Acting Dominant

by Tigger

©2008

Chapter 9: Secretary's Day at the Dungeon

   

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 a 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 still come and play. That way, we won't have to change the 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 just 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 repeated, 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 the 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 screamed '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 too low to notice. 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, and 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. As Jefferson scurried up to her desk, 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 still rolled up papers 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 twitch those 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 still working on my plan. 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 educate you properly. Fold those garments neatly and be quick about it or you're not going to be able to 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 reception to let Jefferson into the dungeon. As it was, anyone entering the room would have to get all the way in, and look around the open 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 bungee 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, but the unrelenting force of the bungee 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 bungees began their inevitable contraction, leaving him once more 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 such a crop could leave welts, and had done on her own bottom, that lasted a couple of days. Miss 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/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 ball 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 with the bottom of her foot. "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 swat gently at the crimson head of his erection, "otherwise you wouldn't be so hard." 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 bit of truth 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 SUCH a popular little ass-slut! 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 actually 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 get to 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 her bottom 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 in front, but she couldn't really 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 until that moment that 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 couple of hours in her keeping. WHY do they do it, or rather, PAY her do that to them? It 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 to prove something is the best description I can give you. 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 cock-tease of the highest 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 cock-teasing 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 the client up even 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 maybe a badge of office - something that says, 'I'm the Domme here, buster, so you'd 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 that at some point or another – but it is never severe or particularly 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 for 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 still 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 competing for the same roles I might be suited to play. Here at your dungeon? I get to be the 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 considering 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 learn 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. . . "

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