Notes

Sam

Sam woke up spooning Princess.

They hadn't started that way. Princess had been barely awake in her bed when Sam returned to the master bedroom. After evicting the Cordobas she'd gone back to the kitchen and poured herself a drink.

Arak wasn't popular in the US. In fact, it was damned hard to find a lot of the time. But Sam's family had spent 12 years in Isreal and, similar to Europe, there was less obsession with drinking ages there, so she'd gotten used to it well before she turned 18.

She'd all but stopped drinking once she started taking subs on. But for the past three years she'd gotten back into the habit. And she wasn't going to be doing anything with Princess that night.

So it was with a slight buzz she'd returned to her bedroom and found her princess, nude and partially sprawled on the bed. One leg was tucked under the covers, but most of her ass and the rest of her body was exposed. It had only taken a slight tug to pull the sheet aside and expose the girl's pussy. It showed no signs of the fucking it had received only hours before. It was clean, bare, and tight; a little slit that promised so much pleasure.

Her hand had cupped Princess's ass before she realized it, and her middle finger had found the crease. She'd slid her finger down to the perineum, close enough to feel the heat of Princess's sex. Then Princess had moaned and shifted, not away from the touch, but toward it. Sam had needed to pull her hand away or her finger would have slipped in.

Am I The Don now? Getting off on assaulting girls who don't want it?

Sam had thought.

Except that moan hadn't exactly been a protest. And she hadn't flinched

away

.

Deciding she was too tired and drunk to think about any of that, she'd simply changed and got into bed, leaving some clear separation between the two of them.

Except that separation had clearly gone. One of her arms was tucked up between Princess's breasts, held there by the fingers interlocked with her own. Her legs tucked up behind Princess's, the girl's ass pressed firmly into her crotch. If she'd been a man and woken up with a morning erection, she probably would have penetrated the girl by accident.

Fuck, she feels so good.

Somewhat guiltily, she let herself lay there, enjoying the position and the feel of the girl's body on hers. Despite the teasing and the hostility, Maria and the Don were right about some things. It

had

been a long time since Sam had enjoyed a partner. Longer still since she'd had a partner she could order around and know they'd do what she wanted.

And she'd decided to take on a slave who was straight as a laser. Who'd screamed out in panic when a woman's tongue got near her vagina.

She tried not to think about the likelihood that whoever Princess's unconscious snuggled up with, it wasn't her. It might be her ex, or just some generic fantasy guy who'd rescued her, the damsel in distress. She'd probably moaned when Sam touched her because she'd been dreaming about "properly thanking" her hero.

Her mood soured, Sam slipped out of bed without waking her sub and checked the clock. It was 7:30 but Princess deserved to sleep more. She got up and made herself busy.

=-=-=-=-=

After an appropriate amount of time passed, she made a phone call and cashed in a favor. Shortly after that she ordered Princess to put on a shirt and sit on a video call in her office. An hour later, Princess emerged and shocked Sam by walking up and giving her a hug.

"Thank you Mistress Samira," she said.

The hug put her head resting mostly on Sam's breasts, with her head tucked under Sam's chin. Like the morning snuggle, Sam allowed herself to enjoy the contact for a moment and marvel at the feel of Princess's soft body against her own.

Neither of them moved to break the embrace for a while, but Sam told herself she had things to do, responsibilities as the Mistress. She told Princess to go tend to her chores, then went into the office.

"How is she, Doctor Carlisle?" Sam asked the sweater-wearing bespectacled man on the screen.

"Considering how you described the problem when you called, she's fine," the man replied.

"And what does 'fine' mean, for her?" Sam asked.

"Sam, I know because of your habits and lifestyle you want to control her. But you can't control how she feels or what she thinks, beyond the context of your roleplay. I can't reveal any more about her because she's my patient and, legally, you're nothing to her. You aren't her caretaker, you don't have medical decision or power of attorney, and you certainly aren't her parent," Doctor Carlisle said.

"Doctor, I need to know if I should stop...roleplaying...with her?" Sam asked.

The doctor looked at her intently in a way that made Sam squirm. "From a psychological and medical perspective? No."

