6193002. The models in these images are in no way connected with this story nor supports nor conveys the issues and situations brought up within the story. The models are solely used for the representation of looks of the main character of this particular story. ~Sephrena.

Legalities: Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted provided that: 1) You must have CONTACTED the author, Tigger, and have ASKED permission first and RECEIVED said permission to host this particular work. 2) No fee be charged, either directly or indirectly (this includes so-called "adult checks") or any form of barter or monetary transfers in order to access viewing this work *and* (3) PROVIDED that this disclaimer, all author notes, legalities and attribution to the original author are contained unchanged within the work. 4) The author of this work, Tigger, must be provided free account access at all times the work is hosted in order to modify or remove this work at his sole discretion.

This work is the copyrighted material of the respective author. ~Tigger

Cautionary Notes: This is a love story with Female Dominant, Male Dominant, TV Dominant, Female Submissive, Male Submissive, TV Submissive themes. It is not 'Forced Femme' so much as 'Strongly Urged and Gently Manipulated Femme.' These are necessary to the story I want to tell, but I hope, as with my earlier story, "Contract Modifications," that most readers will not find these elements of theme too distressing.

I consider this tale to be a 'Hard-R' in rating as due to the love/sexual scenes and due to some hard language. In truth, however, it is not much more graphic than most bodice-ripper romances available at your local book-store so I feel that an 'X' rating is inappropriate. It does, as noted above, feature Dominance and Submission themes, so the reader should take that into consideration when deciding to read this tale. ~Tigger

Acknowledgments: My sincere thanks to Brandy Dewinter for the gifts of her creativity, her insight, her eye for 'just the right word' (and just the wrong one of mine) and her, ummm, persistence. I can say without qualm that there were many times when I was about to take this story in a direction I did not want it to go because my characters were getting out of hand. In each case, she helped me see the problem and helped me rein them in. Not an easy task because, as I hope you'll see, ShaJuana Price is a lady who is VERY determined to go and get her own way! So it took BOTH of us to keep her in line! My muse and I thank you, Brandy!

Special thanks to the TG-Fiction Listserv community who read this tale in its pre-publication form and provided me with feedback, editing help and encouragement. At some point in every writing project, it becomes impossible for me to read what I wrote because I 'see' what I thought I wrote. Any remaining errors are mine, probably because I wrongly thought my way was better than those recommended by my 'beta-testers'. ~Tigger
 

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.
 
 
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 . . .

 
 
Chapter 11: What's My Motivation?
 
 
The turning of the door handle behind him had Ty nearly jumping out of his shoes. Solange had told him were 'mules;' all Ty knew was that they lacked any heel-backs to keep them securely on his feet, and were high enough to feel dangerous. He somehow managed to keep his balance as he turned to watch the slowly opening door across the ornately made bed.

His first clear look at ShaJuana was stunning. She'd slicked her usually curly hair back so tightly to her head that it resembled a male comb-back style, with the bulk of her wild mane tied back behind her. She wore a very becoming burgundy tuxedo jacket and slacks over a ruffled pink shirt. The outfit was patterned after the classic groom attire, but had clearly been tailored to emphasize that the wearer was utterly female - gorgeous, stacked and damned proud of herself. As did her cosmetics - for despite her role as the groom in this little psychodrama, Juana's face was powerfully and unabashedly feminine.

Ty felt his groin tighten as he watched her enter the room and quietly close the door behind her. Damn, he thought, if only our roles in this play were reversed . . .

But they weren't, and the two of them were here for a purpose - one that Ty had personally requested. Okay, so he hadn't fully considered all the ramifications and consequences, but dammit, he needed the money if he was going to be able to pay that damned tuition without mortgaging his future and his soul.

Why wasn't she making the first move, he wondered, as ShaJuana just stood there, in front of the door staring at him. Wasn't she supposed to be the Domme in this scene?!? Shouldn't she be, well, taking charge and giving orders?

Solange swallowed against the gorge rising in her throat. If something didn't happen quickly, she'd . . .she'd. . .

Hell, she didn't know what she would or could do. There didn't seem to be anything she could do that wouldn't mess things up worse than she already had done.

DAMMIT, she could lose BOTH of them and it would be her fault.

Maybe she could yell fire and get them to evacuate. . . .

Maybe, Ty thought, someone would set a fire and they could just evacuate. . .

What was he was supposed to do now, dammit? Help her? Didn't Solange say that some of the women he'd have to work with as the duty male slave wouldn't really know what to do or how to do it? Only that they wanted to do it to some guy? Well, hell, he grumbled inwardly, couldn't they have at least taught HIM how to do it first?

The only thing he'd ever had . . . well, back there was the enema nozzle he'd used last night because Solange had told him that a good cleansing would make today's experience easier. Oh, and not to forget that damned butt plug Solange had inserted this morning that reminded him of its presence with every step he took.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Toss up his skirts, shake his booty at Juana and coo over his shoulder, ", , , lookin' for a good time, sailor?" Yeah, that would work.

NOT!

It simply wasn't fair to expect a total virgin to do all the work his very first time! He sure hoped Juana agreed with his assessment of 'fairness' because, truth to tell, he was just a little bit terrified right now and WAITING for ShaJuana to DO something wasn't making his life any easier!

Hell, he'd ASKED for ShaJuana because he was pretty sure she knew what she was about in this kind of deal as much because he trusted and liked her. He expected that she'd know enough to make . . . IT easy . . . well, easier for him.

Several more tension-laden seconds passed, and still the ebony goddess did not make a move to initiate anything. Okay, he thought, she's just going to keep waiting so I am forced to conclude that this must be part of Solange's test, too. Damn her, anyway!

So what to do next? A wry grin crossed Ty's ruby-red lips as a thought came to mind. Well, he told himself, you can't make love fully clothed, so. . .

Kicking off the uncomfortable and potentially dangerous shoes, Ty glided around the bed toward ShaJuana on white-stockinged feet. "Hello, darling," he piped in the abysmal falsetto that Solange had approved, "I've been waiting for you to help me with my gown. I can't reach all those teensie little buttons." He turned his back to Juana, and pulled the veil and blond tresses out of the way. "Undo me, please?"

Solange almost began to breathe again. Ty wasn't fully in character, per se, which was a concern, but not nearly as big a concern as ShaJuana not giving him a foil from whom to take his cues. Well, he had taken the initiative to get things started, which at least was something positive. Perhaps now the ninny would remember HER role in this scene and get on with it.

But she didn't.

Solange shifted cameras and zoomed in on ShaJuana's face - and felt her heart nearly stop. The woman was terrified - worse than she'd been in the prep room.

And now, she was alone with that terror.

This was Solange's worst nightmare - a Mistress completely out of control of a emotion-charged scene - only it was worse than that. ShaJuana was deeply involved with this submissive on both personal and emotional levels, and this scene was heading in a direction that might actually damage that budding relationship.

In truth, Solange admitted to herself, Juana had NEVER been in control of this scene, and she should have seen that in the prep room. Instead of prodding the girl to get on with a scene she clearly had deep reservations about, Solange should have used those reservations as reasons the girl would have accepted to put a stop to the scene before it really started. She could have used any reason for Ty so long as Juana would accept ending it. "Sorry, dear, but Juana is sick - some type of stomach virus or such - and can't do the session today. And no, there are no other Mistresses here with the time or preparation to do this properly. I'm so sorry, after all the time you've spent getting ready, but we'll just have to postpone it for now."

Postpone it FOREVER if Solange had her way, and she'd have had the benefit of more time to do just that!

What had she been thinking when she'd agreed to ShaJuana for this scene?

He didn't feel any fingers tugging at those tiny buttons. Cautiously, Ty looked back over his shoulder and was stunned to see glistening tear-tracks streaming down Juana's cheeks. "Juana?" he asked, reaching out to take her hands in his, and was surprised at how cold and stiff her fingers felt. Moving quickly, he led her over to the opulent bed and urging her to sit. "Are you all right?"

"I. . . I can't . . .do. . ." she rasped, clearly fighting to gain control of her emotions. "Can't. . do this."

Ty felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd asked for ShaJuana because, well, she was ShaJuana. Solange had said this Mistress-ing stuff was part of his friend's basic personality and identity, and he'd hoped she would see this as a sort of gift knowing that it was not part of his. Or at least, it had not been up until now.

Only she wasn't going to take the gift.

"You don't want me?" he asked, before the words had even formed fully in his mind.

That got a reaction. Juana's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped in shock. "Not WANT YOU? What, are you nuts!?!"

Ty had no idea what to make of that. Maybe she just didn't want the responsibility of being his first, given the heretofore 'just-friends' nature of their relationship. He should have asked her first so she could have said no, but he'd told Solange first. Maybe that was it. He'd wanted her because they were best friends and he trusted her. It might be that she didn't want to mess that up and was worried that doing this with. . .TO him might? "Ummm, you want me to ask Solange to get another Domme to, uh, break me in, first?"

Suddenly, six-plus feet of enraged Amazon was off the bed, towering over him, staring down at him, her nostrils flaring, her eyes flashing fire. "ARE YOU NUTS?" she repeated herself, nearly deafening him. "Any other bitch comes near you like that and I will have her ass!"

Thoroughly confused now, Ty muttered, "I thought we were supposed to be talking about you having my ass." and found himself eye-to-eye with ShaJuana, his feet dangling inches above the carpeted floor.

Heat flashed back and forth between the two pairs of eyes, and it was the brown pair that broke away. Juana slowly lowered her friend to the floor, and tried to gather herself. "You're right," she said softly, and then went to the armoire.

Ty watched as she withdrew a mass of leather straps and a iridescent purple dildo. It was, with the exception of the color, fairly lifelike. It was also, he thought as his bottom clenched spasmodically about Solange's plug, much larger than either device he'd used last night or this morning in preparation for this day's experience.

MUCH larger!

His attention was diverted from the purple monster by Juana jerking open the armoire's other drawers, and furiously searching each one in turn. He thought he heard her mumble something like, "Where's the other one?"

What other one? Other what? What was Juana talking about, he wondered to himself.

"It's not there because someone - ME - stupidly decided not to put it there," Solange growled to herself. Even as she watched the two young people, her finger tightened ever so slightly on the switch that would signal all off duty staff that a scene had gone bad and assistance was required immediately. ShaJuana had made the move to the armoire for the dildo and its harness, but the lack of the smaller toy she'd expected to find and then to slip into the harness once Ty's back was turned had undone all the good Ty's 'topping from the bottom' intervention had accomplished. Solange was now absolutely certain that it was simply a case of too much, too quickly for both of them.

What would she do, Solange wondered? How would she proceed? In Solange's opinion, there were three possible courses of action, two of which held some hope of salvaging this mess.

ShaJuana could simply end the scene with the intent to reconvene later, and take personal charge of the preparations so that everything would be to her satisfaction.

She could simply pick up the phone and have someone bring her the dildo or dildos she wanted to use in this session. Under other circumstances, that was precisely what Juana would do. She was, after all, the dungeon's most experienced 'cherry-picker' as that skill was a natural adjunct to the forced-femme play for which the black goddess was so well known.

Or she could do exactly what she was doing - nothing, which in point of fact was less than nothing because doing nothing was making things worse for both players.

Solange was almost certain that she would have to step in and end this debacle before any real damage could occur.

Ty was clearly unnerved by the toy in Juana's hands, but. . . but he wasn't repulsed by it! And by god, Solange thought, he should have been! It was too damned large NOT to unnerve - hell, frighten - a novice. Why wasn't he having knicker-fits at the very thought of having to accommodate that monster? Her finger still on the panic-button on her desk, Solange leaned closer to the monitor, trying to figure out what it was that she sensed in there.

Then, she saw it! No, Ty wasn't repulsed by the toy ShaJuana held in her hands because his attention was no longer on that oversized fake cock.

He was focused on ShaJuana!

ShaJuana's reaction to the things she'd removed from that drawer was setting off alarm bells in Ty's head. She'd said she wanted him! And there was no doubt in his mind she'd meant that. She'd also said that she kick the ass of any other Mistress who might be asked to give him this test - again, he had no doubt that she meant that.

So why were they both still dressed? Why was she staring at that dildo and harness like she'd just uncovered a weapon of mass, or was that ass, destruction?

WHY wasn't SOMETHING happening?!?

Every empathic instinct he possessed was on full alert; screaming to him that this was just wrong. It sure as hell was NOT fun, and hadn't Solange assured him that it was supposed to be fun? Juana did not look like she was going to have fun, and if she wasn't having fun, Ty didn't see any way - AT ALL - that he was going to have fun, either.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Friendship counted more than money any day.

"ShaJuana?" he called, but she didn't react to his voice. Instead, she just kept staring at the harness. Grimly, Ty strode over to his tall friend, snatched the toys from her hands and hurled them across the boudoir into the furthest corner of the room. "ShaJuana!" he barked louder. This time, she looked down at him, but there was still befuddled confusion in her chocolate brown eyes. "Shakespeare."

Solange nearly cheered. "Thank you, God," she breathed as she reached for her house phone. She needed to get those two out of there and out of those outfits as quickly as possible! Then she'd do what she could to somehow try to spin this to both their benefits.

"Thank you, God," she repeated.

"Wha . . .? What did you say?" ShaJuana finally got out, sounding like she was just waking up.

"Shakespeare. Red Light! Stop Code. Whatever," Ty said, taking Juana's hands back into his own. "I'm not sure what is wrong here, but we can't do this. For whatever reason, you're not ready, and I just realized, neither am I. I thought I was, but I'm not."

The tall woman's shoulder began to shake. "I'm sorry, Ty," she cried. "Solange said you wanted the extra money for something, but I just couldn't get my head around this. I wanted to - hell, I want YOU . . .but. . .but I just couldn't . . .not now . . . here. . .I mean. . . "

Ty put a finger to Juana's full lips, "Shhhh," he said soothingly as he gently led her to the bed. "Lie down," he ordered, and then laid down beside her, holding her as she cried. "It's okay. I don't think I could have, either, and I'm glad it was you here to see me wimp out instead of DeeDee or Isolde."

"Don't try to kid a kidder, boy," Juana grumbled, her face cuddled into Ty's bared shoulder. "You saw that I was a mess and didn't trust me to be in charge of breaking you in."

Ty pulled back from her, and scooted down to look her directly in the eye. "Now, that is just SO wrong, and I won't have you saying or thinking that. I trust you implicitly, or I wouldn't have requested you. Now that I think about it, and now that we've made this attempt, I will tell you this."

He waited for her to quirk her brows in query. "IF I do this - and that's a pretty big 'if' given how I'm feeling right now - you, my dear ShaJuana, are the only person I'm going to accept as my first lover that way. You know why?"

"Why?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"Because we HAVE already come this far together, and I think we need to see it through together, but more than that? I don't want to be responsible for the surely fearsome ass-kicking you'd give any other poor hapless Domme who happened to be the one sent in to do me in your place."

That earned him a watery giggle and a rib-cracking hug from his friend. Then they simply laid there on the satin comforter for a long time, locked in each other's arms, saying nothing and needing to say nothing.

A knock on the door roused them. Ty called out, "Enter."

The door opened to admit Solange. "Well?" she asked softly, as if she had no idea what had just transpired between the two of them.

"I safeworded," Ty replied as he rose from the bed. "We weren't ready."

"We?" Solange asked, somehow managing to keep her voice neutral.

"We," Juana answered firmly. "We need to talk about this some more, the three of us."

Inwardly relieved, Solange frowned fiercely at the two young people. "The three of us? I thought this was Ty's decision and my approval."

"I'm in on the decision now, and the approval, too," Juana replied. "Like I said, we need to talk."

"Very well. Go get changed, the pair of you. Come to my office and we'll have some tea. I suspect that Ty is rather hungry just now," a smiling Maitresse said before slipping out of the room.

"Ummm, Juana?" Ty said, pulling on his friend's coat sleeve.

"Yeah, Ty-RONE?" she answered, some of her normal sass back.

"I, ah, still need help with the bloody buttons on this damned gown. There have to be a hundred of them and I'm just not that flexible. And then, there's this cursed corset!"

"Gee, ya mean I get to strip the bride anyways?"

Juana wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the satin-covered pillow Ty sent flying at her in retaliation.
 
 
Interlude - More Rehearsal Needed
 
 
Later that day, after Ty and ShaJuana had both left for home, Solange unwound in her private office with a large snifter of brandy. All things considered, these new plans suited her better than she had any right to hope for, given the potential disaster she'd nearly had on her hands.

Essentially, Juana was going to instruct Ty privately in the fine art of woman-on-top anal play, and then inform Solange when, in her opinion, Ty was ready to work independently with female clients. She'd given them a toy-box with everything she thought they might need during their off-site 'training,' and then sent the on their way.

Training, Solange giggled like a school girl at the word. Sure, they'd be training. In any case, they'd be going slower, but as Juana had pointed out during their little after-scene critique over tea and scones, that was the way these things were SUPPOSED to be done. That way, the sub got used to the idea that such intimacies could and should be both natural and pleasurable for both participants.

For her part, Solange had agreed to increase Ty's salary to nearly what he would have made as her on-staff TV switch while he underwent this 'intensive' training with Juana. It wasn't as if he wasn't worth every penny she'd pay him just for all the other work he'd been doing around the place.

So, both would still be working for her in the dungeon! She had not, as she'd feared she might, lost two valuable employees. Better still, the increased intimacy this 'training' would foster between them suited Solange's other purposes very well indeed.

Truthfully, Ty's surprisingly intuitive response to the day's crisis was, in large part, why she'd been willing to increase his pay. He'd sensed something was wrong, and had attempted to fix it while striving to stay within the scene's proposed dynamic. Part of that, she thought, was that acting-honed sensitivity he had to the emotions of others around him. Another part was his sense of direction and instinct for improvisation. Finally, and most importantly, once he'd seen that the scene was simply not going to work, he'd taken the responsibility to end it with his safeword.

And then, to Solange's complete amazement, he'd stepped in and provided needed support and caring to the emotionally fragile top. Aftercare was the term most lifestyle players used to describe the reassurance a dominant needed after a particularly demanding and emotional experience - assurance that the other player was fine, still trusted the dominant and would do it again with him/her. In this case, Juana knew she'd messed up and was very upset, but Ty had known precisely what she'd needed, and had given it to her without stinting.

Remarkable.

Solange toasted herself and took a sip of the amber liqueur. Yes, these new arrangements would suit her purposes just fine.

 
 
Chapter 12: Rescripting and Dress Rehearsal
 
 
They sat together, just two friends sharing a booth in a Greenwich Village coffee-shop. Normally frequented by the members of the theatrical profession, the shop was mostly empty just then. It was early evening, and the usual crowd were at work, preparing to raise curtain at the various theaters nearby. Neither friend said much, but instead cast furtive, fleeting glances at a large leather briefcase that held a prominent place on the table between them.

Finally, they both looked at once, caught each other, and looked away sheepishly.

Ty reached out a hand to cover ShaJuana's. "It's not going to go away," he said with a wry grin, "And I have to admit, I'm curious to know just what Solange thinks is 'everything we might need'. That's why I can't help looking at it, anyway."

"You ain't got x-ray vision to see inside it, Ty, but I get your point," Juana replied, a half smile on her own full lips. "I keep looking 'cause I pretty much know what she thinks is needed. I just don't know how or when or . . . or, hell . . ."

Ty reached up to tip back her face so they were looking into each other's eyes. "Hey, Juana. It's okay. We'll get through this. Look, why don't we just go DO it and have done with it."

"Why, you romantic fool, you!" Juana snorted, but Ty could tell she was using the sarcasm to mask her uncertainties. The one great positive that he had garnered this day was learning, for certain, that Juana wanted him - at least as a D/s playmate, anyway. Likely more than just that, too, if her reaction to the possibility of another Domme training him was any indication.

Ty really hoped that it was. "Juana. I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I mean, hey, I'm still stretched, right? Besides, the longer we wait, the bigger this thing is going to seem to both of us. If 'tis to be done, 'tis better done quickly, to quote the Bard. Speaking of quotes. . . " A wicked grin lit his face, and he finger-beckoned her to lean over the table towards him. A cautious look on her face, she finally complied. Ty leaned over till his lips were near her ear, and putting a hand over them, he whispered, "Hey, you big studdette, take me to bed or. . "

He never got to finish because Juana fell back in her seat laughing like a loon. "Studdette?" she managed to croak out between laughs, causing Ty to whirl about looking anxiously for any one close enough to eavesdrop. "Cripes, you knucklehead, okay, you got it. Let's go for it, 'cause I'd purely hate to lose you forever. My place okay with you?"

"Why, you romantic fool, you," he parroted her earlier complaint, happy that the shop was mostly deserted at that particular moment. Still, he'd made Juana laugh away some of her tension, and that was a good thing.

"Y'know," Ty said as he hefted one of the sturdy metal rings that had been welded on to each side of both the iron head and foot 'boards' of Juana's king-size bed. "I can't tell you how many times I've been in your apartment, but this is the first time I've ever been in your bedroom."

ShaJuana looked up from her inspection of the contents of Solange's 'toy box' and grinned. "Well, if you'd seen those, you'd have learned some things about me that I wasn't ready to tell you."

"Well! I must say that I'm shocked, just shocked, you kinky thing, you."

ShaJuana laughed freely. "Just the reaction I hoped for tonight, Ty. Now you know the real me!"

"I guess I must, Tall-Booty. Well, given what Solange told us to do, I guess I'm supposed to experience these things first hand tonight?"

He saw her go very still, but instantly realized it wasn't the fearful uncertainty she'd evidenced in the boudoir earlier that day. "I know what she said, Ty," Juana began slowly, thoughtfully, "But I'm not so sure that having you tied up right and tight is the best way for us to do this, or the way I want to play this." Quickly she outlined her alternative idea to which Ty readily agreed.

"I guess I need to be naked now, huh?" Ty asked, his face reddening in spite of everything he'd said about being ready.

To his surprise, ShaJuana suddenly became diffident, almost shy. Her coffee-colored cheeks darkened with her own blush, and she actually wrung her hands together. "Umm, Ty? Solange. . . well, that is, she included some of the. . OH HELL!" Whereupon, she stomped over to the case and withdrew two handfuls of white silk, satin and lace. "Would you mind wearing these while we play?" Then she hesitated and added, "Please."

Ty took the proffered material and realized that it was the lingerie - minus the corset - that Solange had used to dress him earlier that very day. Everything else - the under-corset silk camisole, the suspender belt and stockings, even the thong panties - were there. Ty certainly had no problem wearing them, particularly if doing so made this easier on Juana. Then, that little devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear again.

"Sure, Juana," he said easily, and saw her face light up, "On one little condition."

Her face fell, just as he knew it would. Holding back the grin he felt pulling at his face, he waited for her to ask. "What," she demanded with obvious unease, "condition, and HOW little, boy?"

"Oh, nothing much, gorgeous. Just, if I dress like that? YOU dress the same. Fair's fair, after all."

The relief in her smile was a joy to him. It was going to be okay. "Who ever told you that bein' fair has anything to do with a Mistress and her subbie, boy?"

He shrugged elegantly. "I can be naked." Her face fell again, so he began to wheedle. "Ah, c'mon, Juana. GUY here," he said, pointing at himself. "I'm more likely to get excited looking at your lovely body all decked out in lingerie than lying here seeing you in jeans and a t-shirt . . . which is really worth looking at," he added quickly, "but I see that almost every day."

"Good save, Ty-RONE, but who said you were going to get to look at anything?" she replied, as she lifted an eyeless bondage hood from the briefcase.

"Now you're just being cruel."

"Part of the job description, cutie!" she retorted, and pointing at herself, "DOMME here!"

"Okay, okay! Look, you wear lingerie to match mine, promise me no impediments to my visual enjoyment of you gorgeous self, and I will wear the lingerie."

ShaJuana frowned fiercely at him. "I'm the Domme," she declared arrogantly. "I could just order you to wear them."

Grinning, Ty comically minced over to her, went up on tip-toe and air-kissed both ShaJuana's cheeks. "But you won't."

"Fool," she said, half laughing as she walked over to her bureau. "Okay, I won't. This time." Ty watched avidly as she rummaged through a pair of drawers. "I don't have anything sexy in white. . "

"You should - god, but you should," Ty breathed, "Spectacular."

She looked up from her inspection. "You just keep dreaming, boy." Suddenly, her hands stopped moving, and her head snapped back to look intently into that particular drawer. From her bemused expression, it appeared to Ty that she had found something she had not expected, and didn't quite know what to do with whatever that something was.

For several very long moments, she stood there in front of her dresser, staring down at whatever she held in her hands. Then she nodded as if she were agreeing with some decision and looked back at Ty, her eyes narrow and very intense. "Look here, Ty-RONE, what I'm going to show you are my absolute favorite undies, okay? And let me warn you - if you even LOOK like you're laughing? I'll LOCK that damned hood on you. Got that??"

"Got it. No laughing. Promise!"

Very slowly, Juana held up three matching pieces to the light so Ty could see them clearly. The demi-bra, garter belt and thong she held up to him were pink - not just mere pink, but hot, outrageous, glowing PINK! And all Ty could think when he saw them, saw HER in his mind's eye wearing them was, "Oh . . . My . . . God. Forget white, please. Those have GOT to be. . . incredible on you."

She'd prepared herself for the laugh - had expected the laugh. A tall, oversized female like herself? Indulging herself in such a girly, girlish color, as if she was some cute petite little bubble blonde? Hiding her sinfully luscious lingerie in the far back of her panty drawer and allowing herself to enjoy them only when she was alone in her own bedroom? She knew that was laughable.

Only Ty hadn't laughed. In fact, he'd just stared at her, looking almost dazed by the mere thought of her dressed in her special, very personal girl suit. Incredible - he'd SAID she'd look incredible.

She swallowed hard, knowing that sharing this with him would be harder - MUCH harder - than simply strutting about stark naked.

Incredible. He HAD said 'incredible,' hadn't he?

"Ummm," she started, gathering her private treasures to her breast and looking over her shoulder to where he stood watching. "Umm, you can get changed in here. I'll . . . I'll just go slip into something more comfortable in the bathroom."

My god, she thought as she all but ran from the room, did I really just say what I think I just said? How. . . girly.

Slipping silently back into her bedroom, she found Ty, sitting at her vanity, making final touch ups to his face. She felt her heart simply melt and her insides go just a little more gooey. He was making that additional, unasked-for effort - just for her.

As she had for him. She'd brushed out her hair and done her own face after she'd donned her lingerie. Added smoke grey stockings and the heels she'd had dyed to match her secret undies, completing her own costume. When he didn't hear her, she coughed to get his attention.

