Method Acting Ch. 08: Screen Test

Sam

["What the fuck are you doing Samira?"] Sam said quietly, in Arabic.

Sam stood wearing just a babydoll top and tanga style panties, both black, looking at herself in the large bathroom mirror in her en suite. Princess lay on her bed in the other room, naked.

Princess's last orgasm the day before had nearly wiped her out; she was barely able to move afterward. Sam had released the restraints and carried her to the guest bedroom where she'd promptly taken a nap.

Then Sam had lost her mind. At least that's what she thought now.

Sam had gone back to the master bedroom, stripped naked, and grabbed the used vibrator, immediately taking it into her mouth and savoring the flavors on it. She'd laid her head down in the massive wet spot Princess had created while she licked and sucked every bit of juice off the toy. Then she'd rammed it in her own pussy and put the vibrator on max.

With Princess's taste on her lips and her smell all around her head, Sam had brought herself off three times over the next twenty-five minutes.

She'd pulled the dildo out of herself and examined the gloss coating her juices gave it, including the little string of moisture going from her labia to the tip of the rounded end.

I should make Princess lick this clean. How would the girl know it wasn't her own girl cum coating the toy?

That thought had snapped her out of whatever lust craze she'd been in. She'd just been about to trick the girl into doing something. You didn't do that. One of the foundations of the dom/sub relationship is that you never lied to your sub. You did not break trust like that. Arguably telling the truth was most of the fun; you always described exactly what you were going to do, or what the sub had to do, and you watched them come to terms with their future.

You never tricked them. If you had to manipulate and gaslight your sub into doing what you wanted, that said more about you as a dom than anything, and none of what it said was good.

Princess had given her hard limits. Sam had pushed those limits today, making her think she would use her fingers and then her mouth to get the girl off. True, Princess had said she might be okay with someone doing things to her when she didn't have to reciprocate, but Sam was almost sure that had been bravado, Princess claiming to be okay with something just to save face because she assumed if she completely ruled out girl/girl activity Sam would have dismissed her.

Sam washed the toy in water hot enough that it almost burned her hands, then stripped the bed. She'd purchased a waterproof mattress a long time ago, thankfully, because the fitted sheet had been wet enough Samira could have wrung moisture out of it.

Sam felt a little twinge of... something... when she'd remembered sniffing her hands and sucking on her finger a little after putting the sheets in the wash.

Then the rest of the evening had progressed. Sam took Princess for a shower first. She'd been worried about the girl staying upright so she'd gone in with her slave. But she'd put on a bathing suit. She thought she'd seen disappointment in Princess's eyes when she appeared for the shower in the one-piece, but the girl was half-conscious; it could have been anything. Fortunately Princess had mostly washed herself, though The Don's comment about torturing herself came back into her head as she watched the nubile girl in the shower.

Despite what anyone says, people can get used to almost anything with enough exposure. If you got a bunch of Victoria's Secret models to walk around naked at a frat house of straight college "bros" 24/7, it wouldn't make them hard all the time. Maybe for the first couple of days, but after a week or two most of them would think it was normal, and only react to them if they really focused or the girls did something. It was the same reason guys at nude beaches or nudist colonies weren't erect all the time.

Princess had been walking around all but naked in Sam's house for weeks, but seeing her soap and rinse herself in the shower caught Sam off guard. The perky, near-perfect D-cup breasts, the heart-shaped ass, the pussy lips that came together in a tight slit between her legs (though they'd been a little swollen and red in the shower), and the clear, smooth, pale skin of the girl all looked different under the water spray.

It had taken all of her self-control to behave herself when Princess had asked for help washing her back. Especially because she thought, but couldn't prove, that Princess had pushed her ass back farther as Sam's hands traveled down her back.

Sam could have demanded Princess fess up to whether she'd done it on purpose, but she'd been afraid of the answer.

She'd ordered dinner out and Princess had been unusually clingy, so Sam had let her pull her chair over and Sam had fed her. By the end of dinner, the girl was in her lap, curled up against her. During Princess's free time, she'd stayed in the room with Sam as she watched some streaming shows, once again in her garters and stockings.

At bedtime, Sam hadn't had the heart or willpower to demand Princess use the trundle. She'd let the girl sleep in bed with her.

When she'd woken up in the morning, Princess was fully snuggled up to her, one leg draped over hers, her head resting on Sam's breast. Sam had idly trailed her hand down Princess's back to her ass and groped the girl, who'd unconsciously moaned in response.

That moan had shocked Sam awake, and was part of the reason she was staring at herself in the mirror.

