Turning the Tables

Jen smoothed her immaculately pressed skirt and glanced at the living room mirror one last time before answering the knock on the door. She gave the reflection a slight nod - classic with a risque edge. The blood red bra was just visible through her cream blouse, and the new heels elongated and slimmed her calves. For a woman in her late thirties, she looked good and she knew it. Smiling warmly, she opened the door.

"Dan, wonderful to see you," she enthused, resting her hands lightly on the shoulders of the gentleman at the threshold and balancing on tip toe to air kiss either cheek. His hand gave her waist a quick playful squeeze - cheeky, but typical of him.

Stepping back, she appraised the man with careful scrutiny. The suit, though clearly off the peg, emphasised his broad shoulders. With his long hair twisted in a man bun and open necked shirt, he gave off an aura of both smart and comfortable. Having known him for a couple of years, she was pleased with the effort he had made tonight. Not that she had expected him to go out of his way to please her. Tonight wasn't about the two of them.

Their friendship - very much limited in the scope of its environment - was only important inasmuch as she knew that when she needed an assistant, he would be obliging. And obliging was really all she knew or, for that matter, expected. He had the skill and knowledge though she doubted any experience in this setting. In fact it might be good, for her purposes, if he was a bit... unpredictable.

The tension in his jaw betrayed some nerves as he smiled back at her. Strike one against his professionalism, but she couldn't really blame him. He'd never claimed to be a professional. He was just a guy with a set of mutual interests, and an appreciative gaze that raked her figure up and down. The smile widened, his focus lingering on her shapely legs.

She let him look; she wasn't ashamed. His mouth twitched at the effort to resist licking his lips. But he made no move as his eyes leisurely tracked up, then blatantly fixed on her ample cleavage. By the time he finally reached her eyes, the glint had become a fire. She smirked. Well, he certainly knew how to make a woman feel the weight of his stare.

He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice dripping with mischievous anticipation. "You look exquisite, as always..." His broad smile faltered as he struggled for what to call her. "Er..."

She waved a hand to indicate he should come in. "Jen is fine," she reassured him.

"Jen," he confirmed. His shoulders relaxed as he stepped through the door. The nervousness dissipated quickly, replaced by the confident man she knew from her club. Confidence had never been his problem. He was a typical, experienced kinkster willing to pay for play. If she had to guess, this was probably the first time he wasn't the one reaching into his wallet.

"Once we're in the back room, please call me Mistress Jen or Ma'am," she explained. "But out here, I prefer to keep things less formal. This is my home after all."

His smile and nod sufficed as an acknowledgment, and she led him down the hall with an extra sway in her hips. The high heels assisted her walk. In the glass from the landscape picture in the hallway, she saw the reflection of his expression - focus locked on her derriere. Grinning, she rocked her hips a little more, letting her skirt ride up to reveal the top of her stockings. She may have no intention of a contact session with him today - or ever - but she did so love the effect feminine subtleties could have on a man.

He stopped and briefly closed his eyes before shaking his head and continuing. It was everything she could do not to chuckle under her breath.

"Thank you for agreeing to help me out today," she said lightly, continuing through the suburban house. Not one for clutter, she kept her home immaculate, a little devoid of character but she liked the simplicity of minimalism. This was her calm sanctuary, with no indication of her professional life.

She paused to look over her shoulder and his eyes snapped up quickly, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He raised an eyebrow in question, trying - unsuccessfully - to look nonchalant.

"I can only test them so far on my own, so thank you for your assistance," she continued, her eyes dancing with thrill at the power she had over him. She didn't even have to try.

"It's no problem," he stuttered. "Anything you ask, um, really... I'm happy to help."

His eyes widened as the overhead light turned her blouse translucent. Then, as if suddenly realizing he was the player who'd been played, his features relaxed and he smirked as they shared a look of understanding. Jen hadn't dressed without thought. The light, that blouse, the bra - without words he acknowledged what a tease she was and how it was successfully driving him crazy.

Playing along, she slowly blinked back, the picture of innocence. The air around them filled with energy. A stand off between equals - each well versed in the tricks and skills to make another person want to relinquish power.

He broke the spell with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "Two of them you said on the phone?" The smirk came through in his tone.

