Acting Dominant

by Tigger

©2008

Chapter 10: A Mid-Autumn Day Dream-Day

   

"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 while 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 came to grips with precisely what Solange intended for his session.

"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 to a torture rack! In fact, 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, slave boy, 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 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 little 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 catching the white gown's long train beneath 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 there 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. Her (his?) face was much too well defined. The various cosmetics had not been blended at all and were much too thickly applied. 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 no 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 of 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, staring at 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 from among 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 . . .

~-~

  

  

  

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