Isabelle Strauss was flooded with a tingle of anticipation- her dinner date with Allison was going to be later that night. Sadly, on Fridays she didn't work Allison's site- she had to file her progress reports, which left one of the trainees watching over her worksite- and her titanic sub.

"You're excited," Willard said flatly, a wry smirk on her face. Isabelle technically knew the woman had a first name, but she'd be damned if she could remember it. "Breaking in another toy?"

Isabelle huffed. "I'm not here for your commentary, Willard, I'm just here to input my file data." She turned to face her computer screen, praying that the stubborn cow of a woman wouldn't press further.

"No, you have a date!" Willard smirked excitedly. "Anyone I know? It's that fitness freak intern, isn't it? She's definitely enough of a challenge for Isabelle the Amazon Slayer, and I bet she screams, too."

Isabelle flushed at mention of her nickname, earned because of how she tended to snipe taller women and get them into bed with her, often by less -than-honest means. "No, it is not. I fail to see how my life is any of your business," she said, brusque and rude to make a point.

"Because you make fantastic gossip, Isabelle," Willard grinned. "Limiting yourself to interns so you don't get fired for fucking coworkers. Naughty, sneaky girl."

"Honestly, woman, you need to get a life of your own," Isabelle sighed, "as mine isn't a soap opera. So long as I don't break the rules, my business is my own. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm nearly done," she grunted, "and I'd like to be assured that whoever they've assigned to my site isn't a total fuckup."

"Oh, I heard about your new site," Willard smirked, shifting with Isabelle incredibly well. "That titaness who took out two dozen houses on Birch. She's in your strike zone, too . . . 'course, if you went for her, you'd be fired on the spot," the chubby woman laughed.

"I'm surprised you haven't been," Isabelle quipped, "seeing as how little you seem to do your job. Do you think I could get a raise if I reported you?" With Willard suitably stunned into silence, the gray-eyed brunette made her escape.

Isabelle realized that Allison had told her to show up at 6, so she would probably be getting ready about now. The short woman sighed, and decided she could watch something on Netflix to pass the time. All four hours of it.

*** *** ***

Allison was a bundle of nerves. After community service and a quick shower, she had begun getting something together for dinner, when Natasha dropped by.

"How's my favorite cousin doing?" The seventy-foot sadist said with a smile.

"N-Natasha!" Ally stammered. The taller woman's presence was entirely unexpected, and could prove disastrous if she found any of Allison's surprises for her human lover. "You know we're not cousins, right?" She tried to calm herself, and gave her old friend a hug.

"It's like they say in Hawaii- everyone is your cousin! Quite a few of my Hawaiian cousins were tasty as fuck, too!" Natasha laughed.

"You know I don't like it when you talk about eating people," Ally admonished, back in the rhythm of conversation with her old friend. "So what are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Natasha chuckled. "I mean, look at you! Cooking and shit."

"Y-yeah," Allison laughed. "I, uh . . ." she decided the best lie was the truth, "I have a dinner date tonight. At six. I don't want her to get the wrong idea . . ."

"Say no more, cousin," Natasha smirked, "I'll be gone by five. She fuck you the way you like?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Ally blurted. "It honestly feels fantastic . . . tied down, electric shocks, her standing on me . . ."

Natasha smirked wider. "Glad she makes you happy. If you took too much longer to find a girl, I would've asked Laine how she felt about a threesome."

Allison blinked. "Y-You . . . and Laine . . . me?" She whimpered. "That's just not fair . . . maybe Isabelle will let me . . ."

Natasha's smirk grew ever wider, testing the waters of a grin. "Well, since I don't get to meet Isabelle today, I figured I'd thank her for getting my little cousin laid by giving her an easy time getting you in bed again."

"She-she doesn't need your help there," Allison blushed, tightening her thighs. "Just thinking about her had me all wound up before you got here. At this rate I might just wait for her already in bed."

Natasha couldn't help it- she laughed. "Don't worry, Ally, I'm done. Just wanted to catch up," she grinned. "I need to meet her, though."

***HOURS LATER***

Ally was a nervous wreck. She checked the clock: 5:57. The blonde willed time to go faster, every second was absolutely torturous as she was left to her own imagination as to what Isabelle would do to her after dinner. Every possible way that her comparatively tiny Mistress would conceive to make her body sing with pleasure, force her mind to buzz with humiliation. 

A familiar voice at the door, accompanied by the door camera icon popping up on her TV, had Allison jumping nearly out of her skin: "Allison, my lovely . . . I'm here. I'm a little early, if you don't-"

Allison opened the service entrance in a rush of activity, whipping up a wind that blew her hair out of its neatly groomed bun "-mind. What did you make? It smells absolutely delicious." The smaller woman was dressed to the nines, wearing a cherry-red cocktail dress that hugged at all the perfect places on her body, as well as high heels of the same color, and more of those sheer black nylons that drove Allison wild. 

That was a damned lie and Ally knew it, the spinach ravioli had turned out terribly, but the compliment was enough to make her heart soar. "It's spinach ravioli. It didn't turn out as well as I would've liked . . ."

Isabelle stepped into the apartment, laughing. "Smells better than takeout, that's for damned sure. I stopped trying to cook once my job took off." She looked up at the titaness, and snapped her fingers.