She chastised herself as her confidence slipped for a moment. She hated having to admit she actually needed his help. "They're almost ready for the club," she explained. "But there is only so much I can do to let them experience what a client will be like." Meeting his eyes, she slowly ran a hand down her body, letting it loiter on her hip and pushed her shoulders back a little. Her eyes narrowed as the power balance shifted again - this time in her favour.

Transfixed by her body, his lips parted in silent exhalation.

"I'm only a small woman," she emphasised. "You men do tend to hit harder."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, distracted by the power of her more physically fragile sex as he followed her into the conservatory. She took her time, at a leisurely pace. It was satisfying to make him squirm, even if a quick glance at his groin gave nothing away.

The conservatory was bathed in warm, low lighting. Glass encompassed three sides, all uncovered, drawing the garden in. Outside, the evening darkness was accented by brightly coloured fairy lights. Trance-like, Dan stepped to the window, admiring the view.

"We're not overlooked," she reassured. "I try to avoid blinds to make the room feel more spacious."

"It is lovely," he admitted, clearly impressed. "Did you do it all?"

"Me?" She laughed. "No, of course not. What are slaves for, if not a little interior and exterior decorating?"

Suddenly, he caught sight of the neat display of every conceivable implement and toy - and a few not conceivable. Even more impressed, he laughed lightly and moved in for a closer inspection of the tools of her trade.

"So... Where's the... Test subjects?" he asked distractedly.

"Can I get you a drink?" she offered, ignoring the sexual frustration in his tone and taking a seat on a high backed velvet covered chair. When he finally glanced back, she waved at the chaise lounge opposite.

"That would be lovely," he agreed. "Black Russian, please."

She chuckled as his fingertips caressed the spanking bench like an old, familiar lover. "Patience is a virtue," she reminded him as the magnificent oak St. Andrew's Cross caught his attention and he gasped as he approached it.

She let him admire her collection for a few minutes. This was his first time in her home and she had expected a certain amount of overwhelmed distraction. Once he got it out of his system, she hoped he'd be able to focus.

"Sit," she finally commanded when he turned his attention back to her. He stood a bit straighter and cleared his throat before perching on the edge of the nearest chair. She was now in her private play space and the queen of this domain, and he responded appropriately to her authority. She quelled her smirk. All men were the same when issued a direct order by a confident woman.

Suddenly, she clapped her hands together. "Sarah!"

Enthusiastically, his eyes moved to the door in time to see the attractive blond with slim hips and pert breasts rush in, only clothed in a white lace bra and delicate thong - pure and innocent. He smiled broadly at the gorgeous young thing.

"Get Sir a Black Russian!"

As soon as she heard the order, the young girl disappeared.

Dan raised an eyebrow. "She seems well-trained," he observed. Jen honestly couldn't tell if he was really so impressed or just looking for words to break the silence. He hid his anxieties well, but she was no amateur at finding them.

"Yes," she answered dismissively. "Sarah has been courting me for a job for a couple of months and was working on her submission well before that."

Crossing and uncrossing her legs slowly, Jen made sure to give him a brief but perfect view of her hairless pussy. He leaned forward on his seat, almost losing his balance.

"I like to call her Buffy," Jen continued, as if she hadn't noticed. "Don't you think she looks like Sarah Michelle Gellar?"

Dan once again demonstrated what a legs man he was, eyes wandering unashamedly up Jen's toned thighs. He licked his lips and she raised a brow. Power play had always excited her, and there was nothing quite like the thrill of having another dominant in the house. This was sure to be an interesting evening.

As if remembering his manners, a sly smile crossed his face and, finally, he replied. "She does have that look about her."

Still staring at Jen's thighs, it took him a moment to notice Sarah had returned. Her eyes were lowered as she presented his drink. Jen swelled with pride at her trainee's manners - unobtrusive and submissive. At his leisure, Dan moved his focus to the scantily clad girl, looking her up and down casually.

"Your Black Russian, Sir," she managed nervously as he made her wait, holding his drink out.

Finally, he took the glass and sipped it with a grimace. "Too much Coke."

Jen scowled at Sarah, who immediately dropped to her knees. Unphased, Dan placed the glass at his feet and settled back, naturally commanding now that he had a young girl kneeling beside him.

Jen let him bask in the glow of power before clapping her hands together again. "Rosie!"

