Method Acting Ch. 03: Rehersal

Sam

Sam was actually a little impressed, but not as surprised as most others would be.

Sam would have bet money most other child actresses raised on sets with their helicopter agent mom wouldn't have been able to cope. The majority of them would have told her off when Sam told them to strip down to their underwear. The rest would have balked when she made them expose themselves, or the first time they felt the riding crop sting their skin. Maybe some of them would have made it through the day, but the enema and butt plug routine would have thinned the herd out or eliminated it completely.

But she'd known about Dakota longer than her Princess or Eli suspected. She didn't tell anyone (and honestly hadn't liked to think about it for a long while) but she and Melinda used to watch "The Squire Princess Jewel Adventures." It was Melinda's guilty pleasure, and Sam had actually taken her sub to see the first movie as a treat for her good behavior.

Sam had noticed it even then, on screen. Dakota, even while acting, had given off subtle tells Sam picked up on that betrayed her nature. Really, that was the only reason she'd agreed to this; she knew the little princess had a hidden nature, waiting to be unlocked.

Sam knew she could unlock it. She just hoped she wouldn't break the door afterward, like she had with Melinda. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be paid the $400,000 if the girl had to be institutionalized.

Inwardly she felt a little bad about her Princess's state. She'd just had what was probably one of the most confusing orgasms of her life and had to come to terms with wearing a butt plug for the first time, and now she was about to be paddled.

She knew her princess wasn't a pain slut, otherwise the repeated swats of the riding crop would have had her dripping wet and horny. In one sense, that was good; it meant Sam wouldn't have to get creative with punishments. But it also bothered her.

"S" was always in BDSM but there were fewer doms who actually enjoyed and got off on inflicting pain than most people thought. The relationship was often more subtle and complex; there was reassurance and joy to be found in the trust a sub showed in allowing their dom to hurt them. The sight of a slave being punished could be artful and arousing in itself, and ultimately there was the delicate relationship between pain and pleasure that could be explored.

But her Princess wasn't there yet.

The girl was positively trembling by the time they reached the master bedroom. Sam still had her four-poster bed with the additions and reinforcements. It used to be that almost all of the furniture in her house was designed for play. Hidden restraints in sofas and plush chairs, tables able to hold a lot more weight than most, things like that. She'd purged all of it after Melinda and never replaced it, but the bed had been expensive and was literally secured to the floor and wall with hardware usually reserved for mounting large appliances or grab rails.

And it was a really comfortable bed.

"Stand here," she said, pointing to the foot of the bed, "Presentation two, but put your hands on the bed, out straight."

Her Princess bent over the bed. The top of the footboard had gel padding on the top of it to make resting on it less uncomfortable. It also had several other features, but she wouldn't need those on this occasion.

She went to her dresser and got the paddle she'd placed there. She'd gone out and bought it at a specialty shop on her way home from her first meeting with Dakota. It was a standard leather-wrapped wooden paddle. It was nothing like the custom carved one she used to have, but it would work.

"You will count for me. You have one second after each hit to say what number it is. If you miscount or forget to say the number, I will restart the count wherever I see fit, including starting over completely. As I've been saying, paying attention is crucial. Are you ready?"

It wasn't actually a question, and Sam was glad Princess recognized that and responded, "Yes Mistress Samira."

She swung and the paddle thwacked against her Princess's ass. She hadn't used her full strength; she never did. She was strong enough that she could do real, permanent damage if she ever let herself go completely.

Her princess shrieked and gasped. Sam actually gave her five seconds; no one that hadn't experienced it knew what to expect from their first paddling. But rules were rules.

"You didn't count, Princess," Sam said, "Now we start over. Try again."

Her arm flew. Another "thwack" against her ass, another shriek and more heavy breathing. This time, however, her princess managed to sob out "One."

Three more times the wrapped wood impacted her princess's cheeks. By the fifth hit (though only four by the count), her princess was grunting and wincing rather than crying out at each hit.