Ty spun about on the velvet stool and went completely still the instant he saw her. Juana knew she'd remember that look on his face for the rest of her life. Very slowly, he got to his feet and then just looked at her. It took all the will power she possessed to simply stand there, head erect, shoulders back in presentation when every part of her wanted to squirm away or hide from that frank and intense examination.

"Wow," the word came out like a prayer. "God, Juana, I. . . I don't have words. . . I can't. You're . . . my, god, you're. . . " He gave up and shook his head in defeat. "Wow."

If anything, Juana stood even taller, pride swelling her breast and filling her soul. "I think, Ty-RONE," she said softly, pointing to the bulge that was starting to disarrange the delicate gusset of the white thong, "That says all you need to say right now."

But he shook his head. "That's just physical reaction, and yeah, it's real as it gets, but it's not all of it - it's a whole lot more. . ."

Unspeakably moved, she strode over to him and bent down to kiss him. "C'mon, Ty-RONE," she said taking his hand in hers to lead him to her bed. "Let's get started and see if we can do somethin' about that painful-looking swellin' you have goin' down there while we're at it."

"I am utterly at your service, Ma'am."

A husky laugh answered him. "Just as it should be, little man, just as it should be."

"I feel like I'm about to be launched into orbit on the space shuttle," Ty muttered as ShaJuana fiddled the strap about his waist, managing to tighten it another two notches.

The smile she shot him was pure wickedness and all female - it sent chills up and down his spine. "Honey-lamb - that is JUST what I'm fixin' to do here!"

"Seems to me I'm the one in a fix," he shot back. Here he was, flat on his back, but with his butt propped up in the air by this bondage bolster thing Juana had pushed under his hips. The appliance was wedge shaped, making perhaps a thirty degree angle with the bed. It was made of black leather stretched over the type of cushiony filling used in footstools or hassocks. It was sturdy enough to maintain its shape, but soft enough not to be TOO uncomfortable. The end result of this was that he was stuck in a position sort of like a sit-up or abdominal crunch, but with his back still flat on the bed and his butt and hips up in the air. Additionally, it had velcro straps about half way up each side of the wedge that Juana had strapped around his thighs just above his knees. When she pulled these tight, his knees were pulled up and apart, causing his butt to be pulled further up off the wedge. The end result of this was that his ass was pointed toward the ceiling and was easily accessible to ShaJuana's wicked intentions.

"I thought you said no restraints?"

"No, I said I didn't want to tie up your hands, and besides," she said as she smacked his upturned butt eliciting a yelp from Ty, "this part isn't for bondage - it's for convenience. Since your hands will really be free, you can undo it anytime you want," she smirked down at him, "if you decide to wimp out."

He snorted at that idea. "Explain this 'bound by the power of your will' bit to me again, please? Just so I understand."

Juana sighed, but walked around to the other side of the bed so there was room for her to sit down. "Basically, when I do this with a client or play-partner, I order him to hold on to the binding straps and restrain himself from moving, okay? If this were a usual scene, any time you broke contact, you'd earn you a punishment — maybe a swat or two, or a hooding. That's not what I want now, though, because, well . . ." she stopped, choosing her words with more care than she was ordinarily given to doing. "Look, Ty, you're just not the ordinary, run of the mill guy I play these games with, okay? First, you are not really a D/s player - you didn't come to the dungeon needing to submit yourself to a strong dominant woman. You're learning to play, and I think you like at least some of it, but that's really not where you're at. So this scene I'm planning may not turn out to be something you'll enjoy. Some guys just can't handle it. That can be, well, really painful for everyone involved. If you find you can't handle this, I want you to be able to stop me — physically, if that's what it takes. Okay?"

Ty nodded his understanding. "It sounded like you had another reason, too."

Taking a deep breath, Juana nodded. "I do. Ty, I wasn't kidding this morning when I said I want you this way. I really do, and the wanting's damned intense. So I'm doing this to give you a way to reel me in if I get going too hot and heavy too quickly. Letting go gives you a sort of physical 'yellow light' code in case you need me to ease back. You just let go. I'll either notice, and slow down or stop what I'm doing for a minute. If I don't notice, you can reach out and touch me where ever you can reach me until I notice. Finally, as I said, if I don't notice even then, you can start unstrapping yourself, which I guarantee I will notice." She reached out to finger-stroke an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. "Okay with that?"

"Sounds like a plan. Good thing I'm still supple from my high school wrestling days, though."

"Ready to start?"

His grin was infectious. "Yes, please," he replied in the pompous, overdone British accent of their first play together. "Do carry on."

"Smart-ass," she laughed, and then became stern. "Bind yourself to my will, little man, and prepare to go into orbit."

"Yes, Mistress."

"What does my sweetie think of my toys, now?" Juana cooed as she held up the last of the dildos Solange had provided in the toy-box. They both recognized that one from their time in the dungeon's bridal suite. Juana held the toy to her cheek and lovingly stroked it up and down "This is Long Tom. He's an honest eight inches long and almost six inches around. ALL my girlie-boys learn to LOVE Long Tom," she smiled wickedly as she passed it before his wide eyes. "I just KNOW you'll love him, too, cutie."

Maybe he wasn't quite as ready as he'd thought. Unable to stop himself, Ty tracked the movement of that purple beast as ShaJuana completed the dildo-display she'd prepared from the contents of the case. Counting the purple Long Tom, there were now seven sex-toys on the bedside table next to Ty's head. Arranged in the order she'd pulled them out of the case, they were also in order of increasing size. They reminded Ty of a historic display of full-size ICBM models he'd seen during a tour of an Air Force base when he'd been in high school. That was not a comforting comparison.

The smallest toy on the table was one of those butt-plug things - like the one Solange had pushed on him - in him? - that morning. Without any reference to judge its size, Ty guessed it was about the same as the one he'd already endured. At least, he hoped it was about that size. Otherwise, he didn't even want to THINK about having those other toys work their way up his back door! The next was another plug - about the same length, but thicker at the widest part. The one following the second plug was much longer than either of those toys, maybe six inches in total, but narrower - no more than the thickness of his thumb at it's widest point. After that one, there were two of what even he recognized as vibrators. They were both a little shorter than the smooth thing but a clearly bigger around. The jet black dildo just before Long Tom was another 'life-like' toy. It was about the same length and girth as the larger vibrator, and it made Long Tom was made all the more imposing when Juana set the purple toy down next to it.

Long Tom had to be at least two inches taller and half again thicker than the black fake dick. The comparison made Ty's bottom clench just from looking at them. And Juana said he was going to LOVE that thing? He might love doing a Lorena Bobbitt impression on it, but not much else!

Juana saw the dismayed look on his face, and held back the laugh. Got your attention now, Ty, she thought, her Domme juices starting to bubble. Now you're going to find out what it takes to be MY subbie, boy!

She made a show of snapping a latex glove onto her right hand before picking up a plastic tube and squeezing its contents out with her left. "You're gonna LOVE this stuff, little man," she told him as she spread the goop about her gloved hand with her ungloved one. "It's heat activated so when I rub it all over your cute lil' ass, it will start getting warm and slick. You are gonna SHINE tonight, sweetcheeks, trust me!"

Ty flinched and clenched when she ran one slick finger along the crack of his buttocks. "Now, you know that ain't gonna do you no good," she said sweetly, repeating the movement with her next finger and then the next. "I got all night, and those poor ass muscles are just gonna give out long time before my fingers will." She squeezed more lube onto the upper most part of his elevated butt, and continued her surprisingly gentle strokes.

Whether it was surrender to the inevitable, the promised tiring of over-strained muscles, or his own determination to see this through, Ty quickly gave in, allowing Juana to begin massaging the ointment fully into his ass crack. The almost feathery strokes and sensual warmth of the lubricant were having another effect, too.

Ty was getting harder — so hard his penis popped out the side of his thong - and ShaJuana noticed. "Ooooo, well lookie here, cutie-buns. Somebody must like getting his little bottie played with. . ." she sang, as she began stroking the hot, hard length of him in her greasy left hand in time with her right hand's ass-play.

Ty opened his pleasure-fogged eyes to realize that the head of his erect cock was less than a foot from his head, and Juana was aiming it right at his face. Oh, no, he thought, and gripped the leather straps more tightly and tried to pull himself closer to the head of the bed and away from the head of his increasingly aroused hardon.

"Goin' someplace, cutie?" Juana asked sweetly, her smirk knowing.

What little movement he managed did nothing to change his situation. The seatbelt that held his hips to that bolster simply slid as his upper body slid. Moving up in the bed did nothing to change his head's position relative to the head of his primed and loaded erection.

Well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. He was gonna get a face-full if Juana had anything to say about it - which she obviously did. Ty stole a furtive glance up at the wicked grin lighting her face and revised his estimate. He'd be getting a mouthful. Sneaky bitch. You had to love that about her.

Ty was so caught up in trying to hold back the coming eruption that he almost missed the quick insertion of one long finger into his butt.

Operative word is 'almost'. His torso heaved at the invasion, like an untrained horse trying to throw its first rider. All that did was seat the finger deeper. Ty felt like an electric current was running between his ass and every nerve ending on his penis. Futilely, he tried to buck into her hand stroking his erection, trying to increase the feathery friction that was beginning to drive him mad.

Only to have her hands - both of them disappear. Dazed, on the verge of climax, Ty only registered that he was just short of what he needed to finish and didn't see what Juana was up to. An instant later, he didn't need to see as something hard and unyielding slid into his ass in one smooth movement. He did shriek this time when his sphincter stretched to accommodate the toy's widest point, and clamped down on the narrow neck of the toy.

"God damn it, Jua. . I mean, Mistress, I was so . . . so close. . " he groaned as he looked up at her grinning face.

With the grace of the dancer she was, Juana lifted her right leg so that she straddled him, her left foot on the floor, her right knee resting on the bed. Sitting her butt down on his stomach, she ran the index finger of her still slippery left hand across his upper lip. "That's good, Ty, that's really good." Then she bent over to kiss his nose before smirking into his face, eye to eye. "Good for me, but maybe not so good for you. I LIKE that you are ready to cum so early into our little game. Knowing I've got you RIGHT THERE at that edge makes me really hot, but ya wanna know a secret?" Ty nodded, careful not to head-butt her for her face was that close to his own. Her eyes danced with wicked delight as she leaned further to put her lips right up against one of his ears. "I'm not gonna let you cum," she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. She sat back up, arching her back like a satisfied cat, and purred, "I'm gonna keep you up and keep you up till you're beggin' for relief."

She hopped up off the bed. "And you know what I'll say to that beggin', sweet-cheeks? I'll say 'no'. You're gonna be like this, right on the tippy edge, needin' to cum - DYIN' to cum . . all . . . night . . . long!" She reached up and gave his only slightly less rigid penis a teasing stroke and earned another groan from Ty. "Won't that be FUN?"

"NO!" he grumbled back, and hurriedly added, "Mistress!" when the next stroke became a warning squeeze.

"Well, if you're gonna be that way about it. I know! How 'bout this? I'll let you cum if you can sneak it by me. That's a good deal, boy. I punish my other sissy boys for cumming without permission, but I'll let YOU go if you can manage to cum. But there's just this one, teensie little thing. . ."

He couldn't help himself. He was so caught up in the drama they'd created, he had to ask. "What, Mistress?"

"Boys never cum when I'M working them unless I let them cum or unless I make them cum. Other than that? It's blue-balls city for all the guy subbies in Juana's little town! I'm real good at this teasin' stuff, so get ready for a long, LONG night, sugar!"

Then she spun on her toes and considered the display of sex-toys on the bedside table. She picked up the larger of the two vibrators and the strange, long narrow toy. "We're gonna play a game! I call it, 'Pick your own poison!'" With all the flair of one of Barker's Beauties from 'The Price is Right', she displayed each of the two toys individually in front of Ty's face, and then hid them behind her back. The motion of her arms and shoulders gave the indication that she was shuffling the toys between her hands. Then she stopped. "Pick a hand, any hand, and you get what you pick!"

With a few minutes of relief from Juana's sensual assault, Ty grew marginally more alert and aware of his surroundings.

"C'mon, boy, play with me! Which hand?"

A grin lit his face as he took in where she was standing, and then he nodded to her right hand. "That one - the one in your right hand," he said.

Juana brought the indicated hand forward with a wild flourish to reveal the long, narrow toy. "Ta-Da! You win!"

Ty chuckled. "Didn't matter which hand I picked - you'd already decided which one I'd get."

Her sexy grin faltered, and Juana nearly frowned. "Did not - you got what you chose, fair and square!"

"Did so!" Ty retorted, in a tone that any big sister with a little brother would instantly recognize."

She actually stamped her foot and pouted at him. "DID NOT!" she yelled, her demeanor all little girl foiled in her schemes.

"I guess you haven't ever played this game in this room. Look behind you." Juana looked over her shoulder and he continued. "You're standing in front of your bedroom door mirror, and you're tall enough I could see your reflection between your legs. I saw you switch it into that hand after I picked it - so THERE!" and damned if he could stop himself - he stuck his tongue out at her.

"SMARTASS! That's not FAIR!"

"Who said what's fair between a Mistress and a sub?"

"YOU have to be fair, that's the rule! I'm the Domme and I make the rules!"

Ty started singing in his best Barry Manilow voice, "I am Mistress, and I make the rules."

For several seconds, Juana simply stared at him, unable to move. When she did, it was to sent the two toys down and go to the case. She extracted another latex glove and more of the lubricant. "Hmmph. . . well, smartass, if you aren't going to play right, I'm gonna have to punish your tight little ass."

Her tone hadn't changed all that much - still outraged eight-year-old who didn't get her pony for her birthday, so Ty wasn't TOO worried about the punishment. She donned the glove and lubricated her fingers copiously returning to her place immediately beside the bolster so she had easy access to his groin and his butt with each hand.

The plug popped out easily enough, and he took the two fingers she slid into him without trouble. Gently stroking her fingers in and out of him, Juana wiggled their tips about on each downstroke as if searching for something. "You would have enjoyed my last game, but you had to play mean!"

Suddenly, Ty's cock jumped, earning a pleased grin from Juana. She repeated the movement, and was rewarded when it jumped again. "Now, I've got you!" she said, triumph ringing in her voice. Moments later, Ty was surprised to see milky liquid leaking from his cock - little dribbles that came out in time to Juana's stroking. Strangely, while what she was doing didn't really hurt, it didn't feel all that good either. There was nothing of the intense, almost mind blending arousal of their earlier play. In fact, his hard-on was wilting , even as his seminal fluid slowly dribbled out.

"Did you know, smartass, that by massaging your prostate, like this?" and she gave a sudden twist of her fingers that cause a mini-spurt to erupt, "I can drain all your sexual juices out of your body, but you won't really cum. And after you're all empty? If you haven't recharged and try to cum? You're gonna shoot a blank, but your poor dickie will keep trying to push out stuff that just ain't there. My subbies tell me it's like your cock has the dry heaves. Not much fun, little man! That's why it's one of my favorite punishments for naughty little sissy boys who sass their Mistress! Are YOU going to keep sassin' me, Tina?

Ty swallowed very hard, and tried for a suitably remorseful look. "No, Mistress. I'm sorry for not playing fair. Honest."

 
 
Chapter 13: Opening Night!
 
 
Certain she'd made her point, Juana returned her full attention to driving her playmate nuts. She teased Ty mercilessly, holding him right on the ragged cusp of climax. At the same time, she was carefully, steadily 'breaking him in'; guiding him to the point where he was more than just willing, he was eager for the anal sex play.

Juana was, indeed, very, very good at keeping him on the very edge of orgasm. More than that, the denial play made her very hot - just as she'd warned him. A fact that became abundantly clear to Ty as he grew increasingly aware of a sweet, musky scent perfuming the air that his hormones told him was essence of aroused woman That alone almost got him off. Almost.

ShaJuana had thought it was the intensity her teasing that almost got him. "Ooo, like THAT, did you? You're what we in the business call a hot-ass, little man, and I'm gonna get old Long Tom in you, yet." At that moment, the muscle spasms that signaled his imminent climax started. "Hey, hey, HEY! You don't think I'm gonna let you cum YET, do you?" she demanded as she gave him 'the pinch', completely unaware that is was her own pleasure driving Ty crazy. "Oh, yeah, that slowed you down, didn't it?"

He learned to hate that little pinch move of hers as the night wore on. Whenever she'd sensed the onset of his climax, she would press her thumb against the underside of his cock at it's base. It was like someone put a cork in his spigot and then driven it in with a bung hammer.

However, if he'd had time to think, hell, if he'd been able to think, Ty would have thought that this wasn't bad at all. Well, assuming he finally got off, it wasn't. There had been that one time he'd had to use his free hands to stop her - because she'd been so into her scene.

Juana had been working him over using both vibrators - one aft, one forward - and the intense, unrelenting stimulation with no release finally got to him. He'd started to hyperventilate, which had been exacerbated by his body's semi-inverted position. With the weight of his lower body pressing downward against his chest, he hadn't been able to unload his diaphragm and that large muscle had begun to cramp. Ty had reached out to tap her, but she'd been too gone into Top Space. Flinging his arm out, he'd reached between her legs to grab a handful of muscular buttock and then pulled. She'd nearly fallen, but had managed to catch herself. Seeing the problem, she'd immediately dropped her toys and begun to massage the cramping muscle. Ty had regained his breath quickly enough.

Then, a very concerned Juana had knelt down beside him, taking his chin her her hand so she could look in his eyes. "Are you okay, Ty? Do we need to stop? Do you WANT to stop?"

"Are you done, Juana? Have you done everything you set out to do? Everything you NEED to do?" He'd seen the answer in her eyes, and smiled. "I hate to repeat myself, but I am utterly at your service, Ma'am."

Tears had glittered in her eyes, and her smile had been brilliant, "As it should be, my dear, dear little man."

Time loses meaning when you are at the edge of the precipice staring down into insanity, Ty thought with what little of his brain still working. His body was exhausted, too. Hell, even his eyelids felt like his lashes were laced with lead.

And yet, his dick was still just fine and dandy, except for being so hard that using it might get him five to twenty in the state penitentiary for assault with a blunt instrument. A bleary eyed glance over at the weapons table told him that 'Long Tom' had entered the fray. . .or was that, had entered him? Whatever. Felt pretty good, too.

But when those painfully tired muscles again started the ball-tightening spasms that signaled the imminency of release, Ty knew he'd reached the limits of his endurance. He felt Juana's hand sliding down him to the 'pinch-position' and he lost it.

His right arm swung out from his voluntary bondage, grabbing her from behind, curling around her left leg and pulling her to him. Juana, taken by surprise, was pulled off balance and found herself falling onto the bed, her face towards Ty's groin. Scrambling to regain her balance, she ended up straddling him.

Ty found himself face to face with the very wet gusset of Juana's hot pink thong, and she smelled like heaven. There was only one thing a guy in his position could do and Ty did it. Juana felt strong hands grab her hips and pull her back until she was sitting on Ty's face. An instant later, her panties were brushed aside and she was being devoured.

She was the one sent into orbit as her first orgasm went off like a sky-rocket. Marvelous though that release was? It hardly touched the fires that two hours of non-stop foreplay with this man had stoked in her core. It did take the edge off, though, and she realized she would be damned if that sneak was going get the better of HER! She fell on his over-stimulated cock, mouth first, swallowing him whole while unleashing the full power of the toy still lodged in his ass.

The orgasm they built together was going to be epic - both knew it, and both fought that inevitable explosion with all their will power. Partly to make it even greater, partly to win this battle to get the other off first. Finally, neither won, and neither lost, and their world dissolved into a maelstrom of light, heat, pleasure.

And love.

And then their world went black.

He started to awaken when he felt the warm comfort of her body on his leave him. The sound of the velcro straps on his leg being ripped open and the feeling of the last toy being gently slipped from his backside finished the job. His brain somehow managed to convince his hands to unbuckle the 'seatbelt' that held him to that bolster. He rolled off it but couldn't quite manage getting up from the bed. That was okay, he decided, and kicked the bolster to the floor to make more room.

He opened his eyes and was pleased to discover he could still see. That was good - great even - being able to see in a world that included the tantalizing ShaJuana Price was a very good thing indeed. In fact, he needed to see her right then! A quick scan of the room found her putting the toys back into the case.

She saw him watching her and smiled at him. "We'll have to clean these up, but that can wait 'til tomorrow. I'm just too beat right now."

"Not too beat, I hope," Ty replied, his eyes hopeful. "I want more of you, Juana."

The smile that lit her face was magical, and brought with it some of the cockiness he so enjoyed about her. "Don't you even think you're leaving that bed, Ty-RONE. I ain't even half done with you, yet."

He started to get up anyway, only to have ShaJuana plant both hands squarely on the chest, and push him back down onto the bed. "My pants - I have protection . . ."

He never finished because ShaJuana pounced on him, pinning him to the bed so she could lick his face like a hungry cat. "Forget about the damned condoms, boy. I'm on the pill."

The kiss she planted on him melted what was left of his mind.

Dawn's first pink rays were peaking through the bedroom window shades. Ty rolled over and gathered Juana's long, lithe frame to his, making sure to brush the 'V' of her bare bosom with his morning beard. The responding shiver and the giggle delighted him. "Juana? You awake? Think we need to do the wedding night thing tomorrow for Solange, Tall-booty?"

Evidently not a morning person, Juana growled like a panther, and rolled over to hide her head beneath her pillow. "Shut up and go back to sleep, little man. You can't possibly be thinking about more sex - any kind of sex - not before next month at least."

Ty considered that for a moment, and then tapped her on the shoulder, "Uh, Juana?"

"WHAT?!?" she snarled in tones that would have sent lesser men scurrying for cover - or hiding beneath them.

"I'm more than thinking and it's gonna be a lot sooner than next month. . ." he murmured, nibbling his way the back of her neck to that spot he'd found JUST behind her ear.

"Huh?" she mumbled, confused, her brain about two seconds behind her body. "Ooooo YEaaaah. Shit, Ty! I'm gonna . . .damn. . .get you bunny ears and a damned. . oh yeah . . .just like that . . damned drum . . ."

"Later. . . you can do that. . Later."

"Mmmmmm, okay. later. . .

"TY!!!!"

 
 
Interlude - Another Family Evening at Home.
 
 
She was seated in her hand-carved mahogany throne, thoughtfully thumbing through a glossy pamphlet. A cheery fire danced in the gas hearth, casting magical shadows in the otherwise dark room. At her feet knelt a man, nude except for a mob cap, a lace apron and six-inch stiletto heels, his head resting happily in her lap.

Absently, she stroked him as she thought about what she'd learned earlier that day. Tyrone and ShaJuana had gotten past the near disaster caused by her short-sighted planning, and had experienced the magic that came only when two people connected spiritually and emotionally as well as physically.

She wondered if either of them realized just how far they'd come in the short time both had been in her employ. Probably not. Juana still thought she was going to be the exclusive top in that relationship, with Ty bottoming to her as a matter of course. If Juana were thinking objectively about their night's activity, she'd realize that the power had been exchanged back and forth between the two of them several times. But, she reminded herself, a woman in love is never objective. It was a happy thought, and she leaned over to kiss the forehead of her slave.

Of course, Ty was no more objective than ShaJuana, and even more clueless as to the reasons why. That was to be expected, she smiled inwardly. For all his incredible empathy and sensitivity, his ability to take on the most feminine of roles without any apparent flaw, Tyrone Edwards was still just a man. Well, an exemplary example of that breed, if Juana's goofy smile and giddy spirits were anything to judge by, but a man nonetheless.

The most important thing she'd learned today was the reason behind Ty's determination to become her dungeon's full-time transvestite switch. After they'd spoken, she'd made some discreet inquiries, and had obtained the pamphlet she'd been playing with. It explained a good many things, particularly why he was willing to take on that abortive scene the other day. The cost would be steep.

"Slave?" she said softly.

He reacted as if a Paris Island Drill Instructor had called him to attention, and snapped into the at-attention position she'd taught him - back straight, eyes looking directly in front of him, hands finger-locked behind his neck, and on his knees. She smiled as she saw his penis begin to erect, simply because he was obeying her, and presenting himself to her. After all these years, she thought. Well, she was a woman in love, too, wasn't she?

She handed him the pamphlet. "What can you tell me about this place?" she asked, softly.

He glanced at the crest on the front page, and then looked back to his Mistress. "Good place, Mistress. Most all of the real professionals in the business went there or taught there. There's a TV show on one of the cable channels where the head of the school interviews graduates who've made it big and gives their current student body a chance to ask questions."

"Did you attend there? she asked.

"No, Mistress, but then I'm really just an enthusiastic amateur. I get my name on the posters and on the adverts, but I'm only the guy with the money."

"I can't recall you ever being involved in a failure, slave, so I would say you undervalue yourself. That undervalues me, so don't do it again!"

He blushed - all over his body. "I didn't mean it like that, Mistress. Oh, I seem to have a feeling for what the public will like because I'll only back stuff that I like, but I couldn't do the real work that makes the shows great. That's what I meant."

She reached over to pat his head, and was rewarded with the look of utter adoration she found nowhere else. "So you say. I have a friend, slave, who would like to attend this place, and I would like to help him. Do you have contacts at this institution who might help us give this person something like an anonymous scholarship?"

He shrugged. "I think so, Mistress. Heck, I could endow a scholarship - put it in your name with the only stipulation that this person be the first winner. I probably should do something like that anyway because it would be good for the business."

"You could do that? They'd go along?"

"I might have to sweeten the pot a little - you know, commit to having five of their students on every project as interns, but yes, if you want me to do that, I promise they'll go along, Mistress."

"If it is possible and reasonable to do from a business perspective, then yes, I'd like you do that for me."

He nodded, a most peculiar motion with his hands behind his neck and his bent arms extended like wings. "I'll get on it. Should have the preliminary arrangements complete by the end of the week."

She was so happy, she launched herself from her chair and tackled him. He easily caught her, and ensured he took the brunt of the fall as they ended up on the floor with her on top. She kissed him deeply, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, darling," she said softly.

"It is entirely my pleasure, Mistress."

The warm glow of twenty seven years of love bubbled up in her, and she kissed her man, her slave again, more tenderly this time. "I think," she said softly, "It's about time you carried me up to bed, slave. After that, I want you to go to your room and find my husband for me. I feel like making love long into the night and his presence is required."

"Yes, Mistress," her hubby-subbie breathed reverently. "I'd be very happy to do that for you."

 
 
Chapter 14: As Maitresse Likes It
 
 
Solange made her way to the dais with the slow, measured elegance the common folks would expect from the Queen of the Nile. She had been very particular about the placement of the small stage in the dungeon's large, second-floor ballroom. She wanted to be able to see and be seen by all of her guests, and clearly, that goal had been achieved. By the time she reached center stage and took up the microphone, all conversation had stopped and every eye was fixed on her.