Dakota Song was a heterosexual woman. Every romantic liaison of hers that had ever made it to the tabloids had been with a guy. Granted, for several years it had been with a gay guy whose sexuality had been obvious to everyone long before his public coming out. But there had been a few stories about Dakota "cheating" on her man. Sam assumed, now knowing the truth, those had been times when Dakota's libido had finally gotten the better of her and she needed some sort of physical release she couldn't get from her homosexual beau. And they'd always been with a guy.

She'd been blindfolded. She couldn't see that it was my fingers, my lips down there. She probably imagined it was her ex-boyfriend, or some fantasy lover. Who had a cock. And was a man. Same thing with this morning; she was asleep, she didn't know who she was snuggling up to, just that it was a warm body.

Sam decided to ignore the shower. She'd probably imagined that Princess pushed back into her.

But that still left her with a problem. Or "a challenge" as she would have said to her project team at work.

["I want that girl. I want to make her bury her face between my legs and cover her face with my cream, then I want to torture and taste every inch of that starlet's body."]

It was a technique a therapist had used to encourage Sam to admit things about herself, because Sam had issues opening up. Speaking in Arabic was just to make sure there was no possibility that Princess would understand what she said.

She'd known Dakota Song was submissive. But not all submissives were cut out to be slaves. Most of them weren't, in fact. Some confined it to the bedroom and related activities, some wanted to branch out and do it on the weekends and at the parties like they went to, but otherwise stay vanilla in their lives. More dedicated subs might have an "all weekend and every weekday after 7:00" schedule or something similar. Very few subs had the energy, dedication, or desire to be submissive at a dom's call 24/7.

Sam had assumed (maybe even hoped) that once the realities of a slave's position set in with the girl, she'd tap out. She'd figure a few days of walking around with her tits out and her pussy on display for a bitchy woman who hit her with a stick was quite enough to get the idea. It wasn't like the film actually required her to be a slave on set, just look the part.

But Princess had held on. She'd held on even when Sam fucked up and given her a panic attack. She'd held on through Sam showing her off to a room full of strangers. She'd held on after she'd been physically attacked.

Sam thought it might just be stubbornness. Some people were like that; you tell them they can't do something and they keep trying just so they can prove whoever told them wrong. The problem was, submissives usually weren't like that. If they were told by their dom that they couldn't do something, they'd believe it. If they were encouraged to do something and told it was possible, they would try their hearts out. But contrariness literally wasn't in their makeup.

If Princess had been sticking it out due to spite or a drive to prove Sam wrong, she'd be snarky and triumphant after every session. She'd be cocky and mouth off and earn herself more punishments. She wouldn't be thanking Sam and begging for attention.

That meant her princess was really into this, was buying into being a slave.

She might even be enjoying it.

=-=-=-=-=

Their week continued on.

Sam tried to keep things normal between them, at least in the context of their master/slave dynamic. Fortunately Princess was still busy most of the morning with her chores and then in the afternoon studying massage.

She did have the cheek to ask about any more orgasm training, to which Sam had berated her that she decided what training happened when, not Princess. Fifteen swats that night and her first time sleeping on the floor had hopefully hammered that home. Certainly the next morning Princess looked a little more ragged than usual.

Saturday arrived more quickly than Sam expected. She spent a while explaining to Princess what the expectations were, plus the extra restrictions.

"I'm going to have to put you in a headmask and lock it," Sam said.

"Mistress Samira I don't know what a headmask is?" Princess said.

"I figured," Sam replied, and then got it.

The mask Sam had was not one of the sensory depravation ones; there were permanent openings for the wearer's eyes and mouth, and the front pushed out to accommodate the nose. There was also an opening near the top for long hair to be pulled through. Dakota's dirty blonde locks fit through it and when pulled into a ponytail the effect was visually appealing if you were into it. Sam zipped it shut in the back to pull the mask tight on her head.

"There's a loop back here that I can lock the zipper tab to," Sam explained, "and that will prevent anyone from opening it."

"Mistress Samira... Do you not trust this dom?"

Sam immediately smacked Princess's ass cheek with her hand, making a loud "crack" when it impacted. Then after a second she struck the other side.

"Do not presume my attitudes and interactions with other doms, Princess. Ever. If one of them thought you were trying to undermine them or corrupt their sub into not taking them seriously I would punish you severely. You saw me use the whip; I can hit people with it without drawing blood. But it hurts like a bitch."

"Y-yes Mistress Samira. I'm sorry," Princess replied.

"It's okay," Sam said, gently caressing the reddening flesh of her slave's ass. She marveled at how good it felt, then pulled her hand back. She didn't jerk it away, but she realized she had to get herself under control.

"I trust The Don. I do not trust his wife," Sam explained, "And though he will never admit it, she is the true dom in that relationship. If he would ever admit his true preferences, he'd be a switch. Maria will not like the fact that she can't see who you are, so I must take precautions."

