Seven Scarlet Tales

by Justine Elyot

  Lucy’s shriek was the last straw for Richard, already nervous at driving this enormous car along these unfamiliar street layouts.

  ‘As soon as we get to the car park …’ he said.

  ‘Parking lot, it’s called a parking lot here, that’s what they call a car park.’

  ‘And here it is,’ said Rob, pointing ahead.

  They were waved through by security after spending some time establishing their names, and the legitimacy of their guest status, and Richard found a spot as close to the studio buildings as he could get.

  As soon as the engine was off, the two men turned to look at the woman in the back seat.

  She was already diving for the door, but was puzzled by its failure to open.

  ‘Child lock,’ said Richard grimly. ‘Since you’re behaving like one.’

  That got her attention.

  She drew in a quick breath and looked from one man to the other.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve already had one warning,’ said Rob. ‘At the airport. You knew Richard needed to concentrate on his driving, and I had to keep my mind on the sat nav.’

  ‘GPS, they call it here …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I’m just excited,’ she pleaded.

  ‘You know what we put in our hand luggage just in case,’ said Richard.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t been that bad.’

  ‘I don’t know. What do you think, Rob?’

  ‘I think, regrettably, none of our warnings have been heeded, so …’

  ‘I think I agree.’

  ‘Not here!’ Lucy looked out of the windows, craning her neck for signs of other humans whose presence might save her. The lot was deserted.

  ‘Why not? Nobody can see. Get into position, now.’

  Richard brooked no argument and Lucy, with a huff and clenching of her fists, turned around so that she was kneeling on the floor with her stomach resting on the leather back seat.

  ‘Cheek each, Rob?’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  ‘Bare bottom, please, Lucy.’

  The spanking was no more than a quick flurry, Richard smacking at one cheek while Rob took the other, and it stopped after a minute or so. Lucy’s bottom was already satisfactorily scarlet.

  ‘Now then,’ said Rob, unbuckling his canvas satchel and removing a couple of items from it. ‘Hold your cheeks apart, Luce.’

  ‘Oh, must I?’

  ‘You asked for it.’ He coated the large butt plug in a layer of some kind of embrocation, applicable by a twist-up stick. It smelled piney and sinus-clearing and Lucy would know exactly what effect to expect: her little whimper of dismay signalled as much.

  Rob made no concessions to Lucy’s fuss and pushed the plug quickly and firmly into its target, twisting it into position and patting her rear once it was seated.

  He smiled at Richard and together they waited for the first moans of discomfort.

  ‘It burns,’ she whined, as if this experience was new to her, which it was not, by any means.

  ‘That’s the idea,’ said Rob lightly. ‘Now perhaps we can expect some better behaviour from you, hmm?’

  ‘I can’t go in there wearing this.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ soothed Richard. ‘Nobody will see it. Unless you want to keep your knickers and skirt pulled down like that.’

  She reached around and hurriedly pulled her panties tight over her plugged bottom, following with the skirt that she now considered much too short. She should have worn trousers, damn it. But then perhaps people would be able to see the little flange of the plug making an impression in the fabric. Maybe it was best this way.

  It was awkward to walk with such a large presence in her behind and she had a slightly bow-legged gait as she allowed herself to be borne along between Richard and Rob, on one arm of each. Plus the coating stung and burned to buggery and made her want to squirm, and clench, and unclench all at once.

  The worst side-effect of all still hadn’t come into full effect, though. But it would. Before too long, her knickers would be soaking wet with her own juices and she would be desperate for a good, hard ride.

  And how likely was that, in the middle of a big film studio set?

  They showed their day passes to the security guard, walked into a huge hangar, and wandered around for a while until they stumbled upon the centre of activities.

  ‘Look,’ said Lucy, although in a much subdued tone. ‘There’s Peregrine.’

  And so he was, immaculate as ever in the finest tailoring, modified for the California heat, deep in conference with a bearded guy in a baseball cap.