With a royal flourish, she set aside the cane and flogger she carried in lieu of Pharaoh's crook and flail royal scepters, and raised the handheld microphone as if to speak. For several moments, she simply stood there silently, scanning the assembled guests - her subjects - before beginning her address. "Mistresses and slaves, tops and bottoms, honored guests, it is time to begin what we hope will be the highlight of this year's festivities."

From her position off to the side of the dais, Tina studied the two hundred or so attendees, seeing their attention completely focused on Solange in her personal interpretation of Queen Nefertiti. They were, she thought, a very mixed bag of folks, at least insofar as their varied modes of attire were concerned.

Certainly, all the professional Dominas associated with the dungeon were in some type of costume. Solange would have insisted in any case, but her intervention hadn't been necessary. To a woman, they all enjoyed being the center of attention too much to miss the chance to strut their stuff at a party. If there was a dominant female fantasy figure not represented by these ladies, Tina mused, it must be pretty esoteric - like maybe a dominant bitch-nerd or some such. Certainly all the more common fantasies were in full evidence - everything from a very wicked looking nurse to a dauntingly stern schoolmarm (yardstick at the ready!). Not to mention Queen Nefertiti, up there on the dais, in full makeup, golden headdress and crown. Okay, so maybe the real Egyptian Queen didn't wear black silk or high heeled sandals, but hey, if the fantasy took some liberties with historical accuracy, Solange's costume and presentation were WORTH it.

Most of the males in attendance had eschewed costumes, with the notable exception of those lifestyle submissives who were there to 'escort' to their individual owners/Mistresses. There were a couple of leashed 'dogs' and one really buff Chippendale, but Tina thought the one dressed as Cupid, complete to his tiny wings, even tinier diaper and toy bow and arrow, was particularly cute. The pony-boy in his harness, bit and blinders was pretty impressive. too, but she wondered precisely what kept that tail in place. Never ask a question to which you couldn't be sure you REALLY wanted to learn the answer, up close and very personal. That was now her motto - at least since she'd come to work for Solange.

There were also a couple of cross-dressed slaves in full drag-queen regalia. Their apparently intentional ineptitude gave Tina cause to wonder if anyone in the crowd had read or was reading her? Probably, she mused — but more likely by the genetic women in the crowd than the men. A couple of the unattached males had already hit on her. Her leather equestrienne outfit was pretty hot, if she did say so herself, but it did tend to draw the type who wanted to be on the receiving end of her dressage whip. How, she wondered, were you supposed to 'beat them off with a stick' if being beaten was their whole purpose in being here? Challenges, challenges, she was always dealing with these little challenges.

Most of male guests and clients were dressed in suits and ties, or in formal black-tie evening wear. She wondered what would happen to all those spiffy clothes if the opportunity to play presented itself. Locked up in one of the prep rooms, probably, because good D/s play tended to get a little messy at times.

There were also a few women in attendance who were not costumed - again mostly they were garbed in elegant evening wear - and they were, to a woman, the escort of one of the members of the mundanely dressed male client group. Wives or significant others, she thought, coming to see what hubby or SO really wants in the bedroom? Maybe.

However, if there were a prize for tonight's 'outstanding costume?' Tina decided that she'd have to declare the contest a dead heat between Solange and ShaJuana.

Juana was currently prowling about the ballroom dressed as a sleek, black panther - a hungry sexual predator on the hunt for her favorite prey. The latex body suit she wore blended almost perfectly with her own coffee-colored skin tone, giving the casual observer the first impression she was nude. Tina wondered how anyone could see that magnificent female animal in all her glory and not start howling at the moon? She certainly felt that urge just now.

Juana's hands sported fingerless gloves made to look like cat's paws, and that showed off her off blood red nails, errr. . .claws. A bold tail curled up from her bottom (and Tina thought it unlikely that it was 'connected' in the same manner as the pony's had been) and a pair of alert cat's ears peaked through her wildly teased mane hair. White face paint and lipstick gave the illusion of a sexy feline muzzle that curled into a very scary grin. Just looking at her made Tina's hands sweat and her mouth go dry.

"Have I got your attention?" Solange called out. A few voices yelled out in the affirmative. "Good! When each of you presented your invitation at the door tonight, you might have noticed that we peeled your name off the invitation and put it into hollow plastic balls - much like this one."

She held up a purple colored sphere, about two inches in diameter. "Now, we're going to have a drawing, and the winners of the drawing are going to have a chance to win a free, full day session at the dungeon, without regard to cost. You want my six sexiest dommes taking turns using your butt for spanking practice? You'll have them! You want to run the gauntlet of every playroom in the house, spending an hour in each room as the honored guest of a different Mistress? It'll happen! You want the chance to hone your bound naked wrestling skills and take on a Mistress tag team with one hand - or perhaps both hands - tied behind your back? You'll get it! You want to be one to dominate that special Domina who has driven you to the point of insanity when you were HER submissive? She'll be there and be yours."

She let the buzz of excited chatter build throughout the room before giving them the rest. "Hey, now you all just calm down for a second! I didn't say the drawing winners would get the prizes - I said they'd get the chance to win - there's a big difference!"

"What would we have to do to win?" a voice called from the back of the room.

"Why, escape from my Hall of Horrors within three minutes of entering."

"What is it? A mile long?"

Solange laughed at that, and shook her head. "No, silly - it takes up barely half the dungeon level - no more that a couple hundred feet or so. Each of the four lucky contestants will enter on one side, and if he or she escapes out the other side in under the time limit, then we'll have a winner!"

Skepticism was clear on many of the male clients' faces, Tina saw. They must know Solange pretty well, she thought amused.

"Can't be that easy!" a voice called out finally.

"Easy, who said anything about easy? Who would DARE expect anything easy in MY dungeon? Puuhh-Lease," Solange sniffed, earning an uneasy laugh from the males in the group and a heartier one from the dominant women. "I will say, however, that there are three ways to win and three ways to lose. That's as fair as it gets, right?"

She let that thought hang for a few moments, and then, smiling wickedly, she continued. "Here's the basic premise. The player - that is, the person with the chance to win the free session of a lifetime - he or she isn't going to be in there alone. Oh, no! There will traps set for the unwary intended to slow them down, or to capture them completely. There will also be at least one of my Mistresses in there, too, with the expressed goal of capturing the player, or at the very least, preventing the player from exiting my Hall of Horrors within the three minute time limit. She captures the player if she gets him or her down on the floor and holds them there for a count of ten." Solange grin became wider. "Note, I said a ten-count, not ten seconds. I'll be doing the counting."

That earned more laughter, just as she'd intended - some hearty, some anxious. "If the player is captured," 'Nefertiti' continued, "Or if the player doesn't escape within three minutes, he has already given consent, by agreeing to compete in the first place, to belonging to the victorious Mistress - or Mistresses," she said, put heavy emphasis on the plurality, "For the rest of the evening. Just so you all know? Each of these specially selected huntresses of the night have spent the last week preparing a VERY special challenge play scene for the lucky winner. . .I mean, loser."

"Hey, wait a minute," a female voice demanded. "That sounds like two ways to lose and only one way to win."

"So it is. Okay, if the player manages to capture the Mistress before the three minutes are up the player wins. All a player has to do to capture the Mistress is take HER to the floor and hold her down for a ten-count without her escaping the hold AND without the three minute alarm sounding. In addition to his prize, winning by capture includes getting the losing Mistress as his or her submissive, or as a topped from the bottom Domme, for the rest of the evening. So that's two ways to win and two ways to lose. Everybody got that so far?"

The crowd's vocal response was generally affirmative, so Solange smiled and continued. "The other way to win is to complete the challenge play scene with the victorious Mistress before the stroke of midnight without safewording. Since these Mistresses and scenes will be the result of a completely random drawing, we realize a player may get a scene that might violate personal limits. We will, as we always do, honor anyone's safeword. However, safewording only stops the challenge scene - that player will still lose the challenge, which will entail an additional forfeit."

"That sounds a lot like being punished for safewording, Maitresse," one of the tuxedo-garbed men asked. "That's not fair!"

"You might well take it that way, and if you truly DO feel that way, I suggest you decline to participate if I select your name out of the basket. These will not be normal play sessions, my friends. These are challenge sessions. For a prize of this magnitude, there has to be a comparable price," Solange said seriously.

"Does the player win the Mistress if he just escapes?" Someone called out.

"Of course not," Solange's tones were caustically dismissive. "You want to own a Mistress, even for a night? You have to capture her, but she wins the contestant by either method."

"NOT FAIR!" someone in the back yelled out.

"And your point is?" Solange asked, her voice all saccharine-sweet, earning a mostly feminine laugh and a deep flush from her accuser. "My game - my rules. Play or don't play, it makes no difference to me! Any other questions?"

One of the Dominas that Tina did not recognize stepped forward, pulling a leashed male costumed as a very ugly dog behind her. "Before I'd order Muffy here take that kind of challenge, Solange, I need specifics on the forfeit. I don't mind another Mistress putting him through his paces, but I normally insist on being the one to evaluate his use of his safeword - after a little time for emotions to cool, and in the privacy of our home."

"Fair enough. First, let me tell you that I have personally screened all proposed scenes to ensure that physical injury is NOT an issue. Sitting down comfortably afterwards may be, but not injury. All right?" A general murmur answered that question but Tina couldn't tell if it was positive nor negative when Solange pressed on, "If a player accepts the challenge, enters the Hall of Horrors and then safewords at any point before they've completed the challenge, we will lock the player in a gender appropriate chastity device and return their clothing to him or her. The key to the chastity device lock will ONLY be given to the player when he or she decides to leave the party for the evening. Once they have the key, he or she won't be allowed to return to the dungeon until Thanksgiving, when all the contestants, and their significant others, will be the guests of the dungeon for our holiday dinner and other festivities."

"So the forfeiture means no sexual release for the losing player until after leaving here?" the Mistress holding 'Muffy's' leash asked, sounding almost hopeful to Tina's ears.

"That's the plan. Once all four contestants have made their attempts, the other playrooms will be open and monitored for safety, as we always do for one of our parties. Challenge losers will be allowed to stay as long as they want, and they, like any other guest, will be able to watch the fun, but participating might be frustrating and uncomfortable for them."

Cupid raised his hand, and Solange acknowledged his Mistress, who gave him permission to speak. "Maitresse, any clues as to what the challenge scenes will entail?"

"An excellent question, dear. Not to give you too much information, but we will have a scene involving a truly whole-body massage, guaranteed by the Mistress in charge to send the loser out of body. There will also be a corporal punishment challenge, one involving an extended teasing and denial session, and last but not least, a very special slave scavenger hunt. That's all I will say for now. If that's not enough information for you, again, I must suggest that you decline to participate."

"As if I'd let him wimp out like that," the Mistress standing beside him retorted before giving him a fierce look.

"If there are no other questions," Solange said, "Shall we get on with the drawing?"

"Sounds fair enough."

"Okay with me."

"When do we start?"

"Ought to be fun!"

"Can't wait to see what happens!"

"Hope you get selected, Muffy!"

"Arf, arf, arf!"

"All right, then. Mistress ShaJuana, would you do the honors and pick the first name, please?" Solange called, picking up a large bag from the floor beside her.

ShaJuana skulked up to the dais, every sensuous step emulating the great cat she portrayed. Once there, she snarled at the audience, and then proceeded to pull a single ball from the bag. She handed Solange the ball, and stepped back to watch the rest of the selections play out. Solange set it down on the table, and opened it up. "Oh, my," she breathed, and then called out, "James Harris, will you accept the challenge?"

Tina almost giggled at the goggle-eyed young man. Then he swallowed hard. "Ummm, yes, I guess. ummm, Maitresse."

"Come, come, James - yes or no. This is no time to be wishy-washy. Do you accept my challenge or not?"

There wasn't a man in the room, submissive or otherwise, who could have ignored the nearly derisive tone in Solange's voice. "Yes, Ma'am, I accept.

Harris was then ordered to approach the dais and select the next ball. Solange grimaced extravagantly as she read the slip of paper she held up after opening the ball. "Hmmmm, I'm not sure I want to offer this one, since he's MY slave, and it would annoy me greatly for HIM to dictate his next scene with me, or to dare to attempt top me." She made a show of crumpling up the paper and looking around for a trash basket, then grinned. "Oh well, fair is fair. Walter Evans, do you wish to accept the challenge?"

This was the one, Tina realized, the one Solange wanted to challenge. She saw the hesitancy in his eyes, but she also saw the hunger. Empathy, along with a well-honed instinct for the right line delivered for best effect took hold of her. "Looks like he's either too happy with your current attentions, Solange, or too afraid of your wrath," Tina said lightly, but loudly enough to be clearly heard throughout the crowded room. "Perhaps you should select another in his stead?"

Her jibe struck home, for Solange's sub flushed bright red, and then blurted out, "I accept, Maitresse."

"Oh, very well." Solange accepted with apparent disappointment, before offering the bag to Evans for him to select the next candidate. " And our next contestant is," she hesitated for effect, "Victor Davis. Mr. Davis, do you accept the challenge?"

There was an uncomfortably long silence answering Solange's challenge. Tina thought he was going to say 'no' because the look he gave Solange revealed none of the fear and/or excitement she'd sensed from first two winners. Then he shrugged, squared his shoulders and said in a very steady voice. "Yes, I'll accept the challenge."

Only Tina caught Solange's quick shiver of relief at his acceptance because she quickly turned to three Mistresses who had been waiting in the wings. "Please escort the players to the waiting room and help them prepare."

'HEY, WAIT," an attractively plump Mistress yelled. "You said there would be FOUR contestants! You only drew three names!"

Solange made a show of hitting herself in the head with her palm. "You, know? You're right! I almost forgot that I had already decided that two of my Dommes were going to go into the Hall, just to prove that everything's fair. Because, as we all know, no TRUE Domina would willingly submit - especially to someone she competes with for subbies on a daily basis. And I knew, immediately, just who those two Mistresses would be. You see, Mistress Antinelli over there," and Tina stood stock still as Solange waived the microphone in her direction, "Owes me a forfeit for - can you believe it? - being LATE to pick me up for lunch just the other day."

There was a collective gasp from most of the male contingent, and more than few feminine snickers from the many Dommes.

Solange brought the microphone back to her lips. "Mistress Antinea, do you dare to take up the same challenge as our three guests? Or are you going to wimp out in front of all your colleagues and our clients, and refuse this challenge?" There was a bite in those words, even though Tina had been prepared for them, that got her ego juices flowing.

ShaJuana jumped up on the dais and grabbed the microphone from Solange. Her grin was diabolical. "Oh, YEAH! Go ahead and take it, cutie," she growled low in her throat at Tina, "I won't be . . . TOO. . . rough. Not unless you beg real nice."

Tina slowly crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and stared hard at the feline-garbed Mistress. "Really? What makes you think I'd be paired against you?"

Solange snatched the microphone back before ShaJuana could respond. "Because," she said in very heavy tones, "In contrast to you, you naughty girl, Mistress ShaJuana has actually far exceeded my demanding expectations of her recently, and so I promised her a little reward. She chose you. I'm giving you to her, or rather, I'm giving her a chance to win you."

"Same thing, Solange," Juana interjected, leaning over so she spoke into the open microphone.

"Safely, sanely and consenually, of course, dear," Solange replied, casting a sardonic grin to the tall black girl.

"Oh, of course - wouldn't do it any other way," ShaJuana purred, for she'd been waiting days for another chance to get her paws on her diminutive friend, again.

"You did say, Maitresse," Tina asked, "That I could win HER by taking down Mistress ShaJuana in the Hall of Horrors, and then it will be me who gets to dominate HER?"

"Exactly, Mistress Antinea," Solange agreed. "The same challenge, the same rules, the same prizes and penalties."

A ripple of disbelief and laughter floated through the guests, for Juana's intense style of play was well known by client and colleague alike. Not many of the Mistresses in attendance would willingly give the tall, dark and lovely amazon carte blanche over their bodies - no negotiation, no yellow code, and a forfeit for safewording - even those who would privately admit to some submissive urges.

"Then, of course I accept the challenge." Tina said, her voice carrying over the continuing buzz from the crowd, "And Juana? You just keep enjoying those girlish little fantasies of topping me in that special challenge scene because that's all they'll be - fantasies. I'm taking you down, Tall-Booty! I have wanted that long, gorgeous bod of yours dancing to my tune for simply ages. Trust me on this! You're gonna be the one who'll need the safeword, not me!"

Stunned silence answered this unknown, not particularly physically impressive Mistress who'd just thrown down the gauntlet to one of the largest, strongest Dominas in the city. For her part, ShaJuana simply grinned, looking like a jungle cat who had just found a very confused, particularly juicy wildebeest stuck in mud.

"Very well, the challenge is accepted," Solange called out. "Then, let us begin again. These Mistresses will escort you to the prep room we've set up for to get you ready for your challenges."

The three Mistresses, Isolde, Betina, and Vanessa, stepped forward to link arms with the four contestants. As they began to lead them away, Solange added loudly, "Bring their locker keys to me for safe keeping once they've locked up their clothes and you have them all kitted out."

Harris spun on his heel and stared at the Maitresse. "Clothes? kitted out?"

"Of course there are some. . .little preparations. Just to make things fair."

"Fair? Like what?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. "That wasn't part of your description earlier."

Solange gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, since you ask, we thought that since we're giving you three minutes to escape, and since you are going to be challenged by mere women, Mistresses though they may be, we've added a few items to make the challenge more. . . challenging. Nothing too restrictive - just trying to ensure that any physical contest a bit more even. As for taking your clothes, well, it IS a Hall of Horrors. If you don't mind having that lovely tux get slimed in KY-Jelly, or some other such indignity, we won't insist you go in wearing the, ah, somewhat skimpy attire we've selected for you. Seems a waste to ruin such a fine suit though, when a shower after you . . . win?" and there was a questioning challenge in her voice, "will put things to rights. It is, however, entirely your choice."

"You didn't tell anyone about that before hand," he repeated, his tone rebellious. "You call THAT fair?"

"Oh, very well. if you feel that bit of non-disclosure was unfair, I suppose I MUST let you just quit now." She didn't say 'wimp' but the word was still 'heard' by everyone present - particularly Harris. "I won't even make you pay the forfeit if you quit on us now. Anything unfair about that, Mr. Harris?"

Tina walked up to Harris and put her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Shall we go, Mr. Harris? We don't want to miss out on the fun, do we? Surely you intend to win in any case, don't you?" For a moment, she thought he might still back out, but then he shrugged. Turning, they followed the others toward the preparation rooms on the other side of the large hall. A sense of anticipation hovered over guests as they settled themselves in front of the recently installed big-screen televisions, ready to be entertained.

The blond Valkyrie (Isolde) and Natasha Fatale (Betina) escorted the three men into one prep room while Venus, Goddess of Tough Love, (Vanessa) took Tina to another. Tina had not yet had occasion to work with or be trained by the voluptuous red-head, but knew her casually through other members of the dungeon staff.

Vanessa's specialty was age-play. She was highly skilled at turning her clients into 'little boys or girls', subject to the whim of a stern mother, teacher or baby sitter played by Vanessa. She always claimed that this was something that growing up in her Italian, mother-dominated home had well prepared her.

"Don't think I'd have taken that challenge, Tina," she said as she closed the door of the prep room behind them. I mean, ShaJuana is sexy as they come, and her clients worship her, but damn, she's BIG!" Vanessa was even shorter than Tina, and it would have been no trouble at all for the powerful black Amazon to diaper HER. "I KNOW I wouldn't have had the brass tubes to taunt her that way! How in god's name do you think you're going to take her down?"

"Well, I admit it's a daunting proposition," Tina said, as she shed her costume's riding boots, coat, blouse and jodhpurs, "But you know what they say, 'the bigger they are,' et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Besides, if that bit of trash-talk pisses her off, even just a bit? She might get a little careless."

"And she might damn-well get YOU, Tina, and then where will you be? Either in her clutches or wandering around the dungeon in one of Solange's wicked chastity devices." The petite Domme gave an exaggerated shudder as she carried over the box containing Tina's 'kit' for the game. "Here's the latex bra and thong," she said offering international orange-colored garments to Tina. "Cripes, you're gonna glow in the dark in those things."

"Well, guess Solange isn't THAT concerned about making things fair," and then giggled at the goggle-eyed look from her helper.

 
 
Chapter 15: Things That Go Thump in the Dark
 
 
The Valkyrie used her sword to clear her path of any stray male slaves as she moved toward Solange. She whispered something in the Queen's ear, then turned to leave once more. Nodding her approval, Solange moved back to the dais and took up the microphone. "Your attention, please. We're just about ready to begin, but before we do, I want to discuss one more aspect of this game with you now that our contestants are isolated and cannot hear what I have to say"

The remaining guests gravitated back to the dais, their full attention on the Queen.

"Now, I mentioned earlier that safewords would be honored, but that they would be construed as a challenge failure. That's true, insofar as that goes, but let me give you the fuller picture of how we will ensure safety in these sessions."

THAT got their attention, Solange thought. She had expected that the previous description of "being punished for safewording" wouldn't sit well with many of the more experienced players in the room, so she'd decided to share this aspect of her plans with the larger assembly. It meant that watching the challenge-scenes would lack some of the drama she'd originally envisioned, but given the nature of the people she had invited, she'd known she would need to bring them more fully into her real plans.

Just not quite ALL the way in.

"Look, we know that we will be putting people in situations in which they may well — heavens — they WILL find themselves immersed in some pretty heavy play-scenes. I think it is likely that these will be scenes for which the contestants may have little or no experience. As a result, we at the dungeon are very concerned about tripping hard over unexpected limits. In order that this potential is absolutely minimized, I have asked two of the most knowledgeable and intuitive Dommes in the city to observe all challenge play via closed-circuit video links. They will serve as dungeon masters for these challenge scenes, and as such, I have granted them final and ultimate authority to terminate any challenge scene at any time for any reason. Additionally, if they terminate a challenge scene because they believe the player is or is close to violating his or her own limits - in other words, trying TOO hard - the involved player will still earn the winner's prize. However, for reasons of safety, we will ask that player to refrain from participating in any more play tonight."

She saw the relief on the faces of key members of her audience and knew this had been the right thing to do. "Thanks, Maitresse," the man who had voiced the original concerns spoke up. "I feel better about this now."

Solange nodded regally, and then picked her microphone back up. "All Right, Then! Our players are ready. If you will all look at the screen behind me, please?"

The screen split to show two views of the curtained-off portion of the upper floor. There were clearly two breaks in the curtain. On the left hand side of the screen stood a very nervous looking Walter Evans. A murmur rippled through the crowd as they took in his 'kit', which consisted of grossly oversized boxing gloves tied on to his hands, a bright orange jock strap, and some type of chain between his ankles.

On the other split of the screen, they saw a thick-bodied brunette, garbed in a ripped 'Gold's Gym' muscle shirt, running shorts and sneakers, waiting patiently at the break on the opposite side of the curtained area.

The Domina was Mistress Emerald, a competitive body builder whose work at the dungeon helped defray the costs of her training. Her domination specialty was using raw strength to overwhelm her clients physically, either in tests of strength or in wrestling matches. She was also generally acknowledged to give the hottest hand spankings in the dungeon, usually as a forfeit for having lost to her in some test of strength.

Solange lifted the microphone to her lips and called out, "Ladies, Gentlemen and slaves - ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE??!?"

A loud cheer answered her, and she grinned. "I've always wanted to do that. All right, then, Mr. Evans will attempt to evade or to capture Mistress Emerald within three minutes in the Hall of Horrors! But first, let me explain the kit we have provided for our contestant. The orange, ummm, athletic supporter is just that, and it includes a cup."

She shot a frightening smile down at the two males closest to the stage. "Just in case something happens. . . there? Don't you think, boys?"

She was rewarded when both men reflexively clamped their legs together in Pavlovian response to the image she'd indirectly put in their minds. "I see you do. Now, about those boxing gloves. They've been tied tightly to his hands so that there will be no danger should he accidentally hit Mistress Emerald in his certain-to-be futile struggles to escape her clutches," Solange reported as an unseen operator zoomed the camera in on the oversized gloves. "I'm told that this size glove is specifically used for training children to box, and that it is almost impossible to strike a hurtful blow when wearing them. They also," she added with an evil smirk to her audience, "Do interesting things to the wearer's manual dexterity."

An appreciative buzz filled the room, and Solange continued. "If you will notice Mr. Evans' feet," and the camera panned down, "You will see he has been restrained with a hobble chain. The chain is only two feet long and has two bells. We've tested this apparatus recently, and have found it is almost impossible to move about with that chain on and prevent the bells from ringing."

"And now, let the games begin!" Solange flipped a switch on the table, and spoke again. "Mistress Emerald, you may enter the Hall!" The powerfully built mistress shot her opponent and the camera her best front double biceps flex pose, then slipped inside.

"On the count of three, Mr. Evans, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start! One, Two, Three!" The crowd cheered as the Evans took two halting steps toward the curtain and then tripped and fell through the curtain, his bells ringing merrily.

Guests quickly dispersed to the other large screens scattered throughout the ballroom, everyone trying to get the best possible view as the split-screens shifted to follow both Mistress and contestant into the unlighted space. The cameras installed in the Hall had been selected for low-light functionality, so the figures were clear and distinct, if not colorful.

Emerald, clearly confident of her ability to handle a hobbled and hand-deprived submissive physically, took up a position ten or so feet inside the exit point. She settled into a defensive stance - feet spread with her hands relaxed and in front of her- and settled to wait for her prey to come to her.

For his part, Evans was trying to walk while holding the two bells with his boxing gloves, in an attempt to muffle them. It worked to a point, but even the thumbs of the damned boxing gloves were too wide to get into the bell mouths, so they continued to ring with every step, albeit considerably muted compared to their clattering during his inauspicious entry into the Hall of Horrors.

The crowd howled with laughter at the incredibly awkward position he assumed to be able to hold the bells and still 'walk'. "He looks like he's a doggie taking a dump!" one wag was heard to say.

In addition to looking ridiculous, walking in that position was very hard on the normally unused muscles in his glutes and thighs. Walter had barely managed twenty feet into the Hall when the strain and burn of muscle fatigue started to set in. He gritted on, making his way to the hall's first corner, but then had stop for rest. If only his hands were free, he thought.

Solange watched on the monitor screen as he tightened his knees on one gloved hand, then pushed his body up with his legs using all his strength. Not so easy as that, my little man, she thought, and was just as quickly proved right. The glove remained fixed to his hand. Worse, his knee-grip slipped and he was flung backward against the wall by the force of his own legs; the tinkling of silver bells clearly audible throughout the entire dungeon floor.