"Really?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Sam, remember me? Eugene Carlisle, newfangled progressive psychiatrist that doesn't think alternative lifestyles are automatically bad? I can't and won't go into more detail but yeah, what you've got going on with her is fine. Except..." he said trailing off.

"Except what?" I pressed.

"Except why do

you

want me to give you an excuse to stop?" he asked.

Sam scowled. "I didn't call you to do a session on

me

," she griped.

"With. I do sessions

with

patients, not to them or on them," Dr. Carlisle said.

"Well you're not doing a session with, on, or to me," Sam said.

"Samira-" Dr. Carlisle said but he was cut off as the screen of Sam's laptop slammed closed and the program automatically shut down. She sat at her desk breathing hard after several minutes, her phone went off with a text notification.

> If you want to talk, you have my contact info -- Dr. Carlisle.

Sam deleted the message.

=-=-=-=-=

While there were all sorts of unknown consequences of the night around her relationships with the Cordobas, Princess, and possibly the larger BDSM community in the area, there was one undeniable, concrete result that had to be dealt with.

Physics had not been one of Samira's best subjects in school, so she wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to shatter the wood around the doorknob, detach two of the door hinges,

and

break off one of the strips of molding around the doorframe, but she had. Examining the remaining hinge, Sam realized leaving the door hanging on it for the entire night and morning had also bent it more, so that one was gone too.

Sam was listing materials on her phone when she heard, "Mistress Samira?"

She looked over. "Yes Princess," she asked.

"Are you going to fix that yourself?" she asked.

Sam smirked. "My father never had a boy to help him with all the little household chores. I was his substitute. I think he was heartbroken when my mother had to buy me my first training bra and sent him out to get me tampons." He was more heartbroken about the radical headscarf arguments, but she wasn't going to go into that with Princess.

"Would...would you like some help, Mistress Samira?"

Sam looked back at Princess, bemused. "You know how to hang a door?"

Princess shrugged, which did interestingly distracting things to her breasts. "When you're a kid on set and they don't need you for a scene, you have to stay out of everyone's way. The set builders would be working on places sometimes, and they didn't mind me hanging around. I picked up a few things."

"I'm sure they did too," Sam mused.

"They weren't

that

creepy, Mistress Samira," Princess said with a sly smile, "I only got my ass pinched by a couple of them."

"All right, Princess. This is our project for the day."

In deference to what they were doing (and possibly because they were in Vermont), Sam had Princess put on jeans and a flannel shirt, and pull her dirty blonde hair back in a ponytail. She kept the heels on because they both thought it was funny.

Both of them laughed together at how many men fell over themselves to help them in the hardware store. If they wanted to, they could have had an army of well-meaning men over to their house helping.

When they had the new door, hinges, and other things loaded into the car, Sam turned to Princess and said, "What do you think, Princess? You still want to hang the door, or do you want me to go back and get the three guys we saw at the register and tell them you'll suck them off if they do it?"

Sam had been joking, but the look Princess gave her made her pause. "Are...are you actually asking me, Mistress Samira?" she said.

"Yes, I am," Sam said.

"I would rather work with you, Mistress Samira. But if you need me to service those men of course I won't question it," Princess said.

Sam nodded and started the car, heading for her house. Doctor Carlisle said she was fine, so she'd thought her tease about servicing the guys would be better received. Maybe she still needed time after the incident.

They spent the rest of the day working. When they got home Princess stayed in the work clothes, but she tied them up so her midriff showed and her tits made impressive cleavage up the top. Somehow, the sight of Princess mostly dressed and teasing was almost more erotic for Sam than when she walked around naked.

Then there was the time she almost put the screw gun through her hand when Princess's head backed into her butt. For a brief moment, she'd thought Princess put her face there, and her imagination had gone completely wild.

The door was hung and swinging smoothly by dinnertime, and miracle of miracles, the new knob matched up with the existing latch. Of course, it still looked like raw wood.

"Do you know how to stain wood as well Princess?" she asked.

"Yes Mistress Samira," she replied.

"That's your job tomorrow then," Sam said, "And if you finish early, you get a treat."

"What kind of treat, Mistress Samira?"

"You'll have to work well to find out, Princess."