Allison yelped and dropped to the ground, resting on her breasts to look Isabelle more or less in the face. The brunette's absolutely lewd grin promised that Allison's rapid reaction time would be rewarded, and she sauntered up to the titaness's face. "I humiliate, tease, and demean you. You don't get to do it to yourself, you hear? Otherwise there's nothing for me to do."

"Y-yes ma'am," Allison stuttered. If Isabelle was going to start already, the blonde was not predicting she'd stay in her t-shirt and jeans for long. To be honest, she already felt underdressed, given how fucking sexy Isabelle looked right now.

"Good," Isabelle smiled. "Now pick me up, I want to taste what you've made."

Allison gently carried Isabelle up to the table, to her portion: a single, massive ball of vegetables and sauces, wrapped tightly in a piece of pasta roughly a fourth the brunette's size. "I- I can't make 'em any smaller," she said, embarassed. "I'm sorry."

Isabelle, however, was bothered by something else. "Do you happen to have a knife for me? Maybe a flat toothpick? I don't wanna stain my clothes . . ."

Ally nodded, producing a flat, sharpened piece of wood large enough to be a Scottish sword for her pint-sized paramour. "Will this do?"

"Death to kings!" Isabelle yelled, swinging the toothpick in an overhand motion to slice through a section of pasta. She then stabbed the removed piece, and ate it. "Dunno wha' ure taakeh abaa," Isabelle said, her mouth full, before swallowing: "This shit's fucking delicious, and a hell of a lot healthier than what I usually eat."

Allison blushed mightily, but it was what Isabelle did next that had her melting: she kissed the blonde's finger. "And the chef's cute, to boot," she added. "Think I might show her a good time after dinner."

The blonde titaness simply could not eat fast enough.

***LATER***

"I'll do anything, anything to get the part! Please, I've dreamed of being in this play for years!" Allison begged, making all manner of melodramatic poses to show off her prominent breasts. To play the "desperate actress" role, she'd donned an art-student beret, and then coated herself with body paint to resemble an ironic t-shirt and khakis. 

"Anything, you say?" Isabelle grinned, crossing her legs and resting them on the hairbrush that was acting as a desk. "Would you . . . clean my heels with your impudent tongue?"

"Yes," Allison said quickly, blushing. As she extended her tongue to do so, however, Isabelle interrupted her and wilted the girl's enthusiasm with a sly glare.

"Would you be willing to crush your competitors for the part?" Isabelle asked with a fiery sensuality.

"B-beneath my soles, if I had to," Allison stammered.

"To lie flat and take it while I fuck you raw?" Isabelle asked, dropping her voice low, practically purring in a shout.

"Yes, yes, oh god yes!" Allison exclaimed, breathing heavily with arousal.

"Good," Isabelle breathed, tossing a small canister at Allison. "This will help make sure you will. It's a rigorant- you won't be able to move, but every nerve ending will be made more sensitive."

"How long will it last?" Allison asked, already feeling her body's reactions slow as she laid down

"About an hour," Isabelle purred. "My helpless little bitch, for an hour . . ." She sounded just about ready to orgasm herself. 

Allison's mind thrummed with excitement even as her body was completely immobilized, made into a woman's living sex doll for the hour. The humiliation was absolute, undeniable, and Allison nearly cried.

And then Isabelle walked on her.

Just like last time, she was able to feel each individual step as it sank into her body, but rather than a light pressure it almost felt as if each of the brunette's footsteps was brushing against her clit. She cried out reflexively, almost ready to cum from a walk halfway up her leg- and then Isabelle stopped. Wound up and stopped, wound up and stopped, further and further up her body that her sexual frustration was insane, she wordlessly begged for release, whining and willing her body to move.

Nothing.

Nothing, that is, until the prod came back.

She's not gonna-

An incomparable electric shock coursed through Allison's being, and the combined pain and ecstasy were more than enough in concert to knock her out.

***LATER***

"Allison! Allison, are you okay!?" Isabelle screamed. "Oh my god, I killed her. She was begging me to stop and I killed her!" The gray-eyed woman desperately slapped at Allison's eyes- until they opened.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Allison jumped away, leaving Isabelle to tumble to the floor.

"You're okay!" She screamed with joy, even as she held herself in pain.

"Okay? I'm better than okay!" She fell back. "I've never . . . passed out from an orgasm before. Holy fuck, Isabelle, you're a Goddess of pleasure!"

Isabelle looked uncomfortable. "I thought I killed you," she said in worry. "I . . . don't think I should do that again. I'm sorry, but . . . I don't like that there's nothing I can really do to be sure you're okay. It was an experiment, and-"

"It needs to be repeated," Allison said with finality. "Trust me, Isabelle, if I die from having too many orgasms . . . I'll have died a happy woman."

Isabelle sighed. "How about a compromise, then? Tomorrow I have off, and you won't need to work hours. Go on a hike, and I'll . . . make it a very sexy hike, let's leave it at that."

Allison pouted. "Fine, I get it," she sighed, secretly extremely pleased that Isabelle cared that much for her well-being. "Sexy hike tomorrow. It's a date."