Emerald heard the bells, faint as they were from her location, and calculated that he must be about a third of the way around.

"Two minutes left," Solange's voice called out over hidden speaker system. Well, the muscular Domina thought as she flexed her fingers and hands, he's right on time.

Evans tried to think of something - anything - he could do to turn this around. He had only TWO minutes left and no idea for how far he still had to go. Well, Emerald MUST have heard that bell peal - that was for sure. So if they rang a little more and he got some time back, he'd be no worse off than he was, right? Who knew? He might just catch her unawares and run past her. Thought became deed and he took off as fast as his chain-hobbled feet could manage.

He'd just gotten to the second corner when his feet hit something slippery. He felt them go out from under him and fell hard on his butt. He must have slid ten feet or more before he stopped. He couldn't feel anything with the gloves on, so he stuck his nose next to the floor and sniffed. Vaseline, he thought.

An idea hit. Sitting flat, he used his legs and gloves to dig the bells into the goop, trying to scoop as much of the stuff into the bell mouths as he could. He tested them, and smiled — nary a sound. Now, Mistress She-Hulk and he were on nearly even terms. At least he had a chance to out-stealth her.

That noble lady had heard her prey's "ooof" of surprise when he fell, and then nothing. She could tell he was just down the long hall from her. He was close - very close. She readied herself to repel a final, all-out headlong charge for freedom. He'd try to get past her and go for the exit, she thought, because they both knew he didn't have a prayer of holding her down, even if he got lucky and knocked her off her feet somehow. Well, there was no way she was letting him get past her, either.

She'd promised Maitresse Solange.

"ONE MINUTE," Solange announced. "One minute to go, and we can see you both. You're a LONG way from victory, Mr. Evans. Too bad."

Evans had submitted to La Maitresse for years, and he knew her - knew her tricks, knew her voice tones. She was goading him - probably misleading him. He HAD to be close to the end. Surely, in one minute. . .

Emerald was getting a little worried. Where were the bells? Why weren't they ringing? Had he hurt himself? Was he down and not moving because he couldn't move? Surely not, because Solange was watching, and she'd announce something like that — stop things and call for help - if there was a problem of that nature.

Dammit, why weren't those bells ringing!?

Evans crept a few more feet, feeling his way along the wall, but he nearly slipped again. The damn vaseline was still on his feet. "30 seconds! You have only 30 seconds!" He needed to be able to go as quickly as possible and to do that, he needed traction. Carefully, he began to wipe his feet against the tiled floor, trying to scrape away most of the lubricating jelly.

And slipped again, causing his foot to rub too hard against the floor.

SQUEAAWWWK! It was like fingernails on a blackboard.

That was loud and close, Emerald realized, immediately on full alert. She searched the darkness and listened hard. She almost missed it - almost missed HIM! It was just a small sound - a quiet rasp of air - the kind of sound she herself made during competitions just before she threw her best pose at the judges. He was gearing up to make his big play right now. She stepped into the corridor and just barely caught him - right by the waistband of his jockstrap - as he tried to race past her hiding place.

Riveted to the monitor in front of her, Solange finally relaxed. Once Emerald had her hands on him, it was all over for Walter. Oh, he tried to punch his way free, but with no real effect, thanks to the boxing gloves. Poor Walter was lifted off his feet and taken gently to the floor, held tightly in Emerald's signature 'She-Bear Hug.' Solange actually reached the end of the three minutes before she could count to ten for the capture, but in this case, that really didn't matter. Emerald would have won by either method.

"The WINNER!" Solange announced to the cheering of her guests. "And FIRST EVER Hall of Horrors Champion is Mistress Emerald!" Behind her, and throughout the ballroom the split screens merged into a single view. Two tall and powerfully-built male slaves (obvious for their uniforms - slave collars and matching jock straps) appeared on screen. They bowed to Emerald before reaching down to pick up a gasping Walter Evans, and lifting him up on to their shoulders, one at his head, the other at his feet.

"Take him to Play Room 2, slaves," Solange ordered into the microphone. This order was acknowledged by a simultaneous bow from both slaves that somehow did not in any way dislodge their burden.

Turning back to her audience, Solange smiled. "We'll have a short break for refreshments while Mr. Evans is taken to begin his challenge scene. That session will, by the way, be available for viewing on one of the four screens in the back of the ballroom if any of you would prefer to watch that as opposed to the next competition. In the meantime, my maintenance slaves will be resetting the traps and clearing away anything left in the Hall by our last two contestants. By the way, while the Mistresses who will oppose our last three contestants have been able to watch this contest, our remaining contestants have been kept in isolation and have not seen or heard any of this."

"That's not fair, Maitresse!" a laughing female voice chimed.

"No," Solange agreed, her own laugh bubbling beneath her words, "It is not, nor was it intended to be."

In Playroom 2, Walter Evans stood, backed against a ceiling-to-floor column as the two slaves cuffed his hands behind him and around the column. Emerald relaxed to one side, watching with her muscular arms crossed beneath her impressive surgically-enhanced, bosom. The slaves turned to her, expecting to be released, but she only shook her head. "Strip him," she ordered softly, "Completely."

From a nearby cabinet, she withdrew a 'plain brown package', holding it in her hands as the slaves pulled the jock, cup and hobble chain off her charge. When the pair came back to attention, she smiled. "That will be all. You may tell the Head Slave that I found your efforts entirely satisfactory. Please return to your holding area until you are summoned again."

When she turned back to face Evans, she saw his attention was entirely focused on the package she held in her hands. Carefully, so as to ensure he could see everything clearly, she began to remove the brown paper from the parcel. When he saw it contained, he groaned. "Mistress," he whispered, "I thought that would only be the result of safewording."

Smiling as she disassembled the clear plastic male chastity device, Emerald replied, "You thought wrong, then. If you satisfactorily complete my challenge, this will be removed and you will be free to participate fully in any other scene that suits your fancy."

With quick, sure movements, she quickly fitted the device to him and was locking the part holding his penis to the ring that encircled the base of his penis and underneath his scrotum. A small brass padlock ensured he could not be freed without the key.

"Are you ready to hear what I require in exchange for your freedom?" she asked, her voice soft and even. He nodded, his eyes wary. "You are to honor me by undertaking a quest. La Maitresse called it a scavenger hunt earlier, but to people like you and me, Mr. Evans, this will be like the quests of legend, when a knight served and honored his lady by undertaking and accomplishing great deeds in her name."

"Great deeds, Mistress? What. . . what do I have to do?"

"Why, you must seek out and obtain the Golden Dildo, then present it to La Maitresse, all before the clock chimes midnight."

"How do I find it? Where is it hidden?" Now, there was fear in his eyes, a certainty that he would not like the answers, but a need to know nonetheless.

"To answer your first question, it is in the ballroom - somewhere. Even I do not know its precise location for La Maitresse had already hidden it before I arrived. To find it, you must seek out those who will give you the clues that will lead you to the next person with a clue. They may choose simply to give you their clue, or they may ask a boon of you - their choice. If you want to win the prize, and more importantly, truly desire to please your Mistresses - both La Maitresse and myself - you will do what must needs be done to seek the prize."

"Out . . .there? In the BALLROOM??!? Like THIS? Mistress, I'm naked! I . . .I don't DO public play . . it. . .it's one of my limits! A HARD limit."

A sad look crossed Emerald's face. "I see. Well, I suppose that is why I have been given this, then," she said, as she put a necklace with a small key suspended from it about his neck. "That is your safe-code for the rest of the evening. It will unlock the locker in which you placed your clothing. Present that to the slave stationed at the coat check, and your clothing will be returned to you immediately. You will dress at the coat check and then be escorted to the downstairs foyer where my little gift," she pointed to the male chastity device locked onto his genitals, "Will be removed. You will, of course, forfeit your chance at the prize, and you will not be permitted to return here until Thanksgiving."

"I CAN'T do THAT!" he said, nearly in tears.

Shrugging, Emerald reached behind him, and released the cuffs holding him to the column. "Very well, I am a ethical Mistress. I do not abuse slaves by forcing them to violate their limits. When you leave this room, turn left and go to the end of the corridor. The last door on the right will take you directly down to the coat check area. You won't have to go anywhere near the ballroom and you will avoid having to face La Maitresse." She turned her back on him, as if to leave. At the door, she stopped, her eyes hard on his. "If, however, you are the submissive your Mistress believes you to be, one who honors her with his best efforts in her service, you should turn right and follow that hallway back down to the ball room. Seek out the Aphrodite's Roman Incarnation. Farewell, Mr. Evans. I wish you well in your choice."

Solange watched the interplay between the hard-bodied Domina and her recalcitrant slave closely, and felt her stomach fluttering with nerves. Was she right about Walter? Did he truly WANT this experience? Would this help him over what she was convinced was a false limit, or had she just driven him away?

Or worse, had she just sent him headlong into something he truly could not handle.

She couldn't think about this, she told herself! She had two extremely knowledgeable and intuitive women watching over and protecting her contestants for just this purpose. Hadn't she told them to pull the plug immediately if they had ANY concerns about the sub's emotional or mental state? Indeed she had, so she'd better let them do just that! In the meantime, it was time for her to get the second act of her little play under way.

 
 
Chapter 16: What Mistress This Way Comes?
 
 
"Ladies, gentlemen and slaves, we are ready for our second contestant!" she announced as she mounted the dais. "And who will be the next to fall to my Hall of Horrors? None other than our lovely Mistress Antinea! I know that, like me, you cannot wait to see what our ebony goddess, Mistress ShaJuana, has in store for this delinquent Mistress' challenge scene! So, please direct your attention back to the screen behind me!"

Juana and Tina were at their respective entry points to the Hall of Horrors. Juana, all grinning cocky confidence, was almost dancing in front of what all the viewers now recognized as the victor's exit in her impatience to get started. Tina, on the other hand, stood quietly confident in front of the entry portal.

Every eye locked on the challenger in her orange rubber bikini and a buzz of appreciation filled the room. Solange's smiled, all dark satisfaction, before she continued. "If you will please take notice of soon-to-be-subbie-Antinea's attire," and the camera panned up and down the tightly muscled body. "You will see she is garbed identically to our previous contestant, with the exception of the rubber sports bra. Something our buxom lass needs quite as much as you boys would need your cups. Otherwise, things might bounce about and get in the way."

Every eye except those of Walter Evans, that is. Outside the final door leading to the ballroom, Walter Evans cringed in the dark stairwell. Why, oh WHY had he turned right? The hall door on the third floor had closed and latched behind him, meaning he was now stuck! He could no longer simply disappear without a trace through the back door Emerald had offered him. He HAD to go into the ballroom, even if just to quit!

He was NEVER going to finish this scavenger quest by midnight. He wouldn't get to serve Solange for a WHOLE month! He NEEDED the release from responsibility she gave him, Dammit!

But it was just too much. He just couldn't . .

A flash of white caught his eye. Turning back quickly, he saw a very curvy redhead walk by, heading towards the buffet tables. Wasn't that a toga? And on her head, some kind of crown? Could it be?

Without thinking, he was out the door and into the ballroom. "Mistress Venus?" he managed to call. "Please, Mistress, a moment of your time. Please?"

Solange saw Walter break from the stairwell, and scurry off after Vanessa. For just one instant, she closed her eyes in thanks. She hadn't been wrong. Now, all she had to do was make sure he passed his challenge.

After a properly demanding and victorious quest, of course.

"Let the contest begin! Mistress ShaJuana, you may enter the Hall!" The feline mistress gave two thumb-claws up, and slipped inside. Solange spoke again. "On the count of three, Antinea, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start! One, Two, Three!" This time, the crowd counted with Solange, and then cheered as the hobbled Tina went to all fours and bunny-hopped, bells ringing loudly, through the curtain.

Knowing what to expect this time, the crowd hurried to get the best spots about the ballroom's large screens and prepared to follow this pair's progress toward their mutually exclusive goals. Small wagers were offered this time around, usually with some type of slave service as the payoff, on how this pairing would do. Most agreed that the very athletic Juana was at a distinct advantage in this confrontation.

The cameras tracked them into the unlighted corridors, seeing them more as faceless shadow figures than people. ShaJuana, never one to simply wait for anything to come to her, went prowling her way into the Hall of Horrors, stopping every few steps to listen.

Tina, on the other hand, took two bounds into the dark space, and then sat down, putting her back up against the outer wall of the hallway. She slid along the floor on her bottom until she came to the first playroom's door, and then slid further back into the recessed doorway. Getting up onto her knees, she quickly spun about so her back was to the hallway.

It also put her back to the camera tracking her progress, partially obscuring her from the viewing crowd in the ballroom, much to their audible annoyance. The operator rapidly switched through the various video feeds, sampling the available cameras, but was unable to get a clear picture of what the girl was doing.

Working quickly, Tina brought one gloved hand up to her mouth and began working at the boxing glove's knots with her teeth. That mode of escape had not occurred to Vanessa, so the knots on Tina's glove came loose without difficulty. Moments later, her hands were both free, and she was reaching back to undo the buckles that held the hobble-chain strapped to her ankles. She picked up the chain by the bells, carefully ensuring that the clappers could not move. Satisfied, Tina crawled out of the doorway, silently resumed making her way further into the darkened hallway.

"I suppose," Solange observed to her audience, "That we should have the other contestants' gloves checked for better knots, eh? I think our dear ShaJuana might be in for a surprise, eh?"

Juana wasn't the only one surprised. A screamed "OH SHIT, WHAT IS THIS CRAP?!?" had Tina hitting the deck, and straining eyes and ears to scan ahead of her into the darkness.

On the screen, the attendees laughed heartily as Juana struggled to free herself from what appeared to be a gigantic white spider's web that had fallen on her from the ceiling. It was evidently quite sticky as well, for camera close-ups showed the latex fabric of her catsuit stretching away from her body as she tried to pull the webbing off her.

Perfect, Solange mused as she watched the furious woman struggling to get the sticky twine from her hair and losing her cat's ears in the effort. It had taken a while to find a spray-on version of the adhesive used on post-it notes, but it had worked just as she'd hoped it would.

Juana threw the sticky mass to the floor, sacrificing her gloves along with the ears, not to mention a few hairs, to be rid of it. Tina had designed this place, she thought, her nostrils flaring. TINA had KNOWN about that damned web thing and she hadn't TOLD her best friend! Well, some sexy little TV slut had just earned herself another HOUR of orgasm denial! A beautiful concept, the tall, black goddess thought as she resumed her hunt.

Not quite so cautious in your stalking now, dear, Solange thought to herself as she watched Juana move more quickly through the darkness. She'd known that Juana would not be one to guard the exit and let the prey come to her. That was just much too passive an approach for their beloved Mistress ShaJuana Price. No, this big jungle cat would want to hunt down her prey; would want to meet Tina at least half way and face to face.

Having designed the layout of the Hall, Tina had been able to move quickly and silently, while avoiding the traps that had been laid to give away or even entrap any hapless contestant that fell their way. She made it, without incident, to the first corner where the hall turned to follow the shorter dimension of the third floor toward the back of the building. There, she hid, just out of sight of anyone coming down that corridor, kneeling on the floor, and listening.

Knowing that her prey would be wearing boxing gloves and the belled hobble chain, Juana had not bothered changing her shoes. Now, in the silence of the otherwise unoccupied dungeon, her heels rang out like little hammers rapping on the hard tile floor. She stopped, and wondered momentarily if she should take them off before continuing her hunt.

"90 SECONDS LEFT!" Solange's voice echoed loudly.

She couldn't do it, she realized. She could outrun Tina in her heels since Tina was hobbled, but if the little sneak broke past her while she was one-shoe-on, one-shoe-off, she'd be screwed. No way to move quickly with one foot wearing a four-plus inch heel and the other in just a stocking. She'd likely kill herself. Taking a deep breath, she began to move again, more slowly this time, and listening hard for the sound of those little silver bells.

The anticipation of the guests was becoming palpable as they watched the split scene, one view showing Tina waiting in ambush on one side of the corner, the other showing Juana creeping up from the other corridor. Contact was imminent. Would the little one try to get past the tall, powerful mistress and just run for it, or would they collide in an epic Mistress-on-Mistress cat-fight?

Not one of the many viewers hoped it would be the former.

Tina heard the muffled clicking of Juana's heels, and fought the impulse to hold her breath. Carefully, she tightened her grip on the hobble chain and waited - hoping. .

Juana was fairly certain she was approaching the last corner in Solange's Hall of Horrors; the one that would turn onto the corridor that ran along the front of the block. That would have her heading directly for the entrance Tina had used. If the sneaky little bitch was going to lay in wait, this corner would be where she'd do it, but why hadn't Juana heard any bells? Maybe Tina only moved while she'd been otherwise involved with that web? She put out her hand to find the wall, and began moving very cautiously, her ears and eyes wide open.

Only she didn't see or feel the trip-wire about her ankle until it was too late.

The camera tracking Juana from behind was instantly dazzled as the broken tripwire closed a circuit and turned on a spotlight directly behind and above Juana's head. Its beam was directed at a floor to ceiling, three panel dressing mirror mounted against the far wall of the corridor. The reflected light blazed fiery white into the dark-adapted eyes of the Amazon, dazzling her as well.

The operator was able to switch to a camera out of the beam's path just in time to see Tina move. Juana did not have the same option.

Keeping her head low and her eyes away from both the direct and reflected light, Tina leapt at Juana's feet, leading with the chain and wrapping it about the taller girl's ankles. With one quick tug, she pulled the unstable ankles together, tying the leather straps in a makeshift knot. Using her shoulder in Juana's gut, she broke the taller girl's tripping fall, and then slid out from beneath Juana to let the Domina slip all the way down to the floor.

She couldn't freakin' SEE!! Juana's hands went out, trying to catch herself, trying to regain her equilibrium when something TRIPPED her, and she started to fall over, face-first . .

Cheers resounded throughout the viewing assembly, as the little blonde reached out for the felled Mistress, flipping the larger woman onto her back.

Tina jumped aboard, putting all her weight onto Juana's upper body and wrapping her arms around her lover to capture the taller girl's in an arm-pinning bear hug. "Gotcha" she gloated into ShaJuana's still-dazzled eyes, and then bent down to kiss the struggling black woman full on her mouth.

Solange grinned as she began the count. "One . . Two . . Three. . . " and was joined by almost the entire audience as she reached "Five. . ."

Juana was fighting to get loose with everything in her, but between those damned heels and whatever it was wrapped around her ankles, she couldn't get any damned leverage with her feet. And with her arms were being held so tightly to her body, they were useless, too.

"Eight, . . .Nine, . . . "

And damn, but that girl could kiss, was her last rational thought before "TEN!" blared in her ears.

"And we have a WINNER!" Solange announced to the cheering of her guests. Behind her, the split screen morphed into a single view. The two male slaves again appeared on screen, bowing to Tina this time.

"Take her to Play Room 4, slaves," Solange ordered into the microphone as they hoisted the still-dazzled Juana up onto their shoulders before repeating their stylized synchronized bow.

At that very moment, Walter Evans - scavenger hunter - who had also experienced the rush of success, was busily searching for his second clue-giver.

Some how, he'd DONE it! Even when Mistress Venus had requested a boon that had him laying there on the floor - right there in FRONT of the buffet table and all the guests - drinking from a small baby bottle filled with milk.

He'd almost run for the exit right then and there, but he hadn't, and inside the bottle had been a piece of paper wrapped in a plastic tube. "Find the one who is booted and suited, and ready for scooting to get your next clue."

What the hell did that mean? Almost every Domme here was in boots of some kind or another, and none of them were nude so they were all suited. Weren't they?

Scooting?!?

In Play Room 4, a bubbling Tina supervised the two slaves as they removed Juana's shoes before cuffing her ankles and wrists. Ceiling and floor chains were quickly attached to Juana's wrists and ankles. Not surprisingly, Juana resisted, but Solange had selected these slaves for their strength, so they easily, if gently, overcame even her efforts to stop them. That done, a touch of a switch activated hidden winches that pulled Tina's lovely prize into a standing spread-eagle position. Her legs were spread just enough to cost the taller woman about three inches in height without putting too much of a strain on her leg muscles and hamstrings. That put the pair nearly on eye-to-eye level.

"You cheated," Juana complained after the slaves had left.

Grinning broadly, Tina kissed the annoyed and pouting lips, enjoying the savor of lipstick on lipstick. "Only in that I knew where the traps were," she replied. "Everything else was fair and square. I'll show you the video - but after we're done - maybe tomorrow, if you're up to it," she added, her voice silky with her anticipation.

"I don't think I should have to do this 'cause you cheated!"

"Gonna safeword, then?" Tina asked, her brows lifting in polite inquiry.

"And spend the rest of this fine party walkin' around with a butt-plug locked up my ass, and a steel dome keeping my many slaves away from my clit and G-spot?!? I don't think so!"

"Well, in that case, I guess, you're just gonna have to stand there and take what I have in store for you, huh?"

Dark brown eyes went slitted and black, "What you're gonna have in store for me, little girl, is unlockin' these chains and lettin' me go!"

Tina spun on her heels and went to the small dresser she'd had put in this otherwise starkly empty room, and opened a drawer. "I don't think that's what I want to do, Tall Booty," she said, removing an electronic remote control and pointing it at the wall directly in front of her bound friend. "Nope, it's really not. Hey, I think we'll just relax and watch a little TV first. For now."

 
 
Chapter 17: Much Ado About Something
 
 
Back in the ballroom, Solange caught sight of Isolde signaling to her from just inside the entry way that they were ready for the next pairing. She smilingly acknowledged the Valkyrie's signal with a wave, and then made her way back to her dais. Seeing her heading in that direction, all of La Maitresse' guests moved quickly to huddle around the nearest flat screen.

"Hear ye, hear ye," she called, waving her flogger-scepter in the air, "It is time for our THIRD contestant to enter the Hall of Horrors.

Walter tried to ignore the attention his nude, chastised state was drawing. He didn't succeed, not really, but he did try. He'd been searching for the entire time that last pair had been in that damned Horror place, and he still had no idea who the hell he was supposed to find. Was he supposed to ask everyone who wasn't naked if they were ready to scoot??!

He was just beginning to despair when a tall, Rubenesque woman in biker leathers and helmet walked by.

A Biker Babe, he thought, his eyes going wide. He checked her out more closely, and saw she was also wearing brightly shined, heavy-soled biker boots to go with her riding leathers - her 'suit.' Walter didn't think a real Biker Bitch would refer to her machine as a 'scooter', but it was worth asking, wasn't it?

He hurried over to the leather-clad woman and knelt before her. "Ma'am? Mistress? Are you. . umm, that is, are you ready for scooting?"

A knowing grin answered him, and he swallowed hard against the lump he felt growing in his throat. "I might be," she answered, in a surprisingly gruff voice. "But a clumsy server slave spilled egg nog on my boots, and I really think they need to be cleaned before I will be doing any scooting." She sat down on a nearby chair and raised the clunky boot near Walter's suddenly very dry mouth. "Or handing out any clues."

Closing his mind to the fact that his bare ass was currently mooning the majority of La Maitresse' guests and that he had never met this woman before, Walter bent over and began to lick away the sweet, creamy confection from the proffered toe.

For the third time that night, the guests watched as a contestant prepared to confront a Mistress in the dark of Solange's Hall. This time it was James Harris in the day-glo orange jockstrap, hobble-chain and boxing gloves, but it was the woman who captured everyone's attention.

Unlike many of her colleagues from the dungeon, this Domina had decided to use her costume to advertize her dominant specialities. Older and more experienced that many of her colleagues at the dungeon, Head Nurse Amanda actually was a Registered Nurse with a bachelor's degree in nursing. She had worked for fifteen years in that capacity when she had decided to make her avocation for teasing and tormenting men her vocation. Now, in her white lycra nurse's costume, nurse-hat, stockings and ice-pick white heels, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of Olivia De Beradinis' nurse pinups! She had the skills, the desire, and she was also drop-dead gorgeous to boot. For Amanda, working at the dungeon was a dream come true and the perfect job.

Due to her maturity, Amanda was sometimes called upon to play a 'Mother I'd Love to 'F' or MILF role (always as the 'F'-er, never as the 'F'-ee), but her primary dungeon specialties were the ones for which she had trained her entire life. Amanda provided a variety of medical play scenarios for her clients, but her favorite scenes emphasized water sports, play piercing, and cock and ball torture. She loved her new job so much she practiced her trade whenever she could find a willing playmate, and practice did make perfect. She could be as gentle or as . . . un-gentle as each individual case warranted. She could take a newbie to heaven or a hardened masochist to hell with equal ease and with complete safety.

And she was also Solange's best friend on staff at the dungeon - which was why she'd been asked to take this particular contest.

"Please note," Solange called the guest's attention back to herself, "the minor improvements we've made to our contestants' kit after Mistress Antinea's unanticipated success. The silver bands you see around the gloves and the buckles of the hobble chains are made of duct tape. The contestants will have to get that off before they can even hope to work on the knots. We think it will cost vital seconds to free enough of the knots, too."

There was a general sound of approval through the crowd. They weren't here to see the bloody contestants win! They wanted to see them have to deal with the consequences of losing - like that guy running around the ballroom buck naked, drinking out of baby bottles and licking biker boots!

Avidly, the guests watched the two contestants on the various monitors. Instead of going straight to her place before the victor's exit portal, Head Nurse Amanda sauntered, hips swinging, eyes smokey, over to where James Harris stood. "You ready, cutey?" she cooed before giving him a pecking kiss on his colorless cheeks. "I am. And you know what I get to do to YOU when I win this thing?"

The audience was vastly entertained by the look of stark terror on the man's face as Head Nurse Amanda pulled down his jock and gave him a quick hernia check. "Cough darling! she ordered. Blushing furiously, but having nowhere to run, James did as ordered. Smiling wickedly, she then pulled the jock back up, solicitously ensuring all the important parts were safely inside the hard plastic cup. "Well, good news, honey! You're in prime shape for what I've got planned just for you." She put her lips to his ear and whispered for several seconds.

The audience couldn't make out what she said, but they could tell by Harris' stunned reaction that it would be good! REALLY good! Then she gave him another kiss and strolled her way over to where she'd enter the game.

"Head Nurse Amanda! You may enter the Hall of Horrors!" Solange announced over the speaker system. Amanda grinned widely, waved and called out, "Don't keep me waiting too long, Jimmy," before disappearing inside.

"On the count of three, Mr Harris, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start!"

Every voice in the ballroom counted out "One, Two, Three!" and then, Harris tip-toed through the curtain, and into the darkness.

This was the critical one, Solange thought. This was the one that would make the final one work. She knew Victor Davis even if he wasn't her personal submissive - understood him on a very deep level. He was very much like her own little darling, and therefore he might, for very excellent reasons, back out at the very last second, accepting the forfeit. Probably just leave and not come back until Thanksgiving - if then - and that would be a double tragedy. Solange hoped that the outcome of this scene just might provide the impetus that might convince him not to back out.