Sam paused at that point and pushed a plunger on the bottle she'd grabbed along with the paddle. The gel was a special soothing cream; mostly aloe, though there was a slight hint of menthol in it that made it tingle. According to all of her past subs and slaves, the sensation was unique and memorable.

Sam took her time applying the gel; it was her first opportunity to really enjoy her slave's ass. Her announcement at the beginning that she was not only inexperienced with but not willing to perform with another girl had almost been a deal breaker even with the promised payout, but Sam thought it might actually be better that way; if all she was doing was training and the relationship was one way in most respects, there was less chance of her doing serious damage.

That said, she couldn't help but grin at the suppleness of her Princess's ass. There really wasn't anything to compare a nicely toned, teenage backside to, and her princess was a prime example. Even though her TV role and movies had tried to maintain her virginal, youthful image, every magazine, web site, and influencer who focused on the female form talked up her body. She'd featured on multiple 'hottest actresses" lists ever since she'd turned 18, usually in the top 10. They all made various excuses for not putting her in one of the top slots, but everyone knew it was because she hadn't "shown the goods" or even done a suggestively steamy sex scene in any of her work. Of course, there were rumors she'd been offered anywhere from one to ten million dollars by various porn sites to fix that.

As she applied the gel, her Princess's pale skin transformed to a lovely shade of red. Sam could still hear her heavy breaths against the sheets. Sam straightened, grabbed the paddle, and swung again.

Princess let out another shriek, most likely surprised by the sudden shift from soft massage to brutal pain. Almost too late, she squeaked out "Five."

Sam practiced her technique a little, making sure she could aim accurately at the bottom, middle, and top of the ass cheeks, then altering the angle so she only hit one, then the other without turning the paddle up. For her final hit, she aimed it to directly smack the blue silicone base of the plug lodged in her princess's ass, producing a new and deeper grunt as "ten" slipped past her lips just before she broke down into sobs.

Sam quickly dropped the paddle and pulled the girl into her lap. Her Princess curled into a fetal position for a while and Sam just kept an arm around her shoulders and head. Eventually she relaxed enough that her body sagged against Sam's.

"Princess, you may speak your mind if you want; I won't punish you for it," Sam said.

"You're a fucking bitch," the girl in her lap said, "that was... that was cruel, that was... I should call the fucking police."

"It was necessary," Sam said.

"How in the fuck was that necessary?"

"For one, you wanted the full experience of being a slave. Punishment is part of that. For another, you earned it. As your mistress, I have to follow through on my promises, all of them. If I only follow through on the good promises I'm spoiling you, and if I only follow through on the bad ones I'm abusing you. I know this probably means nothing to you right now, but I'm proud of you."

Sam had to control her face because Princess was looking up at her, but she saw and felt just a second of reaction where the girl's eyes widened and her body shivered at the praise. Then Princess reminded herself that she was supposed to be angry, indignant, and victimized by this and buried the reaction.

"You're going to do that again, aren't you?" her princess accused.

"Probably. That's up to you. I can tell you that even lifelong slaves who've been serving masters for decades still earn punishments, though they aren't usually for simple mistakes. I can promise you that I won't give you punishments for no reason, and I do not enjoy them. Do you have anything else you want to say?"

Her princess shook her head.

"Okay, lie down on the bed, on your stomach, legs together, and rest your head on your arms."

Princess got into position and Sam got the gel. She had to admire the view, one that probably only the girl's mother and her boyfriend had enjoyed. The creases of skin mixed with the prominent swooping curves of her form were worthy of an artist's attention. Sam knew that the movie her princess wanted to make could have the worst dialogue and plot ever conceived and it would still probably make several million dollars just from people desperate to see the vision she enjoyed.

Sam allowed herself a bit of excess and straddled her princess's legs, letting her own calves and thighs rest against her slave's. Then she took her gel-covered hands and kneaded the reddened, hot flesh of her Princess's rear end. The blue end of the plug shrank and grew in her vision as the supple flesh moved over and away from it, following the pressing and pulling of Sam's hands.

