Her little game

Eleanor sits back in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she gazes at both of you. The room is heavy with tension, and you can feel the shift in power, a palpable **** that wraps itself around Eleanor. Emily, still on her knees, looks up at her with a mix of humiliation and desperation, while you stand awkwardly by, unsure of what comes next.

Eleanor’s eyes narrow as she speaks, her voice dripping with authority. “Now that you’ve both learned your place, I think it’s time for a little… adjustment.” She lets the words hang in the air for a moment before she continues, her gaze darting between you and Emily. “Strip.”

The command is clear, and your stomach drops. Emily’s face pales as she glances at you, clearly mortified by the idea, but there’s no room for disobedience here. Not with Eleanor watching, her eyes gleaming with power. You swallow hard, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to undress, pulling off your shirt and trousers, feeling the weight of Eleanor’s gaze on you the entire time.

Emily follows suit, her movements slow and hesitant, her cheeks flushing with shame as she strips out of her own clothes. You try not to look at her, but it’s impossible to ignore the vulnerability in the air. The power dynamic has shifted entirely, and there’s nothing either of you can do to change it.

Once you’re both down to your underwear, Eleanor claps her hands together, her voice cutting through the silence. “Now, swap.”

Emily’s eyes widen in disbelief, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Swap? The thought alone sends a rush of embarrassment through your body, but Eleanor’s expression makes it clear that she isn’t joking. She leans forward slightly, crossing her legs, the leather of her boots creaking as she watches the two of you closely.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” she says, her tone sharp.

You hesitate for only a second before reaching for Emily’s clothes. She’s trembling as she hands them over, and you can’t help but feel a deep sense of humiliation wash over you as you pull her clothes on. The fabric is tight, ill-fitting, and the sensation of wearing her delicate blouse and skirt is almost unbearable. Meanwhile, Emily pulls on your discarded shirt and trousers, the material hanging loosely on her frame.

Eleanor’s smile widens as she watches the transformation. “Perfect,” she purrs, clearly enjoying the sight of the two of you standing there, awkwardly dressed in each other’s clothes. “Now, you both look the part.”

She stands up from her chair and walks over to Emily first, grabbing her by the chin and tilting her head up to meet her gaze. “How does it feel, Emily?” she asks, her voice sickly sweet. “How does it feel to wear his clothes? To be brought down to his level?”

Emily doesn’t respond, her eyes cast downward in shame. But Eleanor isn’t finished. She turns her attention to you, stepping closer until her booted foot is pressed against your shin. “And you,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. “How does it feel to wear her clothes? To be reduced to this?”

You swallow hard, unable to find the words. The fabric clings to you, a constant reminder of your humiliation, and you can feel Eleanor’s power in every fiber of the clothing. She’s taken control in every sense of the word, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her.

Eleanor takes a step back, crossing her arms as she looks at both of you. “This is what happens when you forget your place,” she says, her voice cold. “You are both beneath me. Don’t ever forget that.”

She gestures to the ground in front of her. “Now, kneel.”

There’s no hesitation this time. Both you and Emily drop to your knees, your heads bowed low in submission. The weight of the situation presses down on you, the realization that Eleanor has not only taken control but has completely shattered any sense of pride either of you had left.

Eleanor smiles, clearly pleased with the outcome. “Good,” she murmurs. “Now, let’s see just how far you’re willing to go to please me.” She reaches down, placing a hand on your head and another on Emily’s, guiding you both closer to her boots. “Start by showing your appreciation.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips against the smooth leather of her boots, the taste of polished leather filling your mouth as you kiss them. Emily does the same, her movements slow and hesitant, but Eleanor’s hand on her head keeps her in place.

The humiliation is unbearable, but at the same time, there’s an undeniable thrill in submitting to Eleanor’s control. The power she wields over both of you is absolute, and you know there’s no turning back from this. You’re hers now, completely and utterly, and there’s no escaping the consequences of your actions.