"Do... Mistress Samira do you-"

"Think very carefully about whether you want to finish that sentence, Princess. Remember what I said about questioning my decisions," Sam growled.

"Yes Mistress Samira," Princess said instead.

"Besides," Sam said, stepping closer and dropping her voice to a purr, "You get to feel a nice, hard, hot cock giving you an orgasm again."

"Yes Mistress Samira," Princess replied, "I'll... check that the food is ready to go."

Sam frowned. She'd expected Princess to be at least a little excited about getting to have sex again, given how horny she'd seemed lately.

=-=-=-=-=

That evening, Sam sat at the table, trying not to snap at her guests.

Maria Cordoba was a lawyer by trade, but she was a politician by practice. Sam was not as good at playing the games, but she recognized them. In the office, she avoided the games with a combination of being very good at her job and cowing the more submissive members of the staff into doing what she wanted through sheer force of will.

For this dinner, it was just her and the Cordobas, and Maria had been trying to dominate her from the start of the night.

She wore a dress that was nicer than Sams, but not too dressy for the occasion. She'd dictated the pace of the evening so far, all but demanding to see Princess, then sitting for drinks and stopping her husband when he suggested eating too soon for her.

She'd also made requests of Princess, acting as their server, that would have prevented her from eating. She probably assumed Princess was supposed to eat in the kitchen while they dined. Fortunately for her slave, Sam had anticipated something like that and simply allowed Princess to fill up prior to dinner.

They'd also brought Amelia.

Sam had known they would; The Don mentioned it in their meeting. She hadn't know they'd bring her quite the way they had.

Amelia arrived in a hood similar to the one on Princess, but where Sam's was high quality leather (treated so sweat didn't ruin it) Amelia's was shiny plastic, probably vinyl. It had no openings for her eyes, so she was blind. She also had her arms bound behind her in a black sleeve of the same material, so she was almost always off balance. If the girl had any tits, they would have been thrust out almost always. Instead it just pulled her chest skin taught so her nipples poked out obscenely.

Throughout the night, Maria had her hand on the leash attached to Amelia, when she didn't also have her hand gripping the sub's head. Usually, she was pushing Amelia's head up under her dress. Sam wasn't sure if Amelia was actively eating her mistress out the whole time, keeping things at a slow burn, or if she only really got into it when Maria grabbed the girl's head. She knew Maria had cum at three times (she was very good at noticing the signs of a woman orgasming).

There were also a few times she'd fished her husband's cock out and had Maria suck on it. She'd never got him to climax; she was just using Amelia to edge him the entire time before and during dinner. Adding to The Don's discomfort, she made him stuff his fully erect cock back in his pants each time.

And he still claims they co-dominate, Sam thought to herself.

During the whole occasion, Maria had also made it a point to say how nice it was to have an attentive slave willing to service her and The Don, and offered Amelia to Sam for her own use.

The blatant criticism of her slave was bold for Maria. Sam wasn't sure if she wasn't being careful or if she was trying to get a rise out of Sam intentionally. She did know three years ago Maria wouldn't have dared. After the sixth time she commented on how well Amelia took care of The Don's cock, Sam decided it was time for her to reassert control.

"Would you like to see how well my slave can attend to your husband, Maria?" Sam asked.

"Oh it's a bit early, isn't it?" Maria asked.

Sam shrugged. "Princess has excellent endurance. And you will need to factor in your trip home; remember I'm a little... out of the way."

"You're a damn witch in the deep woods, woman," The Don quipped, but his eyes locked on Princess. He'd been ogling her for the entire night and had outright complimented Sam on "snagging" Princess. Now he was chomping at his bit to get his hands on and in her.

"Princess? Why don't you go wait in the guest bedroom. My guests will be along shortly."

"Yes Mistress Samira," Princess said. Again, Sam had expected a little more excitement. Instead her voice sounded almost... resigned.

As she disappeared up the stairs, Sam turned back to the couple. "You remember the hard limits."

"Yes, of course," The Don said, "No anal sex, no rape play, no extra toys, and nothing lesbian."

"Nothing that makes her do things," Maria corrected as she twiddled her fingers in the air, "I can still play with the delectable girl a bit."

"I'd still recommend you only get involved with the Don, but fine; technically she's not totally off limits for you. Just remember if she says 'Red' you're both done."

"I'm not a newbie who doesn't recognize a safe word, Sam," Maria said more harshly than she'd said anything so far.

"Just reminding you. I know how worked up you two are right now," Sam replied.

"Oh I can't believe you didn't take our Maria. You must be aching without any attention. You have to make use of her while we're playing, I insist," Maria said.

"If you leave Amelia with me, I'll watch her," Sam said.