Sam indulged herself, rubbing the globes far longer than she needed to. She could feel herself getting slick between her legs, and she wasn't wholly surprised when one of her movements pulled the cheeks open and she got a waft of arousal she knew wasn't from her own slit. After all, her massage probably moved the plug around enough that it would have felt almost like the most gentle, slow burn anal sex ever. Despite her Princess's earlier protests, Sam knew how stimulating the sphincter could be.

"Are you ready for bed, princess?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Because you performed well today, and because you took your punishment well, you may sleep in my bed with me," Sam told her.

She waited patiently, watching Princess's face as she processed what Sam said and came up with the obvious question.

"Mistress Samira, may I ask a question?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"Where... else would I sleep?"

"This bed has a trundle underneath. It's half the size of a twin, just large enough for you. If you haven't pleased me I would have you sleep there. If you've truly upset me, you would sleep on the floor," Sam explained.

"Not... I wouldn't use one of the guest rooms?" Princess asked.

"You aren't a guest," Sam replied, "Also, I may have need of you during the night, and I should need to shout through walls to hope to get your attention."

"What... what would you need me for in the middle of the night?"

"That's twice you've addressed me improperly, Princess. One more time and you get another five swats right now."

"I'm sorry Mistress Samira," she said, appropriately horrified at her lapse.

"There could be any number of things," Sam said, "I could want a drink, I might decide I want to use my tablet and I didn't bring it to bed, or I might want you to fetch my robe so I can go to the bathroom without getting a chill."

"Oh... thank you Mistress Samira!" she quickly added as Sam opened her mouth.

Sam smirked, both at the quick recovery and the fact that she saw a hint of relief in the girl's posture. Sam had been very intentional with her "having need of you in the middle of the night" phrasing, knowing where her Princess's mind would go, especially with how worked up she was after the posterior massage.

Really dominating someone was hardly physical after all; you had to get in their head.

Dakota

Dakota's life was pain.

Not in the existential, emotional sense; she literally hurt.

Her knees were raw because of the amount of time she spent on them. Prior to her current arrangement, she'd actually expected that, but she assumed it would be because her master would have her on her knees sucking cock or bending over for a fuck all the time. In reality, her knees were red from maintaining a position for her mistress or cleaning something.

Her feet were sore because on her second day, Mistress Samira had proudly presented her with three sets of shoes. They were all patent leather, one pair was red, one was black, and one was white.

And they all had five inch heels.

She was required to wear the shoes whenever she wasn't sleeping, working out, or bathing.

Her ass hurt in a variety of ways she was still coming to terms with.

She'd made it through the second day without incurring a punishment, but she'd gone through the butt plug ritual with her mistress twice, first inserting a metal plug instead of a silicone one after going without through breakfast, then removing the metal one for dinner and replacing it with the silicone one for another overnight session. Clenching her anal muscles brought odd sensations of pain and other feelings she couldn't describe.

Existential crisis had set in for her twice, though. First was the second night where Mistress Samira had announced there was no punishment and Dakota had felt a twinge of disappointment because she knew that meant no massage with the gel. The gel had been interesting; her ass had simultaneously felt like it was burning up and being showered with icy rain. The tingling and burning hadn't been pleasant, exactly, at first, but it was a curious sensation she found she wanted to experience again, like poking at a sore muscle or digging at an itching bug bite. Realizing that had left her lying awake for a while in the pull out trundle next to Mistress Samira's bed.

Then, when she had earned punishment on day three for spilling a pan of hot oil on the stove that Mistress Samira'd had to extinguish, she'd felt a little thrill because she knew the massage was coming. She'd spent a long time thinking about that, even as she enjoyed the tingling burn on her ass as she lay in the little pull-out bed.

Most of her pain had nothing to do with what Mistress Samira did, however; it was just from work.

