's manual dexterity."

An appreciative buzz filled the room, and Solange continued.  "If you will notice Mr. Evans' feet," and the camera panned down, "You will see he has been restrained with a hobble chain.  The chain is only two feet long and has two bells.  We've tested this apparatus recently, and have found it is almost impossible to move about with that chain on and prevent the bells from ringing."

"And now, let the games begin!" Solange flipped a switch on the table, and spoke again. "Mistress Emerald, you may enter the Hall!"  The powerfully built mistress shot her opponent and the camera her best front double biceps flex pose, then slipped inside. 

"On the count of three, Mr. Evans, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start! One, Two, Three!"  The crowd cheered as the Evans took two halting steps toward the curtain and then tripped and fell through the curtain, his bells ringing merrily.

Guests quickly dispersed, only to crowd in about the other large screens scattered throughout the ballroom, everyone trying to get the best possible view as the split-screens shifted to follow both Mistress and contestant into the unlighted space.  The cameras installed in the Hall had been selected for low-light functionality, so the figures were clear and distinct, if not colorful.

Emerald, clearly confident of her ability to handle a hobbled and hand-deprived submissive physically, took up a position ten or so feet inside the exit point.  She settled into a defensive stance - feet spread with her hands relaxed and in front of her- and settled to wait for her prey to come to her.
For his part, Evans was trying to walk while holding the two bells with his boxing gloves, in an attempt to muffle them.  It worked to a point, but even the thumbs of the damned boxing gloves were too wide to get into the bell mouths, so they continued to ring with every step, albeit less loudly than they had during his inauspicious entry into the Hall of Horrors.  

The crowd, meantime, howled with laughter at the incredibly awkward position he assumed to be able to hold the bells and still 'walk'.  "He looks like he's a dog taking a dump!" one wag was heard to say.  

In addition to looking ridiculous, walking in that position was very hard on the glutes and thighs, and Walter had barely gone twenty feet into the Hall before the burn of muscle fatigue started to set in.  He made it to the first corner, but then had stop for rest.  If only his hands were free, he thought.

Solange watched on the monitor screen as he slipped one glove between his knees and pushed his body up with his legs using  all his strength.  Not so easy as that, my little man, she thought, and was just as quickly proved right.  His knee-grip slipped and he was flung backward against the wall by the force of his own legs; the tinkling of silver bells clearly audible throughout the entire dungeon floor.

Emerald heard that, and calculated that he must be about a third of the way around.  "Two minutes left," Solange's voice called out over hidden speaker system.  Well, muscular Domina thought as she flexed her fingers and hands, he's right on time.

Evans tried to think of what to do.  He had only TWO minutes left and no idea for how far he still had to go.  Well, she MUST have heard that bell peal - that was for sure.  So if they rang a little more and he got some time back, that might work.  Who knew? He might just catch her unawares and run past her.  Thought became deed and he took off as fast as his chain-hobbled feet could manage.  

He'd just gotten to the second corner when his feet hit something slippery.  He felt them go out from under him  and fell hard on his butt.  He must have slid ten feet or more before he stopped.  He couldn't feel anything with the gloves on, so he stuck his nose next to the floor and sniffed.  Vaseline, he thought.

An idea hit.  Sitting flat, he used his legs and gloves to dig the bells into the goop, trying to scoop as much of the stuff into the bell mouths as he could.  He tested them, and smiled – nary a sound.  Now, Mistress She-Hulk and he were on nearly even terms.  At least he had a chance to out-stealth her.

That noble lady had heard her prey's "ooof" of surprise when he fell, and then nothing.  She could tell he was just down the long hall from her.  He was close - very close.  She readied herself to repel a final, all out headlong charge for freedom.  He'd try to get past her and go for the exit, she thought, because they both knew he didn't have a prayer of taking her down. Well, there was no way she was letting him get past her, either.

She'd promised Maitresse Solange.
"ONE MINUTE," Solange announced.  "One minute to go, and we can see you both.  You're a LONG way from victory, Mr. Evans.  Too bad."

Evans had submitted to La Maitresse for years, and he knew her - knew her tricks, knew her voice tones.  She was goading him - probably misleading him.  He HAD to be close to the end.  Surely, in one minute. . .

Emerald was getting a little worried.  Where were the bells?  Why weren't they ringing?  She had heard his voice reacting to something down the hall - one of the traps Solange had told her about.  Had he hurt himself?  Surely not, because Solange was watching, and she'd announce it – stop things - if there was a problem like that.  Dammit, where was the bell sound?

Evan's crept a few more feet, feeling his way along the wall, but he nearly slipped again.  The damn vaseline was still on his feet.  "30 seconds!  You have only 30 seconds!"  He needed to be able to go as quickly as possible and to do that, he needed traction.  Carefully, he began to wipe his feet against the tiled floor, trying to scrape away most of the lube.

And slipped, rubbing his foot too hard against the floor.

SQUEAAWWWK!  It was like fingernails on a blackboard.

That was loud and close, Emerald realized, going immediately on full alert. She searched the darkness and listened hard.  She almost missed it - almost missed HIM!  It was just a small sound - a quiet rasp of air - the kind of sound she herself made during competitions just before she threw her best pose at the judges.  He had to making his big play right now.  She stepped into the corridor and just barely caught him - right be the waistband of his jockstrap - as he tried to race by her hiding place.

Riveted to the monitor in front of her, Solange finally relaxed.  Once Emerald had her hands on him, it was all over for Walter.  Oh, he tried to punch his way free, but with no real effect, thanks to the boxing gloves.  Poor Walter was lifted off his feet and taken gently to the floor, held tightly in Emerald's signature 'She-Bear Hug.'  Solange actually reached the end of the three minutes before she could count to ten for the capture, but in this case, that really didn't matter.  Emerald would have won by either method.

"The WINNER!" Solange announced to the cheering of her guests. "And FIRST EVER Hall of Horrors Champion is Mistress Emerald!"  Behind her, and throughout the ballroom the split screens morphed into a single view.  Two tall, powerfully-built male slaves (obvious for their uniforms - slave collars and matching jock straps) appeared on screen.  They bowed to Emerald before reaching down to pick up a gasping Walter Evans, and lifting him up on to their shoulders, one at his head, the other at his feet.

"Take him to Play Room 2, slaves," Solange ordered into the microphone.  This order was acknowledged by a simultaneous bow from both slaves that somehow did not in any way dislodge their burden.  

Turning back to her audience, Solange smiled.  "We'll have a short break for refreshments while Mr. Evans is taken to begin his challenge scene.  That session will, by the way, be available for viewing on one of the four screens in the back of the ballroom if any of you would prefer to watch. In the meantime, my maintenance slaves will be resetting the traps and clearing away anything left in the Hall by our last two contestants.  By the way, while the Mistresses who will oppose our last three contestants have been able to watch this contest, our remaining contestants have been kept in isolation and have not seen or heard any of this."

"That's not fair, Maitresse!" a laughing female voice chimed.

"No," Solange agreed, her own laugh bubbling beneath her words, "It isn't, nor was it intended to be."

~-~

In Playroom 2, Walter Evans stood, his back to a ceiling to floor column as the two slaves cuffed his hands behind him and around the column. Emerald relaxed to one side, watching with her muscular arms crossed beneath her impressive, if surgically enhanced, bosom.  The slaves turned to her, expecting to be released, but she only shook her head.  "Strip him," she ordered softly, "Completely."

From a nearby cabinet, she withdrew a 'plain brown package', holding it in her hands as the slaves pulled the jock, cup and hobble chain off her charge.  When the pair came back to attention, she smiled.  "That will be all.  You may tell the Head Slave that I found your efforts entirely satisfactory.  Please leave."

When she turned back to face Evans, she saw his attention was entirely focused on the package she held in her hands. Carefully, so as to ensure he could see everything clearly, she began to remove the brown paper from the parcel.  When he saw it contained, he groaned.  "Mistress," he whispered, "I thought that would only be the result of safewording."

Smiling as she disassembled the clear plastic male chastity device, Emerald replied, "You thought wrong, then.  If you satisfactorily complete my challenge, this will be removed and you will be free to participate fully in any other scene that suits your fancy."

With quick, sure movements, she quickly fitted the device to him and was locking the part holding his penis to the ring about the base of his penis and underneath his scrotum.  A small brass padlock ensured he would not be free without the key.

"Are you ready to hear what I require in exchange for your freedom?" she asked, her voice soft and even.  He nodded, his eyes wary.  "You are to honor me by undertaking a quest.  La Maitresse called it a scavenger hunt earlier, but to people like you and me, Mr. Evans, this will be like the quests of legend, when a knight served and honored his lady by undertaking and accomplishing great deeds."

"Great deeds, Mistress? What. . . what do I have to do?"
"Why, you must seek out and obtain the Golden Dildo, then present it to La Maitresse, all before the clock chimes midnight."

"How do I find it?  Where is it hidden?"  Now, there was fear in his eyes, a certainty that he would not like the answers, but a need to know nonetheless.

"To answer your first question, it is in the ballroom - somewhere.  Even I don't know its precise location.  La Maitresse had already hidden it before I arrived.  To find it, you must seek out those who will give you the clues that will lead you to the next person with a clue.  They may choose simply to give you their clue, or they may ask a boon of you - their choice.  If you want to win the prize, and more importantly, truly desire to please your Mistresses - both La Maitresse and myself - you will do what must needs be done to seek the prize."

"Out . . .there?  In the BALLROOM??!? Like THIS?  Mistress, I'm naked!  I . . .I don't DO public play . . it. . .it's one of my limits! A HARD limit."

A sad look crossed Emerald's face.  "I see.  Well, I suppose that is why I have been given this, then," she said, as she put a necklace with a small key suspended from it about his neck.  "That is your safe-code for the rest of the evening.  It will unlock the locker in which you placed your clothing.  Present that to the slave stationed at the coat check, and your clothing will be returned to you immediately.  You will dress at the coat check and then be escorted to the downstairs foyer where my little gift," she pointed to the male chastity device locked onto his genitals, "Will be removed.  You will, of course, forfeit your chance at the prize, and you will not be permitted to return here until Thanksgiving."

"I CAN'T do THAT!" he said, nearly in tears.

Shrugging, Emerald reached behind him, and released the cuffs holding him to the column. "Very well, I am a ethical Mistress.  I do not abuse slaves by forcing them to violate their limits.  When you leave this room, turn left and go to the end of the corridor.  The last door on the right will take you directly down to the coat check area. You won't have to go anywhere near the ballroom and you will avoid having to face La Maitresse."  She turned her back on him, as if to leave.  At the door, she stopped, her eyes hard on his.  "If, however, you are the submissive your Mistress believes you to be, one who honors her with his best efforts in her service, you should turn right and follow that hallway back down to the ball room.  Seek out the Aphrodite's Roman Incarnation.  Farewell, Mr. Evans.  I wish you well in your choice."

~-~

Solange watched the interplay between the hard-bodied Domina and her recalcitrant slave closely, and felt her stomach fluttering with nerves.  Was she right about Walter? Did he truly WANT this experience?  Would this help him over what she was convinced was a false limit, or had she just driven him away?

Or worse, had she just sent him headlong into something he truly could not handle.
She couldn't think about this, she told herself!  She had two extremely knowledgeable and intuitive dominant women to watch over and protect her contestants for just this purpose.  Hadn't she told them to pull the plug immediately if they had ANY concerns about the sub's emotional or mental state?  Indeed she had, so she'd better let them do just that!  In the meantime, it was time for her to get the second act of her little play under way.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 16: What Mistress This Way Comes?
by Tigger c2008

"Ladies, gentlemen and slaves, we are ready for our second contestant!" she announced as she mounted the dais.  "And who will it be? None other than our lovely Mistress Antinea! I know that, like me, you cannot wait to see what our ebony goddess, Mistress ShaJuana, has in store for this delinquent Mistress!  So, please direct your attention back to the screen behind me!"  

Juana and Tina were at their respective entry points to the Hall of Horrors.  Juana, all grinning cocky confidence, was almost dancing in front of what all now recognized as the victor's exit in her impatience to get started.  Tina, on the other hand, stood quietly in front of the entry portal.

Every eye locked on the challenger in her orange rubber bikini and a buzz of appreciation filled the room. Solange's smiled, all dark satisfaction, before she continued.  "If you will please take notice of soon-to-be-subbie-Antinea's attire," and the camera panned up and down the tightly muscled body. "You will see she is garbed identically to our previous contestant, with the exception of the rubber sports bra. Something our buxom lass needs quite as much as you boys would need your cups.  Otherwise, things might bounce about and get in the way."

~-~ 

Every eye except those of Walter Evans, that is.  Outside the final door leading to the ballroom, Walter Evans cringed in the dark stairwell.  Why, oh WHY had he turned right?  He was NEVER going to finish this scavenger quest by midnight.  He wouldn't get to serve Solange for a WHOLE month!  He NEEDED the release from responsibility she gave him, Dammit!

But it was just too much.  He just couldn't . . 

A flash of white caught his eye. Turning back quickly, he saw a very curvy redhead walk by, heading towards the buffet tables.  Wasn't that a toga?  And on her head, some kind of crown?  Could it be?

Without thinking, he was out the door and into the ballroom.  "Mistress Venus?" he managed to call.  "Please, Mistress, a moment of your time.  Please?"
~-~

Solange saw Walter break from the stairwell, and scurry off after Vanessa.  For just one instant, she closed her eyes in thanks.  She hadn't been wrong.  Now, all she had to do was make sure he passed his challenge.

After a properly knightly and demanding quest, of course.

~-~

"Let the contest begin!  Mistress ShaJuana, you may enter the Hall!"  The feline mistress gave two thumb-claws up, and slipped inside.  Solange spoke again.  "On the count of three, Antinea, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start! One, Two, Three!"  This time, the crowd counted with Solange, and then cheered as the hobbled Tina went to all fours and bunny-hopped, bells ringing loudly, through the curtain.

Knowing what to expect this time, the crowd hurried to get the best spots about the ballroom's large screens and prepared to follow this pair's progress toward their mutually exclusive goals.  Small wagers were offered this time around, usually with some type of slave service as the payoff, on how this pairing would do.  Most agreed that the very athletic Juana was at a distinct advantage in this confrontation. 

The cameras tracked them into the unlighted corridors, seeing them more as faceless shadow figures than people. ShaJuana, never one to simply wait for anything to come to her, went prowling her way into the Hall of Horrors, stopping every few steps to listen.

~-~

Tina, on the other hand, took two bounds into the dark space, and then sat down, putting her back up against the outer wall of the hallway.  She slid along the floor on her bottom until she came to the first playroom's door, and then slid further back into the recessed doorway.  Getting up onto her knees, she quickly spun about so her back was to the hallway.

~-~

It also put her back to the camera tracking her progress, partially obscuring her from the viewing crowd in the ballroom, much to their audible annoyance.  The operator rapidly switched through the various video feeds, sampling the available cameras, but was unable to get a clear picture of what the girl was doing. 

~-~

Working quickly, Tina brought one gloved hand up to her mouth and began working at the boxing glove's knots with her teeth.  That mode of escape had not occurred to Vanessa, so the knots on Tina's glove came loose without difficulty.  Moments later, her hands were both free, and she was reaching back to undo the buckles that held the hobble-chain strapped to her ankles.  She picked up the chain by the bells, carefully ensuring that the clappers could not move. Satisfied, Tina crawled out of the doorway, silently resumed making her way further into the darkened hallway.

~-~

"I suppose," Solange observed to her audience, "That we should have the other contestants' gloves checked for better knots, eh? I think our dear ShaJuana might be in for a surprise, eh?"

~-~

Juana wasn't the only one surprised.  A screamed "OH SHIT, WHAT IS THIS CRAP?!?" had Tina hitting the deck, and straining eyes and ears to scan ahead of her into the darkness.

~-~

On the screen, the attendees laughed heartily as Juana struggled to free herself from what appeared to be a gigantic white spider's web that had fallen on her from the ceiling.  It was evidently quite sticky as well, for camera close-ups showed the rubber fabric of her catsuit stretching away from her body as she tried to pull the webbing off her.  

Perfect, Solange mused as she watched the furious woman struggling to get the sticky twine from her hair and losing her cat's ears in the effort. It had taken a while to find a spray-on version of the adhesive used on post-it notes, but it had worked.

~-~

Juana threw the sticky mass to the floor, sacrificing her gloves along with the ears, not to mention a few bits of hair, to be rid of it.  Tina had designed this place, she thought, her nostrils flaring.  TINA had KNOWN about that damned web thing and she hadn't TOLD her best friend!  Well, some sexy little TV slut had just earned herself another HOUR of orgasm denial!  A beautiful concept, the tall, black goddess thought as she resumed her hunt.

~-~

Not quite so cautious in your stalking now, dear, Solange thought to herself as she watched Juana move more quickly through the darkness.  She'd known that Juana would not be one to guard the exit and let the prey come to her.  That was just much too passive an approach for their beloved Mistress ShaJuana Price.  No, this big jungle cat would want to hunt down her prey; would want to meet Tina at least half way and face to face.