The taste of leather-flavored egg-nog wasn't that bad, Walter thought, but he was grateful for the glass of sparkling water the Biker had gotten for him from the bar nonetheless. The Biker - she'd told him to call her just plain Bonny - had then told him that his next clue would be buried like a bone.

Buried like a bone? Dogs supposedly bury bones - his never had, but that wasn't the point, was it. Was he supposed to go out in the alley and look for overturned dirt??

WAIT! That domme who wanted to know the forfeit before she'd let her sub participate in the game. She'd dressed him like a dog, hadn't she!

Maybe the doggie slave would know!

The other revelers were now glued to the television screens, watching as Amanda made her way into the hall, moving with what appeared to be almost reckless haste. "Bet she wants to get him in her gynecological stirrups," a feminine voice offered. "Fill 'im up!" another voice answered, "'cause that one's sure to be a couple of quarts low!"

On the other half of the split screens, Harris was still tip-toeing his way down the corridor, using one gloved hand as a feeler guide along the wall. An angry shriek rent the silence, coming from the far down the corridor, and he flattened himself against the wall.

He was just about to start moving again when another, sharper yell had him back against the wall. "What was going on, anyway!?!" was clearly audible from the various television speakers throughout the ballroom

The audience knew. Both the web and the lubricant-slick floor had caught Head Nurse Amanda. She'd only gotten a glancing blow from the web, and had been able to shed it easily enough, even if she HAD screamed!

And she hadn't fallen on the slick spot, either, because unlike ShaJuana, she'd shed her heels on entering, so she'd had enough 'foot on the floor' to be able to slide but not fall.

"She looks really pissed," someone said.

Amanda headed for the last corner, determined to catch her prey when she remembered the light trap that had caught Juana. She tried to stop, but she hadn't cleaned all the lubricant residue from her feet and went sliding into the trip wire.

The system operator was prepared this time, and had already switched to a camera that was outside the dazzle zone. Amanda could not do that.

The light at the end of the corridor surprised James, for like the other contestants, he hadn't seen the videos of the other players in the Hall and so he didn't know about the traps. Then Amanda came staggering into his hall, her arms trying to shield her face from the light.

Amanda terrified Harris. Pins through his nipples, enemas, catheters, weights dangling from his balls? How the hell could any of that be pleasurable? It HAD to hurt! No way did he want to have anything to do with any session THAT woman had planned, and certainly not what she planned as a challenging session!

He watched her continue to stagger, moving her hands about as if looking for something to hold on to. OMIGOD, she can't see! he thought to himself.

"90 Seconds - there are 90 Seconds left!"

For just an instant, James thought about trying to take her down and capture her. For all she scared him spitless, she was beautiful and she couldn't see him. . .

No, he thought again. If he got close enough to grab her, she was close enough to grab him. Even blind. And Maitresse had said it was a ten count, not ten seconds. How fast would she count to ten if somehow the nurse managed to land on top of him?

With that, he took off down the hall, dropping to all fours as he skittered by the still dazzled nurse. He turned the corner and used the reflected light from the light trap to guide him to the final turn just as Solange announced, "There is ONE MINUTE left - One minute!"

He did slip on the KY-Jelly patch, and tripped over and got tangled in the discarded sticky web, but he could see the crack of light ahead of him that meant escape. Standing up, he hopped madly towards that splinter of light as the voice of La Maitresse began the final countdown, "10. . .9. . ."

He broke through the curtain and fell flat on his face as she hit "3."

Solange turned to face the disappointed audience. "Well, that's a winner," she said, her voice sullen. "Guess we don't get to see Nurse Amanda working tonight.

On the screen, the two slaves arrived and started to help him to his feet. "Go in there - over on that side," he directed towards the entrance portal. "Nurse Amanda may be hurt. I'm fine. Just need. . .to catch my breath and get out of this damned web!"

"If you want Muffy to show you where he buried his doggie bones, you're gonna have to be nice and rub his belly for him," Muffy's Mistress told Walter. Muffy, for his part, had rolled on his back with one leg in the air and his tongue lolling from his head.

Walter went white for just a second, and nearly bolted, but something stopped him. "Ummm, JUST his belly?" he asked, very cautiously, his eyes fixated on Muffy's unrestrained boy-bits.

"Yes, of course, what did you think I meant?" she snapped.

He rubbed the guy's belly and was so glad that was all he had to do, that he nearly forgot to be embarrassed.

Everyone was glad that Amanda wasn't really hurt, but unhappy to have missed seeing her work James in her planned challenge scene. Not so unhappy, however, that anyone accepted her request for a volunteer to take James' place in her planned session. She still had her reputation, after all. None of the males in attendance were her usual clients, and the Mistresses with escorts had plans for their boy-toys that night that might be difficult if Amanda wrung her guy out like an old dishrag.

Only Solange was really pleased. Amanda had come through for her - had taken one for the team so that the next play would have a better chance of success. It was time, she thought, for the final setup. She reached over onto the dais table, and flipped a tiny switch. The operator saw her signal, and blanked all the screens.

"Oh, My - looks like we've had some kind of glitch with the video system. We'll have it fixed soon. Why don't you all get some refreshment and I'll call you back as soon as we're ready again." With that, she strode from the room, heading for the stairs.

But instead of going to the surveillance room to check on the system, she headed for the Hall of Horrors . . .

Mistress Antinea used the remote to mute the room's television before turning her back to it. Languidly, she looked her trophy over with equal parts satisfaction and anticipation. While she had never quite believed that she would actually win their little contest in the dark - ShaJuana was incredibly fit and strong, and could easily have overcome Tina's advantages had she just been the tiniest bit less aggressive, she had still planned her victory celebration very carefully indeed.

Man, oh man, she thought grinning, she had longed for this opportunity for what seemed like FOREVER!

Antinea gave a quiet laugh at her own hyperbole. It certainly hadn't been forever, but there sure had been a great many long, lonely nights. Nor had it been quite THIS opportunity for which she'd been longing. Heck, until very recently, she had not thought something like this might be possible or even pleasurable.

And finally, she knew, deep in the part of her mind she usually kept hidden even from herself while in character, that it had not been a 'she' who had been longing for this incredibly beautiful woman, although that fact mattered less and less to her as time went on.

This playroom was decorated in what might best be described as 'Middle Age Gothic Post-Modern Dungeon.' The walls had been carefully textured and painted to have the look and feel of hewn stone. Torchieres, engineered to simulate burning wood torches, provided the chamber's only light, although their uneven, flickering red glow shadowed more than illuminated this Torquemada's realm of chains, shackles and 'torture' devices.

Suddenly, in response to Antinea pressing another button on her remote control, a single spotlight enveloped her 'guest' in and intense, white cone of light. The harsh bright light gave shadowy emphasis to every muscle, every curve; to all the straining, glistening ebony perfection that was ShaJuana Price in all her naked glory.

Getting her out of that catsuit had been fun, Tina mused happily. Cutting it off her while Juana had sputtered and cursed, before tossing the bits off to a far corner of the room. Even if she had to pay to replace it, Tina thought, that unveiling had been worth every penny!

Juana had been bound like this since Solange's two slaves had left the playroom. Solange had assured Tina that an extended period in such bondage would not pose any physical problem for a big, powerful, well-conditioned woman like ShaJuana. The angle formed by her legs was not so severe that she couldn't keep her feet flat on the room's stone floor, and Antinea had thoughtfully provided her with a saddle-like stool to take a good deal of the strain off ShaJuana's limbs. Still, the position was sufficiently strict that the sleek, powerful muscles of those incredible long legs and firm arms stood out vividly under the harsh glow of the spotlight.

"God, Juana, you are SO gorgeous!"

The bone had been 'buried' beneath cushion of the chair Muffy's Mistress had favored. It had been made of two pieces, designed to come apart when twisted at the ends. Inside had been the next clue.

"It is time you were taught how to measure up to the highest expectations of a Learned Mistress."

Handing the bone back to Muffy (who took it in his mouth) and giving him a friendly scratch behind his ears, Walter wandered off, wondering just who he needed to find to teach him that.

"Everything ready?" Solange asked Betina.

"I'd say so. Isolde will bring him up when you knock on the prep room door, and then we'll just see how he does, won't we?"

Solange had selected Betina as Victor's opponent Mistress for two reasons. The first was that he had subbed to her on several earlier occasions and trusted her. More importantly, Victor knew that Betina's primary role at the dungeon was gently exploring a newbie's fantasies during those first terrifying visits to a house of female domination. He wouldn't be - shouldn't be - in anyway frightened by anything she might be expected to propose for a challenge scene.

"You're going to let him come to you, right?" Solange asked.

'Natasha Fatale' shrugged her starkly white shoulders. "As we agreed, dollink." Then she became serious. "Only way I'm going after him is if it looks like he's going to pull the plug before we get a chance to finish this thing. You're going to have to key me using the loud-speaker - again as we agreed. If you say 'Get Moose and Squirrel' over the loud speakers, I'll know you've decided we need to go get him."

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

"Me, too. He's such a sweety, you know? Well, we'll just do what we have to do to make this one work out, okay?"

It wasn't, but it was all she had at this point. "I better go down and let everyone know the system is partially down."

"Yeah," the Goth Mistress agreed, grinning. "Some things the masses just don't need to know, right?"

"Right. See you later, Bets, and good luck," Solange added, and then headed down to signal Isolde to escort the last player to the Hall.

'Teach' and 'Learned' had to be, Walter thought, the operative words as he scurried up to the stern, Victorian school mistress he'd seen earlier. He glanced up at the clock on the back wall of the ballroom. How the hell had it gotten to be 11:15??!?

"Excuse me, HeadMistress," Walter asked, "but do you have a clue to aid my quest?"

Marie, Headmistress of the dungeon's 'school room' looked the quivering man over with a gimlet eye. She had a choice to make at this point, and wanted to make the correct one, or at least, the best possible one.

Marie had actually been a licensed teacher in the city's public schools for several years before burning out and looking for another way to make her living. When she'd discovered in herself both a taste and an aptitude for games of sexual dominance, she'd married those tastes and aptitudes with the training, skills and dreams that had initially pulled a very young, idealistic and nurturing woman into the teaching profession. In her mind, she still was a teacher. The lessons she taught were certainly different, the clients were a good deal older and the methods she used were very different - but her clients always learned something during one of her sessions. She INSISTED on that, and held very high expectations for her little darlings. It was, she often mused, just too bad that her current 'motivational' tools had been denied her when she'd taught 9th Grade pre-algebra in the public schools. She might have finally gotten to the seat of the students' problems with paying attention and doing their work.

Marie's practiced eye could see that Walter was starting to fray about the edges. The toll taken on his emotional reserves to this point was clear in both his body language and facial expressions. She made her decision, signaling him to proceed her with a wave of her yardstick.

"Very well, student, I think it is time for you to sit your exams. Come with me!" she ordered, and led the way to the small area off the dais.

End Part II

6193002. The models in these images are in no way connected with this story nor supports nor conveys the issues and situations brought up within the story. The models are solely used for the representation of looks of the main character of this particular story. ~Sephrena.

Legalities: Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted provided that: 1) You must have contacted the author, Tigger, and have asked permission first and received said permission to host this particular work. 2) No fee be charged, either directly or indirectly (this includes so-called "adult checks") or any form of barter or monetary transfers in order to access viewing this work *and* (3) PROVIDED that this disclaimer, all author notes, legalities and attribution to the original author are contained unchanged within the work. 4) The author of this work, Tigger, must be provided free account access at all times the work is hosted in order to modify or remove this work at his sole discretion.

This work is the copyrighted material of the respective author. ~Tigger

Cautionary Notes: This is a love story with Female Dominant, Male Dominant, TV Dominant, Female Submissive, Male Submissive, TV Submissive themes. It is not 'Forced Femme' so much as 'Strongly Urged and Gently Manipulated Femme.' These are necessary to the story I want to tell, but I hope, as with my earlier story, "Contract Modifications," that most readers will not find these elements of theme too distressing.

I consider this tale to be a 'Hard-R' in rating as due to the love/sexual scenes and due to some hard language. In truth, however, it is not much more graphic than most bodice-ripper romances available at your local book-store so I feel that an 'X' rating is inappropriate. It does, as noted above, feature Dominance and Submission themes, so the reader should take that into consideration when deciding to read this tale. ~Tigger

Acknowledgments: My sincere thanks to Brandy Dewinter for the gifts of her creativity, her insight, her eye for 'just the right word' (and just the wrong one of mine) and her, ummm, persistence. I can say without qualm that there were many times when I was about to take this story in a direction I did not want it to go because my characters were getting out of hand. In each case, she helped me see the problem and helped me rein them in. Not an easy task because, as I hope you'll see, ShaJuana Price is a lady who is VERY determined to go and get her own way! So it took BOTH of us to keep her in line! My muse and I thank you, Brandy!

Special thanks to the TG-Fiction Listserv community who read this tale in its pre-publication form and provided me with feedback, editing help and encouragement. At some point in every writing project, it becomes impossible for me to read what I wrote because I 'see' what I thought I wrote. Any remaining errors are mine, probably because I wrongly thought my way was better than those recommended by my 'beta-testers'. ~Tigger
 

There were murmurs of agreement and consolation from the audience. "Thanks for your understanding. I'm sad about that, too, but at least we can watch the last of our contestants go for the prize!" she said as she made a grand gesture to the screen behind her. It flickered once, and then settled once again on to the split view of the two entry points into the Hall of Horrors.

"Our Mistress in this competition, dressed as Boris Badenov's fellow Potsylvanian spy and helper, Natasha Fatale, is our own Mistress Betina!" There was a smattering of applause, and then she pointed to the other side of the monitor. "Her opponent is Mr. Victor Davis. Since two of our Mistresses have already lost, We thought about putting a squirrel tail or moose antlers on him to help motivate Natasha, but we couldn't find any in time."

There was general laughter, but Solange didn't want to wait any longer. She needed to get this last one started! "Mistress Betina, you may enter the Hall!"

Betina, made a pistol with her index finger and thumb, and grinned as she 'shot' it at Davis. Then, she disappeared through the curtains.

"Mr. Davis! "On the count of three, you will enter the Hall and the clock will start!" Solange called out, and took a deep breath as she watched him slip through the curtains.

At least they were out of the main ballroom, Walter thought. Almost all of the guests were listening to La Maitresse, and there were none of the large screen televisions in this part of the ballroom to bring them here when the last guy's contest started.

Head Mistress Marie led him to a furniture grouping evidently intended to be a quiet, conversation area. She stood him directly behind one of the heavy, overstuffed chairs, so that his bare belly was brushing up against it. "Bend over the back of that chair!" she ordered, punctuating her command with quick swat of her yardstick against his thigh. "I want to see your toes on the floor, hands behind your back and your nose on the seat cushion. MOVE!" she ordered, urging him on with another slashing blow; this one to his other thigh.

He did as she ordered. "Now, I want you to spell out - CORRECTLY - the honorific of the woman to whom you kneel. I will encourage you in this examination by a thorough application of my motivational tool to your upturned buttocks until you pass my little test." A whistling stroke cracked loudly against clenching ass-cheeks. "Begin!"

To the watching guests, this pairing seemed to be shaping up as something like a repeat of the first. The Mistress costumed as the femme fatale of Rocky and Bullwinkle fame took up a position about twenty feet down the corridor from where she'd entered.

Davis was moving into the corridor, as had Walter Evans before him, but without any real attempt to silence the bells. He was moving as quickly as the hobble on his ankles would permit, and as a result, he reached the first corner well before the first minute was expired. Cautiously, he stopped there, and went down on one knee.

Solange had told them there'd be traps, he thought, as he felt around the corner. If he was going to set traps in this dark pit, he'd do it at the corners - expecting to catch the prey when they were excited about making it to the first check point.

Unfortunately, he couldn't feel much through the bulky glove, and he set off the trip-wire controlled light trap. Fortunately, his eyes were not in the direct line of either the lamp or the reflection from the mirrors so he was only slightly dazzled. Closing his eyes, he rounded the corner on his knees and headed for the next corner.

"One Minute gone!" Solange announced as he headed down the second corridor. "There are Two Minutes remaining!"

That was to his advantage, the guests saw, because he was still on his knees when he hit the greased floor trap. Additionally, whatever tripped the webbing was up higher than he was tall when crawling, because he missed that one, too.

"Must be he figures he can just push his way past Betina, because he sure as hell ain't being sneaky about it," someone offered.

"Well, she's the smallest Domme doing this thing. I sure wouldn't try this with Emerald or ShaJuana," a female voice replied.

They agreed, watching him turn the second and final corner, and look carefully into the darkness in the direction of his goal.

"M . . A . . I . . T. . .R . . E. . S. . S. . EEEEEEE!" Walter yelped against the stinging fire lighting his bottom. Somehow, he'd managed to misspell La Maitresse's name three times. Okay, two times - the one time he'd forgot the 'L . . A' at the beginning.

"That is correct! You have mastered the spelling of your Mistress' honorific. You are released to your next class."

Walter looked up from his awkward position. "But. . .but.. ."

"Speak clearly, student!"

"What about my clue, Head Mistress?"

Marie heard the dismay and fatigue in his question, and gentled her own voice. "You already have it, student. Now go and find her." And then, she left before he could struggle up into a standing position.

Betina had moved a little further into the corridor, perhaps another fifteen feet when Solange announced that there was one minute left. Plenty of time for anything to happen, the crowd knew. Betina was going to have to stop him somehow, or he would win.

Victor wasn't really sure what he'd do if he won this contest. It was too bad what he really wanted wasn't on offer. He'd taken the challenge expecting to lose. He wasn't afraid of the challenge thing - so long as he could safeword if they approached his one hard and fast limit. That was a given because Solange, La Maitresse, wouldn't allow anything else in her house.

He'd already decided he wasn't going to try to capture Betina. Hell, what would he do with a submissive? However, that didn't mean he was just going to give in and let HER win. Where was the fun in that?

Solange watched as Victor went back down on to all fours, and started to gallop toward the finish line.

Betina barely saw him, but still managed to jump towards him. He saw her and made an incredible effort to twist his body so that he missed hitting her head on - he really didn't want to hurt her. He landed on his side, and started to roll back to his stomach so that he could start galloping again when something caught hold of the hobble chain, and pulled!

A cheer went up as the guests saw that there was a second Mistress, one who must have already been in the Hall when Betina had first entered. She pulled hard on the hobble chain, causing Davis to go flat onto his stomach, unable to get his feet to the floor. Then, Betina jumped on him, putting her weight on his shoulders.

Solange started the ten count, and was quickly joined by the rest of her revelers. Moments later, she announced that Mistress Betina and her partner, Mistress De Masque, had won and that the losing contestant was to be transported to Playroom 3 to await their pleasure.

Tina was tactilely and orally reacquainting herself with every square inch of HER ShaJuana. Juana had long since ceased complaining - about being captured anyway. Now she was complaining about being teased - LOUDLY!

It could be fun being a bitch, Tina mused as she discovered the pleasure to be had nibbling her way up the back of Juana's neck while cupping and fondling those magnificent breasts!

She'd just about reached her goal when a red-light flashed on the now-dark screen. Time for the big show, she thought. "Wanna watch some television, Tall Booty?" she asked as she walked over to pick up her remote.

"WWWHHHHHATTT??!?" was the bellowed response from a very frustrated goddess as the TV screen flared to life showing the two slaves with their burden entering a playroom with Betina and the masked Domme following behind.

"Maitresse?" Walter called out from in front of the dais, catching her attention from the screen on which her two slaves carried away Victor Davis.

"Yes, Mr. Evans," she said, turning to face her kneeling submissive and schooling her face and voice.

"Are you my next clue giver?" he asked, "Maitresse?"

"You should go soak your head, Mr. Evans," she said quietly. It was too close to midnight to put him through granting her some type of playful boon, and he looked about ready to crash.

"Soak my head?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, dear boy, it is, after all, Halloween?" Then she deliberately turned away from him.

The slaves bound Davis hand and foot to a horizontal torture rack. Betina activated hidden motors that slowly stretched him out until there was no slack in the restraints.

"I think, Mistress Betina, that we should start by seeing just what kind of man we've won here. Is he a dud, or a stud?" the one called Mistress De Masque asked.

Betina found a pair of scissors. "I seem to recall that when I trained him, he was. . .adequate, at least for size. I can't tell you about his endurance," she giggled as she passed the scissors to her partner. "I never let him cum."

Three quick snips had the jockstrap coming off easily in the masked woman's hands. "Hmmm," she replied, "Seems large enough - and growing! If he's this quick to erect, however did you manage to avoid . . . accidents?"

The Madame' gentle, gloved hand began to fondle him intimately. "Maybe I didn't excite his little willie as much as you seem to do, my dear," Betina observed. The two woman looked to one side, where a floor to ceiling mirror stood. A little smile curled the blood red lips of Betina's blond partner as she took in her own reflection. The curvy woman who smiled back from those silvered depths was stunning in the tightly corseted black catsuit, heels and mask. "He must really like well-endowed, petite blondes."

Victor groaned in response to the teasing, 'Ummm, Mistress? Please, but I don't cum with the Ladies here - it's one of my hard limits."

"Oh, really?" the blonde purred, her fondling becoming more serious. "You didn't mention that, Betina. This one doesn't enjoy orgasm? How - interesting."

'Natasha' laughed. "No, I think he enjoys it well enough - just not here at the dungeon, but it is so much fun driving him to the edge of insanity. He's quite the only sub I truly enjoy forcing to safe word."

"Oh really?"

"Yes indeed. I've sent him out of here limping, his dick so hard, holding his hands behind his back on his own because he refused to touch himself and cum. Only fair, because he won't sexually pleasure, orally or otherwise, any of the Mistresses either."

"I don't think that's because he doesn't like girls," Madame observed thoughtfully, "I mean, look at this hard-on. I'm almost impressed."

Victor groaned again, going rigid. to control himself, and the masked blonde went up to look into her victim's eyes. "And why don't you want to share pleasure with us, slave-boy? hmmmm?" she asked, her hand speed beginning to pick up.

"Because I won't be sexually unfaithful to my wife, Mistress. I go home, after serving, to make love with her - to worship her, even if she doesn't know that's what I'm doing."

"Lucky woman, but I don't understand why you come here, slave-boy. Is she some type of prude, that you hide what you are and what you want to give her?"

Tears glistened in Victor's eyes. "I won't lose her because I . . . NEED this!" he growled through clenched teeth. "I can't give this up, but. . .but. . . MERCY!!" he called out, his entire body clenching against the suddenly imminent eruption.

The hand stopped, but wasn't removed. Instead, she gave a firm pinch at the base that stifled his climax. "Thank you, Mistress," he managed to gasp out.

The blond dominatrix signaled to Betina, who smiled, nodded and left the room. She then reached down, and unsnapped the bra and the crotch of her catsuit. "It's time, little man," she said in a smoky voice, "For you to give me what I've earned."

Before Victor quite knew what was happening, she straddled him, and took his erection into her in one slow movement. Davis was stunned! "Dammit, I safeworded! You're supposed to let me go - stop everything! I will report you to Solange! The police!"

Arching her back, the blonde put one gloved finger to his lips. "You safeworded because you were about to orgasm without your wife, correct? Answer yes or no."

"YES, DAMN Yooiuuuummph!" he was cut off by a firm palm across his lips.

"I said, yes or no, you naughty boy. Well, the reason I'm not honoring your safeword, is because," she reached up her free hand to sweep away the mask and blond wig, "I'm your wife!"

Davis found himself being tightly embraced and thoroughly kissed. "Linda?" he managed to choke out around the tongue invading his mouth.

The petite brunette sat up, gave a quick hip shimmy to seat him more thoroughly in her womanly core, and sighed happily, "That's Mistress Linda to you, slave boy."

"How - why. . .I don't understand. . ."

"Shhhh," Linda purred as she began to ride him slowly. "I followed you once and Solange saw me. We'll talk - LATER! Now, do I have to gag you, slave boy, or are you going to shut up and fuck me?!?!?"

 
 
Chapter 19: All's Well That Ends Well
 
 
"She. . . she didn't honor his safeword," ShaJuana choked out as Tina turned off the monitor. "Solange'll. . "

"Solange set it up, Tall Booty," Tina said, returning to her newly favorite pastime of finding every one of the ebony beauty's erogenous zones. "Linda wasn't completely convinced that Victor wasn't really cheating on her sexually, and Victor didn't know how to tell Linda what he really wanted from her as his Mistress."

"What if he'd won? Oh, shit, right THERE!"

"That's why it was two against one in that contest, and why Solange let Harris win the previous one - so Victor would believe he could win."

"You STILL cheated me - DAMMIT, I. . CUMMING. . . right THERE . . NO don't STOP!"

Tina stood back and watched the powerful muscles of Juana's body flex and stretch, watched her try to find something that gave her that last bit of friction she needed. But it wasn't there. "God, you're gorgeous," Tina whispered.

"I'm freakin' HORNY, dammit! You cheated to get me here, the LEAST you can do is HELP ME, bitch!"

"I didn't cheat, Tall Booty. If you'd caught me, I'd have played fair. I just had a little more time to think about how to win than the other players. I told Solange that I'd try to win, but if not, I was yours. I won." Tina leaned in a pressed a soft kiss to Juana's frustrated frown. "You are MINE!"

"DAMMIT, Tina, OKAY! Now DO something, DAMMIT!"

Instead, Tina went back to her throne, sat down and crossed her legs. "Well, that's the point, darling, because we have to decide what we're going to do. I'm gonna give you a choice."

~--~

"AND DON'T even THINK about coming back!" a furious Mistress costumed as a very sexy Marine drill sergeant snapped, before slamming the door of the ladies restroom in Walter's face.

He'd tried the men's room, and had thought, maybe in the Mistress' rest room, but still hadn't found the place to obey the order to go soak his head. He'd almost gone down to the foyer, knowing there was a restroom there, but Emerald had told him his prize would be in the ballroom.

Now that he thought about it, the bathrooms on this floor weren't 'in the ballroom' either. It was 11:50 PM when he made his way into the ballroom and saw IT!

There, off to one corner, was a line of Mistresses, their submissive boy-toys in tow, awaiting their turn at some of the 'party games'. All the favorites were there - 'Pin the Tail in the Subbie' where blindfolded Dominas tried to put a tail on their submissive using a buttplug instead of a pin. There was a wild game of 'Push the peanut' where ballgagged submissives with hands bound behind their backs pushed peanuts to the finish line with their noses.

And there was 'Dunking for Apples.'