Filmmaking is not lazy work, by any means. However, as an actor, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Sometimes there would be a series of takes and then up to four or five hours while sets were redressed, other actors filmed their parts, or script edits were conceived, implemented, and approved. Even when she was filming things like fight scenes it would only be two hours or so of activity, and it was broken up with multiple takes and pauses. Plus, her mother had always insisted the really hard stuff be done by stunt doubles.

Between that and the fact that her diet and some light cardio were more responsible for her figure (along with, she had to admit, her age) than any significant workout, the daily cleaning and housework she had to do was causing muscle fatigue. Plus, Mistress Samira had started her on an exercise routine, mostly focused on flexibility and core strength.

For better or worse, her sense of shame and modesty was almost gone. Mistress Samira had her wear garters and stockings every day so far, but she hadn't worn anything that covered her vagina after that first day. Her breasts were usually exposed too, but Mistress Samira had let her use an athletic support during her workout; the older woman obviously had experience trying to deal with globes of flesh flying about when doing things like burpees and stair climbing. Nobody wanted to get punched in the chin by their own tit.

Just at that moment, however, her breasts, along with the rest of her, were fully exposed to her mistress. She was squatting down, the toes and heels of her towering shoes on the ground, and her knees fully bent so her calves touched her thighs. She had one hand back on the ground keeping her from falling down completely.

The other hand was desperately trying to grip the silicone plug and push it into her sphincter. Dakota felt like she was fighting herself. She could line up the plug, but even though her brain and arm wanted to make it happen, she kept instinctively clenching against the intrusion. It didn't help that her arm and ab muscles were burning while she tried to control the muscles in her ass.

"Princess, look at me," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota locked eyes with her. "Bear down," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota did.

Suddenly the plug felt a lot easier to push. Without thinking, Dakota shoved. There was a flash of burning pain in her ass, and then the familiar feeling of the plug keeping her stretched. She exhaled and started moving, but Mistress Samira stopped her.

"Put your other hand down and hold that pose. Spread your thighs," she ordered.

Adding her other hand and arm to the pose helped, but she'd already been like that for several minutes. It wasn't as bad as planking, but she felt her joints getting sore.

Mistress Samira walked up with a device in her hand. It looked like a handheld microphone, except too thick. The handle also flared out and was almost the same size as the head.

"This, Princess, is a vibrator. Most people call it a magic wand. As long as you hold that pose and do not cum, I will keep it on your pussy. As soon as you cum, unless I've told you to, I will remove it. If you fall to the floor, not only will you not be allowed to cum, you will be punished tonight."

Without any other warning, she put the wand between Dakota's legs and flicked it on.

"Holy Fuck!" Dakota shouted. She'd played with toys before; her mother had even bought her a simple cigar-shaped vibrator in an attempt to make sure she didn't try to get attention from her castmates, but none of them were this powerful or intense. It felt like her whole pussy was vibrating, including (or especially) her clit.

It stopped after a few seconds. Dakota was confused until she felt her shoulders on the ground; she'd fallen out of position without even realizing it. She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration as it hit her that she'd earned a punishment.

"Five swats, my princess," Mistress Samira said, "Now... do you want to try again? That must have gotten you a bit worked up. Do you think you can control yourself enough to have an orgasm? Is it worth risking another five swats?"

Her mistress was right; she was worked up. She wanted to feel the toy on her pussy again. She pushed herself up and spread her legs.

"What do you say, Princess?" Mistress Samira prompted.

"P-... please Mistress Samira."

"Please what?" Mistress Samira asked, "You have to be specific."

Dakota felt herself blush. She couldn't look at the other woman as she said, "Please... Please use the toy on my pussy, Mistress Samira."

"As you wish," she said.

Asking aloud let Dakota brace herself this time, so when the near-shockwave hit her nethers she didn't fall down. It still took all of her willpower to stay in place.

The good news was, she knew she wouldn't have to keep the pose long. Every nerve ending in her vagina and around it felt like it was hooked to a live wire. Tingles and jolts of pleasure raced through her. On top of that, the vibrations seemed to be hitting the plug and it shook inside her other hole, stimulating all the nerves and feelings back there too.