"Come on now, I've taught her to eat pussy quite well. When's the last time you had a really good tongue down there?" Maria pressed.

Sam paused, staring into Maria's eyes. "Princess is waiting in the other room, Maria. You don't want to waste the time you have."

Maria shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Sam knew she'd irked the other woman by not explicitly agreeing to use Amelia for her own pleasure. But there was no way she was going to let the woman have most of her way with Princess and then meekly agree to borrow her slave to take care of needs Princess couldn't satisfy.

When The Don and Maria finally followed Princess up the stairs, Sam turned to Amelia. She examined the hood and found the unlocked zipper, opened it, and pulled the mask off. Amelia's red, sweaty face appeared and she sighed in relief.

"Thank you Mistress," she said.

"Tell me Amelia, would you like to see pictures of your Master that are... revealing?" she asked.

Dakota

Daktoa hadn't really been into the idea of going with the couple. Her mistress clearly didn't like the woman Maria, and to be honest Dakota didn't get a good vibe from her either. The man was attractive enough for someone his age, but he lost points by association.

But she was a slave. She tried to be a good slave. So she obeyed Mistress Samira.

After a while she allowed that things could be worse, because the couple knew what they were doing in the bedroom.

Maria was clearly not shy about pushing Dakota's lesbian boundaries; one of the first things she and her husband did was descend on her breasts. Dakota's breasts were actually fairly sensitive, but they'd been completely ignored for the past few weeks, apart from that man grabbing them. The couple worshipped them, each of them focusing on one breast. They gently stroked and cupped the undersides with a hand while their mouths licked, sucked and squeezed her nipples. She was moaning in relief and desire after only a few minutes, and she felt her pussy getting colder as juice leaked out.

Their free hands explored the rest of her body, stroking her back, groping her ass, feeling up her thighs, and gripping her neck. One of them slid a finger in her mouth and she instinctively sucked on it, swirling her tongue around the digit frantically as her excitement increased from the worship of her tits.

The finger left her mouth with a pop and she sucked in a loud breath as one of them chose to tease her nipple with their teeth. She kept her eyes closed and didn't care which one was paying her attention. As she thought might happen, a finger slid down between her labia, trailing across her clit, and pushing into her core. It might have been the same finger she sucked on, she wasn't sure, but it only needed to move back and forth a few times before she got to the edge.

"Master... Mistress," she panted out.

"Yes, Princess, cum for us," the woman said, eager and a bit mocking in her tone.

Dakota let out a groan as her body shuddered from her first orgasm. The pleasant tingles lingered as one of the pair continued worshipping her breasts, switching back and forth sucking her nipples as both hands kneaded her tit flesh.

The man then straddled her body. He'd removed his pants so his cock dropped down into her cleavage. Guessing his intent, Dakota pushed her tits together and surrounded his organ. It was an impressive size, though still slightly smaller than Coulter had been. He began pumping immediately and Dakota instinctively put her tongue out and licked the purple head as it came near to her chin with his thrusting.

Maria appeared in Dakota's vision, totally nude. The older woman had an impressive body with modest curves showing creases. Her ass had a few wrinkles to it from cellulite and her modest breasts were sagging a little from what she was sure were their former perkiness. Dakota supposed most people wouldn't throw her out of bed for eating crackers, so to speak, but she wasn't impressed, and found herself disappointed she was the first woman she had a sexual encounter with.

Her sessions with Mistress Samira didn't count, in her mind. It might be stupid or wrong, but she didn't care.

She saw one of The Don's free hands go between his wife's legs, and her eyes flashed and her smile widened. He also picked up the pace of his thrusting. His cock leaked precum constantly, helping to lube his passage between her mammaries.

"Yeah, keep going darling," Maria said, "You can't lose your cock in my tits like that, can you, and that beanpole of an assistant doesn't have any tits. Fuck her tits, fuck 'em, yes!"

His pace increased, his rod moving faster and faster. Dakota felt her tits almost being thrust out of her hands. She licked when she could time it right, but his thrusting got so urgent she missed several thrusts. It was clear he was about to cum, and Dakota braced herself for a facial.

Just before he erupted, Maria suddenly bent down and grabbed his shaft, sticking the head into her own mouth and jacking the shaft.

"Ohhh fuuuuck!" the Don cried out and Dakota saw his hips twitch. At the same time his arm seemed to be trembling, but Maria's muffled whine told her he was frantically finger-blasting his wife as he came. She didn't know if he got her off at the same time or she just enjoyed the stimulation itself.

Dakota had to contain her surprise when Maria rose from catching his orgasm and almost immediately kissed her husband. She couldn't tell if the woman swallowed either. Jeremy had always balked at kissing her after she'd blown him unless she drank several gulps of something.