Halloween, Evans thought! "Soak your head," Solange had said. Quickly, he jumped in line, hoping there was enough time left for him to get a turn and still make the midnight deadline.

"The slave of La Maitresse has head of the line privileges," the Mistress in charge announced.

With two minutes to spare, Walter Evans was on his knees, presenting the Golden Dildo - still dripping - to La Maitresse Solange.

"Oh, you wonderful brave slave boy!" she cheered, as she accepted his quest prize. "You did it! YOU WON!" Then, Walter was shocked beyond words when the usually reserved dominatrix jumped him - right there on the dais - IN PUBLIC - and kissed him senseless.

~--~

"A choice?" Juana asked, suspiciously. She was a Domme. She knew ALL about the kinds of 'choices' subs in her current position were offered by their tops. Like being put between a rock and a hard place and then having the rock dropped on your head. Juana saw the fine dominant hand of Solange in this and didn't trust EITHER of them as far as her currently bound hands could throw them. "What kind of choice, and be real specific with all the deets!"

Tina shook her head and laughed. "Oh, you'll like both options, don't worry. First choice is you stay there, all tied up, but get to cum - over and over again until I can't make you cum any more. I've always wanted to drive a woman into sexual oblivion, and I will unless you safeword, or. . ."

"Or what, little girl?"

"Or, you take the other choice. Which is, I get to make love to you until I can't go anymore or until you safeword."

Juana's head snapped to where she knew the surveillance camera was hidden. "But what about the audience?" she asked, knowing that Tina's true gender was not yet common knowledge outside of the dungeon's staff members, and that Solange wanted it kept that way for now.

"Equipment malfunction," Tina grinned. "The guests have been told that only the dungeon masters can see the feeds off those cameras until we get them fixed - after the party. They didn't see Victor try to safeword his wife, either."

"Well, shit, Tina-Ty-RONE! Take me to bed, STUD! And we'll just SEE which one of us needs any stinkin' safeword!"

~--~

At two in the morning, Solange slipped into the prep room where Victor Davis was helping his wife out of her costume. "Everything all right here?" she asked, already knowing the answer from the well-pleasured glow in her eyes, and the awed worship in his.

"We're just fine," Linda answered first, "Aren't we, darling?"

"Yes, Ma'am, we are." He turned to Solange from unlacing Linda's corset. "I understand we have you to thank for setting me. . .THIS up?"

Solange shrugged. "You are a lovely man, Victor, a beautiful submissive who longs to serve openly the woman he loves. You've hidden your service to her in the past, and then had to come to us when you deemed yourself deserving of punishment for not serving well enough. I know something of how hard that can be on a strong man such as yourself. Now, you can be open about your need to serve and worship her as your Mistress. Perhaps Linda will still want us to handle your discipline, which we will do quite happily, or we can help her learn how to do at least some of it herself."

"Oh, I want to learn," Linda purred, stroking her hand lovingly down her husband's cheek. "On him. I want to be the only woman to whom this man kneels."

"That can be arranged. Give me a call next week and we'll discuss some plans. Are you all right with that, Victor?"

"I am," he said quietly, "But I think I'd like to be involved in the planning, too. I know sometimes these things are done without the sub's knowledge? To heighten the effect? I don't think I'm ready for that. This is too new, and I feel, well, kind of fragile. It feels wonderful, but . . "

Solange nodded. "I know what you mean. You want to add to your relationship, not detract from it. We'll go slowly." She went over and kissed each of them. "Thanks for coming. One of the servants will escort you to your car when you're ready to leave. Just push the call-button."

Solange was tired after her gentle 'reward' session with Walter, but it was a good tired. This had been a very good party and a better night. Once the tension of the quest had been lifted, Walter had realized just how excited he'd been by the experience. He'd climaxed almost immediately just from her hand-spanking him. The session had gone a little longer than that, because Solange had needed to know he was truly all right after his public play debut.

He'd been fine - thank heavens - and had left with his mind awhirl with possibilities for the special scene he'd earned as a challenge scene winner.

She, on the other hand, was winding down and very ready for her bed. She just needed to make sure her guests were all safely on their way and that the premises were secure before heading for her own home. Inside the surveillance room she saw that all the monitors dark and her two friends who'd served as dungeon masters were gathering their things to leave. "Everybody gone?" she asked, as she strolled over to cuddle down into the lap of the room's third occupant.

"Everyone except ShaJuana and that cute little girlie-boy Mistress of yours. They were still going at it hot and heavy last time we checked, but it was purely vanilla - well," the grandmotherly woman chuckled, "Chocolate and vanilla, anyway, so we didn't figure we needed to watch all that close. Your Tina gave Juana the choice of being teased into an orgasmic coma or making love. They are making love and have been for almost three hours!"

"Matchmaking again, Solange?" the other woman in the room asked, casting a knowing smile at her friend.

"And if I am?" The arch tone of her reply was spoiled somewhat by the broad smile that Solange could not quite keep off her face.

Her friend grinned back broadly at her longtime confidante. "Hope it works out for them as well as it did for me and my baby-doll. He sends you his best, by the way. Although, he was a little disappointed when I agreed to DM for you because he loves your parties."

"He could have come. I'd have seen that he was suitably entertained."

"Naw. He won't play with anyone else these days unless I'm part of the scene - and I kinda like it that way. I only make him go to parties where he doesn't get to play as a punishment now."

"Nice," Solange agreed. "Well, if you're ready to leave, I have two slaves on call who will carry your things for you and give you safe escort to your cars."

After the two women had left, Solange was unable to resist the temptation to use her equipment to 'peak' in on ShaJuana and Tina. One look told her that it was ShaJuana and Tyrone at this point as none of Tina's feminine finery was anywhere in evidence. A second look told her that Ty was doing a fine job of 'having his way with her', for Juana's hands were digging deeply into his hair, holding his head to her sex, while her flawless, ebony body bowed up into his face.

Solange quickly powered the system back down, fanning her face with her hand. Well, she thought as she smiled hungrily into the face of her bound and gagged husband, maybe she wasn't QUITE as ready for sleep as she'd initially thought. With practiced flicks of her fingers, she freed her lover from the bondage stool onto which she'd installed him a few hours earlier, and then undid his gag. Standing, she quickly straddled him, wrapped her arms about his powerful shoulders and kissed him deeply. His arms came up to hold her close, thrilling her yet again with the sheer power he always willingly ceded to her. "I think," she purred as she squirmed against his chastised erection, "that you should plan on being very, very busy when we get home, slave."

It was, after all, a night worth celebrating!

 
 
Chapter 20: A Glorious Morning Have We Seen
 
 
Something was 'not right,' Juana thought, her mind still muzzy with sleep. Maybe it was just too early to get up - being awake when you should be sleeping was about as 'not right' as things were allowed to get in ShaJuana Price's highly ordered world. Cautiously, she peaked open one eye to look at her alarm clock. Things went from 'not right' to dead-wrong in half a heartbeat!

First, her clock was not where it was supposed to be, and second, there was a softly snoring man-lump behind her in her bed. . .

Make that three things, she realized as her brain finally started to catch up - this was not HER bed, nor was it her room. How the hell. . .

And then it all came flooding back to her. That damned party and Solange's setting her up so Ty - make that Tina - would beat her in that also-damned Hall of Horrors thing.

Damn! Why wasn't she totally pissed off about that? She hoped she wasn't getting mellow . . .

Oh, yeah, she thought as she rolled over in the bed - hours of having yourself loved blind and brainless did things like that to a woman.

She went instantly still as she played back that thought. She'd used the "L" word, not the "F" word, and she'd meant it. Aw hell, now she'd gone and done it, she thought. She'd fallen in love with Tyrone Evans! She was at once deliriously happy and utterly terrified. She didn't know how to be in love, dammit. Being 'in-LOVE!!' was a girly thing - like pink underwear, for god's sake. What did a towering she-hulk like her know about being in love and all that happily ever after stuff??!

She tried to imagine herself as his woman - her brain wouldn't let herself use the other "w" word. She couldn't even manage that imagery!. Not unless Donna Reed grew half a foot, wore six inch stiletto platforms, a latex house dress and a leather apron! She wasn't made to be the 'little woman', dammit!

"Hey," a soft voice behind her called, "You're thinking awfully loud for so early in the morning." She shivered as Ty pressed a kiss to the base of her neck and pulled her body back closer to his own, spoon-fashion.

She could feel the strength of him when he did that - she often forgot just how strong he was because of their relative sizes - and then he kissed her again. "What's up, Juana? You've gone all tense."

The gentleness of his tone and question undid her as nothing else would have, and she was crying before she could do anything to hold back the tears. She wanted to curl up into the fetal position and hide until she got over it, but Ty was having none of it. Using that strength again, he had her rolled over, facing him and wrapped up tight in his arms before she quite knew what was happening. "Hey, hey, what's the matter, baby? Did I hurt you?"

"No, dammit, you didn't hurt me!" she snapped, angry at him because she was angry at herself for crying. And it was HIS damn fault, too!

"Then, why?" he asked, worried.

"Because you loved me, you jackass! Just like I was a real girl!"

"HUH?!?" His oh-so-male one-word answer infuriated her so much she punched him - which hurt him - so she did it again. She was winding up for a third when he bear-hugged her so she couldn't get another clean shot at him. "That hurts, you little witch - cut it out!"

"I'm not a little anything, you . . you . . " she was struggling now, trying to get out of his arms - trying to get away before she truly humiliated herself.

Ty was having none of it, and rolled her to her back so he was on top, looking down into her eyes. Here there be dragons, he thought. "Juana-love? You are a real girl - as real as it gets, okay? As real as it will ever get for me. You're my girl."

She stopped struggling, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "How can I be your girl, Ty? I'm a bitch-domme, for heavens sake - a sex-worker. I freakin' tower over you. And. . . And. . .and I'm black!"

He didn't answer right away, just kept looking down at her. Finally he smiled. "You done?" he asked, and then continued before she could answer, "Because if you are, we're home free. One - you're black and absolutely gorgeous inside and out. I can't imagine my girl being any other way. Two - your height. I'm not in the least intimidated by that, and in fact, find it both attractive and exciting. I can't imagine my girl being any other way. As for your profession, what you are is an actress and artist who uses your God-given acting ability, your empathy and your compassion to help people. Yeah, sex is involved, but not in anyway that bothers me. News-flash, Juana, I'm sorta in the same line of work just now!"

She swallowed hard, looking up into his eyes. It was still dark in the room, but there was enough light for her to see them. "You say that now. . ."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that," he told her. "Like you yourself told me - you don't ordinarily even touch the guys on their, um, male parts," he paused, reflectively before continuing, "Well, you certainly touched mine during our two scenes. . " Juana mumbled something. "Hmm? You say something?"

Embarrassed, and certain she was blushing furiously, Juana tried to look away from his face, only to have a gentle hand cup her chin and turn her back to him. She sighed. "I said, that was just with you. I might strap one on and take a guy up the ass during a session, but he does the jerking off. Solange gets pissed if we do too much of that, so I try to do none."

"See? As long as I'm special that way, I don't mind your work. Hell, I'm starting to think some of it is sexy! Especially your costumes!"

"Perv," she muttered, fighting back the elation she felt bubbling up inside her.

"And whose fault is THAT?" he asked, grinning.

"Natural talent, asshole," she answered, then went still again. Ty cocked an eyebrow at her. "I can't be Donna Reed, Ty, not even for you," she managed to choke out.

And was instantly furious again when he started laughing so hard he lost his hold on her. She rolled on top of him, pummeling him again until he caught a wrist in each hand. "Thank GOD for that, Tall-booty! I grew up with Donna - she's my Mom! I don't want to be my Dad, and I sure as hell don't want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad, either. That's not me!"

She was mollified with that. "So, if you're not going to do fuel injectors in West Podunk, what are you going to do?"

Ty released her hands, and pulled her to him. Finally, she relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder, liking how they fit together that way. "I'm not sure, but it will have something to do with the theater. I've still got the business degree, so I might be able to get something in management, but I'm working on something else just now, too."

"Gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to put you over that spankin' bench and torture it out of you?"

"I've been accepted at the Actors Studio Drama School," he told her, "In the director's program. In my time here, I've helped orchestrate any number of scenes for the ladies - you know, staging, planning, costuming - that kind of thing? I like it, and they all said I was good at it, too. And I thought, 'Hey, this is a way I can still be involved with the theater creatively.'"

"When do you start?"

"After New Years, if I can work out the finances. I won't ask Dad for help - not for this."

Understanding dawned. "That's why you wanted to do the on-call TV slave thing? You wanted the money?"

He nodded. "But that's not going to work."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because there's only one woman I'm giving that part of me, and I won't 'sell it', not even for that." He was suddenly being strangled, kissed and cried on, all at once. "DAMMIT, Juana, I can't BREATHE!" he yelped, and took in a couple of deep breaths when the grip eased.

"Thank you," she said softly, and then pressed on before the tears started again. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Keep working here, doing the odd scene as I have been doing, and working more with Solange in the planning and business end of the dungeon. Using that damned business degree."

"No shit?"

"No shit," he affirmed.

"Like how?"

He grinned up at her smugly. "Like, did you know, that we don't have a health care plan here for the ladies and other staff?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown three heads. "Health Care? For cripes sake, white boy, this is a freakin' DUNGEON!"

"And your point is? Did you know that Solange has a city-issued business license for this place? I forget what the technical term she used to describe it in the paperwork, but the whole thing is legal and above board. She even pays taxes. I think she currently gets the girls health care at reduced prices by exchanging services with a couple of doctors, but that doesn't help with things like hospital care and prescriptions."

"Health insurance in a dungeon?" she said, wonderingly. "What's next? Retirement plans?"

"I am looking into tax sheltered annuity plans," he told her seriously, and then smiled as she dissolved into giggles. He stopped those by taking possession of her mouth, kissing her with a sweet thoroughness that thrilled her. "Better?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," she growled, her juices bubbling. "JUST fine, now, cutey."

Ty felt her hand reach down, find him, stroke him and then her mouth took his. "Get ready to be had, little man, MY way!"

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded on the door. "HEY, you two!" Solange's voice called from the other side. "I've got paying clients coming in to use this room today, and I'm sure it needs a thorough cleaning!"

"Go away, Solange!" Ty yelled, reaching up to grip Juana's hips. "Come back in twenty minutes or so!"

"An hour!" Juana retorted loudly as she settled herself around him, "At least an hour!"

Acting Dominant

Interlude: Bad Angel Fire Her Good One Out

Solange offered Tyrone the steaming cup of tea she'd just poured and prepared with all the grace and ceremony of a Regency duchess. Accepting it, he grinned. "Now I know how Tina should have served you and Juana in that first scene of ours."

Bowing her head with regal acceptance, she replied,"One should always handle the social niceties, such a serving tea, properly, and with due respect and solemnity," and then grinned. "Besides, this tea is hot so I have to handle it carefully."

Accepting the offer of a cookie, Ty set his cup and plate down so that he could pick up his journal. "I was a little surprised we didn't put off this week's reflective meeting," he told her as he paged through the notebook, "I mean, I didn't do any learning sessions this week."

Taking a sip from her own tea, Solange shook her head. "No, you didn't. You had something that could have been far more challenging to you," she averred. "You had the opportunity to dominate the woman you love for the very first time. You can passively accept the dominance of another when you bottom, but topping is active - something you have to initiate and take responsibility for the outcomes. I wanted to make sure that you didn't have any. . . lingering issues about your role in that scene with ShaJuana."

Once again, Ty surprised and pleased the experienced Mistress by not giving the typical knee-jerk male response of "No problem!" She let him mull over the question without further input from her, interested in what he might come up with in response.

Finally, he put the journal down and picked up his teacup. "You know, I wish I'd thought to journal that, but I didn't - mostly because I just felt so good about the whole thing afterwards. Kind of a super-afterglow."

"No negative feelings about 'forcing her against her will' or 'taking away her freedom of choice?' You are okay with that?"

"More than okay," he replied, reflectively. "Because basically, I didn't and wouldn't have. You might as well know that if she'd safeworded? No one but the two of us would have known, unless she told. As far as I was concerned, we could have spent the rest of the night eating snacks and watching the tube."

"So, you would have lied to me?" she asked, a finely formed brow arching in her query.

"Yup. And I would have lied about the victory scene, too, if that bothered her. Or maybe I'll request something I know she'll like doing as the domme."

"Is that what you want? I said you could have any scene you want."

"You had it right to begin with, Solange. She's the woman I love - she's the woman I want."

"And you're concerned that ShaJuana might have issues with you wanting to top her, or with you voluntarily playing with someone else?"

Ty considered that question, and then shrugged. "Dunno. I think. . . no, I KNOW that she enjoyed what we did together after the Halloween party, but that really wasn't too stressful on her ego once I released her from the bondage."

"Being loved - truly loved - is rarely stressful for a woman," Solange observed drily.

"Glad to hear that, 'cause I sure hoped that would be the case," Ty grinned. "But we haven't talked about it much beyond some morning-after pillow talk, you know? I'm just not sure where to go next with her, but I feel these conflicting needs to go slow and do whatever it takes to make her happy, and yet, on the other hand . . ."

"You want to rope her, brand her and make her yours right now."

"Well, yeah," he said, blushing at the imagery invoked as much for the knowing tone with which Solange delivered it. "Figuratively, anyway. I'm still not much into pain and marking things, though."

"Yes, I do see. Perhaps, I need to talk to ShaJuana and see what I can get out of her. She's been hard to pin down, these past few days - intentionally on her part, I think, because she wants to be annoyed with me. I'll give her a few more days to deal with that. Good for her to stew a bit more before I help her see figure things out."

"Thanks, Solange," Ty grinned sheepishly. "Sometimes, I just don't know what the rules are with her."

"You are a mere male, and therefore, if you did know the rules, we women would be obligated to change them so you didn't. I, however, am a superior female and I do know the rules." The pair shared a snort of laughter at that. "Let me deal with this and I will get back to you," Solange told him. "Now, I have another topic I would like to discuss if you still have some time."

"Sure! What's up?"

Solange held up her right index finger in a 'wait one' gesture as she picked up her phone. Punching in a quick number, she settled back into her chair. "It's me," she said into the receiver, a wicked twinkle in her gray eyes, "Please present yourself in my office immediately."

She'd barely replaced the handset on its hook when a confused Ty heard a polite three-knock rap on the office's door. "Enter," Solange ordered.

The man who entered in response to that directive was tall, thick through the shoulders and chest, and of middle years. He was impeccably dressed in a suit Ty was certain had not come off any department store sales rack. And, Ty thought, there was something familiar about him - Ty was certain that they'd met sometime in the past, but where. . . ?

He quickly crossed to Solange where he took the hand she held languidly up to him and pressed it to his lips. "Darling," she said, a world of affection in her voice. Then she turned her attention back to Ty. "Tyrone, I don't know if you will remember, but you have the acquaintance of this gentleman," she said, confirming Ty's recognition. "This is my husband, Roderick. He is something of a venture capitalist who specializes in helping to finance Broadway stage plays."

Ty went cold as he recalled precisely when he'd had the acquaintance of this man. "You were the producer who sat in during my audition for that leading-man role opposite Roxie Hunter." he said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

Still holding Solange's hand in his, the man turned to face Ty. "Yes, I was. You did quite well in that audition as I recall."

Bitterness bubbled up from Ty's core. "Not all that well, evidently! I heard what you said afterwards! I had to come back because I forgot something. You wouldn't even let the director consider me!"

"I didn't say you couldn't act, kid," the man snapped back, the temper Ty recalled from the audition showing, "I said you couldn't sing for shit and that you weren't tall enough for the damned part. You read just fine, but your body type was all wrong for that role!"

"Roddy," Solange said very quietly, steel in her tone. "Language!"

"Sorry, Mistress," the man replied, visibly upset at his lapse of control. "My apologies to you, too, Mr. Edwards. That's not why I'm here. Please excuse my outburst."

Taken aback by the both the formal address and the sincerity of the apology, Ty nodded slowly. "Accepted." he said, wondering why he was here, and at Solange's direction.

Waitaminute, Ty thought, his eyes snapping back and forth between Solange and her husband - did he just call her 'MISTRESS?'

Roderick withdrew a parchment envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Ty. "This is why I'm here - to give this to you."

Ty broke the wax seal and withdrew a sheaf of papers from within. The letter on top carried the letterhead of Pace University. "'Dear Mr. Edwards,'" Ty began to read, "'The Actor's Studio Program is pleased to award you the inaugural Jasmine Solange Devereaux Scholarship for select students in the Actors Studio Master of Fine Arts program . . .'" Bewildered, he looked up and repeated, "Jasmine Solange Devereaux?"

Solange smiled gently. "That's my full name, Tyrone. Roddy created the endowment in my name as a gift to me."

Ty considered that, and then glared at the man. "And you gave me this scholarship because your Mistress ordered you to?" he accused.

"Hell no!" Roderick thundered back only to be pulled up short by a warning tug on his hand from Solange. "Your pardon, Mistress. No, Mr. Edwards, you got it because you are talented! Look, you're never going to be more than a bit player on Broadway, okay? You wanna keep playing the mobsters in "Kiss Me, Kate" or maybe Bottom in "A Mid-Summer Nights Dream?" Fine, but you're not going to be Petruchio or Oberon because you're not tall enough. When Mistress Jazz told me you were thinking of being a director, I said - and I'll say it again now, that you could be pretty good - the best directors are really good actors, in my opinion. Okay, you also know Mistress and she likes you - that got you looked at by me first and then by the guys I hired to run her foundation."

"Looked at? Looked at how?" Ty asked. "I've never done any directing that was recorded in any way."

"Solange said you organized this year's Halloween Party - set everything up for her. I was there and saw how well it went." Ty saw an intimate look flash between Solange and her husband at that revelation and blushed at the emotional intensity between them.

"The way you orchestrated that party was as good an example of what directing is all about as anything I've seen. You set and dressed the stage. You had the right pace. You established the right balance between the script and the talents of your actors. Jasmine has also let me review some of the other scenes you've directed for her here, and I've talked to some of the players who were involved in them. They confirm your ability to set the scene and get the desired results. You won because you're deserving. I don't give free rides in the theater, kid. You only get what you earn and what your talent rates. Got that?"

Ty glanced at Solange for a moment and saw the pleased smile she gave her husband. He swallowed and then stood, offering his hand to Solange's husband. "Got it," he said roughly. "And thanks."

Surprisingly, the rough-tempered man blushed and accepted the offered hand almost bashfully. "You're good," he repeated, "And Mistress says you bust your ass to get better. Break a leg, okay?"

Shaking his hand hard, Ty grinned broadly. "Okay! And thanks, both of you!"

"You are welcome," Solange answered, and then looked to her husband. "You may run along now, dear. I will see you at home."

"Yes, Mistress," he said, kissing the hand again. "See you around, Edwards," and then he left without another word.

"Wow," Ty breathed, even as the door closed behind Solange's departing husband. "He's your slav. . . I mean, he's submissive to you. . . Oh hell, I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

"It's common knowledge among the staff here at the dungeon that I have a lifestyle relationship with Roderick that often has him submitting to me in the physical and personal aspects of our lives together as man and wife. However, you need to understand that his submission has absolutely no bearing on the conduct of his professional affairs. I asked him to consider endowing the scholarship and I asked him to see that you were given a fair opportunity to win that scholarship. That's all. You won that on your own merit and on his professional opinion of you as another theater professional."

Ty blushed at her directness, but nodded. "Thanks, Solange. I appreciate that."

"Are you going to be foolish or are you going to accept that scholarship?" and it was La Maitresse who demanded an answer.

"Juana would have my ass if I even tried to turn something like that down."

"And she'd be right. I'm glad the two of you are a team now. You are a very lucky young man."

"I know. For what it's worth? And remember, until ten minutes ago, I still blamed your husband for not giving me what I considered to be a fair shake? I think your Roderick is a very lucky man, too."

Solange's smile was feline-smug as she accepted the implied compliment. "Yes, he is - almost as lucky as I am to have him. I'm glad to hear, however, that you see there might have been some justification for his opinion, regardless of how. . . callously he might have expressed it when he thought he was in private conference."

 
 
Chapter 21: Maitresse Familias Interfering
 
 
Fifteen minutes should be just right, Solange thought as she opened Prep Room 3's door and peeked her head around through the opening.

And she'd been right. ShaJuana had yet to begin getting out of costume after her just-completed session. Instead, she was staring vaguely into her mirror with her chin resting in one hand, a little half smile curving her full mouth and a cold-cream moistened cotton-ball loosely held in her free hand. If it were not for the thigh-high, spike-heeled pirate boots, skin-tight black leather catsuit and the whip dangling from her waist, she looked like a teenage girl daydreaming of prom night.

Perfect.

"Excuse me, Juana," she called out into the quiet room, "Got a minute to talk to your boss?"

The tall beauty nearly jumped out of her chair in surprise. "Solange?" she squeaked as she tried to catch the breath she'd just lost. She made an admirable effort at regaining her composure and Solange had to give her credit for almost managing it.

Almost.

"Got a minute?" she asked, purposefully repeating her question.

"Ummm, uh, sure," Juana stammered before swallowing hard and trying to blank her face of any emotion. "What do you need, Solange?"

"Just wanted to talk for a minute. Nice scene, by the way. You just about terrorized that poor guy."

"Huh?" Juana stumbled, taken off balance by the unexpected direction of the comment. "That scene? Why would that scare him? He's the one who set the whole thing up. We do almost the same exact shtick every time he comes in for a session with me. I wish I COULD terrorize him because he's getting too freakin' comfortable that I won't play outside the tight little box he's built around us with all his damned limits! I know we're not here for our own pleasure, but that little snot gets off on topping from the bottom because he's paying the bill. Some days I just wanna choke 'im!"

"You know I draw the line at breath-control play, but you can certainly dump him if he's that much of a problem for you. You know I'll back you up, too. You deserve your due as his Domme and if he's not giving his fair share to make the scene work for you both, he can find another dungeon. And you already do well enough financially from your other clients that you don't have to put up with 'snots'."

"I know," Juana sighed, her shoulders drooping a bit. "It's just that, outside of that crap, I like him, and, well, I think he really needs what he gets from me. Doc referred him, you know," she said, referring to one of Solange's long-time clients who was also a physician. "Stress and stuff. He's better now, I think."

"Well, I think you scared him enough that he might be a little more amenable to providing you with your Dommely prerogatives from now on. Having a whip-toting Mistress grinning that broadly while she ties his dick and balls into bowknots tends to get even an asshole's attention. Since you USUALLY sneer during your scenes, having that dopey grin on your face the whole session must have been rather daunting. He was dressed and gone in under five minutes."