"Oh God ohgodohgodohgod FUUUUUUUCK!"

The orgasm hit her like a freight train and Dakota was sure it was the fastest she'd ever cum, from anything. Her feet kicked out as she brought her legs up and together and hugged her knees. She realized her mistake as she felt the toy vibrating between her clenched legs.

"Please turn it off!" she cried.

"It's not even touching you, Princess," Mistress Samira said.

That declaration was like a record scratch in Dakota's head. She unclenched and looked down.

Her bare pussy was soaked in juices along with her upper thighs, but otherwise nothing was there. She looked up and saw Mistress Samira holding the toy in her hand with a triumphant smirk.

"Now imagine how good three of those in a row would feel," her mistress said.

=-=-=-=-=

The rest of the day was uneventful, including dinner; Dakota only had to grill seasoned chicken breasts and Mistress Samira had a George Foreman-type grill for that, so all Dakota had to do was monitor the time and put salads together for the both of them. After that there was what Dakota had come to think of as "free time."

Mistress Samira had taken her phone and tablet on the first day. Dakota had been annoyed by it at first, but the overwhelming experience of her first day meant she didn't remember until the next, and even then she didn't miss it as much as she thought she would. Of course when she'd gotten it back that night there were triple-digit notifications. She'd long ago hired a PR firm to handle her social media, but she had a bunch of custom alerts to flag certain hashtags and things keyed to her.

A message from her publicist at that firm said there were already rumblings about her "disappearance" from LA. Dakota suspected her mother had started them; even though they were legally and physically separated, she still tried to horn in on Dakota's life remotely. But enough of a buzz was brewing that she figured she should do something preemptive; she was going to be gone for a while if this deal with Mistress Samira held up, and she wouldn't put it past her mother to start claiming she was kidnapped. She didn't know how Mistress Samira would react if she informed her that she had to be allowed to dress and leave the house to do a press conference.

She'd probably allow it, but she couldn't imagine what the punishment might be.

Then she had to stop and think. When she'd thought about a harsh punishment... had she felt excited?

She shoved that thought aside and went to the window. She aimed her phone's camera at the top of the colorful treeline and zoomed in so only the tops of the trees and the sky were showing. She snapped the picture and sent it out with the caption "Prepping for my next role. It'll be a colorful one! #NoMorePrincess."

Dakota smirked to herself. Between the indecipherable photo and the hashtag that she'd made up on the spot, it should keep her fanbase guessing for a while. Not the full six months; nothing held the internet's interest for that long, but it would be fodder for them to work with.

Then she got a naughty thought. She moved herself around and positioned her camera, then took a picture and studied it.

The camera had been zoomed in on her hip. It was a picture of the curve, with the black lace of the garter belt she had on that day. She added a filter to blur out the view behind it. Then she put #NoMorePrincess as a watermark over the picture.

Part of her wanted to send it out. But despite her plan to shock her fanbase, she knew that would be too much too soon. She resisted the urge to post it... but she hid the picture away rather than deleting it.

=-=-=-=-=

With only five that night, the punishment was over quickly, and the soothing tingle of the gel on her ass made her shiver as her mistress rubbed it in. She'd figured out Mistress Samira liked massaging her ass. She actually didn't mind it herself, and she'd caught herself arching her back a bit to push into her hands more as she rubbed. She'd also noticed, because of how cool it got afterward, her pussy would end up wet from the attention.

She was getting her ass paddled and then a woman was massaging stinging gel into it afterward, and it turned her on. Last week she would thought anyone who admitted to that was a deranged pervert.

Pot, meet kettle.

She raised herself up into Presentation One, which is where Mistress Samira usually told her to shift to. Then her mistress came up behind her and moved her hands down.

She put a sleep-mask type blindfold on Dakota's face. It had padded edges, so the little openings on either side of the nose weren't even a thing; the mask totally cut off her vision. It also wasn't a simple elastic; it was on tight, and Dakota thought she'd heard velcro.