  ‘He’s the director,’ said Richard. ‘He did Zombie Dawn.’

  ‘Oh, I loved that,’ said Lucy, clamping her thighs together. The heat had made its inevitable way between them.

  ‘Did you? Load of crap,’ sniffed Rob.

  ‘Don’t say that to him,’ cautioned Richard.

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  Peregrine looked up and saw them. There was no enthusiastic wave or hastening up to greet them, but he nodded and gave a slightly imperious toss of his head, beckoning them over.

  Lucy felt every eye on her, from the leading actors to the best boy grip, and burned with shame, sure that each one of them knew she was plugged and gagging for sex. Richard and Rob strode confidently, making her speed up to an uncomfortable pace so that she shuffled along with tiny, fast steps.

  ‘Richard,’ proclaimed Peregrine. ‘How wonderful to see you. And Robert, of course. And not forgetting Lucy. I hope you’ve been behaving yourself, young lady.’

  His stern expression made her squirm all the more. He knew. He had to know.

  ‘Fat chance,’ laughed Richard.

  ‘I hope you’re keeping her well in hand.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Richard smiled rakishly, causing Peregrine to unbend too.

  ‘So this is Hollywood,’ he said. ‘And you’re welcome to it.’

  ‘Aren’t you enjoying it?’

  ‘No. Can’t smoke a fucking cigarette anywhere. But apart from that, I suppose it’s not the worst place.’

  ‘Not the worst place?’ Rob was bemused. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet.’

  ‘Into a septic tank, dear boy. Anyway, it’s marvellous to see you all. We’ve just one more scene to shoot, then we can go back to my hacienda. Do find yourselves a seat. Must dash: something I need to tell our esteemed director.’

  Lucy found a vacant chair against the back wall and lowered herself painstakingly into it, grateful that Peregrine wasn’t witness. He would certainly guess immediately what was afoot. Richard and Rob watched avidly enough, though, the gits.

  She fidgeted and fought to keep her breath from erupting into gasps for the next ten minutes while her lovers sat on either side of her, each holding one of her hands.

  ‘Where’s Miss Britt’s PA?’ someone shouted, causing Lucy to look over in the direction of the query.

  Celia Britt, as glacially beautiful in the flesh as on film, was having her face powdered and her lipstick reapplied at the side of the set.

  ‘Mimi?’ bellowed the questioner again.

  ‘Oh, there she is!’ Lucy exclaimed, seeing Emma flit across the studio towards the star of the show.

  She entered into an urgent-looking conversation with Celia before nodding her head and running back the other way.

  ‘Emma!’ called out Lucy, wanting to take back her mistake straight away.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ growled Richard, while Rob tutted loudly.

  But Emma had heard her and looked over, pale as milk and haunted of eye, until she saw who had called her.

  ‘Sorry,’ muttered Lucy, squirming violently. The menthol coating of the plug was moving into its most diabolical phase.

  ‘You will be,’ said Rob, then he stood and held out a hand to Emma.

  ‘Please don’t call me that,’ she said, hurrying over.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Lucy, almost in tears now – partly from the thought of having to get
up and then sit down again, if she was honest with herself.

  ‘She’ll be punished for it, don’t worry,’ said Richard, standing himself and folding the former Geisha Girl into a heartfelt embrace. ‘It’s great to see you, love.’

  ‘And you,’ said Emma. ‘Really great.’

  ‘I hope Peregrine and Celia have been looking after you.’

  ‘Oh yes. Celia’s been wonderful. And Peregrine’s been Peregrine.’

  ‘As you’d expect,’ chuckled Richard. ‘I’ve got a note for you, from Allyson.’

  He took an envelope from his breast pocket and passed it into Emma’s hand.

  She stepped out of his arms and turned her back to read the message.

  Lucy noticed how her elbows shook and jerked around, her shoulder blades severely knitted.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Emma, turning back. ‘Thanks so much. So she thinks she might be up for parole, next year. That’ll change the whole scene again. She can’t come here, can she?’

