Sam
After the incident with the orgasm training things seemed to go back to normal. There was a slight difference, though, one that they didn't speak of.
Princess was much more physically affectionate than she had been. It reminded Sam of April, her first female sub. She'd only taken male subs up to that point and had basically taken April on as a dare after idly commenting that she grew bored of her male subs after only a couple of months. She'd known she had bisexual tendencies; she certainly had no trouble enjoying receiving or giving her attention to a female sub before that, but she'd always assumed it was just in the context of the scenes, and hadn't considered any sort of long-term commitment with a woman.
Despite years watching doms inflict much harsher punishments on their female subs than Sam ever had on her male ones, she'd assumed she needed a lighter touch with April. Their first few months together had almost been like girls at a sleepover, and they'd spent a lot of time touching. They shared a bed almost every night, but ironically didn't often have sex there. Sex happened almost everywhere else; bed was for cuddling.
Eventually April had shown that life as a sub wasn't for her. Or at least, life as a sub with Sam wasn't for her. At the same time Sam was being awakened to the idea of a longer term relationship with one woman, April had the opposite awakening. It had only taken one time for Sam to notice how excited April got at the idea of fucking new people. After Sam "forced" her into allowing three men to airtight her on a stage in the middle of a party, Sam told her to go into porn. Despite starting at 23 (practically ancient in the porn world), April, under her stage name, had gone on to win several AVN awards and showed no signs of slowing down five years later. She wasn't featured in any "young starlet" roles anymore, but she hadn't quite crossed the MILF line yet. Sam did know she was backing away from working with major studios and doing more self-promotion and content, as many people in the industry were.
She wasn't embarrassed to admit her former sub was the focus of several of her internet bookmarks when she needed to get off.
And because of Princess, that was happening more often. What reminded Sam of April wasn't a latent desire in Princess for more partners (as if the incident with the Cordobas wasn't enough of a clue); it was the touching.
Princess spent a lot more time touching Sam. Just random, incidental touches mostly, but where before Princess would call to her from across a room, instead she walked up and touched her to get Sam's attention. She also looked so heartbroken when Sam had her sleep on the trundle that in her head she was starting to think of it as a punishment for Princess.
She could stop it, of course. One command that she had to ask permission to touch her mistress and all of that would stop. But Sam almost felt like she was addicted to it. She'd never thought of herself as someone who needed physical contact, but getting so much of it now after almost three years of barely any was a game changer.
In her head, sometimes, when Princess touched her on the shoulder while she sat, Sam imagined her sliding her hands over the shoulders and around her chest, then leaning in to nuzzle and kiss her neck. April used to do that to her.
April was on her mind so much because Sam had found herself reviewing the girl's catalogue of performances while Princess was at the parlor learning her massage skills. Three times she'd caught herself waking up in the morning with her head running through Princess's hair and starting to push her head down. She'd woken up fully before actually trying to get Princess to suck on her breast or go down on her, but sometimes it had been close.
The fact that Princess hadn't objected she just put down to the girl being half awake.
Sam looked at the calendar. Her month of sabbatical or leave or whatever they were calling it at the office was up. On Monday she'd have to go back to work and try to convince everyone on her team that they weren't actually working for Miranda Priestly.
...Or do I?
Sam looked up her employee data and spent some time with a calculator.
She had the equivalent of two months of vacation time banked because she never took time off. Vermont didn't require companies to pay out that time if an employee left, but their company had branches in other states that did, so company policy was that it happened. She'd also received an e-mail from Lisa that told her she was getting a $20,000 bonus for her work on the previous project.
Even without the pay she might receive for...helping...Princess, Sam had enough coming her way to live off of for most of a year. If she really got antsy, one-off Project Management consulting contracts were everywhere, particularly if she leveraged some of her contacts.
She mentally prepared herself and then called Lisa.
Dakota
"You-ah good masseuse ah-now."
Dakota laughed as Mr. Toma laid the "stereotypical Asian" accent on even thicker than he usually did. She was washing oil off of her hands after her last massage.
For the past week, it had been less teaching and more practical experience. When customers came in that Mr. Toma knew he didn't have to keep "the act" up for and were either trustworthy enough to keep a secret or didn't know who Dakota was, he would let Dakota do their massages. If there weren't enough people to keep Dakota busy doing that, he would ask a few of the more reliable girls in the parlor if they wanted one. Most were eager to accept; a lot of them had tightness around their shoulders, arms, and hands especially. Dakota was nervous about being "outed" the first couple of days, but so far everyone had stayed quiet.
Dakota felt her heart speed up as she remembered one from earlier in the week.
The girl went by Suki for the customers but her actual name was Leslie. She was mixed Asian but had enough of the look in her face to match the aesthetic of the place. But she also had a lot of curves to her.
When Dakota worked on her, she couldn't help comparing the woman's body to Mistress Samira's. They had almost the same skin tone, and both had dark, luxuriously wavy hair. Dakota had begun daydreaming that she was giving her mistress the massage, and she hadn't paid close attention to what she was doing.
"You're making me feel too good, honey," Leslie had said, and Dakota had realized she'd moved from relaxing the girl to turning her on. She'd moved her hands swiftly, but Leslie had said, "I didn't say stop."
Heart pounding, Dakota had lost herself further in the fantasy. She'd had no idea what was going through Leslie's head until a few minutes later.
She'd been standing to one side of the table, rubbing Leslie's lower back, her fingers trailing across the upper crack of her ass. Suddenly Leslie had rolled and sat up on the table facing Dakota. She had a hand behind Dakota's neck before the girl had realized it. Leslie's face had been wide-eyed and hungry.
Or, as the internet might say, thirsty.
She pulled, but Dakota had resisted. She'd put a hand on the top of Leslie's chest, trying to avoid touching either of the firm, perky breasts now exposed at her. Leslie's face had gone through a bunch of expressions as they looked into each other's eyes.
"Someone else?" Leslie had asked. Dakota had only nodded. "Is...wow...this...you've never done this before, have you? With a girl, I mean?"
Dakota found herself blinking back tears as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said.
Leslie had pulled her into a hug and let Dakota cry a little. When Dakota composed herself, Leslie had said, "She doesn't know, does she?"
"No," Dakota admitted, "Actually, I pretty much told her flat out that I was straight and wanted nothing to do with girl sex. Hell I still wouldn't mind jumping on a cock if it was a nice one. Does that make me horrible?"
"God no, honey. You're what? Eighteen?"