~-~

Having designed the layout of the Hall, Tina had been able to move quickly and silently, while avoiding the traps that had been laid to give away or even entrap any hapless contestant that fell their way.  She made it, without incident, to the first corner where the hall turned to follow the shorter dimension of the third floor toward the back of the building.  There, she hid, just out of sight of anyone coming down that corridor, kneeling on the floor, and listening.

~-~

Knowing that her prey would be wearing boxing gloves and a belled hobble chain, Juana had not bothered changing her shoes. Now, in the silence of the otherwise unoccupied dungeon, her heels rang out like little hammers rapping on the hard tiled floors.  She stopped, and wondered momentarily if she should take them off before continuing her hunt.

"90 SECONDS LEFT!" Solange's voice echoed loudly.  

She couldn't do it, she realized.  She could outrun Tina in her heels since Tina was hobbled, but if the little sneak broke past her while she was one-shoe-on, one-shoe-off, she'd be screwed.  No way to move quickly with one foot wearing a four-plus inch heel and the other in just a stocking.  She'd likely kill herself.  Taking a deep breath, she began to move again, more slowly this time, and listening hard for the sound of those little silver bells.

~-~

The anticipation of the guests was becoming palpable as they watched the split scene, one view showing Tina waiting in ambush on one side of the corner, the other showing Juana creeping up from the other corridor.  Contact was imminent.  Would the little one try to get past the tall, powerful mistress and just run for it, or would they collide in an epic Mistress-on-Mistress cat-fight? 

No one in the room was hoping to see the former.

~-~

Tina heard the muffled clicking of Juana's heels, and fought the impulse to hold her breath.  Carefully, she tightened her grip on the hobble chain and waited - hoping. . 

~-~

Juana was fairly certain she was approaching the last corner in Solange's Hall of Horrors; the one that would turn onto the corridor that ran along the front of the block. That would have her heading directly for the entrance Tina had used.   If the sneaky little bitch was going to lay in wait, this corner would be where she'd do it, but why hadn't Juana heard any bells? Maybe Tina only moved while she'd been otherwise involved with that web?  She put out her hand to find the wall, and began moving very cautiously, her ears and eyes wide open.  

Only she didn't see or feel the trip-wire about her ankle until it was too late.
~-~

The camera tracking Juana from behind was instantly dazzled as the broken tripwire closed a circuit and turned on a spotlight directly behind and above Juana's head.  Its beam was directed at a floor to ceiling, three panel dressing mirror mounted against the far wall of the corridor.   The reflected light blazed fiery white into the dark-adapted eyes of the Amazon, dazzling her as well.

The operator was able to switch to a camera out of the line of the beam just in time to see Tina move.  Juana did not have the same option.

~-~

Keeping her head low and her eyes away from both the direct and reflected light, Tina leapt at Juana's feet, leading with the chain and wrapping it about the taller girl's ankles.  With one quick tug, she pulled the unstable ankles together, tying them together using the leather straps in a makeshift knot.  Using her shoulder in Juana's gut, she broke the taller girl's tripping fall, and then slid out from beneath Juana to let her slip all the way down to the floor.

~-~

She couldn't freakin' SEE!! Juana's hands went out, trying to catch herself, trying to regain her equilibrium when something TRIPPED her, and she started to fall over, face-first . . 

~-~

Cheers resounded throughout the viewing assembly, as the little blonde reached out for the felled Mistress, flipping the larger woman onto her back.  

~-~

Tina jumped aboard, putting all her weight onto Juana's upper body and wrapping her arms around her lover to capture the taller girl's in an arm-pinning bear hug.  "Gotcha" she gloated into ShaJuana's still-dazzled eyes, and then bent down to kiss the struggling black girl full on the mouth.

~-~

Solange grinned as she began the count.  "One . . Two . . Three. . . " and was joined by almost the entire audience as she reached "Five. . ."

~-~

Juana was fighting to get loose with everything in her, but between those damned heels and whatever it was wrapped around her ankles, she couldn't get any damned leverage with her feet.  And with her arms were being held so tightly to her body, they were useless, too.

"Eight, . . .Nine, . . . "

Damn, that girl could kiss, was her last rational thought before "TEN!" blared in her ears.

~-~

"And we have a WINNER!" Solange announced to the cheering of her guests.  Behind her, the split screen morphed into a single view.  The two male slaves again appeared on screen, bowing to Tina this time.

"Take her to Play Room 4, slaves," Solange ordered into the microphone as they hoisted the still-dazzled Juana up onto their shoulders before repeating their stylized synchronized bow.

~-~

At that very moment, Walter Evans - scavenger hunter - who had also experienced the rush of success, was busily searching for his second clue-giver.  

Some how, he'd DONE it!  Even when Mistress Venus had requested a boon that had him laying there on the floor - right there in FRONT of the buffet table and all the guests - drinking from a small baby bottle filled with milk. 

He'd almost run for the exit right then and there, but he hadn't.  And inside the bottle had been a piece of paper wrapped in plastic.  "Find the one who is booted and suited, and ready for scooting to get your next clue."

What the hell did that mean?  Almost every domme here was in boots of some kind or another, and none of them were nude so they were all suited.  Weren't they?

Scooting?!?

~-~

In Play Room 4, a bubbling Tina supervised the two slaves as they removed Juana's shoes before cuffing her ankles and wrists.  Ceiling and floor chains were quickly attached  to Juana's wrists and ankles.  Not surprisingly, Juana resisted, but Solange had selected these slaves for their strength, so they easily, if gently, overcame even her efforts to stop them.  That done, a touch of a switch activated hidden winches that pulled Tina's lovely prize into a standing spread-eagle position.  Her legs were spread just enough to cost the taller woman about three inches in height without putting too much of a strain on her leg muscles and hamstrings.  That put the pair, now that Tina was wearing her own high heels, nearly on eye-to-eye level.

"You cheated," Juana complained after the slaves had left.
Grinning broadly, Tina kissed the annoyed and pouting lips, enjoying the savor of lipstick on lipstick. "Only in that I knew where the traps were," she replied.  "Everything else was fair and square.  I'll show you the video - but after we're done - maybe tomorrow, if you're up to it," she added, her voice silky with her anticipation.

"I don't think I should have to do this 'cause you cheated!"

"Gonna safeword, then?" Tina asked, her brows lifting in polite inquiry.

"And spend the rest of this fine party walkin' around with a butt-plug locked up my ass, and a steel dome keeping my many slaves away from my clit and G-spot?!?  I don't think so!"

"Well, in that case, I guess, you're just gonna have to stand there and take what I have in store for you, huh?"

Dark brown eyes went slitted and black, "What you're gonna have in store for me, little girl, is unlockin' these chains and lettin' me go!"

Tina spun on her heels and went to the small dresser she'd had put in this otherwise starkly empty room, and opened a drawer. "I don't think that's what I want to do, Tall Booty," she said, removing an electronic remote control and pointing it at the wall directly in front of her bound friend.  "Nope, it's really not.  Hey, I think we'll just relax and watch a little TV first.  For now."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 17: Much Ado About Something
by Tigger c2008

Back in the ballroom, Solange caught sight of Isolde just inside the entry way, signaling to  her they were ready for the next pairing.  She smilingly acknowledged the Valkyrie with a wave, and then made her way back to her dais.  Seeing her heading in that direction, all of La Maitresse' guests moved quickly to huddle around the nearest flat screen.

"Hear ye, hear ye," she called, waving her flogger-scepter in the air, "It is time for our THIRD contestant to enter the Hall of Horrors.

~-~

Walter tried to ignore the attention his nude, chastised state was drawing.  He didn't succeed, not really, but he did try.  He'd been searching for the entire time that last pair had been in that damned Horror place, and he still had no idea who the hell he was supposed to find.  Was he supposed to ask everyone who wasn't naked if they were ready to scoot??!

He was just beginning to despair when a tall, well fleshed woman in biker leathers and helmet walked by.

A Biker Babe, he thought, his eyes going wide.  He checked her out more closely, and saw she was also wearing brightly shined, heavy soled biker boots to go with her riding leathers - her 'suit.'  Walter didn't think a real Biker Bitch would refer to her machine as a 'scooter', but it was worth asking, wasn't it?

He hurried over to the leather-clad woman and knelt before her. "Ma'am? Mistress? Are you. . umm, that is, are you ready for scooting?"

A knowing grin answered him, and he swallowed hard against the lump he felt growing in his throat.  "I might be," she answered, in a surprisingly gruff voice.  "But a clumsy server slave spilled egg nog on my boots, and I really think they need to be cleaned before I will be doing any scooting." She sat down on a nearby chair and raised the clunky boot near Walter's suddenly very dry mouth. "Or handing out any clues."

Closing his mind to the fact that his bare ass was currently mooning the majority of La Maitresse' guests and that he had never met this woman before, Walter bent over and began to lick away the sweet, creamy confection from the proffered toe.

~-~

For the third time that night, the guests watched as a contestant prepared to confront a Mistress in the dark of Solange's Hall.  This time it was James Harris in the day-glo orange jockstrap, hobble-chain and boxing gloves, but it was the woman on the other side of the split screen that caught everyone's attention.

Unlike many of her colleagues from the dungeon, this Domina had decided to use her costume to advertize her dominant specialities.  Older and more experienced that many of her colleagues at the dungeon, Head Nurse Amanda actually was a Registered Nurse with a bachelor's degree in nursing.  She had worked for fifteen years in that capacity when she had decided to make her avocation for teasing and tormenting men her vocation.  Now, in her white lycra nurse's costume, nurse-hat, stockings and ice-pick white heels, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of Olivia De Beradinis' nurse pinups!  She had the skills, the desire, and she was also drop-dead gorgeous to boot.  For Amanda, working at the dungeon was a dream come true and the perfect job. 

Due to her maturity, Amanda was sometimes called upon to play a 'Mother I'd Love to 'F' or MILF role (always as the 'F'-er, never as the 'F'-ee), but her primary dungeon specialties were the ones for which she had trained her entire life.  Amanda provided a variety of medical play scenarios for her clients, but her favorite scenes emphasized water sports, play piercing, and cock and ball torture.  She loved her new job so much she practiced her trade whenever she could find a willing playmate, and practice did make perfect.  She could be as gentle or as . . . un-gentle as each individual case warranted.  She could take a newbie to heaven or a hardened masochist to hell with equal ease and with complete safety.

And she was also Solange's best friend on staff at the dungeon - which was why she'd been asked to take this particular contest.

"Please note," Solange called the guest's attention back to herself, "the minor improvements we've made to our contestants' kit after Mistress Antinea's unanticipated success.  The silver bands you see around the gloves and the buckles of the hobble chains are made of duct tape.  The contestants will have to get that off before they can even hope to work on the knots. We think it will cost vital seconds to free enough of the knots, too."

There was a general sound of approval through the crowd.  They weren't here to see the bloody contestants win!  They wanted to see them have to deal with the consequences of losing - like that guy running around the ballroom buck naked, drinking out of baby bottles and licking biker boots!

Avidly, the guest's watched the two contestants on the various monitors.  Instead of going straight to her place before the victor's exit portal, Head Nurse Amanda sauntered, hips swinging, eyes smokey, over to where James Harris stood.  "You ready, cutey?" she cooed before giving him a pecking kiss on his colorless cheeks.  "I am.  And you know what I get to do to YOU when I win this thing?"

The audience was vastly entertained by the look of stark terror on the man's face as Head Nurse Amanda pulled down his jock and gave him a quick hernia check.  "Cough darling! she ordered.  Blushing furiously, but having nowhere to run, James did as ordered.  Smiling wickedly, she then pulled the jock back up, solicitously ensuring all the important parts were safely inside the hard plastic cup. "Well, honey, you're in prime shape for what I've got planned." She put her lips to his ear and whispered for several seconds.

The audience couldn't make out what she said, but they could tell by Harris' stunned reaction that it would be good!  REALLY good! Then she gave him another kiss and strolled her way over to where she'd enter the game.  

"Head Nurse Amanda! You may enter the Hall of Horrors!" Solange announced over the speaker system.  Amanda grinned widely, waved and called out, "Don't keep me waiting too long, Jimmy," before disappearing inside.

"On the count of three, Mr Harris, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start!"

Every voice in the ballroom counted out "One, Two, Three!" and then, Harris tip-toed through the curtain, and into the darkness.

~-~ 

This was the critical one, Solange thought.  This was the one that would make the final one work.  She knew Victor Davis even if he wasn't her personal submissive - understood him on a very basic level.  He was very much like her own little darling, and therefore he might, for very excellent reasons, back out at the very last second, accepting the forfeit.  Probably just leave and not come back until Thanksgiving - if then - and that would be a double tragedy. Solange hoped that the outcome of this scene just might provide the impetus that might convince him not to back out.

~-~

The taste of leather-flavored egg-nog wasn't that bad, Walter thought, but he was grateful for the glass of sparkling water the Biker had gotten for him from the bar nonetheless.  The Biker - she'd told him to call her just plain Bonny - had then told him that his next clue would be buried like a bone.

Buried like a bone?  Dogs supposedly bury bones - his never had, but that wasn't the point, was it. Was he supposed to go out in the alley and look for overturned dirt??  

WAIT!  That domme who wanted to know the forfeit before she'd let her sub participate in the game. She'd dressed him like a dog, hadn't she!

Maybe the doggie slave would know!

~-~

The other revelers were now glued to the television screens, watching as Amanda made her way into the hall, moving with what appeared to be almost reckless haste.  "Bet she wants to get him in her gynecological stirrups," a feminine voice offered.  "Fill 'im up!" another voice answered, "'cause that one's sure to be a couple of quarts low!"

On the other half of the split screens, Harris was still tip-toeing his way down the corridor, using one gloved hand as a feeler guide along the wall.  An angry shriek rent the silence, coming from the far down the corridor, and he flattened himself against the wall.

He was just about to start moving again when another, sharper yell had him back against the wall.  What was going on, anyway!?!

The audience knew.  Both the web and the lubricant-slick floor had caught Head Nurse Amanda.  She'd only gotten a glancing blow from the web, and had been able to shed it easily enough, even if she HAD screamed!  

And she hadn't fallen on the slick spot, either, because unlike ShaJuana, she'd shed her heels on entering, so she'd had enough 'foot on the floor' to be able to slide but not fall.  

"She looks really pissed," someone said.

Amanda headed for the last corner, determined to catch her prey when she remembered the light trap that had caught Juana.  She tried to stop, but she hadn't cleaned all the lubricant residue from her feet and went sliding into the trip wire.

The system operator was prepared this time, and had already switched to a camera that was outside the dazzle zone.  Amanda could not do that.
The light at the end of the corridor surprised James, for like the other contestants, he hadn't seen the videos of the other players in the Hall and so he didn't know about the traps.  Then Amanda came staggering into his hall, her arms trying to shield her face from the light.

Amanda terrified Harris.  Pins through his nipples, enemas, catheters, weights dangling from his balls?  How the hell could any of that be pleasurable?  It HAD to hurt! No way did he want to have anything to do with any session THAT woman had planned, and certainly not what she planned as a challenging session!

He watched her continue to stagger, moving her hands about as if looking for something to hold on to.  OMIGOD, she can't see!  he thought to himself. 

"90 Seconds - there are 90 Seconds left!"

For just an instant, James thought about trying to take her down and capture her.  For all she scared him spitless, she was beautiful and she couldn't see him. . .

No, he thought again.  If he got close enough to grab her, she was close enough to grab him. Even blind.  And Maitresse had said it was a ten count, not ten seconds.  How fast would she count to ten if somehow the nurse managed to land on top of him?

With that, he took off down the hall, dropping to all fours as he skittered by the still dazzled nurse.  He turned th corner and used the reflected light from the light trap to guide him to the final turn just as Solange announced, "There is ONE MINUTE left - One minute!"

He did slip on the KY-Jelly patch, and tripped over and got tangled in the discarded sticky web, but he could see the crack of light ahead of him that meant escape.  Standing up, he hopped madly towards that splinter of light as the voice of La Maitresse began the final countdown, "10. . .9. . ."

He broke through the curtain and fell flat on his face as she hit "3."

Solange turned to face the disappointed audience.  "Well, that's a winner," she said, her voice sullen.  "Guess we don't get to see Nurse Amanda working tonight.

On the screen, the two slaves arrived and started to help him to his feet.  "Go in there - over on that side," he directed towards the entrance portal.  "Nurse Amanda may be hurt.  I'm fine.  Just need. . .to catch my breath and get out of this damned web!"

~-~

"If you want Muffy to show you where he buried his doggie bones, you're gonna have to be nice and rub his belly for him," Muffy's Mistress told Walter.  Muffy, for his part, had rolled on his back with one leg in the air and his tongue lolling from his head.

Walter went white for just a second, and nearly bolted, but something stopped him.  "Ummm, JUST his belly?" he asked, very cautiously, his eyes fixated on Muffy's unretrained boy-bits.

"Yes, of course, what did you think I meant?" she snapped.

He rubbed the guy's belly and was so glad that was all he had to do, that he nearly forgot to be embarrassed.