Dakota

Dakota wanted to sleep naked in Mistress Samira's bed again. She didn't think her mistress had been able to tell, but she'd felt her move in the morning, and relished the whole time she was awake and Dakota got to cuddle her arm between her breasts and feel her warm crotch against her ass. But she had Dakota sleep in the trundle. She probably could have gone nude, but without Mistress Samira there it wasn't as exciting.

After breakfast Mistress Samira had her start on the door. She had the stain that the other doors had been done with, and provided Dakota with all the other tools and brushes she'd need. Dakota wasn't sure what her mistress went off to do, but she didn't mind; she lost herself in the work.

She'd always enjoyed little projects like that. She'd suggested to Mistress Samira that she'd just wandered over to the set builders and got taken in, but the reality was she'd had to go seek them out. For obvious reasons, directors didn't want construction with power tools going on right next to their set when they were recording. And it had taken a while for the (mostly) guy crew to accept she wasn't going to be a pain underfoot.

They never let her do anything involving ladders or power tools, and even hammers were something they got nervous about. None of them wanted to be responsible for the child actor suddenly getting a broken finger that would have to be explained on-set.

But stuff like sanding, painting, manually using screwdrivers, all of that stuff she got to do whenever she could get away from her mother. It was a solace for her a lot of the time. And it gave her something to do while she thought.

Mistress Samira owned her thoughts. It was kind of fitting, since she was Mistress Samira's slave, but the woman hadn't been in her head like this before. That was why she'd responded so...awkwardly to her mistress's quip at the hardware store.

She knew what she should have done. She should have been coy and just this side of sarcastic and said something about how eager she would be to suck all of their cocks, maybe ask if Mistress Samira would have them fuck her too. Truthfully, a month ago, it was the kind of BDSM fantasy she'd actually thought about in the deep, secret corners of her brain.

But it would have meant losing out on spending the day with Mistress Samira. Now? She wanted that more than anything.

Actually, what she wanted more than anything was Mistress Samira to push her boundaries.

It didn't make a lot of sense if she tried to describe it out loud. She knew, because she'd done exactly that with the psychiatrist Dr. Carlisle.

~~~~~~~~~

"You're uncertain because you're attracted to Samira?" Dr. Carlisle said.

"That's just it. I'm attracted to Mistress Samira. I...I don't know if I'd feel the same if it was just...Samira, older girl I'm hanging out with," Dakota said.

"Does it matter?" Dr. Carlisle asked.

"Well...I mean yeah," Dakota said.

"Why?" Dr. Carlisle asked.

"Because...I mean...isn't that leading her on? Not liking the 'real her'? It's like...with my fans. They all love Princess Jewel, wearing court dresses and riding horses and fighting in armor. If they met me in yoga pants and a crop-top and saw me laughing at a Tik Tok on my cell phone a lot of their brains would melt. Mistress Samira...isn't actually Mistress Samira. It wouldn't be fair for me to...do anything with that, would it?" Dakota asked.

"You have to remember Dakota, the type of roleplay you're doing with Samira is very, very different from your acting. Because of the agreement you've worked out, you never leave the set. You never break character. I assume Samira told you not a lot of subs do what you're doing? The slavery set up?" Dr. Carlisle asked.

Dakota nodded and he continued, "The reason for that is what I said; both the sub and the dom in those situations are more comfortable interacting on that level. With those roles. Many subs genuinely feel their slave persona, how they are with their master, is the real them. Whenever they have to go to work or out to the store or wherever? That's when they're putting on the act. That's when they're pretending. Stripping off their clothes, kneeling down in front of their dom, and being pet on the head or whipped? That's their real self. And many doms feel the same way."

"Does...does Mistress Samira feel that way?" Dakota asked.

"I don't know, Dakota. I wish I could tell you. Samira...was very damaged by what happened three years ago. Before then, I wouldn't have hesitated in saying she believed her real person was her dominant one. If I knew that were still true, I would tell you that being attracted to Samira as your mistress? Might be more real than if you did meet her in a coffee shop."

~~~~~~~

Dr. Carlisle had told her that in her position as a slave, she couldn't really help Mistress Samira be comfortable in her dom role any more than she already was. He's also said if she really thought she was cut out to be a submissive slave, and she wanted to pursue a relationship in that vein, she should trust her instincts.