They paused their kiss and Maria told her, "Clean him off."

She thought about the logistics for a second because he still straddled her torso. She ended up shimmying down until her breasts pressed up against his thighs and grabbed the half-hard cock, angling it down so she could lick and suck at the shaft and head. There wasn't much to "clean," but Dakota wasn't stupid; her job was to get him hard again.

As she looked out the corner of her eyes, she could see The Don's fingers sill pushing in and out of Maria's snatch. Her triangle of dark pubic hair was matted with wetness, and they made out above her like horny teenagers.

Despite his age, Dakota's attentions to his cock did get him slightly harder than before. She privately wondered how much more successful she'd have been if he was aware exactly whose mouth his cock was in, but she was thankful they didn't know.

"Hands and knees, Princess," Maria said, "My husband's got new pussy to sample."

Dakota had never felt as objectified as she did right then, even the couple of times she'd done "risky" photoshoots in sheer dresses or bathing suits where photographers literally gave her directions like "more cleavage," "look sexier," and even "pose like a slut," one time. She was literally a sex toy for the both of them, and she knew they'd forget her as soon as they finished.

Again, her annoyance and hesitation was swept away by the couple's bedroom skills. She got a perverse thrill when she felt his hands on her ass, but she could tell she was guiding his cock into her sex. Something about the idea of fucking her husband in front of the woman made her feel powerful, even though she knew Maria was literally helping.

He started slow, but that was perfect for her. She could feel his mostly hard cock getting firmer and thicker slowly as her pussy gripped and slid along the shaft.

Then the stakes got higher. Maria began playing with her plug, wiggling it around and twisting it inside her to press against different parts of the ring of her asshole. The dual stimulation was different than her "orgasm control." This was more specific, a slower build up, but almost as stimulating.

It didn't take long after that for The Don to fill her more. He wasn't going to get back to "three hours of edging and a brand new girl" hard that night, but his cock felt the way it should; a warm, firm rod of meat plunging into her dripping sex. His thrusts were hard enough that small jolts got to her clit, and the toy in her ass pushed his shaft down so it dragged across her g-spot every time.

His wife never stopped playing with it, and as her husband's thrusts increased in depth and force, she upped her game too. In addition to swiveling the toy around, she pulled at it, forcing Dakota's asshole wider, stimulating the whole ring of nerves at once. Then she'd release and Dakota would clench, pulling the toy back in and setting off a whole different feeling. Pull, swirl, release, repeat, over and over.

"Cum for us Princess," Maria said, and suddenly fingers flicked frantically across her clit.

She let out a surprised yelp that turned into a small wail as she did cum. It was almost like the orgasm was forced out of her, and she had to ride it out while The Don kept thrusting. She glanced back and saw Maria shove her fingers into her mouth, sucking off the juices from Dakota's pussy that also leaked down her legs after her orgasm.

Maria knee walked forward. When she stopped, Dakota would only have to turn her head to the side to be face-to-pussy with Maria's sex, and she could smell the woman's musk.

"If you finger-fuck me, I promise you a mind blowing finish to our tryst," she said.

It was almost a taunt, as if Maria knew she was getting one over on someone. Dakota couldn't figure out if it was her, Mistress Samira, or both. Not that she was in a state for careful thinking right then; she was still horny, clearly The Don was going to cum again soon, and she wanted another orgasm to make this fucked up scene worth it.

Carefully shifting her weight so The Don's thrusting wouldn't push her over, her hand slid up Maria's smooth thigh until she got to the hot, wet mound. She probed clumsily for a second and then found the wet tunnel begging for attention. Her middle and ring fingers slid in with barely any resistance and she immediately felt the woman's insides clench.

"Yes, fuck, that's a good girl. You don't hate girl fucking as much as your Mistress thinks, do you?" she said, "I wonder how much else she could get from you if she actually tried."

Dakota felt a flash of anger at the woman questioning Mistress Samira. She half curled her fingers, thinking she would rake her nails against the inside of the woman's cunt, but stopped just in time. Instead she ended up giving Maria more pleasure as her fingers found the spongy ridges of the g-spot.

Shortly after that, they made full use of her toy.

She had to squeeze her eyes shut as the sensations hit her, but one of them pulled her toy past the wide point, stretching her asshole as wide as possible. After three weeks she was now on the largest of the toys Mistress Samira'd shown her, and the bulb on the plug looked like it was almost the size of a lemon.

As far as her asshole was concerned, it was the size of a beach ball.

Almost as soon as it pulled out, they pushed it back in. Then again, and again.

The Don matched his thrusts to it, so as he slammed into her pussy, the plug pushed through her sphincter. He sped up more and the plug play sped with it.