~-~

Everyone was glad that Amanda wasn't really hurt, but unhappy to have missed seeing her work James in her planned challenge scene.  Not so unhappy, however, that anyone accepted her request for a volunteer to take James' place in her planned session.  She still had her reputation, after all.  None of the males in attendance were her usual clients, and the Mistresses with escorts had plans for their boy-toys that night that might be difficult if Amanda wrung her guy out like an old dishrag.

Only Solange was really pleased.  Amanda had come through for her - had taken one for the team so that the next play would have a better chance of success.   It was time, she thought, for the final setup.  She reached over onto the dais table, and flipped a tiny switch.  The operator saw her signal, and blanked all the screens.

"Oh, My - looks like we've had some kind of glitch with the video system.  We'll have it fixed soon.  Why don't you all get some refreshment and I'll call you back as soon as we're ready again."  With that, she strode from the room, heading for the stairs.

But instead of going to the surveillance room to check on the system, she headed for the Hall of Horrors . . .

~-~

Mistress Antinea used the remote to mute the room's television before turning her back to it.  Languidly, she looked her trophy over with equal parts satisfaction and anticipation.  While she had never quite believed that she would actually win their little contest in the dark - ShaJuana was incredibly fit and strong, and could easily have overcome Tina's advantages had she just been the tiniest less aggressive, she had still planned her victory celebration very carefully indeed.

Man, oh man, she thought grinning, she had longed for this opportunity for what seemed like FOREVER! 

Antinea gave a quiet laugh at her own hyperbole.  It certainly hadn't been forever, but there sure had been a great many long, lonely nights.  Nor had it been quite THIS opportunity for which she'd been longing.  Heck, until very recently, she had not thought something like this might be possible or even pleasurable.

And finally, she knew, deep in the part of her mind she usually kept hidden even from herself while in character, that it had not been a 'she' who had been longing for this incredibly beautiful woman, although that fact mattered less and less to her as time went on.

This playroom was decorated in what might best be described as 'Middle Age Gothic Post-Modern Dungeon' with walls textured and painted to have the look and feel of hewn stone.  Torchieres, engineered to simulate burning wood torches, provided the chamber's only light.  Their uneven, flickering red glow shadowed more than illuminated this Torquemada's realm of chains, shackles and 'torture' devices. 

Suddenly, in response to Antinea pressing another button on her remote control, a single spotlight enveloped her 'guest' in it's intense, white cone.  The harsh bright light gave shadowy emphasis to every muscle, every curve; to all the straining, glistening ebony perfection that was ShaJuana Price in all her naked glory. 

Getting her out of that catsuit had been fun, Tina mused happily.  Cutting it off her while Juana had sputtered and cursed, before tossing the bits off to a far corner of the room.  Even if she had to pay to replace it, Tina thought, that unveiling had been worth every penny!

Juana had been bound like this since Solange's two slaves had left the playroom. Solange had assured Tina that an extended period in such bondage would not pose any physical problem for a big, powerful strapping woman like ShaJuana. The angle formed by her legs was not so severe that she couldn't keep her feet flat on the room's stone floor, and Antinea had thoughtfully provided her with a saddle-like stool to take a good deal of the strain off ShaJuana's limbs.  Still, the position was sufficiently strict that the sleek, powerful muscles of those incredible long legs and firm arms stood out vividly under the harsh glow of the spotlight.

"God, Juana, you are SO gorgeous!"

~-~

The bone had been 'buried' beneath cushion of the chair Muffy's Mistress had favored. It had been made of two pieces, designed to come apart when twisted at the ends.  Inside had been the next clue.

"It is time you were taught how to measure up to the high expectations of a Learned Mistress."

Handing the bone back to Muffy (who took it in his mouth) and giving him a friendly scratch behind his ears, Walter wandered off, wondering just who he needed to find to teach him that.

~-~

"Everything ready?" Solange asked Betina.
"I'd say so.  Isolde will bring him up when you knock on the prep room door, and then we'll just see how he does, won't we?"

Solange had selected Betina as Victor's opponent Mistress for two reasons.  The first was that he had subbed to her on several occasions and trusted her. More importantly, Victor knew that Betina's primary role at the dungeon was gently exploring newbie's fantasies during those first terrified visits to a house of female domination. He wouldn't be - shouldn't be - in anyway frightened with anything she might propose for a challenge scene.

"You're going to let him come to you, right?" Solange asked.

'Natasha Fatale' shrugged her starkly white shoulders.  "As we agreed, dollink." Then she became serious.  "Only way I'm going after him is if it looks like he's going to pull the plug before we get a chance to finish this thing.  You're going to have to key me using the loud-speaker - again as we agreed.  If you say 'Get Moose and Squirrel' over the loud speakers, I'll know you've decided we need to go get him."

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

"Me, too. He's such a sweety, you know? Well, we'll just do what we have to do to make this work, okay?"

It wasn't, but it was all she had at this point.  "I better go down and let everyone know the system is partially down."

"Yeah," the Goth Mistress agreed, grinning.  "Some things the masses just don't need to know, right?"

"Right.  See you later, Bets, and good luck," Solange added, and then headed down to signal Isolde to escort the last player to the Hall.

~-~

'Teach' and 'Learned' had to be, Walter thought, the operative words as he scurried up to the stern, Victorian school mistress he'd seen earlier.  He glanced up at the clock on the back wall of the ballroom.  How the hell had it gotten to be 11:15??!?

"Excuse me, HeadMistress," Walter asked, "but do you have a clue to aid my quest?"

Marie, Headmistress of the dungeon's 'school room' looked the quivering man over with a gimlet eye.  She had a choice to make at this point, and wanted to make the correct one, or at least, the best possible one.

Marie actually had taught in the city's public schools for several years before burning out and looking for another way to make her living.  When she'd discovered both a taste and an aptitude for sexual domination games, she'd managed to marry those with the training, skills and dreams that had initially pulled a very young, idealistic and nurturing woman into the teaching profession.  In her mind, she still was a teacher - the lessons she taught were different, the clients were a good deal older and the methods she used were also different - but her clients always learned something during her sessions.  She INSISTED on that, and held very high expectations for her little darlings.  It was, she often mused, just too bad that her current 'motivational' tools had been denied her when she'd taught 9th Grade pre-algebra in the public schools. She might have finally gotten to the seat of the students' problems with paying attention and doing their work.

She could see that Walter was starting to fray about the edges.  The toll taken on his emotional reserves already was clear to her practiced eye.  She made her decision, signaling that with a wave of her yardstick.

"Very well, student, I think it is time for you to sit your exams.  Come with me!" she ordered, and led the way to the small area off the dais.

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 18: Stop! In the Name of Love . . .
by Tigger c2008

The assembled guests followed her to the dais as if she were the Pied Piper and they were the children, Solange mused.  She picked up her microphone and turned toward them.  "We have had some kind of failure in my video system.  I don't know what thingamie broke, but basically what it means is that we can't watch the challenge scenes because those feeds can only go one place, and I've decided that my Dungeon Master Mistresses need to see what's happening in those rooms more than we do."

There were murmurs of agreement and consolation from the audience.  "Thanks for your understanding.  I'm sad about that, too, but at least we can watch the last of our contestants go for the prize!" she said as she made a grand gesture to the screen behind her.  It flashed once, and then settled once again on to the split view of the two entry points into the Hall of Horrors.

"Our Mistress in this competition, dressed as Boris Badenov's fellow Potsylvanian spy and helper, Natasha Fatale, is our own Mistress Betina!"  There was a smattering of applause, and then she pointed to the other side of the monitor.  "Her opponent is Mr. Victor Davis. Since two of our Mistresses have already lost, We thought about putting a squirrel tail or moose antlers on him to help motivate Natasha, but we couldn't find any in time."

There was general laughter, but Solange didn't want to wait any longer.  She needed to get this last one started!  "Mistress Betina, you may enter the Hall!"

Betina, made a pistol with her index finger and thumb, and grinned as she 'shot' it at Davis.  Then, she disappeared through the curtains.

"Mr. Davis!  "On the count of three, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start!" Solange called out, and took a deep breath as she watched him slip through the curtains.

~-~

At least they were out of the main ballroom, Walter thought.  Almost all of the guests were listening to La Maitresse, and there were none of the large screen televisions in this part of the ballroom to bring them here when the last guy's contest started.  

Head Mistress Marie led him to a furniture grouping evidently intended to be a quiet, conversation area. She stood him directly behind one of the heavy, overstuffed chairs, so that his bare belly was brushing up against it. "Bend over the back of that chair!" she ordered, punctuating her command with quick swat of her yardstick against his thigh.  "I want to see your toes on the floor, hands behind your back and your nose on the seat cushion.  MOVE!" she ordered, urging him on with another slashing blow; this one to his other thigh.

He did as she ordered.  "Now, I want you to spell out - CORRECTLY - the honorific of the woman to whom you kneel.  I will encourage you in this examination by a thorough application of my motivational tool to your upturned buttocks until you pass my little test."  A whistling stroke cracked loudly against clenching ass-cheeks.  "Begin!"

~-~

To the watching guests, this pairing seemed to be shaping up as something like a repeat of the first.  The Mistress costumed as the femme fatale of Rocky and Bullwinkle fame took up a position about twenty feet down the corridor from where she'd entered

Davis was moving into the corridor, as had Walter Evans before him, but without any real attempt to silence the bells.  He was moving as quickly as the hobble on his ankles would permit, and as a result, he reached the first corner well before the first minute was expired.  Cautiously, he stopped there, and went down on one knee.  

Solange had told them there'd be traps, he thought, as he felt around the corner. If he was going to set traps in this dark pit, he'd do it at the corners - expecting to catch the prey when they were excited about making it to the first check point.  

Unfortunately, he couldn't feel much through the bulky glove, and he set off the trip-wire controlled light trap. Fortunately, his eyes were not in the direct line of either the lamp or the reflection from the mirrors so he was only slightly dazzled.  Closing his eyes, he rounded the corner on his knees and headed for the next corner.

"One Minute gone!" Solange announced as he headed down the second corridor.  "There are Two Minutes remaining!"

That was to his advantage, the guests saw, because he was still on his knees when he hit the greased floor trap.  Additionally, whatever tripped the webbing was up higher than he was tall when crawling, because he missed that one, too.
"Must be he figures he can just push his way past Betina, because he sure as hell ain't being sneaky about it," someone offered.

"Well, she's the smallest Domme doing this thing.  I sure wouldn't try this with Emerald or ShaJuana," a female voice replied. 

They agreed, watching him turn the second and final corner, and look carefully into the darkness in the direction of his goal.

~-~

"M . . A . . I . . T. . .R . . E. . S. . S. . EEEEEEE!"  Walter yelped against the stinging fire lighting his bottom. Somehow, he'd managed to misspell La Maitresse's name three times.  Okay, two times - the one time he'd forgot the 'L . . A' a the beginning.

"That is correct!  You have mastered the spelling of your Mistress' honorific. You are released to your next class."

Walter looked up from his awkward position.  "But. . .but.. ."

"Speak clearly, student!"

"What about my clue, Head Mistress?"

Marie heard the dismay and fatigue in his question, and gentled her own voice. "You already have it, student.  Now go and find her."  And then, she left before he could struggle up into a standing position.

~-~

Betina had moved a little further into the corridor, perhaps another fifteen feet when Solange announced that there was one minute left. Plenty of time for anything to happen, the crowd knew.  Betina was going to have to stop him somehow, or he would win.

Victor wasn't really sure what he'd do if he won this contest.  It was too bad what he really wanted wasn't on offer.  He'd taken the challenge expecting to lose.  He wasn't afraid of the challenge thing - so long as he could safeword if they approached his one hard and fast limit.  That was a given because Solange, La Maitresse, wouldn't allow anything else in her house. 

He'd already decided he wasn't going to try to capture Betina.  Hell, what would he do with a submissive?  However, that didn't mean he was just going to give in and let HER win.  Where was the fun in that?

Solange watched as Victor went back down on to all fours, and started to gallop toward the finish line.

Betina barely saw him, but still managed to jump towards him.  He saw her and made an incredible effort to twist his body so that he missed hitting her head on - he really didn't want to hurt her.  He landed on his side, and started to roll back to his stomach so that he could start galloping again when something caught hold of the hobble chain, and pulled!

A cheer went up as the guests saw that there was a second Mistress, one who must have already been in the Hall when Betina had first entered.  She pulled hard on the hobble chain, causing Davis to go flat onto his stomach, unable to get his feet to the floor.  Then, Betina jumped on him, putting her weight on his shoulders.

Solange started the ten count, and was quickly joined by the rest of her revelers.  Moments later, she announced that Mistress Betina and her partner, Mistress De Masque, had won and that the losing contestant was to be transported to Playroom 3 to await their pleasure.

~-~

Tina was tactilely and orally reacquainting herself with every square inch of HER ShaJuana.  Juana had long since ceased complaining - about being captured anyway. Now she was complaining about being teased - LOUDLY!

It could be fun being a bitch, Tina mused as she discovered the pleasure to be had nibbling her way up the back of Juana's neck while cupping and fondling those magnificent breasts!

She'd just about reached her goal when a red-light flashed on the now-dark screen.  Time for the big show, she thought.  "Wanna watch some television, Tall Booty?" she asked as she walked over to pick up her remote.

"WWWHHHHHATTT??!?" was the bellowed response from a very frustrated goddess as the TV screen flared to life showing the two slaves with their burden entering a playroom with Betina and the masked Domme following behind.

~-~

"Maitresse?" Walter called out from in front of the dais, catching her attention from the screen on which her two slaves carried away Victor Davis.

"Yes, Mr. Evans," she said, turning to face her kneeling submissive and schooling her face and voice.

"Are you my next clue giver?" he asked, "Maitresse?"

"You should go soak your head, Mr. Evans," she said quietly.  It was too close to midnight to put him through granting her some type of playful boon, and he looked about ready to crash.  

"Soak my head?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, dear boy, it is, after all, Halloween?"  Then she deliberately turned away from him.

~-~

The slaves bound Davis hand and foot to a horizontal torture rack.  Betina activated hidden motors that slowly stretched him out until there was no slack in the restraints.

"I think, Mistress Betina, that we should start by seeing just what kind of man we've won here.  Is he a dud, or a stud?" the one called Mistress De Masque asked.

Betina found a pair of scissors.  "I seem to recall that when I trained him, he was. . .adequate, at least for size.  I can't tell you about his endurance," she giggled as she passed the scissors to her partner.  "I never let him cum."

Three quick snips had the jockstrap coming off easily in the masked woman's hands.  "Hmmm," she replied, "Seems large enough - and growing!  If he's this quick to erect, however did you manage to avoid . . . accidents?"

The Madame' gentle, gloved hand began to fondle him intimately.  "Maybe I didn't excite his little willie as much as you seem to do, my dear," Betina observed.  The two woman looked to one side, where a floor to ceiling mirror stood.  A little smile curled the blood red lips of Betina's blond partner as she took in her own reflection.  The curvy woman who smiled back from those silvered depths was stunning in the tightly corseted black catsuit, heels and mask.  "He must really like well-endowed, petite blondes."

Victor groaned in response to the teasing, 'Ummm, Mistress?  Please, but I don't cum with the Ladies here - it's one of my hard limits."

"Oh, really?" the blonde purred, her fondling becoming more serious. "You didn't mention that, Betina.  This one doesn't enjoy orgasm?  How - interesting."

'Natasha' laughed.  "No, I think he enjoys it well enough - just not here at the dungeon, but it is so much fun driving him to the edge of insanity.  He's quite the only sub I truly enjoy forcing to safe word."

"Oh really?" 

"Yes indeed.  I've sent him out of here limping, his dick so hard, holding his hands behind his back on his own because he refused to touch himself and cum. Only fair, because he won't sexually pleasure, orally or otherwise, any of the Mistresses either."

"I don't think that's because he doesn't like girls," Madame observed thoughtfully, "I mean, look at this hard-on.  I'm almost impressed."  

Victor groaned again, going rigid. to control himself, and the masked blonde went up to look into her victim's eyes.  "And why don't you want to share pleasure with us, slave-boy? hmmmm?" she asked, her hand speed beginning to pick up.

"Because I won't be sexually unfaithful to my wife, Mistress.  I go home, after serving, to make love with her - to worship her, even if she doesn't know that's what I'm doing."

"Lucky woman, but I don't understand why you come here, slaveboy.  Is she some type of prude, that you hide what you are and what you want to give her?"

Tears glistened in Victor's eyes.  "I won't lose her because I . . . NEED this!" he growled through clenched teeth.  "I can't give this up, but. . .but. . . MERCY!!" he called out, his entire body clenching against the suddenly imminent eruption.

The hand stopped, but wasn't removed.  Instead, she gave a firm pinch at the base that stifled his climax.  "Thank you, Mistress," he managed to gasp out.

The blond dominatrix signaled to Betina, who smiled, nodded and left the room.  She then reached down, and unsnapped the bra and the crotch of her catsuit. "It's time, little man," she said in a smoky voice, "For you to give me what I've earned."