"Really?" Juana said softly, her own smile returning. "Well, then I'll just have to see about how much we can stretch that box of his next time. Thanks for the tip. Umm, is that all you wanted?"

The older woman's face became stern as she shook her head, "No. You've been avoiding me," Solange told her younger protegee, "And I thought it was about time we stopped dancing around each other. Hell, Juana, it's been over a WEEK!"

Juana's dark brown eyes flashed and her lips thinned "You set me up! Tina wouldn't have beaten me if you hadn't stacked the deck in her favor!"

Well, Solange mused, at least it's out in the air between us now. "His favor," she corrected. "As I recall, it was Ty, not Tina, who strutted out of that room with you on his arm the morning - or was it the afternoon? - after the party."

"Ty - Tina, what difference does THAT make!?! It should have been ME doing the dominatin' that night, NOT her. . HIM!"

"And he just defiled you, did he? Ignored your safe-word and violated your trust by whipping, I mean, fucking you 'til you couldn't stand?" Solange's eyes were wide with insincerity, "I'm SO sorry we weren't more sympathetic and less envious about your terrible ordeal! Why, I'll just fire his sorry ass for you! How about THAT?"

The ebony beauty spun back around to her mirror, her arms crossed in temper. "You know he didn't do anything of the kind!" she pouted. "And it was a wonderful night, and you damn well know THAT, too. It just wasn't how I dreamed - I mean -THOUGHT it would be with him."

"Does it have to be the way you dreamed it would be for the reality to be good?" Solange asked softly. "Can't it be different and still be good? Maybe even better?"

She watched Juana's head nod even as she started to answer, only to stop, and settle back into the chair, a pensive pout on her lovely face. Finally, she sighed. "I guess I've just never seen myself as the sub in something like this, Solange."

"Sub? You were no more subbing to Ty that night than Tina is subbing to Artemis right now!"

"ARTEMIS?" Juana growled, spinning back to glare at the dungeon owner, "and my. . . I mean, AND TINA??! I mean, TY?!?"

"And YOUR Ty," Solange agreed, not bothering to hide her grin. "Although he's not pushing for a job as our on-staff male or TV slave anymore, I still want him to experience a broad variety of play scenes. I could tell that he was somewhat . . . disconcerted by the pony-boy at the party, so I decided he might benefit from this experience. Artemis is our best pony-trainer and who knows? We might have a client who wants to be part of a pony-pair at some point, and I thought Tina would be a lovely pony. Don't scowl, Juana," Solange teased with a smile, "I monitor all of his training sessions and he seems to be doing fine."

"He comes out of there with any welts that last and I'll fix her sorry ass for her!" Juana hissed.

Somehow, Solange's grin grew even wider before she managed to stifle it. "Oh, don't worry. He's already caution-worded her once because he really does not like the whip, and I'm sure he'll stoplight her if she gets too rambunctious. Which she won't because she is a pro."

"Oh, I know," the younger woman sighed, as she finally began to cream away the vivid makeup she used when working one of her clients. "I'm sorry about dodging you, but I've had a lot on my mind."

"A woman in love usually does," Solange observed softly. "Given the circumstances of your rather unusual courtship, I suspect those things on your mind aren't things you would want to talk about with your Mother. I just wanted you to know that if - no, make that WHEN you need to talk about such things, you have only to call me." With that, the older woman turned to leave the room.

"No, DON'T leave!" Juana snapped out, before adding, "Please? I . . .I think I'd like to talk. Hell, I need to talk - with you especially."

Solange closed the door she'd never left, and came over to take the room's other vanity stool. "So," she said, leaning in close and dropping her voice suggestively, "Give me the dish, sister. I know he's hung, but is he any good?"

For several seconds, Juana could only stare at her older friend, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Then, she began to giggle before finally managing to get out, "The BEST!"

"Oh, really," Solange purred out the word, "DO tell, and don't worry about being too detailed."

"I thought he was going to kill me with pleasure," Juana whispered, sharing the secret she'd been holding so close for more than a week. "It was like he was trying to eat me alive! I don't know which is better, his tongue or his dick, but either would make him the best I've ever had, and he gives both without demanding anything in return. I felt like my pleasure was the single most important thing in his life. I've never felt so. . . so cherished."

"Cherished is good," Solange agreed, waving her palm to fan her face. "Very good, in fact! What else!? Let's have those deets, girl!"

The black woman blushed now, and leaned even closer. "He told me I was his girl!"

"Well, duh!" Solange laughed.

"No, really! He said I was black, gorgeous, tall and a Domme, and he couldn't imagine HIS girl being any other way."

Solange heard the uncertainty creeping into the lovely girl's voice and pounced. "That's great! I think he's just perfect for you, too!"

"But, am I really perfect for him?" Juana asked, her voice now very small and very young. "I like being a Domme - I like working here at the dungeon. I don't want to quit because. . . Look, Solange, I'm good at this stuff, and dammit, I help people here doing it, too! Like that guy who just left. I'm GOOD for him and HE NEEDS ME!"

"And your point is?" Solange asked. Juana started to answer, then stopped, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. "ShaJuana? Obviously this has something to do with Ty. Is there a problem with you continuing here and being with him?"

"He says his Mom is Donna Reed!" she blurted out. "How can he take a six-foot tall, black bitch-goddess home to Mother when she's freakin' DONNA REED!?"

Relief coursed through the older woman. This could be handled, she thought. "Quite easily, I'd say," Solange retorted matter of factly. At Juana's look of abject disbelief, she simply laughed. "Hell, Juana, you don't have to stroll in there decked out in your corset, fishnets and stilettos, brandishing a riding crop and a strap-on! You, better than anyone else here, know that clothes DO make the man, TV or in your case, the woman. It's that hard first look you have to get past! Dress the part correctly and she'll get over the shock of having you tall and yes, black, when she sees how much Ty adores you and you adore him. If she's worth knowing at all, that is."

"Ya think?"

"I'm sure! Look at how flexible and open Ty is and I bet you see the mother in that. She may be Donna Reed, but I'll bet my best flogger she's the one he takes after in that household. His dad is some kind of hard line, addicted-to-his-business junkie and I just don't see that in Ty at all, for all he's got some great ideas for my business."

"Like health insurance?"

"Yes, indeed. He's just about got it set up, too. I never even thought of such a thing. I did, however, shoot down his idea for on-site daycare, so he's off looking at other solutions. The thought of four-year-olds running hay-go-mad through the Torquemada Room. . ." Solange shuddered, then grinned. "So, what had you walking a foot off the ground all morning? In my experience, the only thing that does THAT to a woman's mood is a man being unusually sweet and romantic."

The taller girl's soft, secret little smile blossomed once more, and then she pointed to a brightly colored box on her dressing table. "He gave me a present this morning," Juana confided softly. "Pretty lingerie - all in pink!"

"Nice stuff?"

"God, Solange, they're so pretty I want to dance in them - just for him."

"Well, you were the one who wanted to teach him how to dress like a woman. Guess he's putting that knowledge to good use. So, when are you going to reel him in?"

"Umm, I, ah, think I'm gonna sort of go with the flow on this - at least for a while," Juana said, turning back to the mirror as if she could avoid the question by turning away. "I don't want to push and mess it up. It's all so . . . much at once."

"I see," Solange replied softly, and then rose to her feet. She bent over to kiss her young friend on the cheek. "Call me when you need to talk some more, dear. You'll figure this all out if you just give yourself and Ty the chance."

Leaving the room, Solange quietly closed the door behind her, and then strode down the corridor shaking her head. "Okay," she said quietly, "That does it! To hell with trying to be subtle!"

Acting Dominant

Interlude: Tangled Webs of La Maitresse

"This is excellent work, Ty," Solange said as she signed the last of the documents he'd prepared for her approval. "Now, I want to pick up the cost of the policy for my ladies and other staff, along with any of their dependent children. If those employees want to include coverage for their mates or significant others, they will need to pay the additional costs out of their own pockets."

"Since you pay them weekly we could offer them a payroll deduction plan to cover that. We'd get them to sign an agreement and then the payroll company will just handle it - just like their income tax withholdings."

"Perfect! I will leave all those pesky little details in your capable hands." Solange collected all the papers she'd just signed and then pointedly set them to one side before pinning Ty with her eyes. "Now, let's talk about your scene with Artemis."

"Wheee-heee-heee," Ty whinnied, causing both of them to laugh.

"Artemis came to see me this morning. She was disappointed in the scene dynamic between the two of you." Ty raised a quizzical brow at Solange, but said nothing. He was getting a little too good at dealing with her usual tricks and was much more difficult to draw out these days, she mused. Well, might as well be blunt. "She was annoyed because she couldn't seem to arouse you."

"Huh?" Ty replied, obviously confused.

"You didn't get a real hard-on the entire scene," Solange said, grinning. "Artemis is about a nine and a half on the ten-point babe-scale. It's a matter of personal pride to her that she always gets her boy-toys rock-hard and dripping in the first five minutes of her scenes. That way, she can exploit their arousal to seduce them into letting her take a few more liberties in her scene-play than they might otherwise prefer if they were thinking with their brains instead of their cocks. I watched most of her scene with you and I don't think you ever got much above half-way interested. Worse, you were pretty much limp by the time she called a halt to your session, and it wasn't because you'd climaxed, either. She took that as something of a personal failure."

"I wasn't trying to upset her, Solange. I agree she's pretty hot-looking, but I guess I was concentrating too hard on not falling on my face in those pony-shoes she locked on me to get too worked up sexually! Particularly with her constantly nagging at me about all that bloody high-stepping and keeping my head up."

"And then," Solange added, "You compounded your transgressions even further when you yellow-coded her while she was trying to teach you how to do that 'bloody high-stepping and keeping your head up.' That limitation put a real crimp in her program because she has to be sure her pony-slave can safely move about in the horse-shoes before she dares saddle him, or even harness him up to a sulkie."

"Seriously, I wish I hadn't needed to use the caution word, but I was starting to get really pissed off with her and that darned whip of hers! If she hadn't restrained my hands for most of that session, I'd have grabbed that damned whip and broken it in itty-bitty pieces!"

That revelation surprised Solange. For all it's impressive length, the whip Artemis used was not at all severe. In fact, the pony-mistress had chosen that specific implement because its bark was much worse than its bite. "Really? Why? Did you find it particularly painful? Did she cut you or leave a mark? Artemis is exceptionally skilled with that long whip of hers and I can't recall her ever cutting a partner with it - even accidently . Mostly, she just uses it for the same reasons that I use a whip - to sting a submissive for effect or as a wake-up when they need one."

"She didn't hurt me," Ty admitted. "DeeDee hurt me with her whips, so I know what 'hurt' means in this context. No, it was more that she just kept snapping it at me - over and over again - like one smartass kid needling another kid again and again with a rubber band - something like that, anyway. I started getting really pissed off over it, and by extension, with her."

"Didn't you expect that to be part of your pony-play experience? If you will recall, I did make a particular point about those practices when we had our pre-scene discussion. I mean, trotting on the lunge-line and dancing to the whip are major parts of that type of scene - and of being a pony-slave."

"Thought I was ready for it," Ty replied reflectively, "But getting mad at Artemis wasn't in the plan - and I WAS getting angry. I had to get her to back off and let me control that reaction or things would have gone south in a hurry!"

The older woman nodded thoughtfully. "Well, then you used the caution word tool correctly. Besides, despite your reactions, you managed to finish the scene with her, so neither of us really have anything to complain about with your performance or your behavior. It does, however, indicate you may not be suited to playing that role again with a paying client. Well, we'll just have to see, won't we? At least Arty'll know better what to expect from you if there is a next time. You DID look very cute, by the way, all tacked up," she added with a mischievous grin. "Lovely tail, too."

"Yeah. Juana came in just before we called it quits and made me model it for her. Don't think, even for a moment, Solange, that I'm any too happy about how much SHE liked it on me, or rather IN me," he said with a sardonic smile. "Truth to tell, though - just to give you an idea where my head was at? I'd all but forgotten about that damn plug being stuffed up my rear because I was getting so steamed about that nagging whip and her constant bitchin. . . I mean, sniping at me."

"Really?" The tail was always a very big deal for pony-slaves, and something they were usually constantly aware of during the session. Momentarily forgetting about it could have meant something as simple as the plug having been too small. However, if it had been MORE than that - if he'd really been THAT upset by Arty's whip-play and verbal jibes, then Solange would have to be very cautious about using Tina in any future pony-scenes. "You actually forgot about the tail?"

Ty made a dramatic crossing motion across his chest. "God's truth, Solange. In fact, at the end of the session when Juana came in and told me to 'wag that tail, horsey,' it took me a moment to figure out what the heck she was talking about!"

"I see." Solange again strove to remember the parts of the scene she'd observed. Had Artemis used the whip excessively? She hadn't thought so as she'd watched their scene unfold on her surveillance monitor. Then again, as she'd just told Ty, most of Arty's playmates were highly aroused by the time the pony-trainer normally got around to trotting her charges around the playroom to the encouragement of her whip. Along with making her playmates more amenable, all those 'I-am-horny' endorphins tended to turn the whip's sting into something closer to a teasing caress for the ponies. Only, Ty hadn't been excited, had he? She sighed, then smiled at him. "Well, I don't think we'll plan on using you with any paying clients in that role."

"I'd try, Solange - you know that. And I think I'll be better able to deal with my reactions to the whip and banter having been through it once. . . ," and his voice trailed off.

"I understand, and thank you for that. However, You should understand that I don't expect you to like every type of scene I expose you to, or ask you to attempt. I only expect you to go into each such assignment with an open mind and a will to give your assigned Domme your best effort. There are always some scenarios that no matter how much someone may try, he OR she simply cannot do them with any degree of acceptance, let alone pleasure. We may try pony play with you again at some later date, but it will again be just you and Artemis until we're sure of your ability to handle your reactions. But we'll hold off even on that for a while. I would, however, like you to sit down and discuss the scene and your feelings with Arty."

"Already planned on it. We're gonna get together for lunch tomorrow. I was going to ask her for a post-event critique, but she beat me to it."

"I should have thought she'd do that. She is a superb Domme, so she'd want to help you both come to closure - especially after you had to yellow-light her scene," Solange told him. "Now, on to another topic altogether."

"Sure! What's up?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you'd given any more thought to the specifics of your victory scene? The prize you won from the dungeon at our Halloween Party for capturing ShaJuana?"

Startled, Ty gaped for a moment. "Umm, don't you remember, Solange? I already had Juana in my wicked clutches," he said, a wistful smile on his face, "All . . Night . . LONG! And besides - I am an employee of the dungeon, just like Betina and Emerald."

Laughing, Solange gave a playful slap at Ty's hand. "I know that, silly. But you were a challenger in that game, just like the clients who accepted the Hall of Horrors contest. I insist that you, just as the other challenge victors, get a free scene of your choice with the Domme or Dommes of your choice for another whole night! Why, you wouldn't even have to be the sub in the scene. Imagine, we could teach you how to use a whip - I'm certain you'd enjoy that, especially if we were to use DeeDee's bottom as your target training aid, or you might decide you'd like to have our oh-so-regal Isolde as YOUR submissive little sexy-tary."

"Umm, Solange? You know I'm kinda committed to Juana now. Well, except for business purposes, if you take my meaning."

"Kinda? What's this 'kinda' thing, young man?"

"Kinda as in totally and completely. As in 'to death do us part, if then' committed."

"Sounds like you are serious," she observed even as she fought to keep the joy she was feeling hidden for the moment. "Then you'll just have to do something with Juana for your victory session. The reputation of my dungeon is at stake here, Tyrone."

"Umm, she's still a little sensitive on the subject of me having defeated her in that contest, Solange. I'm not sure that telling her to sub for me in another scene just now is really such a good idea. Like I said the other day, I guess I could pick something where she'd be the Domme, but . . ."

"Hush, grasshopper, and attend the words of the Master– Mistress and learn wisdom."

"Huh?"

"Listen and learn, young one, listen and learn."

Her office door crashed against the room's inner wall, causing Solange to jump in surprise even as she spun her desk chair about to face whatever was coming for her.

'Whatever' turned out to be an enraged black Amazon with fire in her eyes and smoke issuing from both ears!

"WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT ABOUT TY DOING HIS VICTORY PLAY SCENE WITH DEEDEE?!?" ShaJuana bellowed, both fists slamming down on Solange's desk, her chin thrust forward in belligerent indignation as she glared at her boss seated across from her. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?"

The older woman held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, settle down, girl. And sit down. What is it that has you storming into my office like you owned it?"

When the taller woman made no move to comply, Solange's eyes narrowed and her voice cooled. "Sit. . . Down!" she ordered again. She watched as Juana gave obeying (or perhaps disobeying) a few moments consideration before dropping inelegantly into the visitor's chair. "Better. Now, what has upset you?"

The fire flared again in Juana's brown eyes and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Emerald told me that DeeDee is going to scene with Ty - as a prize for that game he won on Halloween."

"I see. So?"

"So you ADMIT it? WHY?"

Solange gave the girl her best bland look. "Because she is doing it with him and I see no reason not to admit it."

ShaJuana actually grabbed two fist-fulls of her own hair and pulled. "NO!" she screeched. "Why is he using HER??!"

"Because he can, I suppose. His prize was anyone he wanted, anyway he wanted to do her or be done by her. He asked for DeeDee."

Juana's face fell at that. "But, but . . . he's my . . . I mean, I'm his. . .well, he SAID. . ."

Solange gave a dismissive wave of her hand to stem the flow of incomplete ideas. "Yes, I know you two are together, but it's not like it's exclusive between you, is it? You still conduct professional scenes of your own here at the dungeon. Why shouldn't he?"

"But . . . but. . . that's DIFFERENT! That's . . . that's just business! Ty playing with DeeDee isn't business unless YOU'VE told him to do it for training!"

"Oh? Really? I didn't realize you this was just a job to you, dear." Juana's face drained at that jibe and she started to splutter, only to have Solange relent with a soft laugh. "Oh, Juana, lighten up. I know what you meant. You want him to play with you, right?"

"Yes, dammit!" the other girl snapped, her head nodding furiously.

"Well, that's part of it, I think. First, he doesn't want to be the sub in this session - he wants to be the Dom - and he wasn't sure you'd be okay with bottoming to him again. Particularly for the prize scene which he won at your expense, so I offered him this as an alternative."

"He could have asked," she pouted.

"So you could say 'Hell NO!' and stomp off in your righteous fury? Perhaps, but you need to give him some credit for trying to be sensitive to your feelings. He is, after all, only a male and therefore somewhat sensitivity challenged. And there's another reason he didn't ask you."

"What?" demanded ShaJuana, a mutinous pout on her face.

"He wants to try something that he wasn't sure you'd like, and he is looking to get some practice with someone else first so he'll have a better chance to get it right if and when he gets the opportunity to do it with you."

"But, DeeDee? Why cute little DeeDee?"

Sensitivity to the hidden nuances was a key attribute of a good Domina, and Solange immediately recognized why her protegee was feeling almost threatened by the selection of Deirdre. The dungeon's resident whip-mistress was petite, particularly when compared to ShaJuana and her tall, robust physicality. The older woman laughed, mostly to relax some of the bubbling tension between herself and ShaJuana. "Well, I suppose he thinks his planned scene might not be entirely pleasant for the, ah, subject of his attentions. And since he feels he has reason to want a little . . . payback from DeeDee for earlier lessons rendered…"

Juana well remembered Ty's discomfort after his training session with DeeDee, and she could understand him wanting to get a little of his own back. Still, she wanted him to play with HER, dammit! "What does he intend to do?"

"That's confidential, dear, as you should very well know. For the purposes of this particular scene, Tyrone is a client of the dungeon and therefore of me! You know I don't divulge my client's desires, except as professionally required to the woman or women who will be playing with him."

"Solange!" Juana flared. "Don't you dare try that with me."

But the older woman was unfazed by her young friend's temper, and just smiled. "Sorry, 'Juana, but if you really want to know, you'll have to find out for yourself. I'd start by asking Ty."

"Like HELL I will," she snarled back, and strode from the room.

If anything, the crash of the door slamming behind ShaJuana was even louder than her entry.

"Perfect," Solange laughed as she turned back to her computer and her interrupted quarterly tax report. It was a sign of just how pleased she was with that interview that even the IRS couldn't dim the grin Juana's exit had left on the older woman's face.

Dressed and ready for her next client, Juana sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. She had ten minutes before her sub would be ready for her which unfortunately gave her ten minutes to think about Ty's scene with DeeDee.

Cripes, she thought as she took in her own scowling reflection, I sure don't have to worry about my grin terrorizing the client today, do I?

So NOW the loveable jerk was going to play with another girl to protect HER from his own dark desires! He'd told Solange he needed to practice, huh? Who did he think he was? What did he think he was doing playing with another girl?!? Wasn't SHE his girl?!?

HIS girl!

Okay, so he'd picked DeeDee and Solange had said something about payback. That meant he was probably going to be playing with corporal punishment. Not her favorite thing, Juana admitted privately, particularly with her on the receiving end. Just in general, she preferred to keep her own booty un-striped, thank you very much.

But dammit, it wasn't like she was some whiny little bitch! She'd handled getting her ass whipped during her training period at the dungeon! Had she wimped out? EVER? NO SHE HAD NOT! And by God, ShaJuana Price could and WOULD take ANYTHING that man wanted to dish out! She'd been whipped by WOMEN, by god, who were a hell of a lot better than any mere male at making things HURT! Not like some sneaky, devious, gentlemanly…

A knock on her door interrupted the inventive string of adjectives she was generating to express her displeasure with one Tyrone Edwards, so she snarled, "WHAT IS IT?"

Ty poked his head in. "Hey, sorry! I didn't know you were getting into character. I'll bring these back later."

"DON'T you DARE leave, Edwards! Get your connivin' male ass in here! Right NOW!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he snapped out even as he jumped into the room and came to the position of attention.

"What is this CRAP about you playing with DEEDEE?? What are you THINKING?!"

He made her even more outraged when all he did was grin. "AND WHY ARE YOU SMILING, YOU IDIOT-KNUCKLEHEAD?!?"

He tried to stifle his grin but failed entirely, causing his lover to begin to sputter. "No particular reason, Juana," he told her ingenuously and watched her fury jump several more quantum levels. In the face of such rage, he did the only thing he could think of that didn't involve a cowardly charge to the rear. He put his papers down, swept his gorgeous lover off her feet, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

A few moments later, he settled her leather-clad butt down on top of her vanity table so that she sat eye to eye with him, but didn't say anything. She could only stare at him, unable to form a single coherent thought or response. If anything, his damn grin widened, which threatened to set her off all over again.

"Chill, Juana, it's okay. It'll be okay." Then he went over and recovered the sheaf of paper he'd set down moments earlier. "Hey, look, I know you're pressed for time, but could you sign these papers for me? We need to get the new insurance plan turned on. We just found out that one of our ladies is pregnant and I want to get her prenatal services and OB stuff on track. Okay?" He held out a stack of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

The lovely face went momentarily blank as she tried to accommodate the sudden shift in topic. Shaking herself, she took the pen, thankful for something more concrete than her mixed up feelings on which to concentrate. "Ummm, where?" she mumbled.

Ty quickly shuffled through the pages getting her signature several times. "Thanks, Juana," he said as he gathered papers and pen back up. "I'll go over them with you in detail later - after your session if you like - but now, I want to get them downtown to the agent so we can get things moving on this."

He was out the door before she could say another word.

Only then did she realize - he hadn't told her what he planned to do for his victory session with DeeDee. "Well, hell, fool," she chided herself. "You didn't ask him, either!"

Juana was back in her dressing room; once again staring into the silvered depths of her mirror. At least her session had gone well, she mused. Her client had even left her a substantial tip to show his appreciation. So why didn't she feel the afterglow of a good Domme-high and the satisfaction of a job well done?

She knew the answer to THAT question.

Tyrone Edwards.

Playing with another woman.

Because he needed practice and because Juana might not like whatever it was he wanted to practice.

Oh yeah, and because he wanted to be the Dom.

She could do the scene, she told herself sullenly. She could do whatever it was that Ty wanted from his partner in this scene. Hell, she thought, was there ANYTHING he could possibly want to do with a woman that would be WORSE for her than sitting here, getting all green-eyed and pissy because he'd chosen another woman as his prize?

Hell NO! He was HERS, DAMMIT!

She was HIS.

Besides, in her heart of hearts, she already knew she'd always enjoy whatever they might do together - regardless of who was the top. Hell, she'd enjoy it A LOT! One thing she already had figured out about her guy was that, regardless of his role in their scenes or lovemaking, Ty got his pleasure from giving her pleasure. The only real difference between being the top or being the bottom when they played together would be who got to tell the other what to do and who got to decide who came first. Either way, she'd get hers, wouldn't she? Damn straight she would. Hell, about the only way she wouldn't get hers from Tyrone Edwards would be if she were the Domme and she ordered him NOT to touch her.

Like THAT was going to happen in this lifetime, she laughed to herself.

"Guess I'm just gonna have to crash your little scene, Ty-RONE," she said aloud. "But first, I think I'm gonna find out just what it is you have planned. So I can be REALLY ready for you."

Solange smiled broadly as she set her phone back on its cradle. DeeDee had just called to tell her that ShaJuana had all but cornered her in the ladies room, demanding to know what Ty had planned for his prize scene with her. "I told her I didn't know, Solange," the petite domina had said during their short call, "And I made sure SHE knew that I wasn't too happy about being kept in the dark because it was MY ass on the line. He's a really nice guy and all that, but I was concerned he was going to be a real shit about the whipping I gave him early on. She didn't want to believe me, and she left in a real huff!"

Perfect, the elegant Mistress thought, the game was afoot, and it was time to bring this mad, merry chase to its successful conclusion. So much to do, she thought happily, and then picked her phone back up, dialing a number from memory.

"Darling?" she said when her slave answered the phone for her. "I need you to make a few appointments for me and a friend…"

 
 
Chapter 22: All Men and Women Merely Players
 
 
The prep room's wall phone rang, and Solange went over to pick it up. She listened for a moment, said a few words and then hung up with a smile. "Places everyone," she ordered. "Curtain's going up!"

ShaJuana strode up to the door to Prep Room No. 1, and barely stopped herself from simply crashing inside to confront Solange. Not good, she told herself as she leaned against the wall taking deep, calming breaths - a person needed all their wits about them if they were going to take on Solange. With an effort, she willed her pounding heart to settle back into her chest, and then tried to plot out what she should do next.

Mere minutes before, she had finally found out what was up with Ty's victory scene. She'd practically had to choke the truth out of Isolde who'd only known because she was helping out Solange while the dungeon's regular costume Mistress was on vacation. She hadn't found out a moment too soon, either, because evidently the damned thing was just about to go down!

She should have been TOLD, dammit!