Dakota kept her fingers working in Maria's pussy, but she didn't have much rhythm, so Maria grabbed her hand and started using it like a dildo, shoving her fingers in as her husband continued the fucking and playing with her plug. Dakota fleetingly wondered if this was closer to what it might feel like to be double-penetrated by actual people.

The Don ended up losing control first. He slammed into her and let go of the toy. As her ass sucked the plug back into her rectum, his fingers dug into her hips and pumped her full of cum.

Before she could do or say anything, it seemed, the two of them moved. Suddenly Maria's braid brushed up against her knee, then she felt her tongue flicking past her clit. As she licked her husband's cock while it was still inside her and (either accidentally or "accidentally") began licking Dakota's pussy.

She didn't want it to be like this. Not with this fucking bitch.

"Red! Red! Fucking RED!" she shrieked in a near panic.

She launched herself off the bed and scrambled for the corner of the room, hugging her knees to her chest.

The Don looked a little silly, kneeling upright on the bed with his cock dangling there as his face showed confusion. Maria, however, stood up and tried to sound motherly as she moved toward Dakota.

"Princess, honey, it's okay. We're just trying to help you cum. Now you're going to get back up here and we're going to give you a nice orgasm."

"RED!" Dakota shouted, not sounding nearly as panicked, but inside she was still tense.

"Darling-"

Maria was cut off as the door exploded.

Some of the wood from the frame snapped off and spun into the room as the door swung open so hard and so fast that the doorknob punched through the wall. Seeing her mistress standing in the doorway, she suddenly understood why people seemed to be terrified of her.

"Clean yourselves up down the hall," Mistress Samira said.

"Sam," Maria said, "I can assure-"

"Now!" Mistress Samira barked. Sam had heard quieter shouts through amplifiers.

Maria looked like she might want to say something else but The Don grabbed her arm and towed her out of the room with him, pausing only to grab their clothes. After she heard another door close, Mistress Samira was in motion. She came in and scooped Dakota up in her arms like she weighed nothing.

For some reason Dakota only noticed then that her mistress was strong. She'd watched her mistress pull huge sets of weights in the gym and felt hard muscles the couple of times she'd been snuggled up to her mistress's body, but if she were honest she'd been more distracted by the softer parts of Mistress Samira's anatomy. Now she let herself feel the hard curves of the arms cradling her, and saw the bulges on either side of her neck that flowed into the broad, rounded shoulders.

"Are you okay? If you need to go vanilla it's okay, just tell me what happened," Mistress Samira said.

"She... she tried to lick my pussy Mistress Samira."

She'd heard her say she didn't have to address her as Mistress. But she realized that felt more comfortable than the alternative.

"She stopped after you said 'red'?"

Dakota hesitated, then replied "... yes," unsteadily

"Princes-... I mean... Dak-"

"She tried to order me back on the bed with them," Dakota blurted, "and she was walking toward me." For some reason she was desperate not to hear Mistress Samira use her real name.

She saw the grim, cold, dangerous expression return to her mistress's face. She suddenly wondered if she was capable of lying about a murder.

It took her a moment to realize Mistress Samira had set her down on the master bed... and in her head she dared to think of it as "their bed."

"I need to see them out," Mistress Samira said, "Will you be okay here until I get back?"

"Yes Mistress Samira. May I wash up? He... he finished," Dakota explained.

"Of course. Do whatever you need to. In fact, lock this door behind me, and only open it for me," Mistress Samira said.

She walked out of the room and shut the door firmly behind her. Dakota stared at the door a little shocked.

"Princess. Lock it," Mistress Samira's voice came through the door muffled.

Dakota scrambled off the bed and pushed the button on the doorknob. The click somehow released a lot of tension in her body. She wandered into the en suite and turned the water on, then began cleaning.

Sam

Sam avoided going near any objects in her house that could easily be turned into bludgeons and definitely stayed away from anything sharp. She couldn't remember being this enraged in a long time.

She'd walked to the main bathroom and heard the shower running, so she'd gone past it and retrieved Amelia, putting her arm sleeve and hood back on. The Cordoba's sub had a bit of a conspiratorial smirk on when Sam found her, but then her eyes widened and she started looking at the doors and windows as if wondering if she could survive diving through them.

"Your masters fucked up," Sam said, "Don't worry; I'm not going to take it out on you."

"Um... yes mistress," Amelia said.

Sam put Amelia's arm sleeve and blinding hood back on and had her kneel by the front door. When she got back up to the bathroom the Cordobas had stopped the shower. She listened but didn't hear any thumping or noises that sounded like sex. She would be damned if she would let them have a celebratory tryst in her house.