Before Victor quite knew what was happening, she straddled him, and took his erection into her in one slow movement.  Davis was stunned!  "Dammit, I safeworded!  You're supposed to let me go - stop everything!  I will report you to Solange! The police!"

Arching her back, the blonde put one gloved finger to his lips. "You safeworded because you were about to orgasm without your wife, correct? Answer yes or no."

"YES, DAMN Yooiuuuummph!" he was cut off by a firm palm across his lips.

"I said, yes or no, you naughty boy.  Well, the reason I'm not honoring your safeword, is because," she reached up her free hand to sweep away the mask and blond wig, "I'm your wife!"

Davis found himself being tightly embraced and thoroughly kissed.  "Linda?" he managed to choke out around the tongue invading his mouth.

The petite brunette sat up, gave a quick hip shimmy to seat him more thoroughly in her womanly core, and sighed happily, "That's Mistress Linda to you, slave boy."

"How - why. . .I don't understand. . ." 

"Shhhh," Linda purred as she began to ride him slowly.  "I followed you once and Solange saw me.  We'll talk - LATER!  Now, do I have to gag you, slave boy, or are you going to shut up and fuck me?!?!?"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 19: All's Well That Ends Well
by Tigger c2008

"She. . . she didn't honor his safeword," ShaJauna choked out as Tina turned off the monitor. "Solange. . "

"Solange set it up, Tall Booty," Tina said, returning to her newly favorite pastime of finding every one of the ebony beauty's erogenous zones.  "Linda wasn't completely convinced that Victor wasn't really cheating on her sexually, and Victor didn't know how to tell Linda what he really wanted from her as his Mistress."

"What if he'd won?  Oh, shit, right THERE!"

"That's why it was two against one in that contest, and why Solange let Harris win the previous one - so Victor would believe he could win."

"You STILL cheated me - DAMMIT, I. . CUMMING. . . right THERE . . NO don't STOP!"

Tina stood back and watched the powerful muscles of Juana's body flex and stretch, watched her try to find something that gave her that last bit of friction she needed.  But it wasn't there.  "God, you're gorgeous," Tina whispered.

"I'm freakin' HORNY, dammit!  You cheated to get me here, the LEAST you can do is HELP ME, bitch!"

"I didn't cheat, Tall Booty.  If you'd caught me, I'd have played fair.  I just knew you and I'd had a little more time to think about how to win than the other players.  I told Solange that I'd try to win, but if not, I was yours.  I won." Tina leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to Juana's frustrated frown.  "You are MINE!"

"DAMMIT, Tina, OKAY! Now DO something, DAMMIT!"

Instead, Tina went back to her throne, sat down and crossed her legs.  "Well, that's the point, darling, because we have to decide what we're going to do.  I'm gonna give you a choice."

~-~

"AND DON'T even THINK about coming back!" a furious Mistress costumed as a very sexy Marine drill sergeant snapped, before slamming the door of the ladies restroom in Walter's face.

He'd tried the men's room, and had thought, maybe in the Mistress' rest room, but still hadn't found the place to obey the order to go soak his head.  He'd almost gone down to the foyer, knowing there was a restroom there, but Emerald had told him his prize would be in the ballroom.

Now that he thought about it, the bathrooms on this floor weren't either.  It was 11:50 PM when he made his way into the ballroom and saw IT!

There, off to one corner, was a line of Mistresses, submissives in tow, awaiting their turn at some of the 'party games'.  All the favorites were there - 'Pin the Tail in the Subbie' where blindfolding Dominas tried to put a tail n their submissive using a buttplug instead of a pin, 'Push the peanut' where ballgagged submissives with hands bound behind their backs pushed peanuts to the finish line with their noses, and Dunking for Apples.

Halloween, Evans thought.  "Soak your head," Solange had said.  Quickly, he jumped in line, hoping there was enough time.

"The slave of La Maitresse has head of the line privileges," the Mistress in charge announced.

With two minutes to spare, Walter Evans was on his knees, presenting the Golden Dildo - still dripping - to La Maitresse Solange..

"Oh, you wonderful brave little slave boy!" she cheered, as she accepted his quest prize. "You did it! YOU WON!"  Then, Walter was shocked beyond words when the usually reserved dominatrix jumped him - right there on the dais - and kissed him senseless.

~-~ 

"A choice?" Jauna asked, suspiciously.  She was a Domme.  She knew ALL about the kinds of 'choices' subs in her current position were offered by their tops.  Like being put between a rock and a hard place and then having the rock dropped on you. Juana saw the fine dominant hand of Solange in this and didn't trust EITHER of them as far as her currently bound hands could throw them. "What kind of choice, and be real specific with all the deets!"

Tina laughed, and shook her head.  "Oh, you'll like both, don't worry.  First choice is you get to cum - over and over again until I can't make you cum any more.  I've always wanted to drive a woman into sexual oblivion, and I will unless you safeword, or. . ."

"Or what, little girl?"

"Or, you take the other choice.  Which is, I get to make love to you until I can't go anymore or until you safeword."

Juana's head snapped to where she knew the surveillance camera was hidden. "But what about the audience?" she asked, knowing that Tina's true gender was not yet common knowledge outside of the dungeon's staff members, and that Solange wanted it kept that way for now.

"Equipment malfunction," Tina grinned. "The guests have been told that only the dungeon masters can see the feeds off those cameras until we get them fixed - after the party.  They didn't see Victor try to safeword his wife, either."
"Well, shit, Tina-Ty-RONE!  Take me to bed, STUD!  And we'll just SEE which one of us needs any stinkin' safeword!"

~-~

At two in the morning, Solange slipped into the prep room where Victor Davis was helping his wife out of her costume.  "Everything all right here?" she asked, already knowing the answer from the well-pleasured glow in her eyes, and the awed worship in his.

"We're fine," Linda answered first, "Aren't we, darling?"

"Yes, Ma'am, we are." He turned to Solange from unlacing Linda's corset.  "I understand we have you to thank for setting me. . .THIS up?"

Solange shrugged.  "You are a lovely man, Victor, a beautiful submissive who longs to serve the woman he loves.  You've hidden your service to her in the past, and then had to come to us when you deemed yourself deserving of punishment for not serving well enough.  I know something of how hard that can be on  a strong man such as yourself. Now, you can be open about your need to serve and worship her as your Mistress.  Perhaps Linda will still want us to handle your discipline, which we will do quite happily, or we can help her learn how to do at least some of it herself."

"Oh, I want to learn," Linda purred, stroking her hand lovingly down her husband's cheek.  "On him.  I want to be the only woman to whom this man kneels."

"That can be arranged.  Give me a call next week and we'll discuss some plans.  Are you all right with that, Victor?"

"I am," he said quietly, "But I think I'd like to be involved in the planning, too.  I know sometimes these things are done without the sub's knowledge? To heighten the effect?  I don't think I'm ready for that.  This is too new, and it feels fragile.  It feels wonderful, but . . "

Solange nodded.  "I know what you mean.  You want to add to your relationship, not harm it.  We'll go slowly."  She went over and kissed each of them.  "Thanks for coming.  One of the servants will escort you to your car when you're ready to leave.  Just push the call-button."

~-~

Solange was tired after her gentle 'reward' session with Walter, but it was a good tired. This had been a very good party and a better night.  Once the tension of the quest had been lifted, Walter had realized just how excited he'd been by the experience.  He'd climaxed almost immediately just from her hand-spanking him. The session had gone a little long, but that had been because Solange had needed to know he was truly all right after his public play debut.  He'd been fine - thank heavens - and had left with his mind awhirl with possibilities for the special scene he'd earned as a challenge scene winner.  
She, on the other hand, was winding down and very ready for her bed.  She just needed to make sure her guests were all safely on their way and that the premises were secure before heading for her own home. Inside the surveillance room she saw that all the monitors dark and her two friends who'd served as dungeon masters were gathering their things to leave. "Everybody gone?" she asked, as she strolled over to cuddle down into the lap of the room's third occupant.

"Everyone except ShaJuana and that cute little girlie-boy Mistress of yours.  They were still going at it hot and heavy last time we checked, but it was purely vanilla - well," the grandmotherly woman chuckled, "Chocolate and vanilla, anyway, so we didn't figure we needed to watch all that close. Your Tina gave Juana the choice of being teased into an orgasmic coma or making love.  They are making love and have been for almost three hours!"

"Matchmaking again, Solange?" the other woman in the room asked, casting a knowing smile at her friend.

"And if I am?" The arch tone of her reply was spoiled somewhat by the broad smile that Solange could not quite keep off her face.

Her friend grinned back broadly at her longtime confidante. "Hope it works out for them as well as it did for me and my baby-doll.  He sends you his best, by the way. Although, he was a little disappointed when I agreed to DM for you because he loves your parties."

"He could have come.  I'd have seen that he was suitably entertained."

"Naw. He won't play with anyone else unless I'm part of the scene - and I kinda like it that way.  I only make him go to parties where he doesn't get to play as a punishment now."

"Nice," Solange agreed.  "Well, if you're ready to leave, I have two slaves on call who will carry your things for you and give you safe escort to your cars."

After the two women had left, Solange was unable to resist the temptation to use her equipment to 'peak' in on Tina and ShaJuana.  One look told her that it was Tyrone and ShaJuana at this point as none of Tina's feminine finery was anywhere in evidence.  A second look told her that Ty was doing a fine job of 'having his way with her', for Juana's hands were dug tightly into his hair, holding his head to her sex, while her flawless, ebony body bowed up into his face.

Solange quickly powered the system back down, fanning her face with her hand.  Well, she thought as she smiled hungrily into the face of her bound and gagged husband, maybe she wasn't QUITE as ready for sleep as she'd initially thought. With practiced flicks of her fingers, she freed her lover from the bondage stool onto which she'd installed him a few hours earlier, and then undid his gag.  Standing, she quickly straddled him, wrapped her arms about his powerful shoulders and kissed him deeply.  His arms came up to hold her close, thrilling her yet again with the sheer power he always willingly ceded to her. "I think," she purred as she squirmed against his chastised erection, "that you should plan on being very, very busy when we get home, slave."
It was, after all, a night worth celebrating!

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 20: A Glorious Morning Have We Seen
by Tigger c2008

Something was 'not right,'  thought Juana with her mind still muzzy with sleep.  Maybe it was just too soon to get up - being awake when you should be sleeping was about as 'not right' as things were allowed to get in ShaJuana Price's highly ordered world. Cautiously, she peaked open one eye to look at her alarm clock.  Things went from 'not right' to wrong in half a heartbeat!

First, her clock was not where it was supposed to be, and second, there was a softly snoring man-shaped lump in her bed. . .

Make that three things, she realized as her brain finally started to catch up - this was not HER bed, nor was it her room.  How the hell. . .

And then it all came flooding back to her.  That damned party and Solange's setting her up so Ty - make that Tina - would beat her in that also-damned Hall of Horrors thing.  Why wasn't she totally pissed off about that?  

Oh, yeah, she thought as she rolled over in the bed, hours of having yourself loved blind and brainless did that to a woman.  

She went instantly still as she played back that thought.  She'd used the "L" word, not the "F" word, and she'd meant it.  Aw hell, now she'd gone and done it, she thought.  She'd fallen in love with Tyrone Evans!  She was at once deliriously happy and utterly terrified.  She didn't know how to be in love, dammit.  That was a girly thing - like pink underwear, for god's sake.  What did a towering she-hulk like her know about being in love and all that happily ever after stuff??!  

She tried to imagine herself as his woman - her brain wouldn't let herself use the other "w" word - and still couldn't.  Not unless Donna Reed grew half a foot, wore six inch stiletto platforms and a leather apron!  She wasn't made to be the 'little woman', dammit!

"Hey," a soft voice behind her called, "You're thinking awfully loud for so early in the morning." She shivered as Ty pressed a kiss to the base of her neck and pulled her body closer to his, spoon-fashion.

She could feel the strength of him when he did that - she often forgot just how strong he was because of their relative sizes - and he kissed her again.  "What's up, Juana?  You've gone all tense."

The gentleness of his tone and question undid her as nothing else would have, and she was crying before she could do anything to hold back the tears.  She wanted to curl up into the fetal position and hide until she got over it, but Ty was having none of it.  Using that strength again, he had her rolled over, facing him, before she quite knew what was happening.  "Hey, hey, what's the matter, baby?  Did I hurt you?"

"No, dammit, you didn't hurt me!" she snapped, angry at him because she was angry at herself for crying.  And it was HIS damn fault, too!  

"Then, why?" he asked, worried.

"Because you loved me, you jackass! Just like I was a real girl!"

"HUH?!?"  His oh-so-male one-word answer infuriated her so much she punched him - which hurt him - so she did it again.  She was winding up for a third when he bear hugged her.  "That hurts, you little witch - cut it out!"

"I'm not a little anything, you . . you . . " she was struggling now, trying to get out of his arms - trying to get away before she truly humiliated herself.

Ty was having none of it, and rolled her to her back so he was on top, looking down into her eyes.  Here there be dragons, he thought.  "Juana-love?  You are a real girl - as real as it gets, okay? As real as it will ever get for me.  You're my girl."

She stopped struggling, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks.  "How can I be your girl, Ty?  I'm a bitch-domme, for heavens sake - a sex-worker.  I freakin' tower over you.  And. . . And. . .and I'm black!"

He didn't answer right away, just kept looking down at her.  Finally he smiled.  "You done?" he asked, and then continued before she could answer, "Because if you are, we're home free.  One - you're black and absolutely gorgeous inside and out.  I can't imagine my girl being any other way.  Two - your height.  I'm not in the least intimidated by that, and in fact, find it both attractive and exciting.  I can't imagine my girl being any other way.  As for your profession, you are an actress and artist who uses your God-given acting ability, your empathy and your compassion to help people.  Yeah, sex is involved, but not in anyway that bothers me.  News-flash, Juana, I'm sorta in the same line of work just now!"

She swallowed hard, looking up into his eyes.  It was still dark in the room, but there was enough light for her to see them.  "You say that now. . ." 

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that," he told her.  "Like you yourself told me - you don't ordinarily even touch the guys on their, um, male parts," he paused, reflectively before continuing, "Well, you did me in our two scenes. . " Juana mumbled something.  "Hmm? You said something?"

Embarrassed, and certain she was blushing furiously, Juana tried to look away from his face, only to have a gentle hand cup her chin and turn her back.  She sighed. "I said, that was just with you.  I might strap one on and take a guy in the ass during a session, but he does the jerking off.  Solange gets pissed if we do too much of that, so I try to do none."

"See?  As long as I'm special that way, I don't mind your work.  Hell, I'm starting to think some of it is sexy! Especially your costumes!"

"Perv," she muttered, fighting back the elation she felt bubbling up inside her.

"And whose fault is THAT?" he asked, grinning.

"Natural talent, asshole," she answered, then went still again.  Ty cocked an eyebrow at her.  "I can't be Donna Reed, Ty, not even for you," she managed to choke out.

And was instantly furious again when he started laughing so hard he lost his hold on her.  She rolled on top of him, pummeling him again until he caught a wrist in each hand.  "Thank GOD for that, Tall-booty!  I grew up with Donna - she's my Mom!  I don't want to be my Dad, and I sure as hell don't want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad, either.  That's not me!"

She was mollified with that.  "So, if you're not going to do fuel injectors in West Podunk, what are you going to do?"

Ty released her hands, and pulled her to him.   Finally, she relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder, liking how she fit just there.  "I'm not sure, but it will have something to do with the theater.  I've still got the business degree, so I might be able to get something in management, but I'm working on something else just now, too."

"Gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to put you over that spankin' bench and torture it out of you?"

"I've been accepted at the Actors Studio Drama School," he told her, "In the director's program.  In my time here, I've helped orchestrate any number of scenes for the ladies - staging, planning, costuming - that kind of thing?  I liked it, and they all said I was good at it, too.  And I thought, 'Hey, this is a way I can still be involved with the theater creatively.'"

"When do you start?"

"After New Years, if I can work out the finances.  I won't ask Dad for help - not for this."

Understanding dawned.  "That's why you wanted to do the on-call TV slave thing?  You wanted the money?"

He nodded.  "But that's not going to work."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because there's only one woman I'm giving that part of me, and I won't 'sell it', not even for that."  He was suddenly being strangled, kissed and cried on, all at once.  "DAMMIT, Juana, I can't BREATHE!" he yelped, and took in a couple of deep breaths when the grip eased.

"Thank you," she said softly, and then pressed on before the tears started again. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Keep working here, doing the odd scene as I have been, and working more with Solange in the planning and business end of the dungeon.  Using that damned business degree."

"No shit?"

"No shit," he affirmed.  "Like, did you know, that we don't have a health care plan here for the ladies and other staff?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown three heads.  "Health Care? For cripes sake, white boy, this is a freakin' DUNGEON!"

"And your point is?  Did you know that Solange has a business license for the place? I forget what the technical term she used to describe it in the paperwork, but the whole thing is legal and above board.  She even pays taxes.  I think she currently gets the girls health care at reduced prices by exchanging services with a couple of doctors, but that doesn't help with things like hospital care and prescriptions."