Good thing she'd heard Isolde bitching about the extra duty this morning, and about how she was having to stay late on a Friday night to collect and store the costumes after Ty's scene.

Now that Juana knew what Ty wanted, she was even more annoyed that he hadn't asked her to play it out with him. Okay, so maybe a guy SHOULD be cautious about asking his girl for that kind of sex, but hell, he'd told Solange he wanted it, hadn't he? Solange KNEW that Juana didn't have any problems being on the receiving end of that kind of play! For cryin' out loud, Solange - HERSELF - had been the one who'd broken Juana in that way during her training days!

And yes, Ty was big. SO WHAT?!? She could handle it! She could, by god, handle HIM!

Period!

Okay, so he wanted her ass - FINE! Fair was fair. She wanted his, and she sure didn't plan on giving up using his fine male butt anytime soon, now did she?! No freakin' way! And besides, he SHOULD lust after her ass! ShaJuana Price had a damned fine ass, even if she did say so herself! And if Tyrone Edwards wanted an ass to practice on, he would damn well practice on hers!

That way, she'd make DAMNED sure he learned how to do her right!

Or she'd just have to demonstrate how it was SUPPOSED to be done on his tight little ass until he got HERS right, wouldn't she?

Damned idiot MALE!

"God, Solange, I feel like an eight-year old playing dress up in Mommy's clothes! Could this damn thing be any BIGGER??!? I'll trip over the train and kill myself. Hey, there's an idea! If I'm dead, my butt won't be at risk anymore, will it?!"

"Oh, quit whining. I've seen you drooling over Ty and don't try to tell me you haven't. Since you got carried away with your whip both times he's subbed with you, this may be your only opportunity to play with him ever again, so DEAL with it!"

"Okay, Okay. So maybe I got a little too enthusiastic, but it was his own damned fault for being so damned cute! I had to do something with him, Solange, or I'd've had to jump his bones right there in the playroom. And. . .and. . omigod! Have you seen him in that black tuxedo? I don't know whether he belongs on the cover of GQ or Playgirl, but just LOOKING at him makes me feel all gooey inside!"

"Hands off, sister," muttered ShaJuana, her ear plastered up against the prep-room door. "That's MY man you're fantasizin' about!" Just because DeeDee was about the only Domme in the place who had to look up to Tyrone - damn her for that, too! - didn't mean she was the only one who could fully appreciate his hotness factor!

After all, hadn't ShaJuana been the one to bring him into this joint for that very reason??!

"Well, there won't be any bone-jumping today, so get your hormones under control, Deirdre! And hold this damned dart together so I can get in a few pins into it! Then I can do a quick stitch job and it will hold it up fine," Solange growled around a mouthful of pins. "For as long it'll have to, anyway."

"What will THAT do for my boobs, dammit? I could bathe in these damn cups! Why do CD's have to have D-Cups, anyway?"

"A question for the ages," Solange answered wryly. "Now stand still before I get blood on this damned white tulle!"

What the hell were they doing in there, ShaJuana wondered as she continued to eavesdrop. It sounded like a dress fitting. White Tulle?!?

Her eyes went wide as she recalled the last time she'd seen anything made of that oh-so-very-feminine material.

The door flew open before ShaJuana's wrath, and for a frozen moment in time, she simply stood there, glaring at the two women staring back at her in wide-eyed shock. Then, she focused in on the petite blonde standing atop the hassock draped in about three times too much white material for her frame. DeeDee looked like she'd gotten in a fight with a white tent and lost!

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" the dark valkyrie managed to get out in a tone that wasn't quite a snarl.

It was Solange who answered. "Preparing DeeDee for her session with Tyrone, as I suspect you already know. Now, you will please excuse us. This is the only gown we have that suits his request and it needs a lot of work."

"That's MY gown," ShaJuana growled as she stalked into the room. "I picked it out for Tina! For HER to wear for ME!"

"Actually," Solange answered equably, "It is my gown. I paid for it out of the dungeon's business accounts. Now, if you'll just run along so we can. . ."

"NO!" the infuriated black Amazon roared, slamming her fist against the closed door and causing DeeDee to jump in surprise. Even Solange stopped to stare at the taller woman. With a visible effort, Juana regained control over her shredding emotions and then repeated more softly, "No. I'm not running along. What I'm going to do is take DeeDee's place with Tyrone, and Solange? YOU'RE gonna help me do it!"

"That is not what Tyrone requested nor what I agreed to provide for him as the proprietor of this establishment," Solange retorted, getting to her feet to stand between Juana and Deedee.

"Tough, Solange, it's what he's gonna get! DeeDee? You have three choices, little girl. One? Run for your life right now. Two? Find Ty and safeword him before this goes any further. Or three? Find yourself between a rock and hard place with me providing BOTH!"

Solange took two steps to get up into Juana's face. "I will not allow you to threaten one of your fellow employees!"

"I'm not threatening anybody, Solange," Juana said with a silky smile that gave lie to that pronouncement. "You don't feel threatened, do you, DeeDee?"

The usually composed whip-mistress paled for just a moment, then swallowed hard and almost managed an answering smile of her own. "uh, well, sort of. . . " Then she saw the scowl that clouded Juana's face and rushed on. "I mean, NO, of course not. I'm. . .just. . FINE."

"Good," Juana said, the hungry shark smile back. "Then shuck yourself out of that dress like a good little girl."

"ShaJuana! As should be obvious, Ty wants to play out the honeymoon scene you two botched up, but this time with himself as the groom. Even though he will be using sex toys for any penetrative play, it IS his scene to do how and with whom he wants to do it! He wants a bride in THAT dress and I insist that he gets it!"

"Fine, Solange! I'll wear the freakin' dress, but I'M doing the freakin' scene with him and that's FINAL! It don't fit little Miss Junior Sizes for shit anyway!"

"No, it's not fine, ShaJuana, and it sure as hell isn't final! Deirdre has assured me she will not safe or caution word what Tyrone has planned. I'm not certain you can make that promise, and I WON'T have him deprived because YOU decide to wimp out when push comes to shove!"

ShaJuana leaned down and got nose to nose with her boss. "I don't wimp out, Solange! You want assurance? I'll give you assurance! I promise NOT to use any safe or caution word in there with him, okay? This is a no-limits scene! I freakin' won't LET him stop, okay??!"

"Your word on it, ShaJuana?" Solange asked, not backing down from the towering woman.

"I just said so, didn't I?!? And you KNOW my word's GOLDEN!"

Solange gave a gusty sigh, and turned back to face DeeDee. "Get out of the dress, Deirdre. And then run down to wardrobe and get a corset for Juana. If she's wearing THAT gown, we're going to need to take a few inches off her middle."

"Oh really?" Juana asked, her brow lifting as the tension began to ebb.

"Yes, really. I had to corset Tina pretty radically to get HER into that thing, if you'll recall, and Tyrone is only a little bigger in the waist than you are, girl. As to the bodice, well, your bosom is just a little large for it, but I guess if those girls of yours pop out the top, Tyrone won't mind all THAT much." Solange took the gown from DeeDee and held it up against ShaJuana's much longer body. "Hmmm. It will be more tea-length than floor-length on you, but it will do for our purposes, I suppose. The cathedral-length train should still work for you as well." Then Solange took in Juana's footwear and grimaced. "Those Jimmy Choo ankle-boots are all wrong for the outfit, though. DeeDee? See if you find some white pumps that will fit her while you're down in wardrobe, too."

"I don't think so," Juana interrupted, a wicked grin lighting her face. "Go get my thigh-high, black patent leather bitch-goddess boots out of my locker. He likes how those look on me just fine. 'Sides, it oughta remind him just who he's dealing with, if you take my meaning."

"NO, dammit! I will NOT have you topping from the bottom, ShaJuana!" Solange said repressively. "Particularly NOT in this session!"

"Now, would I do something like that, Solange?"

"To use your own vernacular, my dear? In a freakin' heartbeat."

"Whatever," Juana said dismissively. "DeeDee? Get my boots."

Deirdre was out the door before Solange could say another word. The older woman glared up at Juana one last time, then blew out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, very well. I don't suppose it will make all that much difference in the scene in either case. Now, go do up your face while we wait for DeeDee and your corset. Wouldn't want Tina's bridal presentation to outshine yours, now would we?" Solange asked sweetly, and was inwardly pleased at the snarl that immediately answered her jibe.

"Oh, that's just PERFECT," Solange cheered as she primped the lace veil over and around Juana's rich mane of silky black hair. Stepping back, she gestured for her model to do a slow pirouette to get the entire feel of the woman and the gown. With a sardonic grin, ShaJuana swept the train over one arm and raised the other above her head as she began a slow, dancer's turn.

She WAS perfect, Solange told herself again silently. They'd managed to lace a hard-won four inches off the girl's waist so that the bodice fit about her gorgeously muscular figure like a lover's embrace. She'd been right about the tits, though. If those puppies didn't pop out before the evening festivities were over, well, Tyrone just wasn't trying hard enough.

The black patent stiletto boots' five-inch heels raised Juana's already impressive stature to well over six feet, so the gown's front hem rested a few inches above her well-turned ankles. Well, okay, so it was ALMOST perfect, Solange sighed. "Those laced boots just ruin the effect," she complained again.

"Did MASTER Ty-RONE specify white shoes?" ShaJuana demanded, one finely shaped brow winging up in challenge.

Solange wanted to lie, but decided against it. "No. He specified that his partner was to be dressed as a bride. They do make you even TALLER, though," she added quickly.

"THIS bride," Juana said, a single long-nailed thumb pointing into her burgeoning cleavage, "will wear black boots! He'll just have to deal with my height instead of getting to tower over DeeDee!"

"Oh, very well!" Solange frumped. "Not as if that's what was on his mind, in any case. He just wanted a chance to warm and stretch out Deirdre's butt for her. Come on, Juana, the only people who have a problem with Tyrone's stature are people who don't know him! You know him, so you know the real strength of him. So what if you're both a little height-challenged?" Juana's snort was ruined by the hopeful look she gave Solange.

Recognizing that insecurity for what it was, the older woman pressed on. "Look at everything he's gone through to get to this point - and don't tell me it wasn't mostly for you, either! Okay, so a man that strong can be a little scary and a lot daunting, but if the woman is strong enough, if she's WOMAN enough to accept that kind of masculine challenge, the pair of them can build something pretty damned special together, if you ask me."

A look a smugly feminine understanding passed between the two women. "You've got a point. Okay, let's go and get this playing done so that I can start working on hauling his ass off and getting this done for REAL! It's way past time I claimed what is already MINE!"

With that, Juana turned to the door, so she didn't see the wicked little half smile on her friend's lips, or the sparkle of tears in her eyes as she pressed the button of a small signaling device she'd hidden in a pocket. "Yes, indeed," Solange breathed as she pulled herself together. "Let's go get this done."

 
 
Chapter 23: The Taming of the Mistress
 
 
Feeling calmer than she had in days, ShaJuana stepped into the corridor outside the prep room and was about to turn towards the stairs that would take her to the dungeon's third floor playrooms when a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows and into her way.

Recognizing the older man, Juana looked back to Solange for an explanation.

"ShaJuana, you remember my slave-husband, Roderick, don't you? He is here to escort you to your Master. Roddy? You know what to do."

Only then did Juana realize that the man was wearing formal evening dress. "Yes, Maitresse Jasmine," he said bowing deeply to Solange before turning to bow to ShaJuana with equal formality. "Mistress," he said offering her his arm, "If you will please allow me?"

Thoroughly confused again and decidedly no longer centered, Juana meekly put her right hand into the crook of his proffered arm and allowed herself be guided regally down the corridor. Such was the state of her mind and emotions, that it wasn't until they had stepped into the grand ballroom that she realized they were headed away from the stairs that would have led them up to the third floor playrooms.

Her question died on her lips when she caught sight of Tyrone Edwards - watching her approach.

Her mouth literally went dry just looking at him. The tuxedo he wore had been lovingly tailored so that it fit his trim, athletic frame perfectly. The short coat was open at the front, held in place by a short, golden chain in lieu of a button. His black tie and the black studs of the formal pleated shirt did marvelous things for his golden complexion and hair. A bright pink cummerbund and a pink rose boutonniere provided vivid contrast against the otherwise stark black and white of his formal dress.

He was freakin' gorgeous, she thought in wonder. "Oh my God, DeeDee was right," she breathed aloud, "He's incredibly handsome when he lets himself be manly. How did I ever forget that?"

Maybe because she been so focused in on how great he'd look in skirts??!? Cripes, she'd been STUPID, dammit! AGAIN!

Suddenly, she was standing in front of him - staring at him staring back at her! She didn't even feel Roderick take her hand from his arm and give her over to Ty; didn't hear Solange's husband's murmured comments or sense his retreating bow. All she was aware of - the only thing in her world at that moment - was Tyrone Edwards.

Shaking herself mentally, she tried to find her tongue - tried to think of something clever to say, but her brain was adrift in a bubbling cauldron of emotion and need. In the end, all she could manage was a breathy, "Wow."

Ty grinned, and then 'made his leg' to ShaJuana while at the same time bowing over her hand to kiss it. When he again stood erect, he winked at her and whispered, "Told you I knew how to do that."

She'd barely managed to make the connection to his very first scene with her and Solange - the time Tina had royally messed up her first curtsy - when Ty, still holding her hand, went down on one knee before her. She watched as he reached into a hidden pocket and produced - my god, she thought - what a rock! Which was followed by, where the hell did he get THAT???

"ShaJuana? I love you. Would you please marry me? Would you please do me the supreme honor of being my wife, my lover, my Mistress and my submissive, and most importantly, my very best friend?" he asked, his voice breaking twice in the asking.

"What?" she managed, her mind still all a-muddle, when a collective, feminine, 'Awwwwwwwww,' and the strains of Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' playing over the ballroom sound system jarred her out of her near fugue.

Then, Solange was at her side, pressing something into the crook of her free arm. "These are for you," she whispered. Juana looked down and stared at the bright bouquet of pink tea roses, pink camellia and pink dogwood blossoms. "And only for you. Ty hoped it would be you that showed up for this, as you can see."

"What the hell?" Juana muttered, looking around her and seeing for the very first time that every one of the dungeon's Mistresses - including DeeDee, the little sneak - was there, standing beside her! And they were decked out in what she knew without being told were bridesmaids' dresses. A quick glance to the other side - TY's side - and there were her boys - her favorite clients - all dressed like Tyrone!

With a twinge of something almost like dread, Juana turned back to the face the 'front' of this little stage and saw another black woman, smiling broadly at her, wearing the brightly colored robes of her ministry. "Reverend Davis?" she asked haltingly, not quite believing her own eyes.

Reverend Eleanora Davis, the pastor of the AME Church Juana regularly attended, smiled even more broadly. "Yes, child. Ummm, don't you think you owe this nice young man an answer to his question?"

Juana followed the older woman's look and saw Ty, still kneeling, still holding her hand in his and still offering the ring to her. It was almost more than her sense of the ridiculous could handle. "Dam. . .I mean, doggone it, white boy, if you think this woman's gonna submit to you, no matter how gorgeous you are in that tux, you got another think a-comin'!" she snapped, playfully pretending to try to tug her hand free of his.

"Hey, Juana," he retorted with just a bit of asperity in his tone, "I'm the one on my knee here, not YOU! Now, are you gonna put me out of my misery and marry me? Please?"

Tears welled and flowed freely as her heart swelled. "Oh, hell, Ty-RONE! Of course I'm gonna marry you, turkey!" Ty barely managed to get the ring onto her finger before ShaJuana scooped him up off the floor and began to kiss the lights out of him.

In some still functional part of her mind, she heard the cheers of her friends and colleagues. She was getting married - to TY!

Then, she stopped kissing him, pulling her face back to stare into his eyes sternly. "Ty? How can we be getting married? Doesn't that require a license and some waiting time??! Those blasted insurance forms!" she growled. "You snuck a marriage license application in on me, didn't you?"

Ty started to wiggle, desperate to put his feet back on the floor, but his powerful goddess only tightened her hold on him. "Ty-RONE? You better answer me. . ."

He looked, she thought, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar - all embarrassed and frustrated at the same time. He mumbled something she didn't quite hear, so she squeezed him even harder, giving him a little growl for added effect.

"Okay, okay," he gasped out. "I . . .uh, well I wanted to do JUST that - so all the paperwork would be out of the way, but Reverend Davis wouldn't let me. So we have to do that part later."

Very slowly, Juana lowered her man to his feet, using her own height and the added inches of her boots to glare down at the miscreant. "Wouldn't let you, huh? So what's all this if we can't get married yet?"

"We're ah, anticipating the paperwork a little," he answered quickly.

"And JUST what does that mean?" she asked, suspicion bright in her eyes.

At this point, a laughing Reverend Davis stepped down and clasped hands with the pair of them. "Settle down, now, dear," she ordered with gentle authority. When Juana reluctantly complied, she beamed up at the girl. "What it means, ShaJuana, is that the State of New York won't recognize your union until after you fill out their paperwork, pay their taxes and fees, and complete their waiting period."

"Render unto Caesar?" Ty asked, with a smile.

"Precisely," the minister agreed. "This ceremony would be a promise between the two of you, witnessed by your friends, blessed by God. If you want to make that promise, that is…"

"Of course I do!" "You bet I want to!" was the simultaneous reply from the two young lovers.

"Then let's do this thing, shall we? Places everyone!" ordered Reverend Davis. "We got us a wedding to celebrate!"

"Tyrone, will you take ShaJuana to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, trust and protect her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will." was the firm reply.

She then turned to the bride, "ShaJuana, will you take Tyrone to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, trust and protect him, as long as you both shall live?"

Juana grinned impishly down at her man before turning back to the minister. "I will," she said solemnly, and then added, "And I will spank his butt for him when I decide he needs it, too!"

Ty carried his bride across the threshold of the bridal suite of the New York City Hilton in downtown Manhattan. He didn't set her down immediately, instead held her as he settled onto the huge bed. For infinite moments in time, the simply held each other; kissing and being kissed.

Suddenly, Juana's roving hands stopped their random movements over his back and began to systematically pat him down. Then she pulled back to stare at him. "And just what is it I feel you wearing under that sexy tux, cutey?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

"Well," and it was Tina's voice that answered her, "You'll just have to unwrap me and find out. But I will tell you this - Whatever it is I have on under this monkey suit? They match my cummerbund."

"Hey, I thought this scene was about you wanting MY ass, lover."

"My ass, your ass," he replied as he began to work his way down the buttons of her gown, "What does that matter as long as we both get what we want in the end?"

"As long as we both get each other in the end, lover."

"Amen to that."

 
 
Epilogue: Loves Labors Won
 
 
Ty stepped out of the Chinese restaurant and into the one of New York's infamous horizontal late April showers. Any May flowers this deluge brought would have to be pretty damned hardy, he thought with a smile. Still, it took more than a little freezing rain to take the smile off his face these days.

He was busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger with a serious case of hives, but that was the way he liked it. Besides, what with his studies at the studio school, homework, the director internship job Roddy had arranged for him and his duties as business manager at Solange's dungeon, there wasn't much difference between work and play for him. Work was way too much fun, even if his sometimes fourteen to sixteen hour days left him a bit frazzled around the edges. Fortunately, he had ShaJuana to help him deal with that problem. It was a relationship that wouldn't suit many folks, but it worked for them.

They'd just celebrated their six month anniversary last week, albeit a little early, and Ty was already planning the festivities for their seven month anniversary. He'd have to go some, though, to top what ShaJuana had sprung on him. She'd completely blind-sided him with that session, mostly because she did it while they were home visiting his parents at the time. And having his Mother - Donna Reed herself - knock on their bedroom door and ask if everything was all right in there, just when Juana was all set to have her wicked way with his restrained and helpless body had absolutely blown his mind. The memory of ShaJuana's answering shout of "Oh, he's just a little tied up right now, Mrs. E, but he's just fine!" still sent chills up his spine - even now.

It had tickled him how well his tall, ebony lioness had taken to his petite, practically-perfect-in-every-way, homemaker-Mother and vice versa. Within the first hour of his and ShaJuana's arrival at his parents' house, Mother and Daughter-in-law were off huddled together in Mom's parlor, chattering and giggling like longtime girlfriends, and they'd only gotten closer as the visit had progressed. In fact, unless his theater-trained eye had deceived him, Juana had been giving his Mother cosmetics lessons because 'Donna' had been looking rather more exotic (he couldn't let himself think of it as erotic) towards the end of their stay - particularly in the evening.

And now that he thought about it - particularly right before bed time. Especially the time Mom had all but ordered Dad to say good night. Donna Reed as a femme-fatale sex goddess? Oh, lord, the LOOK on his father's face that night - Ty could empathize and. . . and. . .

HELL, boy, he chided himself, don't EVEN think of your mom that way!

Well, Oedipus was classic theater, so maybe he could think of her, at least in the abstract? Yeah, he could because he was a guy and Mom was gorgeous, after all. Ty decided that he wasn't the only really lucky guy in this family.

Lucky guy indeed, he thought as he entered their apartment building. THEIR apartment - just putting those two words together in a sentence made him smile. But then, just about everything about Juana made him smile. Lucky.

Ty was just about to slide his key into his entry lock when the door swung open and a powerful black arm snapped out to grab him by the tie and haul him bodily into the apartment. The force of the pull was so great that he had to take several steps beyond the threshold to catch himself. By the time he had, the door was slamming shut behind him.

At least he hadn't dropped the sweet and sour, he thought grinning. "And how was your day, dear?" he asked in a very creditable imitation of Lucille Ball, turning back to face his wife.

His mouth fell when he saw her. She was magnificent in hot pink leather - pink corset, pink strap-on, complete with a pink dildo of considerable dimensions, pink thigh-high stockings, pink garters, pink stilettos and. . . omigod - where in hell does anyone go to buy a hot-pink riding crop??! "I had a freakin' GREAT day, boy! I did two client scenes that went really well, so I am in prime Top-space!"

Holding up the bag he still had in his hand, Ty offered slyly, "Hungry? I've got sweet and sour pork . . ."

Her chocolate eyes narrowed to slits and her smile became positively feral. "Oh, I'm hungry, all right, cutey, but it sure as hell ain't for food! Drop the bags, lose the clothes and get on your KNEES!"

"Geez, Mistress Bitch - at least let me put the Chinese in the fridge, first," he wheedled.

"LIKE HELL, boy!" she snarled, grabbing his shirt front in both hands, ripping it open to scatter buttons like popping corn. "In case you've forgotten? It's Tuesday night, so your ass is MINE and I want it NOW! So get it STRIPPED so I can get STARTED!"

Then she caught sight of what he had on beneath the now-tattered shirt and just stared. The look on her face when she took in his own costume was perfect - and everything he'd hoped he'd see when he'd managed to spirit the garment out of the apartment that morning hidden in his briefcase. "Oh, Ty," she gushed in a totally un-Domme-like voice. "You're wearing the indigo basque I got you? The matching panties and stockings, too?"

He nodded, and she batted away a few happy tears. "You look beautiful."

"Well, hell, Tall Booty, it is Tuesday, after all," he reminded her with an exaggerated sniff. "But Thursday's comin' and I promise you - when it does? So will you." At her slightly nervous laugh, he struck a lewd pose. "Want me to go fix my face," Mae West's voice purred, "And, ah . . . get into somethin' a little less comfortable, big gal?"

"Oh, yeah," she breathed in aroused wonder, "Go in there and get rid of the rest of those silly boy clothes, and . . . let's see . . . oh, yeah, slip into those 5-inch ankle-busters with the little padlocks. I think I may need a little maid service later. Speaking of which, I'll put the food away. Oh . . . you naughty little bitch. You got Chinese because you know I think it tastes even better when it's heated up again. Are you trying to play me, little Miss top-from-the bottom?"

"Would I do that?" Ty said as he headed off to slip into something less comfortable.

"MmmmmmmmmMMMMMMmm," Juana purred as she stretched out in their bed, rubbing up against Ty like a contented cat. They were both comfortably nude, their dual hungers temporarily sated by two sessions of intense love-making - one kinky, the other sweetly vanilla - sandwiched around pigging out on Ty's take-out offering. ShaJuana never did get her maid service . . . but then, there would be lots of other Tuesdays.

A lifetime of them.

"And how was YOUR day, darlin'?" she asked him as she rolled over top to lay on and look down at her husband.

Ty wrapped his arms around her and held her close, reveling in the weight of her body pressing down on his own. "Good - very good, in fact. I pulled off a real coup during the directing lab today."

Juana nuzzled his throat before resting her head on his shoulder. "Oh? How so?"

"Yeah. Remember me telling you about Kelly? The Goth-girl actress who is really shy?"

"Um hmm. You were worried she wouldn't be able to drop her Goth mask and do the more mainstream role called for in the play you're working on."

He nodded and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. "Yup. Well, we had a bit of a breakthrough today. I took her aside and told her about Tina - about how I used to work in a dungeon . . as a girl . . and what made it work was to remember that I was not the role. That when the end of the day came, the role stayed behind and it didn't touch me, so I - the real me - couldn't possibly be embarrassed by anything the role required me to do."

"Used to work in a dungeon?!?" Juana yelped, coming up onto her hands and knees, straddling Ty so she could glare down into his face. "You told her about Tina? About the cross-dressing? About . . .well, EVERYTHING?"

Ty grinned at the stunned amazement in his wife's face. "Well, yeah, I did."

"And you LEFT it like that?"

Gotcha, Ty thought. "Sort of. After she did her scene? Quite well, I might add, which is why I said it was a very good day because she was sure she was gonna blow it. Anyway, she came and asked me if what I'd said was true."

"Okay, white-boy," Juana growled. "What did you do? Really."

He shrugged as best he could with her full weight bearing down on him, and told her "I did my best stern-and-strict Domme face at her and asked her if she thought I would EVER submit to being some namby-pamby little spanking slut."

Ty laughed and said, "It was like reading a book, watching her thoughts flash across her face. At first she looked like she was gonna pee her panties for making me mad. Like she had insulted me by even thinking such a thing was possible. Then she got angry for herself, for being lied to. Then it finally clicked and she realized that it didn't matter what was true. What mattered was making someone believe the character. You could just see the gears behind her eyes realigning themselves into a new engine. She's gonna be a great actress someday, if she can harness that."

A laughing, giggling armful of woman collapsed atop him. "Oh, I wish I had been there to see that!" Juana managed to get out between gasps. "Namby-pamby spanking slut, eh? Sounds like fun. Let me go get my sorority paddle, cutey!"

Instead, her husband wrapped his arms about her with that surprising, unexpected strength that always thrilled her to her girlish core. Then he rolled atop her, and began seducing her the old-fashioned way with mouth and hand, passion and love.