After a few seconds the door opened and the couple, redressed but with damp hair, came into the hallway. Maria's face was neutral but The Don had the grace to look a bit sheepish.

Sam wordlessly escorted them down the stairs, burying the thought that one sharp kick in Maria's back would send both of them tumbling.

Both of them seemed a bit relieved to see Amelia kneeling by the door in her restraints, which made Sam roll her eyes. She really hoped they would leave, but she saw Maria put a hand on her husband's arm and they paused. He shuffled over next to her nervously and Maria looked at Sam.

"Sam-"

"Samira. Or Miss Nazari," Sam said.

"Samira," Maria corrected, "I want to say I'm sorry if you-"

"Save it," Sam snapped before he woman could finish her non-apology, "I was willing to overlook the fact that you disrespected me the moment you walked through the door, taunting me with your sub and suggesting I wasn't enough of a dom to get my slave in line, because you didn't have a fucking clue what was going on. Then you crossed a line. With my sub."

"You agreed to let us-"

"You ignored a fucking safe word Maria!" Sam yelled.

"We stopped what we were doing when-"

"Did you or did you not try to give Princess a command and resume the scene after she used the safe word?" Sam demanded.

Behind them, Sam saw Amelia stiffen.

"I could send an e-mail out to ten people after you leave and you wouldn't be able to get an incontinent alcoholic to be your sub if you promised them unlimited booze and a padded toilet seat," Sam said, "But I feel bad for your husband, so I'm going to be merciful."

Maria's eyes flared. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You're going to demand answers from me, right now, after that?" Sam challenged.

"I may have crossed a line with a scene but that doesn't give you the right to launch personal attacks-"

"You're holding him hostage Maria," Sam said, "And you hate me because you know I see it. Just like you know if I really wanted to, I could invite him over here and set up his dream scene."

Sam looked over at The Don. "Think of it Rafael," she said, "You're in a leather harness. There's a coed tied up on a bench, thighs spread open, bound and gagged, eyes wide with fear. You know it's wrong, and you don't really want to do it, but God you get off sooo good when you can. It's such a rush when you take them, but when you have to psych yourself up for it you can't really let go and enjoy your orgasm, can't completely get rid of the guilt."

"Then, there I am. I grab your head, drag you over to her, and point your dirty cock at her pristine vagina. It's not even wet because she wants no part of your raging uncontrollable cock. Then I tell you; if you don't fuck her, I'll put you in a cage. You won't be able to get hard without it hurting. And you'll do nothing but eat my cunt while I crush your balls with the spike of my heel. But all you have to do is shove your cock in that unwilling, virginal cunt and fill it with your dirty seed. And you're not even making the decision; I'm forcing you. No guilt to worry about."

Sam's eyes were locked with The Don's. She could see him trembling. See the tears forming in his eyes. See the nervous glances at Maria. Most of all, she could see the bulge in his pants.

"R-Rafael?" Maria asked, noticing his look. Then she looked back at Sam. "What... I don't know-"

"Fuck off Maria. You know. You know he isn't playing the role he wants to. He doesn't want to be in charge of every scene. He doesn't want to co-dominate with you, every time."

"I really don't know what you're trying to-"

"You're husband's a switch, Maria! But you're too proud and too obsessed with the ideal in your head to even entertain the idea that your husband would ever want to be dominated. I could see it the first time you let me watch you do a scene. And if you honestly had no clue about any of that then you are a sorry excuse for a dom."

Sam stepped back and let the pained, confused, frustrated, and angry looks pass back and forth between husband and wife. Interestingly, Amelia was showing signs of being kind of turned on, and Sam thought that at least the girl hadn't been faking her interest in non-consent play.

After letting the tension and discomfort stew for a minute, Sam stepped past them and opened her door, looking at them expectantly.

Maria was the first to move, grabbing Amelia by an elbow instead of her leash and pulling her to her feet so they could walk faster. Rafael trailed behind them looking browbeaten. Sam felt a little sorry for him.

But when he paused and turned to her, she couldn't resist twisting the knife.

"It's okay Rafael," she called out as he reached the bottom of the steps from her front door, "You have my number. Just give me a call."

"Rafael!" Maria snapped from farther down the walk.

Rafael scurried away, and Sam practically slammed the door.

Dakota

Dakota's mother did a good job protecting her and sheltering her from the worst aspects of being a child star in Hollywood. Sure, she'd been in a few scenes where she'd been hugging "her father" or "her uncle" and hands had wandered. Some of her "boyfriends" and "crushes" has been a decade older than she was and got a little creative with the on-screen kisses. But nothing happened to her that she'd have to work up the courage to admit in her memoir or reveal in a teary interview after she established herself.

But she'd had friends who weren't so lucky. She remembered some of their admissions about feeling dirty, feeling violated, and feeling like they had asked for it somehow, or encouraged their attackers.