"Health insurance in a dungeon?" she said, wonderingly.  "What's next? Retirement plans?"

"I am looking into tax sheltered annuity plans," he told her seriously, and then smiled as she dissolved into giggles.  He stopped those by taking possession of her mouth, kissing her with a sweet thoroughness that thrilled her.  "Better?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," she growled, her juices bubbling.  "JUST fine, now, cutey."

Ty felt her hand reach down, find him, stroke him and then her mouth took his.  "Get ready to be had, little man, MY way!"

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded on the door.  "HEY, you two!" Solange's voice called from the other side.  "I've got paying clients coming in to use this room today, and I'm sure it needs a thorough cleaning!"

"Go away, Solange!" Ty yelled, reaching up to grip Juana's hips.  "Come back in twenty minutes or so!"

"An hour!" Juana retorted loudly as she settled herself around him, "At least an hour!"

~-~
Acting Dominant
Interlude: Bad Angel Fire Her Good One Out

Solange offered Tyrone the steaming cup of tea she'd just poured and prepared with all the grace and ceremony of a Regency duchess.  Accepting it, he grinned.  "Now I know how Tina should have served you and Juana in that first scene of ours."

Bowing her head with regal acceptance, she replied,"One should always handle the social niceties, such a serving tea properly, with due respect and solemnity," and then grinned.  "Besides, this tea is hot so I have to handle it carefully."

Accepting the offer of a cookie, Ty set his cup and plate down so that he could pick up his journal.  "I was a little surprised we didn't put off this week's reflective session," he told her as he paged through the notebook, "I mean, I didn't do any learning sessions this week."

Taking a sip from her own tea, Solange shook her head. "No, you didn't. You had something that could have been far more challenging to you," she averred. "You had the opportunity to dominate the woman you love for the very first time. You can passively accept the dominance of another when you bottom, but not as the top.  I wanted to make sure that you didn't have any. . . lingering issues about your role in that scene with ShaJuana."

Once again, Ty surprised and pleased the experienced Mistress by not giving the typical knee-jerk male response of "No problem!"  She let him mull over the question without further input from her, interested in what he might come up with in response.

Finally, he put the journal down and picked up his teacup.  "You know, I wish I'd thought to journal that, but I didn't - mostly because I just felt so good about the whole thing afterwards.  Kind of a super-afterglow."

"No negative feelings about 'forcing her against her will' or 'taking away her freedom of choice?'  You are okay with that?"

"More than okay," he replied, reflectively.  "Because basically, I didn't and wouldn't have.  You might as well know that if she'd safeworded? No one but the two of us would have known, unless she told.  As far as I was concerned, we could have spent the rest of the night eating snacks and watching the tube."

"So, you would have lied to me?" she asked, a finely formed brow arching in her query.

"Yup.  And I would have lied about the victory scene, too, if that bothered her.  Or maybe I'll request something I know she'll like doing as the domme."

"Is that what you want?  I said you could have any scene you want."

"You had it right to begin with, Solange.  She's the woman I love - she's the woman I want."
"And you're concerned that ShaJuana might have issues with you wanting to top her, or with you voluntarily playing with someone else?"

Ty considered that question, and then shrugged.  "Dunno. I think. . . no, I KNOW that she enjoyed what we did on Halloween, but that really wasn't too stressful on her ego once I released her from the bondage."

"Being loved - truly loved - is rarely stressful for a woman," Solange observed drily.

"Glad to hear that, 'cause I sure hoped that would be the case," Ty grinned.  "But we haven't talked about it much beyond some morning-after pillow talk, you know?  I'm just not sure where to go next with her, but I feel these conflicting needs to go slow and do whatever it takes to make her happy, and yet. . ."

"You want to rope her, brand her and make her yours right now."

"Well, yeah," he said, blushing at the imagery invoked as much for the knowing tone with which Solange delivered it. "Figuratively, anyway.  Not much into pain and marking, though."

"Yes, I do see.  Perhaps, I need to talk to ShaJuana and see what I can get out of her. She's been hard to pin down, these past few days - intentionally on her part, I think, because she wants to be annoyed with me. I'll give her a few more days to deal with that."

"Thanks, Solange," Ty grinned sheepishly.  "Sometimes, I just don't know what the rules are with her."

"You are a mere male, and therefore, if you did know the rules, we women would be required to change them. I, however, do know the rules.  Let me deal with this and I will get back to you," Solange told him.  "Now, I have another topic I would like to discuss if you still have some time."

"Sure! What's up?"

Solange held up her right index finger in a 'wait one' gesture as she picked up her phone.  Punching in a quick number, she settled back into her chair.  "It's me," she said into the receiver, a wicked twinkle in her gray eyes, "Please present yourself in my office immediately."

She'd barely replaced the handset on its hook when a confused Ty heard a polite three-knock rap on the office's door.  "Enter," Solange ordered.  

The man who entered in response to that directive was tall, thick through the shoulders and chest, and of middle years.  He was impeccably dressed in a suit he that Ty was certain had not come off any department store sales rack.  And, Ty thought, there was something familiar about him  - Ty was certain that they'd met sometime in the past, but where. . . ?
He quickly crossed to Solange where he took the hand she held languidly up to him and pressed it to his lips. "Darling," she said, a world of affection in her voice.  Then she turned her attention back to Ty.  "Tyrone, I don't know if you will remember, but you have the acquaintance of this gentleman," she said, confirming Ty's recognition.  "This is my husband, Roderick.  He is something of a venture capitalist who specializes in helping to finance stage plays."

Ty went cold as he recalled precisely when he'd had the acquaintance of this man.  "You were the producer who sat in during my audition for the leading-man role in that musical opposite Roxie Hunter." he said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

Still holding Solange's hand in his, the man turned to face Ty.  "Yes, I was.  You did quite well in that audition as I recall."

Bitterness bubbled up from Ty's core.  "Not all that well, evidently! I heard what you said afterwards!  I had to come back because I forgot something.  You wouldn't even let the director consider me!"

"I didn't say you couldn't act, kid," the man snapped back, the temper Ty recalled from the audition showing, "I said you couldn't sing for shit and that you weren't tall enough for the damned part.  You read just fine, but your body type was all wrong for that role!"

"Roddy," Solange said very quietly, steel in her tone. "Language!"

"Sorry, Mistress," the man replied, visibly upset at his lapse of control.  "My apologies to you, too, Mr. Edwards.   That's not why I'm here.  Please excuse my outburst."

Taken aback by the both the formal address and the sincerity of the apology, Ty nodded slowly.  "Accepted." he said, wondering why he was here, and at Solange's direction.

Waitaminute, Ty thought, his eyes snapping back and forth between Solange and her husband - did he just call her 'MISTRESS?'

Roderick withdrew a parchment envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Ty.  "This is why I'm here - to give this to you."

Ty broke the wax seal and withdrew a sheaf of papers from within.  The letter on top carried the letterhead of Pace University.  "'Dear Mr. Edwards,'" Ty began to read, "'The Actor's Studio Program is pleased to award you the inaugural Jasmine Solange Devereaux Scholarship for select students in the Actors Studio Master of Fine Arts program . . .'" Bewildered, he looked up and repeated, "Jasmine Solange Devereaux?"

Solange smiled gently.  "That's my full name, Tyrone.  Roddy created the endowment in my name."

Ty considered that, and then glared at the man.  "And you gave it to me because your Mistress ordered you to?" he accused.

"Hell no!" Roderick thundered back only to be pulled up short by a warning tug on his hand from Solange.  "Your pardon, Mistress.  No, Mr. Edwards,  because you are talented!  Look, you're never going to be more than a bit player on Broadway, okay?  You wanna keep playing the mobsters in "Kiss Me, Kate" or maybe Bottom in "A Mid-Summer Nights Dream?"  Fine, but you're not going to be Petruchio or Oberon because you're not tall enough.  When Mistress Jazz told me you were thinking of being a director, I said - and I'll say it again now, that you could be pretty good - the best directors are really good actors, in my opinion.  Okay, you also know Mistress and she likes you - that got you looked at by me first and then by the guys I hired to run her foundation."

"Looked at?  Looked at how?" Ty asked.  "I've never done any directing that was recorded in any way."

"Solange said you organized this year's Halloween Party - set everything up for her. I was there and saw how well it went." Ty saw an intimate look flash between Solange and her husband at that revelation and blushed at the intensity between them. 

"The way you orchestrated that party was as good an example of what directing is all about as anything I've seen. You set and dressed the stage. You had the right pace. You established the right balance between the script and the talents of your actors. Jasmine has also let me review some of the other scenes you've directed for her here, and I've talked to some of the players who were involved in them. They confirm your ability to set the scene and get the desired results. You won because you're deserving.  I don't give free rides in the theater, kid.  You only get what you earn and what your talent rates.  Got that?"

Ty glanced at Solange for a moment and saw the pleased smile she gave her husband. He swallowed and then stood, offering his hand to Solange's husband.  "Got it," he said roughly.  "And thanks."

Surprisingly, the rough-tempered man blushed and accepted the offered hand almost bashfully.  "You're good," he repeated, "And Mistress says you bust your ass to get better.  Break a leg, okay?"

Shaking his hand hard, Ty grinned broadly.  "Okay! And thanks, both of you!"

"You are welcome," Solange answered, and then looked to her husband.  "You may run along now, dear.  I will see you at home."

"Yes, Mistress," he said, kissing the hand again.  "See you around, Edwards," and then he left without another word.

"Wow," Ty breathed, even as the door closed behind Solange's departing husband. "He's your slav. . . I mean, he's submissive to you. . . Oh hell, I'm sorry.  That's none of my business."

"It's common knowledge among the staff here at the dungeon that I have a lifestyle relationship with Roderick that often has him submitting to me in the physical and personal aspects of our lives together as man and wife.  However, you need to understand that his submission has absolutely no impact on how he conducts his professional affairs. I asked him to consider endowing the scholarship and I asked him to see that you were given a fair opportunity to win that scholarship.  That's all.  You won that on your own merit and on his professional opinion of you as another theater professional."

Ty blushed at her directness, but nodded.  "Thanks, Solange. I appreciate that."

"Are you going to be foolish or are you going to accept that scholarship?" and it was La Maitresse who made that demand for an answer.

"Juana would have my ass if I even tried to turn something like that down."

"And she'd be right.  I'm glad the two of you are a team now.  You are a very lucky young man."

"I know.  For what it's worth? And remember, ten minutes ago, I still blamed your husband for not giving me what I considered to be a fair shake?  I think your Roderick is a very lucky man, too."

Solange's smile was feline-smug as she accepted the implied compliment.  "Yes, he is - almost as lucky as I am to have him. I'm glad to hear, however, that you see there might have been some justification for his opinion, regardless of how. . . callously he might have expressed it when he thought he was in private conference."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 21: Maitresse Familias Interference
by Tigger c2008

Fifteen minutes should be just right, Solange thought as she opened Prep Room 3's door and peeked her head around through the opening.  

And she'd been right.  ShaJuana had yet to begin getting out of costume from her just-completed session.  Instead, she was staring vaguely into her mirror with her chin resting in one hand, a little half smile curving her full mouth and a cold-cream moistened cotton-ball loosely held in her free hand.  If it were not for the thigh-high, spike-heeled pirate boots, skin-tight black leather catsuit and the whip dangling from her waist, she looked like any teenage girl daydreaming of prom night.

Perfect.  

"Excuse me, Juana," she called out into the quiet room, "Got a minute to talk to your boss?"
The tall beauty nearly jumped out of her chair in surprise.  "Solange?" she squeaked as she tried to catch the breath she'd just lost.  She made an admirable effort at regaining her composure and Solange had to give her credit for almost managing it.

Almost.  

"Got a minute?" she asked, purposefully repeating her question.  

"Ummm, uh, sure," Juana stammered before swallowing hard and trying to blank her face of any emotion.  "What do you need, Solange?"

 "Just wanted to talk for a minute.  Nice scene, by the way. You just about terrorized that poor guy."

"Huh?" Juana stumbled, taken off balance by the unexpected direction of the comment.  "That scene?  Why would that scare him?  He's the one who set the whole thing up. We do almost the same exact shtick every time he comes in for a session with me. I wish I COULD terrorize him because he's getting too freakin' comfortable that I won't play outside the tight little box he's built around us with all his damned limits!  I know we're not here for our own pleasure, but that little snot gets off on topping from the bottom because he's paying the bill.  Somedays I just wanna choke 'im!"

"You know I draw the line at breath-control play, but you can certainly dump him if he's that much of a problem for you.  You know I'll back you up, too.  You deserve your due as his Domme and if he's not giving his fair share to make the scene work for you both, he can find another dungeon.  And you already do well enough financially from your other clients that you don't have to put up with 'snots'."

"I know," Juana sighed, her shoulders drooping a bit.  "It's just that, outside of that, I like him, and, well, I think he really needs what he gets from me.  Doc referred him, you know.  Stress and stuff.  He's better now, I think."

"Well, I think you scared him enough that he might be a little more amenable to providing you with your Dommely prerogatives from now on.  Having a whip-toting Mistress grinning that broadly while she ties his dick and balls into bowknots tends to get even an asshole's attention.  Since you USUALLY sneer during your scenes, having that dopey grin on your face the whole scene was rather daunting.  He was dressed and gone in under five minutes."

"Really?" Juana said softly, her own smile returning.  "Well, I'll just have to see about how much we can stretch that box next time.  Thanks for the tip.  Umm, is that all you wanted?"

The older woman's face became stern as she shook her head, "No. You've been avoiding me," Solange told her younger protegee, "And I thought it was about time we stopped dancing around each other.  Hell, 'Juana, it's been over a WEEK!"

Juana's dark brown eyes flashed and her lips thinned "You set me up!  Tina wouldn't have beaten me if you hadn't stacked the deck in her favor!"

Well, Solange mused, at least it's out in the air between us now.  "His favor," she corrected.  "As I recall, it was Ty who strutted out of that room with you on his arm the day after the party, not Tina."

"Ty - Tina, what difference does THAT make!?!  It should have been ME doing the dominatin' that night, NOT her. .  HIM!"

"And he just defiled you, did he? Ignored your safeword and violated your trust by whipping, I mean, fucking you 'til you couldn't stand?"  Solange's eyes were wide with insincerity, "I'm SO sorry we weren't more sympathetic and less envious about your terrible ordeal! Why, I'll just fire his sorry ass for you! How about THAT?"

The ebony beauty spun back around to her mirror, her arms crossed in temper.  "You know he didn't do anything of the kind!" she pouted.  "And it was a wonderful night, and you damn well know THAT, too. It just wasn't how I dreamed - I mean -THOUGHT it would be with him."

"Does it have to be the way you dreamed it would be to be good?" Solange asked softly. "Can't it be different and still be good?  Maybe even better?"

She watched Juana's head nod even as she started to answer, only to stop, and settle back into the chair, a pensive pout on her lovely face.  Finally, she sighed.  "I guess I've just never seen myself as the sub in something like this, Solange."

"Sub?  You were no more subbing to Ty that night than Tina is subbing to Artemis right now!"

"ARTEMIS?" Juana growled, spinning back to glare at the dungeon owner, "and my. . .  I mean, AND TINA??!  I mean, TY?!?"

"And YOUR Ty," Solange agreed, not bothering to hide her grin.  "Although he's not pushing for a job as our on-staff male or TV slave anymore, I still want him to experience a broad variety of play scenes. I could tell that he was somewhat . . .  disconcerted by the ponyboy at the party, so I decided he might benefit from this experience. Artemis is our best pony-trainer and who knows? We might have a client who wants to be part of a pony-pair at some point, and I thought Tina would be a lovely pony.  Don't scowl, Juana," Solange teased with a smile, "I monitor all of his training sessions and he seems to be doing fine."

"He comes out of there with any welts that last and I'll show her sorry ass for her!" Juana hissed.

Somehow, Solange's grin grew even wider before she managed to stifle it.  "Oh, don't worry.  He's already caution-worded her once because he really does not like the whip, and I'm sure he'll stoplight her if she gets too rambunctious.  Which she won't because she is a pro."

"I know," the younger woman sighed, as she finally began to cream away the vivid makeup she used when she worked one of her clients. "I'm sorry about dodging you, but I had a lot on my mind."

"A woman in love usually does," Solange observed softly.  "Given the circumstances of your rather unusual courtship, I suspect those things on your mind aren't things you can talk to Mother about.  I just wanted you to know that if - no, make that WHEN you need to talk about such things, you have only to call me." With that, the older woman turned to leave the room.

"No, DON'T leave!" Juana snapped out, before adding, "Please?  I . . .I think I'd like to talk.  Hell, I need to talk - with you especially."

Solange closed the door she'd never left, and came over to take the room's other vanity stool.  "So," she said, leaning in close and then dropping her voice suggestively, "Give me the dish, sister.  I know he's hung, but is he any good?"

For several seconds, Juana could only stare at her older friend, her eyes wide and her mouth open.  Then, she began to giggle before finally managing to get out, "The BEST!"