Dan absently stroked Sarah's hair, pulling on it gently every now and then, the way one might stroke a cat with an extra scratch behind the ears. Meanwhile, Rosie entered the room on her hands and knees, wearing only a leather choker. Her large breasts hung low, swinging as she crawled forward, arse shifting back and forth in perfect time. She was a picture of perfection, with long, vibrant red hair, braided and starkly contrasted by her soft milky skin. Jen knew she had sourced the most exquisite girl.

Dan leaned forward with interest as Rosie moved to his other side and settled on her heels, hands neatly in her lap, eyes lowered. It took a moment for him to drag his eyes up to Jen again. "You have, as always, Ma'am, impeccable taste."

She didn't really need Dan's confirmation, but she appreciated it all the same. As a much respected Mistress, she hadn't chosen these two based on their good fortune alone. She understood the core male psyche; they were visual creatures and simple to please. "Rosie is also a trained masseuse," Jen pointed out with pride, "which I feel is a great asset in a slave."

Dan's focus returned to the large breasted redhead. Taking a handful of her hair, he pulled her chin up onto the chair's arm and held her still as he ran the other hand over her breasts. "Yes, excellent. A useful slave is always better," he agreed quietly, lifting and weighing the ample breast in his hand.

Rosie gasped as his fingers flicked her nipple - maybe inadvertently - and she met his eyes briefly before dropping her gaze and holding the position he had placed her in. Still fondling her carefully, he released her hair and moved that hand to Sarah, pulling a breast free from her bra. She trembled under his touch, as Dan compared the two slaves. Sarah pushed her chest forward, welcoming him and clearly wanting more. Her breasts were smaller and the nipples rock hard. Dan grazed his palm over one, then rolled it between his fingers. Sarah swallowed tightly.

In comparison to Sarah, who offered her breasts freely to whatever pleasure or pain he had in mind, Rosie was tense. She was doing her best not to cower under his examination as he continued to pull and play with a breast of each girl kneeling beside him. "Not bad," he scrutinized, studying her carefully as he pinched each girl's nipple. "A little ill disciplined perhaps. Is Rosie less experienced?"

Jen sighed. "She told me she had a Master, but I don't feel he gave her a well rounded approach to training. More niche you could say."

Sarah held her pose, but Jen noticed the deepening of her breaths. Rosie finally straightened and pushed her larger breasts forward, giving Dan clear access. Good girl. Jen was pleased to see her recent training hadn't gone to waste.

"Oh really? What's the niche?" Dan asked, still groping both girls.

Jen leaned forward, her blouse dropping open. "Rosie's last Master was more focused on anal over protocol."

"Oh, I see!" Dan responded with interest. His hand on Rosie withdrew, and went to Sarah's other breast, pulling it up and free from the bra by the nipple. Sarah gave a muted gasp and bit her lip. With the focus moved away, Rosie rested back on her haunches, eyes down.

"So she's nice and broken in back there, is she?" he asked, ever-so-casually. "You know, I do like to fuck a slave in the arse sometimes. It is so, well, Dom!"

Finally releasing Sarah's nipples, he turned his full attention to Rosie, who cowered a little.

"Rosie, tell Master," Jen instructed, getting up to retrieve a gin and tonic off a low table.

Dan didn't touch Rosie, except to catch her chin and move her head to face him. He stared into her eyes. "Yes, slave. Speak. Now."

"Master," Rosie mumbled in nervous acknowledgment. Her emerald eyes flashed up to meet his before dropping back down.

He leaned closer, just inches from her, the breath dancing between them. "Look at me, slave."

She obediently met his gaze, long, dark eyelashes framing soulful eyes.

Jen retook her seat, sipping the gin and tonic, and observed her girls. This was what she wanted - to see how the girls coped under pressure when a stranger imposed his God given right to their submission. It was a ridiculous notion in reality, but a popular fantasy, and one the girls would have to learn to service. After all, Jen's clientele paid a premium for such fantasies - a moment to switch off the world and bask in domination without the usual hard work of an ongoing dynamic.

"Your Mistress told you to speak," he growled when Rosie remained mute. "I'm going to make those big eyes cry. How do you feel about that?"

"Yes, Master," she finally managed, voice wavering. "I am fully trained in all anal play."

Dan calmly continued staring at her, letting her squirm under the weight of the silence.

"Whatever you want to do, Master," she tried again. The tremble in her voice was more pronounced.

Jen frowned. Meek and shy was alluring to many men, but Rosie was not demonstrating the internal self confidence required to make it as a professional submissive. Well, not a quality one anyway.

