Chapter 22: Sally in Charge

It’s past nine o’clock at night when Mistress Penelope suggests that I deliver the two outfits I’ve borrowed from the dungeon for Freya. Freya is an artist who has converted her main bedroom into a studio. She sleeps in the small second bedroom like I do, one floor below. Freya is usually at home, either working or relaxing. Her excursions outside tend to be brief forays to the supermarket and the like. She must be a good artist as her works are sent for sale to one of the more prestigious galleries across town. At least, that’s what Freya tells me since I’m a complete novice when it comes to appraising art.

“I like this one the best,” says Freya, parading herself in the red corset and matching miniskirt.

I didn’t bring the matching boots, but that doesn’t spoil the effect. Freya seems at home wearing the sexy outfit, even though she claims to have never worn the like before. I concede that the outfit frames her natural beauty to good effect.

“Kneel on the floor and let me pin up your hair,” I say, momentarily forgetting that I’m not at work commanding a client.

The speed at which Freya obeys my command surprises me. I didn’t mean to be so forceful with my words, but it has the desired effect. I fix Freya’s hair into a high ponytail. I gently stroke Freya’s neck and she leans into my caress with a pleasant moan. I don’t need further encouragement to push further.

“Place you hands on your head,” I command. “Now lean back so you are sitting on your ankles ... no, no ... keep your hands on your head.”

The willingness of Freya to bend to my commands does strange things to my insides. It’s clearly having a similar effect on Freya. My training in the dungeon guides me into reading Freya’s desires as well as an appropriate way of exerting control. It’s the first time I’ve adopted the role of a dominatrix without Mistress Penelope being present.

As a natural submissive I should feel horrified at the thrill coursing through my body at the dominance I’m displaying. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling, and it makes me want to push further. I look at Freya, and she clearly wants me to continue.

“Kiss my pussy,” I command, pulling my vinyl panties to one side, and presenting my cunt to her face.

“Yes, Mistress,” replies Freya, as though it’s the most natural thing to say and do.

I realise that I’ve trapped myself in a dilemma. Freya clearly wants to bring me to an orgasm, but Mistress Penelope has forbidden me from having one without her permission. Since she isn’t here, that’s going to be hard to obtain. I could ignore her instruction in the hope that she doesn’t find out, but that feels like cheating.

While helping Mistress Penelope to run sessions in the dungeon has given me an insight into the technique of being a dominatrix, I lack the confidence to run a full session on my own. As pleasant as Freya’s response to my accidental command has been, I need to stay within the bounds of what I feel able to handle.

“That’s good, Freya,” I sigh, as I feel my arousal building from the efforts of her tongue. “But that’s enough for now. I think we should discuss what is happening here.”

To Freya’s credit, she seems to understand my hesitance. Her submission to me was sudden and unexpected ... certainly by me. Perhaps Freya had already envisioned herself surrendering herself to me, but nothing she has said or done previously suggested that was the extent of her desire. Freya kneels back into the position she previously adopted while I compose myself.