"Oh, really," Solange purred out the word, "DO tell, and don't worry about being too detailed."

"I thought he was going to kill me with pleasure," Juana whispered, sharing the secret she'd been holding so close for more than a week.  "It was like he was trying to eat me alive!  I don't know which is better, his tongue or his dick, but either would make him the best I've ever had, and he gives both without demanding anything in return.  I felt like my pleasure was the most important thing in his life.  I've never been so. . . so cherished."

"Cherished is good," Solange agreed, waving her palm to fan her face.  "Very good, in fact!  What else!?  Let's have those deets, girl!"

The black woman blushed now, and leaned even closer.  "He told me I was his girl!"

"Well, duh!" Solange laughed.

"No, really!  He said I was black, gorgeous, tall and a Domme, and he couldn't imagine HIS girl being any other way."

Solange heard the uncertainty creeping into the lovely girl's voice and pounced.  "That's great!  I think he's just perfect for you, too!"

"But, am I perfect for him?" Juana asked, her voice now very small and very young. "I like being a Domme - working here at the dungeon. I don't want to quit because. . . Look, Solange, I'm good at this stuff, and dammit, I help people here doing it, too!  Like that guy who just left.  I'm GOOD for him and HE NEEDS ME!"

"And your point is?" Solange asked.  Juana started to answer, then stopped, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.  "ShaJuana?  Obviously this has something to do with Ty.  Is there a problem with you continuing here and being with him?"

"He says his Mom is Donna Reed!" she blurted out.  "How can he take a six-foot tall, black bitch-goddess home to Mother when she's freakin' DONNA REED?"

Relief coursed through the older woman.  This could be handled, she thought. "Pretty easily, I'd say," Solange retorted matter of factly.  At Juana's look of stark disbelief, she simply laughed.  "Hell, Juana, you don't have to stroll in there decked out in your corset, fishnets and stilettos, brandishing a riding crop! You, better than anyone else here, know that clothes DO make the man, TV or in your case, the woman. It's that hard first look you have to get past! Dress the part correctly and she'll get over the shock of having you tall and yes, black, when she sees how much Ty adores you and you adore him.  If she's worth knowing at all, that is."

"Ya think?"

"I'm sure!  Look at how flexible and open Ty is and I bet you see the mother in that.  She may be Donna Reed, but I'll bet my best flogger she's the one he takes after in that household.  His dad is some kind of hard line, addicted-to-his-business junkie and I just don't see that in Ty at all, for all he's got some great ideas for my business."

"Like health insurance?"

"Yes, indeed.  He's just about got it set up, too.  I never even thought of such a thing. I did, however, shoot down his idea for on-site daycare, so he's off looking at other solutions. So, what had you walking a foot off the ground all morning?  In my experience, the only thing that does THAT to a woman's mood is a man being unusually sweet and romantic."

The taller girl's soft, secret little smile blossomed once more, and then she pointed to a brightly colored box on her dressing table. "He gave me a present this morning," Juana confided softly. "Pretty lingerie - all in pink!"

"Nice stuff?"

"God, Solange, they're so pretty I want to dance in them - just for him."

"Well, you were the one who wanted to teach him how to dress like a woman.  Guess he's putting that knowledge to good use.  So, when are you going to reel him in?"

"Umm, I, ah, think I'm gonna sort of go with the flow on this - at least for a while," Juana said, turning back to the mirror as if she could avoid the question by turning away.  "I don't want to push and mess it up.  It's all so . . . much at once."
"I see," Solange replied softly, and then rose to her feet.  She bent over to kiss her young friend on the cheek.  "Call me when you need to talk some more, dear.  You'll figure this all out if you just give yourself and Ty the chance."  

Leaving the room, Solange quietly closed the door behind her, and then strode down the corridor shaking  her head.  "Okay," she said quietly, "That does it! To hell with trying to be subtle!"

~-~

Acting Dominant
Interlude: Tangled Webs of La Maitresse

"This is excellent work, Ty," Solange said as she signed the last of the documents he'd prepared for her approval.  "Now, I want to pick up the cost of the policy for my ladies and other staff, along with any of their dependent children.  If those employees want to include coverage for their mates or significant others, they will need to pay the extra out of their own pockets."

"Since you pay them weekly we could offer them a payroll deduction plan to cover that.  We'd get them to sign an agreement and then the payroll company will just handle it - just like their income tax withholdings."

"Perfect! I will leave all those pesky little details in your capable hands."  Solange collected all the papers she'd just signed and then pointedly set them to one side before pinning Ty with her eyes.  "Now, let's talk about your scene with Artemis."

"Wheee-heee-heee," Ty whinnied, causing both of them to laugh. 

"Artemis came to see me this morning.  She was disappointed in the scene dynamic between the two of you."  Ty raised a quizzical brow at Solange, but said nothing.  He was getting a little too good at dealing with her usual tricks and was much more difficult to draw out these days, she mused.  Well, might as well be blunt. "She was annoyed because she couldn't seem to arouse you."

"Huh?" Ty replied, obviously confused.

"You didn't get a real hard-on the entire scene," Solange said, grinning.  "Artemis is about a nine and a half on the ten-point babe-scale. It's a matter of personal pride to her that she always gets her boy-toys rock-hard and dripping in the first five minutes of her scenes.  That way, she can exploit their arousal to seduce her clients into letting her take things a little further than they might otherwise prefer if they were thinking with their brains instead of their cocks.  I watched most of her scene with you and I don't think you ever got much above half-way interested.  Worse, you were pretty much limp by the time she called a halt to your session, and it wasn't because you'd climaxed, either. She took that as something of a personal failure."

"I wasn't trying to upset her, Solange.  I agree she's pretty hot-looking, but I guess I was concentrating too hard on not falling on my face in those pony-shoes she locked on me to get too worked up sexually!  Particularly with her constantly nagging at me about all that bloody high-stepping and keeping my head up."

"And then," Solange added, "You compounded your transgressions even further when you yellow-coded her while she was trying to teach you how to do that 'bloody high-stepping and keeping your head up.'  That put a real crimp in her program because she has to be sure a pony-slave can safely move about in the horse-shoes before she dares saddle him, or harness him up to a sulkie."

"Seriously, I wish I hadn't needed to use the caution word, but I was starting to get really pissed off with her and that darned whip of hers!  If she hadn't restrained my hands for most of that session, I'd have grabbed that damned whip and broken it in itty-bitty pieces!"

That surprised Solange because for all it's impressive length, the whip Artemis used was not particularly severe. In fact, the pony-mistress had chosen that specific implement because its bark was much worse than its bite. "Really? Why? Did you find it particularly painful?  Did she cut you or leave a mark?  Artemis is exceptionally skilled with that long whip of hers and I can't recall her ever cutting a partner with it - even accidently .  Mostly, she just uses it to sting a submissive for effect or as a wake-up when they need one."

"She didn't hurt me," Ty admitted.  "DeeDee hurt me with her whips, so I know what 'hurt' means in this context.  No, it was more that she just kept snapping it at me - over and over again - like one smartass kid needling another kid again and again with a rubber band or something.  I started getting really pissed off over it, and by extension, with her."

"Didn't you expect that to be part of your pony-play experience? If you will recall, I did make a particular point about those practices when we had our pre-scene discussion. I mean, trotting on the lunge-line and dancing to the whip are major parts of that type of scene - and of being a pony-slave."

"Thought I was ready for it," Ty replied reflectively, "But getting mad at Artemis wasn't in the plan - and I WAS getting angry. I had to get her to back off and let me control that reaction or things would have gone south in a hurry!"

The older woman nodded thoughtfully.  "Well, then you used the caution word tool correctly. Besides, despite your reactions, you managed to finish the scene with her, so neither of us really have anything to complain about with your performance or your behavior. It does, however, indicate you may not be suited to playing  that role again with a paying client.  Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?  At least Arty'll know better what to expect from you if there is a next time.  You DID  look very cute, by the way, all tacked up," she added with a mischievous grin.  "Lovely tail, too."

"Yeah.  Juana came in just before we called it quits and made me model it for her. Don't you think, even for a moment, Solange, that I'm any too happy about how much SHE liked it on me, or rather IN me," he said with a sardonic smile.  "Truth to tell, though - just to give you an idea where my head was at?  I'd all but forgotten about that damn plug being stuffed up my rear because I was getting so steamed about that nagging whip and her constant bitchin. . . I mean, sniping at me."

"Really?"  The tail was always a very big deal for pony-slaves, and something they were intended to be constantly aware of during the session.  Momentarily forgetting about it could have meant something as simple as the plug having been too small.  However, if it had been MORE than that - if he'd really been THAT upset by Arty's whip-play and verbal jibes, then that type of reaction would definitely impact whether Solange would be able to use Tina in any future pony-scenes.  "You actually forgot about the tail?" 

Ty made a dramatic crossing motion across his chest.  "God's truth, Solange. In fact, at the end of the session when Juana came in and told me to 'wag that tail, horsey,' it took me a moment to figure out what the heck she was talking about!"

"I see."  Solange again strove to remember the parts of the scene she'd observed.  Had Artemis used the whip excessively?  She hadn't thought so as she'd watched their scene unfold on her surveillance monitor. Then again, as she'd just told Ty, most of Arty's playmates were highly aroused by the time the pony-trainer normally got around to trotting her charges around the playroom to the encouragement of her whip.  Along with making her playmates more amenable, all those 'I-am-horny' endorphins tended to turn the whip's sting into something closer to a teasing caress for the ponies. Only, Ty hadn't been excited, had he?  She sighed, then smiled at him. "Well, I don't think we'll plan on using you with any paying clients in that role."

"I'd try, Solange - you know that.  And I think I'll be better able to deal with my reactions to the whip and banter having been through it once. . . ," and his voice trailed off.

"I understand, and thank you for that.  However, You should understand that I don't expect you to like every type of scene I expose you to, or ask you to attempt.  I only expect you to go into each such assignment with an open mind and a will to give your assigned Domme your best effort. There are always some scenarios that no matter how much someone may try, he OR she simply cannot do them with any degree of acceptance, let alone pleasure.  We may try pony play with you again at some later date, but it will again be just you and Artemis until we're sure of your ability to handle your reactions.  But we'll hold off even on that for a while.  I would, however, like you to sit down and discuss the scene and your feelings with Arty."

"Already planned on it.  We're gonna get together for lunch tomorrow.  I was going to ask her for a post-event critique, but she beat me to it."

"I should have thought she'd do that. She is a superb Domme, so she'd want to help you both come to closure - especially  after you had to yellow-light her scene,"  Solange told him.  "Now, on to another topic altogether."

"Sure! What's up?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you'd given any thought to the specifics of your victory scene? The prize you won from the dungeon at our Halloween Party for capturing ShaJuana?"

Startled, Ty gaped for a moment.  "Umm, don't you remember, Solange? I already had Juana in my wicked clutches," he said, a wistful smile on his face, "All . . Night . . LONG! And besides - I am an employee of the dungeon, just like Betina and Emerald."

Laughing, Solange gave a playful slap at Ty's hand.  "I know that, silly.  But you were a challenger in that game, just like the clients who accepted the the Hall of Horrors contest.  I insist that you, just as the other challenge victors, get a free scene of your choice with the Domme or Dommes of your choice for another whole night!  Why, you wouldn't even have to be the sub in the scene.  Imagine, we could teach you how to use a whip - I'm certain you'd enjoy that were we to use DeeDee's bottom as a training aid, or you might decide you'd like to have our oh-so-regal Isolde as YOUR submissive little sexy-tary."

"Umm, Solange?  You know I'm kinda committed to Juana now. Well, except for business purposes, if you take my meaning."

"Kinda?  What's this 'kinda' thing, young man?"

"Kinda as in totally and completely.  As in 'to death do us part, if then' committed."

"Sounds like you are serious," she observed even as she fought to keep the joy she was feeling hidden for the moment. "Then you'll just have to do something with Juana for your victory session. The reputation of my dungeon is at stake here, Tyrone."

"Umm, she's still a little sensitive on the subject of me having defeated her in that contest, Solange.  I'm not sure that telling her to sub for me in another scene just now is really such a good idea.  Like I said the other day, I guess I could pick something where she'd be the Domme, but . . ."

"Hush, grasshopper, and attend the words of the Master. .. Mistress and learn wisdom."

"Huh?"

"Listen and learn, young one, listen and learn."

~-~

Her office door crashed against the wall, causing Solange to jump in surprise even as she spun her desk chair about to face whatever was coming for her.

'Whatever' turned out to be an enraged black Amazon with fire in her eyes and smoke issuing from both ears!

"WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT ABOUT TY DOING HIS VICTORY PLAY SCENE WITH DEEDEE?!?" ShaJuana bellowed, both fists slamming down on Solange's desk, her chin thrust forward in belligerent indignation as she glared at her boss seated across from her.  "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?"

The older woman held up her hands in surrender.  "Hey, settle down, girl.  And sit down.  What is it that has you storming into my office like you owned it?"

When the taller woman made no move to comply, Solange's eyes narrowed and her voice cooled.  "Sit. . . Down!" she ordered again.  She watched as Juana gave obeying (or perhaps disobeying) a few moments consideration before dropping inelegantly into the visitor's chair.  "Better.  Now, what has upset you?"

The fire flared again in Juana's brown eyes and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.  "Emerald told me that DeeDee is going to scene with Ty - as a prize for that game he won on Halloween."

"I see.  So?"

"So you ADMIT it?  WHY?"

Solange gave the girl her best bland look.  "Because she is doing it with him and I see no reason not to admit it."

ShaJuana actually grabbed two fist-fulls of her own hair and pulled.  "NO!" she screeched. "Why is he using HER??!"

"Because he can, I suppose. His prize was anyone he wanted, anyway he wanted to do her or be done by her.  He asked for DeeDee."

Juana's face fell at that.  "But, but . . . he's my . . . I mean, I'm his. . .well, he SAID. . ."

Solange gave a dismissive wave of her hand to stem the flow of incomplete ideas. "Yes, I know you two are together, but it's not like it's exclusive between you, is it? You still conduct professional scenes of your own here at the dungeon. Why shouldn't he?"

"But . . . but. . . that's DIFFERENT!  That's . . . that's just business!  Ty playing with DeeDee isn't business unless YOU'VE told him to do it for training!"

"Oh? Really?  I didn't realize you this was just a job to you, dear."  Juana's face drained at that jibe and she started to splutter, only to have Solange relent with a soft laugh.  "Oh, Juana, lighten up. I know what you meant. You want him to play with you, right?"  

"Yes, dammit!" the other girl snapped, her head nodding furiously. 

"Well, that's part of it, I think.  First, he doesn't want to be the sub in this session - he wants to be the Dom - and he wasn't sure you'd be okay with bottoming to him again. Particularly for the prize scene which he won at your expense, so I offered him this as an alternative."

"He could have asked," she pouted.

"So you could say 'Hell NO!'? Perhaps, but you need to give him some credit for trying to be sensitive to your feelings.  He is, after all, only a male and therefore somewhat sensitivity challenged.  And there's another reason he didn't ask you."

"What?" demanded ShaJuana, a mutinous pout on her face.

"He wants to try something that he wasn't sure you'd like, and he is looking to get some practice with someone else first so he'll have a better chance to get it right if and when he gets the opportunity to do it with you."

"But, DeeDee?  Why cute little DeeDee?"

Sensitivity to the hidden nuances was a key attribute of a good Domina, and Solange immediately recognized why her protegee was feeling almost threatened by the selection of Deirdre.  The dungeon's resident whip-mistress was petite, particularly when compared to ShaJuana and her tall, robust physicality.  The older woman laughed, mostly to relax some of the bubbling tension between herself and ShaJuana.  "Well, I suppose he thinks his planned scene might not be entirely pleasant for the, ah, target of his attentions. And since he feels he has reason to want a little . . . recompense from DeeDee for earlier lessons rendered. . . "
 
Juana well remembered Ty's discomfort after his training session with DeeDee, and she could understand him wanting to get a little of his own back.  Still, she wanted him to play with HER, dammit!  "What does he intend to do?"

"That's confidential, dear, as you should very well know.  For the purposes of this particular scene, Tyrone is a client of the dungeon and therefore of me! You know I don't divulge my client's desires, except as professionally required to the woman or women who will be playing with him."

"Solange!" Juana flared. "Don't you dare try that with me."

But the older woman was unfazed by her young friend's temper, and just smiled. "Sorry, 'Juana, but if you really want to know, you'll have to find out for yourself.  I'd start by asking Ty."

"Like HELL I will," she snarled back, and strode from the room.

If anything, the crash of the door slamming behind ShaJuana was even louder than her entry.

"Perfect," Solange laughed as she turned back to her computer and her interrupted quarterly tax report.  It was a sign of just how pleased she was with that interview that even the IRS couldn't dim the grin Juana's exit had left on the older woman's face.

~-~
Dressed and ready for her next client, Juana sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection.  She had ten minutes before her sub would be ready for her which unfortunately gave her ten minutes to think about Ty's scene with DeeDee.  