One story was burned into her memory: the girls cast in a teen rom-com movie she'd done between Princess Jewel seasons. They'd randomly ended up not on the call sheet because all the scenes involved the guys and/or the adults in the movie. The girls had all ducked their handlers, piled into one of their trailers, and one of them had snuck some booze in.

Rather than silly drunken antics, it had caused one girl, Bianca, to open up and spill her guts. She'd sworn them all to secrecy of course. But the part of her story that always stuck with Dakota was her description of trying to take a shower, and despite the water at near burning temperature and scrubbing her skin raw, she never felt clean.

Dakota waited for that to hit her as she stood under the spray in Mistress Samira's shower, but it never did. As the residue of her encounter that night washed off her body, she let the memories and the discomfort go with it.

In that moment, she thought she really understood the appeal of being submissive, of being the slave.

She didn't feel guilt because she didn't feel responsible.

She didn't feel responsible because she literally wasn't.

She hadn't decided to go with the couple; she'd been told to. She hadn't dressed to tease them; she'd worn what her mistress ordered. Consent and boundaries hadn't been unclear; they'd arguably been clearer than most "normal" relationships ever were.

It almost seemed... lazy. She didn't have to work up the courage to try new things, choose new experiences to explore, or to push her boundaries. Her mistress decided all of that.

That sent her mind down a different rabbit hole. Despite what had happened at the end, she couldn't deny she enjoyed the feeling of a real, live cock in her pussy. And despite what she'd told Mistress Samira when they started, when Maria tried to eat her out she'd recoiled. She didn't get to decide when to push her boundaries or try new experiences. But then again, she didn't get to decide when to stay safe in her comfort zones either. If she wanted to get royally fucked by a handsome stud... she had to ask her mistress. And given what had happened, she wouldn't be surprised if it were a very, very long time before her mistress allowed it. As a straight girl, that would be a big sacrifice.

... Or would it?

As she dried herself, her skin radiating heat through the towel, she forced herself to really examine her feelings about the encounter.

She'd liked the straight sex. She'd been working toward a good orgasm, and the fake DP action was new and exciting.

But how much was the real cock a factor in that?

It had been familiar. It probably helped her be more comfortable with the situation, since it was something she was used to. But... had it been necessary?

It wasn't her first DP; she'd had tremendous orgasms with toys in both holes. Those had been somewhat impersonal, though. Mistress Samira showing her what her body was capable of. The heights of pleasure it could reach with her direction and control. Getting fucked was personal. Even if you weren't in love or really had any emotional connection, cumming because someone else's body directly caused it was always different. It's why handjobs were such a thrill for guys even if they jacked off the exact same way. It's why getting fingered by your boyfriend was exciting even if you could get a way better orgasm doing it yourself.

So had it been a nice feeling because it was a cock? Or because it was someone else?

If it was because it was someone else... did the someone else need to have a cock?

The way the session ended suggested they did. She'd felt a tongue on her pussy, and that was game over. No bueno. Do not want.

But...

Dakota thought about it. She thought about her reaction. About why she'd used the safe word.

I didn't want Maria to lick my pussy.

Dakota reviewed that thought. She started analyzing it like she sometimes had for her film roles, to help her get a sense of a character's motivations.

Why did Princess use her safe word?

Princess didn't want Maria to lick her pussy.

Drill down on that. Find the emphasis.

Princess didn't want Maria to lick her pussy.

That... didn't feel right. She'd been chasing an orgasm. She'd been in the same spot during the orgasm training. And the idea of a mouth on her pussy, the mere suggestion of it, had set her off like a detonator. And Jeremy hadn't gone down on her often, but when he had it had been pleasurable enough. He hadn't been good at it, but based on friends' stories and things she'd read it was a technique issue, not the act itself, that had been a problem for her.

Princess didn't want Maria to lick her pussy.

That felt more right. Because Maria was a woman. Dakota didn't like the idea of a woman going down on her. That had always been the truth.

Then why did you soak Mistress Samira's bed when you thought she was about to suck on your clit like a Capri Sun?

Dakota wiped a hand through the fog on the mirror, exposing her face. She looked into her own eyes.

Why did you use the safe word?

Samira lost herself in the mirror. She studied her own ice blue irises, then in her mind's eye red flowed into them, turning them purple.

Why did you use your safe word, Princess? Tell me the truth or I'll whip you bloody.

Dakota felt her pussy lips get slick. Her nipples hardened. Her lips parted. She closed her eyes and envisioned her mistress towering over her, looking down to see her thighs spread open, her fingers prying her labia apart.

Because I want the first woman to lick my pussy until I orgasm... to be you.