She finished the door much sooner than she thought she would and made sure everything and everywhere around it was cleaned up before summoning Mistress Samira. Mistress Samira greeted her work with an impressed smile.

"Excellent job Princess," she said, "Now I have to take you for your massage lesson. Then tonight, you get a treat. You want to know what it is?"

Dakota nodded excitedly, bouncing up and down on her feet. She knew she was acting like a small child, but right then she didn't care.

"You get to pick any scene or piece of equipment downstairs and I'll show you how it works. And I'll make sure you enjoy it," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota instantly knew what she wanted.

"Can...can you teach me...orgasm control again, Mistress Samira?"

A knowing smile appeared on Mistress Samira's face. "Of course, Princess.

=-=-=-=-=

"Now, Princess! Let it out, let yourself cum hard!"

"AaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Dakota screamed out.

Unlike the first time, Mistress Samira had taken her down to the basement again and put her on the bench, bent forward like she was on a sport bike, or galloping on a horse. A hip-hop song would have described it as "face down, booty up." This time there was no flogger or whip, though; only toys.

But those had changed as well.

The toys in her pussy and ass could vibrate, but they also writhed and undulated. Mistress Samira had held the one she called "the little snake" out in front of her. It looked like a shallow "S" shape with a penis head on one end. When it moved in her, it felt like someone dragging a smooth...something from the depths of her vagina out to the opening.

The anal toy felt like an enormous, never-tiring tongue that simply licked in and around every part of her rectum and sphincter.

Taken together, they were a completely different feel than the straight vibrator, but the orgasms were almost more intense. They were harder to hold off, too; the one she'd just managed was her first success in three tries.

"Now we're going to try something new, Princess. But in order for it to work you have to really try to control yourself, understand me, Princess?"

"Yes Mistress Samira," Dakota said breathlessly.

The toys started up again. A wave of pressure went straight past her G-spot, then one dug at her pussy and set off the insides. The maddening fake tongue in her ass made little knots of pleasure light up in different parts of her ass, one after the other in a crazy sequence. She'd been through it three times already over she didn't know how long, but it still felt exquisite. It was better than any partner had ever felt for her.

She dug her fingernails into her palms, but her long nails were long

gone

and they didn't provide enough pain to offset the stimulations from her ass and pussy. Actually, she wasn't sure the little bit of pain she did feel wasn't

helping her get there faster.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her muscles and focus on something other than the tremendous pleasure rocking up from between her legs. When she opened them, Mistress Samira was right there.

She'd specifically requested not to be blindfolded. Mistress Samira hadn't thought anything of it.

"Please Mistress Samira...I'm trying...I'm really trying...I want to hold out."

"Good Princess, you need to! You need to hold out a bit longer."

She focused on her mistress's violet eyes. They sparkled with amusement, probably relishing the trouble Dakota was having holding on. But Dakota saw more in there. There was a little bit of pride. And lust. There was lust in there. Her mistress was turned on by what was happening.

Dakota started her own staring contest, fighting not to close her eyes and lose eye contact, trying to keep her eyes open like she was trying to keep her body from succumbing to the pleasure inflicted on it.

"Hang on Princess," Mistress Samira said, "This is about to get worse. I need you to hold. On!"

The toy in her pussy got faster. It wasn't someone rubbing her G-spot frantically anymore, it was someone slamming into it. Her pussy stretched in many directions, all of them intense, all of them pushing Dakota farther and farther off the edge.

"I have to touch you Princess," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota almost lost it when she heard those words. She felt her whole crotch quiver and she clenched her ass so tight she thought the toy would rip her skin. "Mistress...Mistress please," she begged.

"I think I've got you on the edge, but I need to send you over huge. To do that I need to touch you."

"Yes Mistress Samira. Anything Mistress I just want to cum!"

"Anything Princess? I can touch your pussy? I can put my fingers on your clit?" Mistress Samira asked.

"Mistress...Mistress I can't hold on! Do whatever you have to, please!"

Suddenly Mistress Samira's face was cheek-to-cheek with Dakota's, her mouth next to Dakota's ear.