Cripes, she thought as she took in her scowling reflection, I sure don't have to worry about my grin terrorizing my client today, do I?

So NOW the loveable jerk was going to play with another girl to protect HER from his own dark desires!  He'd told Solange he needed to practice, huh?  Who did he think he was? What did he think he was doing playing with another girl?!?  Wasn't SHE his girl?!? 

HIS girl!

Okay, so he'd picked DeeDee and Solange had said something about payback.  That meant he was probably going to be playing with corporal punishment. Not her favorite thing, Juana admitted privately, particularly with her on the receiving end.  Just in general, she preferred to keep her own booty un-striped, thank you very much.

But dammit, it wasn't like she was some whiny little bitch!  She'd handled getting her ass whipped during her training period at the dungeon! Had she wimped out? EVER?  NO SHE HAD NOT! And by God, ShaJuana Price could and WOULD take ANYTHING that man wanted to dish out!  She'd been whipped by WOMEN, by god, who were a hell of a lot better than any mere male at making it HURT! Not like some sneaky, devious, gentlemanly. . .

A knock on her door interrupted the inventive string of adjectives she was generating to express her displeasure with one Tyrone Edwards, so she snarled, "WHAT IS IT?"

Ty poked his head in.  "Hey, sorry!  I didn't know you were getting into character.  I'll bring these back later."

"DON'T you DARE leave, Edwards! Get your connivin' male ass in here! Right NOW!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he snapped out even as he jumped into the room and came to the position of attention. 

"What is this CRAP about you playing with DEEDEE??  What are you THINKING?!"

He made her even more outraged when all he did was grin.  "AND WHY ARE YOU SMILING, YOU IDIOT-KNUCKLEHEAD?!?"

He tried to stifle his grin but failed entirely, causing his lover to begin to sputter. "No particular reason, Juana," he told her ingenuously and watched her fury jump several more quantum levels.  In the face of such rage, he did the only thing he could think of that didn't involve a cowardly charge to the rear.  He put his papers down, swept his gorgeous lover off her feet, and proceeded to kiss her senseless. 
A few moments later, he settled her leather-clad butt down on top of her vanity table so that she sat eye to eye with him, but didn't say anything. She could only stare at him, unable to form a single coherent thought or response.  If anything, his damn grin widened, which threatened to set her off all over again.  

"Chill, Juana, it's okay. It'll BE okay." Then he went over and recovered the sheaf of paper he'd set down moments earlier. "Hey, look, I know you're pressed for time, but could you sign these papers for me?  We need to get the new insurance plan turned on.  We just found out that one of our ladies is pregnant and I want to get her prenatal services and OB stuff on track.  Okay?"  He held out a stack of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. 

The lovely face went momentarily blank as she tried to accommodate the sudden shift in topic.  Shaking herself, she took the pen, thankful for something more concrete than her mixed up feelings on which to concentrate.  "Ummm, where?" she mumbled.

Ty quickly shuffled through the pages getting her signature several times.  "Thanks, Juana," he said as he gathered papers and pen back up.  "I'll go over them with you in detail later - after your session if you like - but now, I want to get them downtown to the agent so we can get things moving on this."

He was out the door before she could say another word.

Only then did she realize - he hadn't told her what he planned to do for his victory session with DeeDee.  "Well, hell, fool," she chided herself.  "You didn't ask him, either!"

~-~

Juana was back in her dressing room; once again staring into the silvered depths of her mirror.  At least her session had gone well, she mused.  Her client had even left her a substantial tip to show his appreciation.  So why didn't she feel the afterglow of a good Domme-high and the satisfaction of a job well done?

She knew the answer to THAT question.  

Tyrone Edwards.  

Playing with another woman.

Because he needed practice and because Juana might not like whatever it was he wanted to practice.

Oh yeah, and because he wanted to be the Dom.

She could do the scene, she told herself sullenly.  She could do whatever it was that Ty wanted from his partner in this scene.  Hell, she thought, was there ANYTHING he could possibly want to do with a woman that was WORSE than sitting here, getting all green-eyed and pissy because he'd chosen another woman as his prize?
Hell NO! He was HERS, DAMMIT!

She was HIS.

Besides, in her heart of hearts, she already knew she'd always enjoy whatever they might do together - regardless of who was the top. Hell, she'd enjoy it A LOT!  One thing she already had figured out about her guy was that, regardless of his role in their scenes or lovemaking, Ty got his pleasure from giving her pleasure.  The only real difference between being the top or being the bottom when they played together would be who got to tell the other what to do and who got to decide who came first.  Either way, she'd get hers, wouldn't she?  Damn straight she would.  Hell, about the only way she wouldn't get hers from Tyrone Edwards would be if she were the Domme and she ordered him NOT to touch her.

Like THAT was going to happen in this lifetime, she laughed to herself.

"Guess I'm just gonna have to crash your little scene, Ty-RONE," she said aloud.  "But first, I think I'm gonna find out just what it is you have planned.  So I can be REALLY ready for you."

~-~

Solange smiled broadly as she set her phone back on its cradle.  DeeDee had just called to tell her that ShaJuana had all but cornered her in the ladies room, demanding to know what Ty had planned for his prize scene with her.  "I told her I didn't know, Solange," the petite domina had said during their short call, "And I made sure SHE knew that I wasn't too happy about being kept in the dark because it was MY ass on the line.  He's a really nice guy and all that, but I was concerned he was going to be a real shit about the whipping I gave him early on. She didn't want to believe me, and she left in a real huff!"

Perfect, the elegant Mistress thought, the game was afoot, and it was time to bring this mad, merry chase to its successful conclusion.  So much to do, she thought happily, and then picked her phone back up, dialing a number from memory.

"Darling?" she said when her slave answered the phone for her.  "I need you to make a few appointments for me and a friend . . ."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 22: All Men and Women Merely Players
by Tigger c2008

The prep-room's wall phone rang, and Solange went over to pick it up. She listened for a moment, said a few words and then hung up with a smile.  "Places everyone," she said aloud.  "Curtain's going up!"

~-~
ShaJuana strode up to the door to Prep Room No. 1, and barely stopped herself from simply crashing inside to confront Solange.  Not good, she told herself as she leaned against the wall - a person needed all their wits about them if they were going to take on Solange.  With an effort, she willed her pounding heart to settle back into her chest, and then tried to plot out what she should do next.  

Mere minutes before, she had finally found out what was up with Ty's victory scene.  She'd practically had to choke the truth out of Isolde who'd only known because she was helping out Solange while the dungeon's regular costume Mistress was on vacation.  She hadn't found out a moment too soon, either, because evidently the damned thing was just about to go down!

She should have been TOLD, dammit!

Good thing she'd heard Isolde bitching about the extra duty this morning, and about how she was having to stay late on a Friday night to collect and store the costumes after Ty's scene.

Now that Juana knew what Ty wanted, she was even more annoyed that he hadn't asked her to play it out with him.  Okay, so maybe a guy SHOULD be cautious about asking his girl for that kind of sex, but hell, he'd told Solange he wanted it, hadn't he?  Solange KNEW that Juana didn't have any problems being on the receiving end of that kind of play!  For cryin' out loud, Solange - HERSELF - had been the one who'd broken Juana in that way during her training days!

And yes, Ty was big.  SO WHAT?!?  She could handle it! She could, by god, handle HIM!

Period!

Okay, so he wanted her ass - FINE!  Fair was fair.  She wanted his, and she sure didn't plan on giving up using his fine male butt anytime soon, now did she?! No freakin' way! And besides, he SHOULD lust after her ass! ShaJuana Price had a damned fine ass, even if she did say so herself! And if Tyrone Edwards wanted an ass to practice on, he would damn well practice on hers!

That way, she'd make DAMNED sure he learned how to do her right!

Or she'd just have to demonstrate how it was SUPPOSED to be done on his tight little ass until he got HERS right, wouldn't she?

Damned idiot MALE!

~-~

"God, Solange, I feel like an eight-year old playing dress up in Mommy's clothes!  Could this damn thing be any BIGGER??!? I'll trip over the train and kill myself. Hey, there's an idea! If I'm dead, my butt won't be at risk anymore, will it?!"

"Oh, quit whining. I've seen you drooling over Ty and don't try to tell me you haven't.  Since you got carried away with your whip both times he's subbed with you, this may be your only opportunity to play with him ever again, so DEAL with it!" 

"Okay, Okay. So maybe I got a little too enthusiastic, but it was his own damned fault for being so damned cute!  I had to do something with him, Solange, or I'd've had to jump his bones right there in the playroom.  And. . .and. . omigod!  Have you seen him in that black tuxedo?  I don't know whether he belongs on the cover of GQ or Playgirl, but just LOOKING at him makes me feel all gooey inside!"

~-~

"Hands off, sister," muttered ShaJuana, her ear plastered up against the prep-room door. "That's MY man you're fantasizin' about!"  Just because DeeDee was about the only Domme in the place who had to look up to Tyrone - damn her for that, too! - didn't mean she was the only one who could fully appreciate his hotness factor!

After all, hadn't ShaJuana been the one to bring him into this joint for that very reason??!

~-~

"Well, there won't be any bone-jumping today, so get your hormones under control, Deirdre! And hold this damned dart together so I can get in a few pins into it! Then I can do a quick stitch job and it will hold it up fine," Solange growled around a mouthful of pins.  "For as long it'll have to, anyway."

"What will THAT do for my boobs, dammit? I could bathe in these damn cups! Why do CD's have to have D-Cups, anyway?"

"A question for the ages," Solange answered wryly.  "Now stand still before I get blood on this damned white tulle!"

~-~

What the hell were they doing in there, ShaJuana wondered as she continued to eavesdrop.  It sounded like a dress fitting.  White Tulle?!?

Her eyes went wide as she recalled the last time she'd seen anything made of that oh-so-very-feminine material.

~-~

The door flew open before ShaJuana's wrath, and for a frozen moment in time, she simply stood there, glaring at the two women staring back at her in wide-eyed shock.  Then,  she focused in on the petite blonde standing atop the hassock draped in about three times too much white material for her frame.  DeeDee looked like she'd gotten in a fight with a white tent and lost!

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" the dark valkyrie managed to get out in a tone that wasn't quite a snarl.

It was Solange who answered.  "Preparing DeeDee for her session with Tyrone, as I suspect you already know.  Now, you will please excuse us. This is the only gown we have that suits his request and it needs a lot of work."

"That's MY gown," ShaJuana growled as she stalked into the room.  "I picked it out for Tina!  For HER to wear for ME!"

"Actually," Solange answered equably, "It is my gown. I paid for it out of the dungeon's business accounts.  Now, if you'll just run along so we can. . ."

"NO!" the infuriated black Amazon roared, slamming her fist against the closed door and causing DeeDee to jump in surprise.  Even Solange stopped to stare at the taller woman.  With a visible effort, Juana regained control over her shredding emotions and then repeated more softly, "No.  I'm not running along.  What I'm going to do is take DeeDee's place with Tyrone, and Solange? YOU'RE gonna help me do it!"

"That is not what Tyrone requested nor what I agreed to provide for him as the proprietor of this establishment," Solange retorted, getting to her feet to stand between Juana and Deedee.

"Tough, Solange, it's what he's gonna get!  DeeDee? You have three choices, little girl.  One? Run for your life right now.  Two? Find Ty and safeword him before this goes any further.  Or three? Find yourself between a rock and hard place with me providing BOTH!"

Solange took two steps to get up into Juana's face.  "I will not allow you to threaten one of your fellow employees!"

"I'm not threatening anybody, Solange," Juana said with a silky smile that gave lie to that pronouncement. "You don't feel threatened, do you, DeeDee?"

The usually composed whip-mistress paled for just a moment, then swallowed hard and almost managed an answering smile of her own.  "uh, well, sort of. . . " Then she saw the scowl that clouded Juana's face and rushed on.  "I mean, NO, of course not. I'm. . .just. . FINE."

"Good," Juana said, the hungry shark smile back.  "Then shuck yourself out of that dress like a good little girl."

"ShaJuana!  As should be obvious, Ty wants to play out the honeymoon scene you two botched up, but this time with himself as the groom.  Even though he will be using sex toys for any penetrative play, it IS his scene to do how and with whom he wants to do it!  He wants a bride in THAT dress and I insist that he gets it!"

"Fine, Solange! I'll wear the freakin' dress, but I'M doing the freakin' scene with him and that's FINAL!  It don't fit little Miss Junior Sizes for shit anyway!"
"No, it's not fine, ShaJuana, and it sure as hell isn't final!  Deirdre has assured me she will not safe or caution word what Tyrone has planned.  I'm not certain you can make that promise, and I WON'T have him deprived because YOU wimp out when push comes to shove!"

ShaJauna leaned down and got nose to nose with her boss.  "I don't wimp out, Solange!  You want assurance? I'll give you assurance! I promise NOT to use any safe or caution word in there with him, okay?  This is a no-limits scene!  I freakin' won't LET him stop, okay??!"

"Your word on it, ShaJuana?" Solange asked, not backing down from the towering woman.

"I just said so, didn't I?!? And you KNOW my word's GOLDEN!"

Solange gave a gusty sigh, and turned back to face DeeDee.  "Get out of the dress, Deirdre.  And then run down to wardrobe and get a corset for Juana.  If she's wearing THAT gown, we're going to need to take a few inches off her middle."

"Oh really?" Juana asked, her brow lifting as the tension began to ebb.

"Yes, really.  I had to corset Tina pretty radically to get HER into that thing, if you'll recall, and Tyrone is only a little bigger in the waist than you are, girl.  As to the bodice, well, your bosom is just a little large for it, but I guess if those girls of yours pop out the top, Tyrone won't mind all THAT much."  Solange took the gown from DeeDee and held it up against ShaJuana's much longer body. "Hmmm. It will be more tea-length than floor-length on you, but it will do for our purposes, I suppose. The cathedral-length train should still work for you as well."  Then Solange took in Juana's footwear and grimaced. "Those Jimmy Choo ankle-boots are all wrong for the outfit, though.  DeeDee? See if you find some white pumps that will fit her while you're down in wardrobe, too."

"I don't think so," Juana interrupted, a wicked grin lighting her face.  "Go get my thigh-high, black patent leather bitch-goddess boots out of my locker.  He likes how those look on me just fine.  'Sides, it oughta remind him just who he's dealing with, if you take my meaning."

"NO, dammit! I will NOT have you topping from the bottom, ShaJuana!" Solange said repressively.  "Particularly NOT in this session!"

"Now, would I do something like that, Solange?"

"To use your own vernacular, my dear? In a freakin' heartbeat."

"Whatever," Juana said dismissively.  "DeeDee? Get my boots."

Deirdre was out the door before Solange could say another word.  The older woman glared up at Juana one last time, then blew out an exasperated sigh.  "Oh, very well. I don't suppose it will make all that much difference in the scene in either case.  Now, go do up your face while we wait for DeeDee and your corset.  Wouldn't want Tina's bridal presentation to outshine yours, now would we?" Solange asked sweetly, and was inwardly pleased at the snarl that immediately answered her jibe.

~-~

"Oh, that's just PERFECT," Solange cheered as she primped the lace veil over and around Juana's rich mane of silky black hair.  Stepping back, she gestured for her model to do a slow pirouette to get the entire feel of the woman and the gown.  With a sardonic grin, ShaJuana swept the train over one arm and raised the other above her head as she began a slow, dancer's turn.

She WAS perfect, Solange told herself again silently.  They'd managed to lace a hard-won four inches off the girl's waist so that the bodice fit about her gorgeously muscular figure like a lover's embrace.  She'd been right about the tits, though.  If those puppies didn't pop out before the evening festivities were over, well, Tyrone just wasn't trying hard enough.

The black patent stiletto boots' five-inch heels raised Juana's already impressive stature to well over six feet, so the gown's front hem rested a few inches above her well-turned ankles.  Well, okay, so it was ALMOST perfect, Solange sighed.  "Those laced boots just ruin the effect," she complained again.

"Did MASTER Ty-RONE specify white shoes?" ShaJuana demanded, one finely shaped brow winging up in challenge.

Solange wanted to lie, but decided against it.  "No.  He specified that his partner was to be dressed as a bride.  They do make you even TALLER, though," she added quickly.

"THIS bride," Juana said, a single long-nailed thumb pointing into her burgeoning cleavage, "will wear black boots!  He'll just have to deal with my height instead of getting to tower over DeeDee!"

"Oh, very well!" Solange frumped. "Not as if that's what was on his mind, in any case. He just wanted a chance to warm and stretch out Deirdre's butt for her.  Come on, Juana, the only people who have a problem with Tyrone's stature are people who don't know him!  You know him, so you know the real strength of him.  So what if you're both a little height-challenged?" Juana's snort was ruined by the hopeful look she gave Solange. 

Recognizing that insecurity for what it was, the older woman pressed on. "Look at everything he's gone through to get to this point - and don't tell me it wasn't mostly for you, either!  Okay, so a man that strong can be a little scary and a lot daunting, but if the woman is strong enough, if she's WOMAN enough to accept that kind of masculine challenge, the pair of them can build something pretty damned special together, if you ask me."