Her knees and legs were still mostly on the soft bed, so she felt when her mistress got in. The shifts were subtle; the mattress at the very least had a memory foam top and the movements at one end weren't obvious.

"I want you to play with yourself, Princess. Give me a show," Mistress Samira said.

"Play with myself, Mistress Samira?" Dakota asked. Partly to confirm, partly because she wasn't sure she understood.

"Masturbate, girl. Rub your pussy, diddle your clit. Fondle yourself and play with your breasts. Play with your plug if you think you're brave enough and can accept the sensations as pleasurable."

Dakota had masturbated before, obviously. Sometimes she'd been left frustrated after sessions with Coulter, and even before that attractive co-stars would visit the set and leave most of the women panting with need. And it was almost a weekly pattern for her and the other female regular on Princess Jewel, a black girl named Olivia, to sneak into one or the others' trailer at night and fantasize together about a hot guest star while they got themselves off in the dark.

Dakota had always been alone, in the dark, or had known the other person nearby was asleep. Not only did she know Mistress Samira was close, she knew the other woman was probably watching her.

She brought her finger up to her pussy. Her labia were still damp from the arousal of the short massage. She spread her juices around her fingers and spread it around her pussy until her fingers could move unimpeded. Her breathing had already sped up and the familiar tingles and jolts of pleasure spread from her core throughout her body every time her fingers crossed over her clit or the hole marking her opening.

She remembered Mistress Saira's instructions and used her free hand to lift and fondle one of her breasts. She'd never bothered to do it to herself despite knowing she got pleasure from being fondled. Now that she was, it added some pleasure on top of the main activity. She rolled a nipple in her fingers to get more.

"Slow down, Princess," Mistress Samira said, "We don't want people thinking you're too quick off the mark."

Dakota thought back to some of her movies. She'd had to look flushed and sexy for some scenes, even when she found her costar annoying. Sometimes to find the right mood, she'd gently rub herself off-camera. Not enough to get herself off, but enough to get her a little worked up.

She used those techniques; rubbing near her clit but not on it, plunging her fingers deep but opposite her g-spot, and massaging her labia with her hand and fingers. Focusing on the less sensitive nerves and only occasionally hitting her clit got her hot and worked her up, but it would take a while before she came that way. She could smell her own arousal, though, and her nipples were rock hard and almost aching; her fingers kneading and rubbing them seemed to be the only way to get some relief.

And she didn't want to admit it to herself, but the muscle twitches and clenching around the plug in her ass were sending new jolts of pleasure and more arousal through her body.

Every now and then her mistress would remind her to slow down and not rush to an orgasm. In her own head Dakota thought that it wouldn't count as rushing; now she was being deprived of an orgasm.

Her breath sounded loud in her ears, her hair was plastered to her head from sweat. Her nipples ached and her fingers were saturated with pussy juice. She could barely come near her clit for fear she would make herself cum. Every slight graze caused her to jolt like she'd been shocked. Mistress Samira twice had snapped at her to straighten up as her back and arms got tired.

Then she noticed another noise. Fast, wet squelching, and breathing that didn't match her own. She held her breath for a moment to be sure, but it was unmistakable.

Mistress Samira was cumming.

It suddenly dawned on Dakota that her mistress wasn't just watching her, she was getting off to her. Dakota was giving her mistress a live sex show.

She felt herself flush from embarrassment. She'd never shown off her body as much as she had this past week, but now she was doing live porn for Mistress Samira. This was too much.

Except... she felt a little proud of it. She'd been hot enough and sexy enough for the woman to use her as a masturbation fantasy. It was like when you caught a guy leering. It was mostly creepy, but there was that little part in the back of your head that went "I'm hot enough to be stared at."

