Dakota
The frustration Dakota felt leaving the massage parlor had reduced from physical and sexual to just emotional as they made the drive back to Mistress Samira's house. Dakota had hoped her mistress would give her some sort of relief. In her head she'd even wondered if she'd be asked to try to service her mistress while driving, but Mistress Samira was either intentionally ignoring her state or genuinely had something else on her mind. That meant Dakota was left trying to process the wild mess of emotions she felt.
She'd already admitted to herself that if Mistress Samira had ordered it, she would have serviced Mr. Toma. She was also somewhat shocked when she figured out she would have preferred fucking him, though when she thought about it that made sense given she was trying to deal with her own horniness. But if she'd been told to suck him off she probably would have done that.
What she struggled with was the why. She was self-aware enough to know that if someone had suggested she suck off a guy in payment for something she would be pissed off, and that included if Mistress Samira ordered her to. She had teased Dakota the other night, telling her she would make Dakota greet the food delivery person naked and then suck them off. She hadn't actually told Dakota to do it, but Dakota remembered feeling angry at the idea.
That hadn't happened this time. Was it because Mr. Toma had personally massaged her, and she felt closer to him? Was it because her mistress had specifically said it was an "extra' so it didn't count as paying? Or was it just how horny she had been?
Or was she okay with it now just because it was one of Mistress Samira's orders? Had she been indoctrinated and made that docile in less than a week?
Was Mistress Samira right about her? Was she truly a submissive?
The questions and uncertainties kept her mind busy until they pulled into Mistress Samira's garage. After they got in, she was told to go wait at the bottom of a set of stairs she'd always passed by but never really thought about. It was only as she stood in front of it that she noticed the door was metal.
Mistress Samira came down the stairs behind her after a few minutes and handed her a protein fruit smoothie.
"Drink that," she said, "That may end up being your dinner. We'll have to see how things go."
It didn't taste bad so Dakota didn't have a problem drinking. She was fascinated watching her mistress, though.
Mistress Samira stepped up to the door and seemed to stare at it for a while. Then she brought a key up to the deadbolt lock set above the knob. It took her more than one try to get the key lined up, and then she paused again before turning it.
"Are you all right, Mistress Samira?" Dakota asked.
"I'm fine," she snapped back. With a forceful twist, she unlocked the door, then pulled it open.
Dakota followed her in and felt her eyes widen.
When she'd first heard about the film, despite Pascal warning her away from it as a bad source for what he intended, she'd watched the 50 Shades of Grey movie.
Where Christian Grey had his red room, ironically, Dakota would say Mistress Samira had a gray room.
The floor was smooth cement or concrete. Because of her viewing the movie and some other research she'd done out of curiosity, she recognized some of the furniture in the room, though Mistress Samira's versions were different. In the movie and in many pictures and a couple of videos she'd seen, most of the furniture had featured a lot of dark wood and (at least in the movie's case) red padded surfaces.
Mistress Samira was apparently not a traditionalist. There was a large "X" frame in the room, but where Dakota expected thick wood beams, Mistress Samria's seemed to be made of thin plates of metal with a black surface and gray outlines. There was a sawhorse-type piece with a thin padded bench on the top but again it was gray and plain metal. A plush couch or chair of some kind was upholstered in gray as well, and two standing cabinets on opposite walls were both gunmetal gray. There was also a simple steel frame that looked almost like a set of uneven bars at the Olympics, but much smaller. The base of it seemed sturdy though, and there were two more poles that ran the length of it fairly close to the ground. There was no art or decoration on the walls, though there were several large mirrors that made the space seem bigger.
"This room has been closed up for a long time," Mistress Samira said, then walked over to an actual closet and opened it. "Cleaning supplies are in here. I want the place cleaned up by nine. If you finish, you may have a snack before bed. If you do not, there will be consequences."
Without any further instructions, her mistress turned and walked back up the stairs. Dakota wasn't sure, but it seemed like looking at the room made her uncomfortable.
Dakota understood the request; the room smelled a bit musty and there was definitely dust and cobwebs all around. In the closet she found all the standard tools for cleaning. Looking at them, she blushed as she realized that if her mistress had told her to clean with the items in the closet two weeks ago, she wouldn't have had a clue how to get started.
Actual life skill acquired, yay me!
She was most of the way through mopping the room, her mind wandering. As she cleaned around the various pieces of furniture, she couldn't help imagining how they would be used. The cross was obvious, especially, again, since she'd seen a few BDSM videos and the crosses were a key feature in a lot of them. She didn't have any clue about the metal frame with the uneven bars, guessing there were other things that needed to be attached to it.
Then she started mopping around the sawhorse-type item. There were shelves, of sorts, on the legs, and they were rounded and padded. When she looked closer, she saw they could be adjusted higher or lower, and they could tilt. It took until she was cleaning from a different angle for it to click in her head.
She couldn't help her curiosity. She looked around quickly but the door to the stairs was still shut, and she didn't see any cameras or anything. She put the mop back in the bucket, then moved over. She put one leg on one of the "shelves" and it settled into the curved surface comfortably; the inside was padded with foam or gel. Then she put her hands on the thin bench in the middle, which was also padded, and swung her leg over like it was a bike. Her other leg settled in just as nicely.
The position put her crotch a few inches above the bench, so all her weight was on her legs. The padding meant it wasn't uncomfortable, but the balance wasn't great. Then she remembered the other "shelves."
It's like a racing motorcycle.
She leaned forward, lowering herself slowly so her chest rested on the padded bench. It was thin enough that her breasts fell to either side of it. When she was fully down, she could bend her elbows and rest her arms on the curved shelves. She didn't think that was right, though, because while her legs fit snugly in their place, her elbow felt like it was almost too big.
Then she remembered what the purpose of the room and the furniture was.
Dakota arched her back more and stuck her ass up. Shifting back with her body to do it meant her forearms went into the holders and her elbows were just below, and that fit a lot more comfortably. It also meant she was completely on display, as if she'd gotten into Presentation Two, but higher up.
If a guy walked in, he probably wouldn't even have to bend his knees much to fu-
A sound like a gunshot echoed around the room and Dakota yelped. She started to get off of the furniture.
"DO. NOT. MOVE!"
Sam
Sam stood at the bottom of the steps, watching the tail of the eight foot whip wriggle on the ground.