A look a smugly feminine understanding passed between the two women.  "You've got a point.  Okay, let's go and get this playing done so that I can start working on hauling his ass off and getting this done for REAL!  It's way past time I claimed what is already MINE!"

With that, Juana turned to the door, so she didn't see the wicked little half smile on her friend's lips, or the sparkle of tears in her eyes as she pressed the button of a small signaling device she'd hidden in a pocket.  "Yes, indeed," Solange breathed as she pulled herself together.  "Let's go get this done."

~-~

Acting Dominant
Chapter 23: The Taming of the Mistress
by Tigger c2008

Feeling calmer than she had in days, ShaJuana stepped into the corridor outside the prep-room and was about to turn towards the stairs that would take her to the dungeon's third floor playrooms when she saw a familiar figure standing in her way.

Recognizing the older man, Juana looked back to Solange for an explanation.

"ShaJuana, you remember my slave-husband, Roderick, don't you?  He is here to escort you to your Master. Roddy? You know what to do."

Only then did Juana realize that the man was wearing formal evening dress.  "Yes, Maitresse Jasmine," he said bowing deeply to Solange before turning to bow to ShaJuana with equal formality.  "Mistress," he said offering her his arm, "If you will please allow me?"

Thoroughly confused again and decidedly no longer centered, Juana meekly put her right hand into the crook of his proffered arm and let herself be guided regally down the corridor.  Such was the state of her mind and emotions, that it wasn't until they had stepped into the grand ballroom that she realized they were heading in the opposite direction of the stairs that would have led them up to the third floor playrooms.

Her question died on her lips when she caught sight of Tyrone Edwards - watching her approach.

Her mouth literally went dry just looking at him.  The tuxedo he wore had been lovingly tailored to fit his trim, athletic frame perfectly.  The short coat was open at the front, held in place by a short, golden chain in lieu of a button.  His black tie and the black studs of the formal pleated shirt did marvelous things for his golden complexion and hair.  A bright pink cummerbund and a pink rose boutonniere provided vivid contrast against the otherwise stark black and white of his formal dress.

He was freakin' gorgeous, she thought in wonder. "Oh my God, DeeDee was right," she breathed aloud, "He's incredibly handsome when he lets himself be manly. How did I ever forget that?" 

Maybe because she been so focused in on how great he'd look in skirts??!?  Cripes, she'd been STUPID, dammit!

Suddenly, she was standing in front of him - staring at him staring back at her!  She didn't even feel Roderick take her hand from his arm and give her over to Ty; didn't hear his murmured comments or sense his retreating bow.  All she was aware of - the only thing in her world at that moment - was Tyrone Edwards.

Shaking herself mentally, she tried to find her tongue - tried to think of something clever to say, but her brain was adrift in a bubbling cauldron of emotion and need.  In the end, all she could manage was a breathy, "Wow."

Ty grinned, and then 'made his leg' to ShaJuana while at the same time bowing over to kiss the hand still held in his own.  When he again stood erect, he winked at her and whispered, "Told you I knew how to do that."

She'd barely managed to make the connection to his very first scene with her and Solange - the time Tina had royally messed up her first curtsy - when Ty, still holding her hand, went down on one knee before her. She watched as he reached into a hidden pocket and produced - my god, she thought - what a rock!  Which was followed by, where the hell did he get THAT???

"ShaJauna?  I love you.  Would you please marry me? Would you please do me the supreme honor of being my wife, my lover, my Mistress and my submissive, and most importantly, my very best friend?" he asked, his voice breaking twice in the asking.

"What?" she managed, her mind still all a-muddle, when a collective, feminine, 'Awwwwwwwww,' and the strains of Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' playing over the ballroom sound system jarred her out of her near fugue.

Suddenly, Solange was at her side, pressing something into the crook of her free arm.   "These are for you," she whispered. Juana looked down and stared at the bright bouquet of pink tea roses, pink camillia and pink dogwood blossoms. "And only for you. Ty hoped it would be you that showed up for this, as you can see." 

"What the hell?" Juana muttered, looking around her and seeing for the very first time that every one of the dungeon's Mistresses - including DeeDee, the little sneak - was there, standing beside her! And they were decked out in what she knew without being told were bridesmaids' dresses.  A quick glance to the other side - TY's side - and there were her boys - her favorite clients - all dressed like Tyrone!  

With a twinge of something almost like dread, Juana turned back to the face the 'front' of this little stage and saw another black woman, smiling broadly at her, wearing the brightly colored robes of her ministry.  "Reverend Davis?" she asked haltingly, not quite believing her own eyes.

Reverend Eleanora Davis, the pastor of the AME Church Juana regularly attended, smiled even more broadly.  "Yes, child.  Ummm, don't you think you owe this nice young man an answer to his question?"

Juana followed the older woman's look and saw Ty, still kneeling, still holding her hand in his and still offering the ring to her.  It was almost more than her sense of the ridiculous could handle.  "Dam. . .I mean, doggone it, white boy, if you think this woman's gonna submit to you, no matter how gorgeous you are in that tux, you got another think a-comin'!" she snapped, playfully pretending to try to tug her hand free of his.

"Hey, Juana," he retorted with just a bit of asperity in his tone, "I'm the one on my knee here, not YOU! Now, are you gonna put me out of my misery and marry me? Please?" 

Tears welled and flowed freely as her heart swelled.  "Oh, hell, Ty-RONE! Of course I'm gonna marry you, turkey!"  Ty barely managed to get the ring onto her finger before ShaJuana scooped him up off the floor and began to kiss the lights out of him.

In some still functional part of her mind, she heard the cheers of her friends and colleagues.  She was getting married - to TY!

Then, she stopped kissing him, pulling her face back to stare into his eyes sternly. "Ty? How can we be getting married? Doesn't that require a license and some waiting time??! Those blasted insurance forms!" she growled.  "You snuck a marriage license application in on me, didn't you?"

Ty started to wiggle, desperate to put his feet back on the floor, but his powerful goddess only tightened her hold on him.  "Ty-RONE? You better answer me. . ."

He looked, she thought, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar - all embarrassed and frustrated at the same time.  He mumbled something she didn't quite hear, so she squeezed him even harder, giving him a little growl for added effect.

"Okay, okay," he gasped out.  "I . . .uh, well I wanted to do JUST that - so all the paperwork would be out of the way, but Reverend Davis wouldn't let me.  So we have to do that part later."

Very slowly, Juana lowered her man to his feet, using her own height and the added inches of her boots to glare down at the miscreant. "Wouldn't let you, huh? So what's all this if we can't get married yet?"

"We're ah, anticipating the paperwork a little," he answered quickly.

"And JUST what does that mean?" she asked, suspicion bright in her eyes.

At this point, a laughing Reverend Davis stepped down and clasped hands with the pair of them. "Put him down, now, dear," she ordered with gentle authority.  When Juana reluctantly complied, she beamed up at the girl. "What it means, ShaJuana, is that the State of New York won't recognize your union until after you fill out their paperwork, pay their taxes and fees, and complete their waiting period."

"Render unto Caesar?" Ty asked, with a smile.

"Precisely," the minister agreed.  "This ceremony would be a promise between the two of you, witnessed by your friends, blessed by God.  If you want to make that promise, that is. . ."

"Of course I do!" "You bet I want to!" was the simultaneous reply from the two young lovers.

"Then let's do this thing, shall we?  Places everyone!" ordered Reverend Davis.  "We got a wedding to celebrate!"

~-~

"Tyrone, will you take ShaJuana to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, trust and protect her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will." was the firm reply.

She then turned to the bride, "ShaJuana, will you take Tyrone to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, trust and protect him, as long as you both shall live?"

Juana grinned impishly down at her man before turning back to the minister. "I will," she said solemnly, and then added, "And I will spank his butt for him when I decide he needs it, too!"

~-~

Ty carried his bride across the threshold of the bridal suite of the New York City Hilton in downtown Manhattan.  He didn't set her down immediately, instead held her as he settled onto the huge bed. For infinite moments in time, the simply held each other; kissing and being kissed.

Suddenly, Juana's roving hands stopped their random movements over his back and began to systematically pat him down.  Then she pulled back to stare at him.  "And just what is it I feel you wearing under that sexy tux, cutie?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

"Well," and it was Tina's voice that answered her, "You'll just have to unwrap me and find out.  But I will tell you this - Whatever it is I have on under this monkey suit? They match my cummerbund."

"Hey, I thought this scene was about you wanting MY ass, lover."

"My ass, your ass," he replied as he began to work his way down the buttons of her gown, "What does that matter as long as we both get what we want in the end?"

"As long as we both get each other in the end, lover."

"Amen to that."

~-~

Acting Dominant 
Epilogue: Loves Labors Won

Ty stepped out of the Chinese restaurant and into the one of New York's infamous horizontal late April showers.  Any May flowers this deluge brought would have to be pretty damned hardy, he thought with a smile.  Still, it took more than a little freezing rain to take the smile off his face these days.

He was busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger with a serious case of hives, but that was the way he liked it.  Besides, what with his studies at the studio school, homework, the director internship job Roddy had arranged for him and his duties as business manager at Solange's dungeon, there wasn’t much difference between work and play for him.  Work was way too much fun, even if his sometimes fourteen to sixteen hour days left him a bit frazzled around the edges. Fortunately, he had ShaJuana to help him deal with that problem. It was a relationship that wouldn't suit many folks, but it worked for them.

They'd just celebrated their six month anniversary last week, albeit a little early, and Ty was already planning the festivities for their seven month anniversary.  He'd have to go some, though, to top what ShaJuana had sprung on him.  She'd completely blindsided him with that session, mostly because she did it while they were home visiting his parents at the time.  And having his Mother - Donna Reed herself - knock on their bedroom door and ask if everything was all right in there, just when Juana was all set to have her wicked way with his restrained and helpless body had absolutely blown his mind.  The memory of ShaJuana's answering shout of "Oh, he's just a little tied up right now, Mrs. E, but he's just fine!" still sent chills up his spine - even now.

It had tickled him how well his tall, ebony lioness had taken to his petite, practically-perfect-in-every-way, homemaker-Mother and vice versa.  Within the first hour of his and ShaJuana's arrival at his parents' house, Mother and Daughter-in-law were off huddled together in Mom's parlor, chattering and giggling like longtime girlfriends, and they'd only gotten closer as the visit had progressed.  In fact, unless his theater-trained eye had deceived him, Juana had been giving his Mother cosmetics lessons because 'Donna' had been looking rather more exotic (he couldn't let himself think of it as erotic) towards the end of their stay - particularly in the evening.

And now that he thought about it - particularly right before bed time.  Especially the time Mom had all but ordered Dad to say good night.  Donna Reed as a femme-fatale sex goddess?  Oh, god, the LOOK on his father's face that night - Ty could empathize and. . . and. . .

HELL, boy, he chided himself, don't EVEN think of your mom that way!  

Well, Oedipus was classic theater, so maybe he could think of her, at least in the abstract?  Yeah, he could because he was a guy and Mom was gorgeous, after all.  Ty decided that he wasn't the only really lucky guy in this family. 

Lucky guy indeed, he thought as he entered their apartment building.  THEIR apartment - just putting those two words together in a sentence made him smile.  But then, just about everything about Juana made him smile.  Lucky.

Ty was just about to slide his key into his entry lock when the door swung open and a powerful black arm snaked out to grab him by the tie and haul him bodily into the apartment.  The force of the pull was so great that he had to take several steps beyond the threshold to catch himself.  By the time he had, the door was slamming shut behind him. 

At least he hadn't dropped the sweet and sour, he thought grinning.  "And how was your day, dear?" he asked in a very creditable imitation of Lucille Ball, turning back to face his wife.

His mouth fell when he saw her.  She was magnificent in hot pink leather - pink corset, pink strap-on, complete with a pink dildo of considerable dimensions, pink thigh-high stockings, pink garters, pink stilettos and. . . omigod - where in hell does anyone go to buy a hot-pink riding crop??!  "I had a freakin' GREAT day, boy! I did two client scenes that went really well, so I am in prime Top-space!"

Holding up the bag he still had in his hand, Ty offered slyly, "Hungry? I've got sweet and sour pork . . ." 

Her chocolate eyes narrowed to slits and her smile became positively feral.  "Oh, I'm hungry, all right, cutey, but it sure as hell ain't for food! Drop the bags, lose the clothes and get on your KNEES!"

"Geez, Mistress Bitch - at least let me put the Chinese in the fridge, first," he wheedled. 

"LIKE HELL, boy!" she snarled, grabbing his shirt front in both hands, ripping it open to scatter buttons like popping corn.  "In case you've forgotten? It's Tuesday night, so your ass is MINE and I want it NOW! So get it STRIPPED so I can get STARTED!"

Then she caught sight of what he had on beneath the now-tattered shirt and just stared. The look on her face when she took in his own costume was perfect - and everything he'd hoped he'd see when he'd managed to spirit the garment out of the apartment that morning hidden in his briefcase.  "Oh, Ty," she gushed in a totally un-Domme-like voice.  "You're wearing the indigo basque I got you? The matching panties and stockings, too?"

He nodded, and she batted away a few happy tears.  "You look beautiful."

"Well, hell, Tall Booty, it is Tuesday, after all," he reminded her with an exaggerated sniff. "But Thursday's comin' and I promise you - when it does? So will you."  At her slightly nervous laugh, he struck a lewd pose.  "Want me to go fix my face," Mae West's voice purred, "And, ah . . . get into somethin' a little less comfortable, big gal?"

"Oh, yeah," she breathed in aroused wonder, "Go in there and get rid of the rest of those silly boy clothes, and . . . let's see . . . oh, yeah, slip into those 5-inch ankle-busters with the little padlocks.  I think I may need a little maid service later.   Speaking of which, I'll put the food away.  Oh . . . you naughty little bitch.  You got Chinese because you know I think it tastes even better when it's heated up again.  Are you trying to play me, little Miss top-from-the bottom?"

"Would I do that?" Ty said as he headed off to slip into something less comfortable.

~-~

"MmmmmmmmmMMMMMMmm," Juana purred as she stretched out in their bed, rubbing up against Ty like a contented cat.  They were both comfortably nude, their dual hungers temporarily sated by two sessions of intense love-making - one kinky, the other sweetly vanilla - sandwiched around pigging out on Ty's take-out offering.  ShaJuana never did get her maid service . . . but then, there would be lots of other Tuesdays.

A lifetime of them.

"And how was YOUR day, darlin'?" she asked him as she rolled over top to lay on and look down at her husband.

Ty wrapped his arms around her and held her close, reveling in the weight of her body pressing down on his own.  "Good - very good, in fact.  I pulled off a real coup during the directing lab today."

Juana nuzzled his throat before resting her head on his shoulder.  "Oh? How so?"

"Yeah.  Remember me telling you about Kelly?  The Goth-girl actress who is really shy?"

"Um hmm.  You were worried she wouldn't be able to drop her Goth mask and do the more mainstream role called for in the play you're working on."

He nodded and planted a quick kiss on her forehead.  "Yup.  Well, we had a bit of a breakthrough today.  I took her aside and told her about Tina - about how I used to work in a dungeon . . as a girl . . and what made it work was to remember that I was not the role. That when the end of the day came, the role stayed behind and it didn't touch me, so I - the real me - couldn't possibly be embarrassed by anything the role required me to do."

"Used to work in a dungeon?!?" Juana yelped, coming up onto her hands and knees, straddling Ty so she could glare down into his face.  "You told her about Tina?  About the cross-dressing?  About . . .well, EVERYTHING?"

Ty grinned at the stunned amazement in his wife's face.  "Well, yeah, I did."

"And you LEFT it like that?"

Gotcha, Ty thought.  "Sort of.  After she did her scene? Quite well, I might add, which is why I said it was a very good day because she was sure she was gonna blow it.  Anyway, she came and asked me if what I'd said was true."

"Okay, white-boy," Juana growled. "What did you do? Really."

He shrugged as best he could with her full weight bearing down on him, and told her "I did my best stern-and-strict Domme face at her and asked her if she thought I would EVER submit to being some namby-pamby little spanking slut.”

Ty laughed and said, “It was like reading a book, watching her thoughts flash across her face.  At first she looked like she was gonna pee her panties for making me mad.  Like she had insulted me by even thinking such a thing was possible.  Then she got angry for herself, for being lied to.  Then it finally clicked and she realized that it didn’t matter what was true.  What mattered was making someone believe the character.  You could just see the gears behind her eyes realigning themselves into a new engine.  She’s gonna be a great actress someday, if she can harness that.” 

A laughing, giggling armful of woman collapsed atop him. "Oh, I wish I had been there to see that!" Juana managed to get out between gasps.  "Namby-pamby spanking slut, eh?  Sounds like fun. Let me go get my sorority paddle, cutey!"

Instead, her husband wrapped his arms about her with that surprising, unexpected strength that always thrilled her to her girlish core.  Then he rolled atop her, and began seducing her the old-fashioned way with mouth and hand, passion and love.

The Beginning.