She hadn't paid attention and her fingers grazed her clit hard. She jerked her hand away as she practically spasmed. It wasn't an orgasm, but a stiff breeze would get her there. Mistress Samira had just cum, she was distracted. All Dakota had to do was-

An irresistable claw gripped her wrist. She couldn't move her hand closer. But she knew if she rolled her hips and flicked a finger she could get there.

"I told you not to cum, Princess," Mistress Samira purred, "you don't want to disobey me do you?"

Dakota couldn't hold in the dismayed moan. "Please Mistress Samira, I'm so close, you have to let me cum."

"I do? Why?" she asked.

"I can't stop it," Dakota said.

"I can," Mistress Samira said, "I can lock your arms above your head, cuff your legs wide open, and make sure nothing touches your pussy all night. I can put a chastity belt on you and keep anything from touching your pussy."

Dakota felt tears leak out of her eyes. "Please Mistress, please don't leave me like this."

"Lick my finger clean and I'll use it to get you off," Mistress Samira said.

She put her finger in front of Dakota's lips. Dakota could smell the girl cum on it, and she knew it was from Mistress Samira's pussy. She was so desperate to cum right then, though, that she didn't care.

She sucked the finger into her mouth like it would give her water after marching through the desert. Every inch of her tongue explored each fold of skin and crevice joint in the finger. There was a spicy, tangy flavor on the finger she didn't acknowledge, but she worked to remove from the digit.

The finger suddenly slid out of her mouth with a pop. There was a moment of nervous anticipation when nothing happened except Mistress Samira's hand still holding her arm immobile. Then she groaned aloud as the wet finger slid into her sopping hole.

Mistress Samira pumped the finger in and out of her sex, but didn't go all the way in; it just rubbed an inch or two inside. Dakota had thought any contact with her pussy would set her off, but her mistress had found a way to actually finger-fuck her and still keep her on the edge. It was so frustrating that Dakota sobbed.

"Please Mistress Samira... please," Dakota whined.

"You'd do anything to cum right now wouldn't you?"

Even though in her head she knew how dangerous the admission was, she just said, "Yes, please, I want to cum. I need to cum."

"This is the power I have over you, Princess. Your body is an instrument I can play. Your orgasms are mine to deny or grant. And you allow this because you want it. You crave it just as desperately as you want to cum right now. I've just put you in a place where your naked need is laid bare for the both of us."

Dakota felt like her whole body tightened up. She could feel the build up in her teeth.

"Cum!" her mistress barked as she shoved her finger deep inside.

Dakota had never been a screamer, but that night she was. Her own ears hurt from the shrill outburst and she almost fell off the bed as she jerked from the pleasure tearing through her. She desperately tried to grip her mistress's sweaty body with her own slick hands, and Mistress Samira's arms came around to hold her. They fell back on the bed and her mistress held her as her body shook, spasmed, and quivered from the long-delayed climax.

When she calmed down enough to register something other than the eruption of pleasure through her body, she realized she was straddling Mistress Samira. Her thighs were on either side of her mistress's hips, her arms were trapped between her back and the bed and she had her head resting on the woman's chest. She had on some sort of silky top, but Dakota could tell that was the only thing between her cheek and neck and the large bulge of flesh that was her mistress's breast.

She went to push herself up quickly but Mistress Samira held her. "It's okay, my Princess. You don't need to move. You need this. It's okay. Calm down, rest in my arms. I've got you."

"I've... I've never felt an orgasm like that before Mistress Samira."

"I know, Princess," her mistress replied, "Would you like me to tell you something?"

"Anything, Mistress Samira."

"I can make you feel even more powerful orgasms than that."

The thought of a more powerful orgasm actually scared Dakota a bit. She felt legitimately dazed after that one. She'd heard stories of people passing out from orgasms and thought they were exaggerating, but if Mistress Samira claimed what just happened to her wasn't as intense as it could get...

"Do you want that, Princess? Do you want me to make you feel even better?" she asked.

"I'm... a little scared of that, Mistress Samira."

"Just trust me, my Princess," Mistress Samira said, "Once you do that, you don't have to be scared; I'll take care of you."