"That's the right answer," Dan finally replied with a definitive nod. He put a hand over her face and harshly pushed her away. Rosie fell to the floor and remained motionless where she landed. Jen took a sip of her drink.

Dan rolled his shoulders and settled back in his chair comfortably. In fact, he looked more collected and comfortable than Jen had ever seen him in that moment, and it made her smile.

"Ma'am, you wanted me to test them," he began conversationally. But in spite of the controlled tone, she could see his cock fighting the constriction of his clothes now. The power of having these three exquisite females hanging on his every word was clearly taking its toll. "Please, tell me more."

"You can test the girls as you choose." Jen waved nonchalantly at the back wall, spanking bench and St. Andrew's Cross. "Or the girls can perform a sensual experience for you." She pointed to a black massage table by the patio doors.

Rosie remained unmoving on the floor. Sarah sat on her haunches, chest out. Dan grinned like a kid in a sweet shop, considering where to begin.

After another moment of contemplation he rose to his feet. "Sarah, suck me."

The blond quickly moved to undo his flies and reached in for his hardening cock.

"Rosie, get that cane... The long one." Dan failed to quell the excitement in his voice as she, too, jumped to obey. Greedily he glanced at Jen's shapely thighs, probably wondering how he could encourage her to join in the party. But she only smiled back, and took another satisfying sip from her glass.

Sarah lapped at Dan's cock like an over-enthusiastic dog, her blue eyes dark and dilated. Jen mentally noted she must revisit fallitio training with the young blond. Rosie placed a cane in Dan's palm, her eyes lowered. Observing quietly, Jen decided she was pleased with her girls' performance. She smiled and uncrossed her legs again, giving Dan the privilege of seeing her bare pussy. Watching this man controlling both girls made Jen throb with excitement and there was no point in hiding it. Pride in her new submissives caused heat to build between her legs.

"Rosie," Dan ordered, "stand in front of me, turn left and put your hands on your knees. I hope your Mistress enjoys this." Smirking, he stared at Jen's breasts as she leaned forward to observe his work.

Rosie didn't move fast enough. "What are you waiting for!" he barked, and she scrambled into position, her creamy arse exposed and heavy breasts hanging forward. "Slave, count," he ordered quietly.

"Yes, Master," Rosie confirmed, hands on her knees, arse pushed enticingly towards Dan.

"Sarah, stop drooling," Jen chastised as the attractive blond licked her lips staring at the throbbing cock in front of her face. "Take him deep like you've been practicing. Use your tongue."

"You might need to give her a hands on demonstration," Dan cheekily taunted.

Jen smirked back feeling saliva building in her mouth. But no, this was not about her own fun; today was purely to test the new submissives. There would be time later to play with Dan. And, my God what a scene it would be, a battle of dominance. Her clit throbbed with approval at the idea.

She watched with pride as Sarah wrapped her mouth enthusiastically around Dan's cock, swallowing him deep. Tears poured from her closed eyes as she worked her throat around him.

Hard, swift and accurate, he stroked the cane once, on the centre of Rosie's arse. His eyes moved from the impact to stare blatantly at Jen's pussy. She splayed her legs, forcing her skirt higher. Subconsciously her fingers stroked her inner thigh. Dan licked his lips. She smiled at the idea of riding Dan's face as he was bound to a bed. Goosebumps coated her arms.

"Count, girl!" he demanded, staring at Jen.

A squeak emitted from Rosie before she managed. "One, Master."

Sarah continued to work his cock. Licking, massaging and sucking. Still a little too enthusiastic, not that he seemed to care.

Dan flicked the cane to leave a welt across Rosie's posterior.

She shuddered and whimpered. "Two, Master."

Dan closed his eyes for a moment of bliss at the pathetic tone.

Watching a fellow dominant at work was always exciting. Jen let out an involuntary moan, her fingers grazing the edge of her pussy.

Dan opened his eyes and smiled confidently across the room. "Enjoying your show?" His voice husky.

"Oh very much." Jen flushed at how engrossed she had become. With a smile, she rested back on the chair and moved her hand to stroke a breast, confident he'd want her more than both submissives by the end of the night. Not that she'd let him, denial was her favorite game. He would have to be on his knees begging before she ever permitted him to play with her. She circled one hard nipple, straining through her blouse.