  ‘Love will find a way,’ said Richard.

  Emma smiled away the anxious frown.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Oh, right, they’re shooting the final scene on the sheet now. Should be ready to pack up very soon.’

  The group hushed and watched as Celia Britt walked into the set. She was wearing a very sexy nipped-in and flared-out fifties-style skirt suit with sky-high heels and the set was an office, with a well-known actor sitting behind the desk.

  They couldn’t hear the dialogue very well from where they sat, but they were well positioned to watch Celia bend herself over the desk while the actor walked around to her rear.

  His hand fell, over and over, on the tight seat of her skirt.

  Lucy kept expecting the director to call ‘cut’ – especially when Celia began to utter some rather genuine-sounding yelps – but he didn’t.

  ‘Celia and Tack are together in real life,’ whispered Emma. ‘It makes the chemistry really hot in their scenes.’

  Lucy didn’t doubt it. This was doing absolutely nothing to stem the flow in her panties. That was what they called them here. Panties.

  She crossed her legs, shifting that damnable plug into an even more uncomfortable position, but at least the coating was starting to wear off now.

  All the same, if she didn’t get to come very, very soon, she was going to go crazy.

  She nudged Rob.

  ‘Will you take me to the bathroom?’ she whispered.

  ‘Bathroom?’

  ‘That’s what they call it here. The bathroom. Weird, because there’s no bath in it, but …’

  ‘I know that. Why do you want me to take … oO. Come on then.’

  Richard didn’t look as if he approved, but Lucy was past caring. She was already due a punishment – he could do his worst.

  In a stall of the really rather splendid Ladies’ – pink marble fittings, with a tray of selected perfumes by the door – Lucy lifted her skirt and let Rob lift her, until she was wedged between him and the wall.

  The sex was necessarily fast and frantic, but Lucy felt a bone-deep relief with each hard thrust Rob made inside her.

  She felt him nudge the plug every time he plunged in, and the sinful sensation of double penetration sent her quickly and giddily to the brink of orgasm.

  Which was where Rob particularly liked to keep her.

  He stopped moving and stood, pinning her tight, quite still.

  ‘Noooo,’ she moaned, thrashing about against him.

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Naughty girl.’

  ‘Please let me come. Please.’

  ‘Patience.’ His hands, which were holding her at the meeting of buttock and thigh, pulled her bottom cheeks wider. She had to clench on to the plug, suddenly fearing that it might fly out. Not that that was likely to happen. The reminder of its presence made her feel small and humble and utterly submissive.

  She knew this was what Rob was waiting for, and she prepared herself for the resumption of the engagement.

  ‘Now you can come,’ he said.

  He drove into her hard and she needed little more of this treatment before she was seeing stars.

  Satisfied, a little bruised and dripping with something other than her own juices now, Lucy put her panties back on and spritzed herself with a heady Versace scent before kissing Rob deeply and returning to the set.

  Emma and Richard, both perfectly aware of what had just been done to her, gave her knowing looks. Emma’s eyes widened when she noticed the difficulty Lucy had in sitting back down.

  ‘You’re wearing a plug,’ she accused.

  ‘She is,’ confirmed Richard.

  ‘You lucky cow,’ said Emma wistfully. ‘Is it a punishment?’

  ‘Yes.’ Richard again.

  Lucy both loved and hated how he never spared her an iota of shame or humiliation.

  ‘Aren’t you seeing anyone? You know, here?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing serious. I don’t like to get involved. Peregrine’s been scratching the itch since he arrived, but that’s just a friendship, as you know.’ She sighed. ‘I do miss having someone who wants my submission, rather than just some submission.’

  The director called ‘Cut’ and Celia, who by now was out of her pencil skirt and jacket with Tack between her thighs pretending to fuck her, stood up and said, ‘If my bum looks big in that shot I won’t be happy.’

  ‘It looks great, Celia, real cute and petite,’ Tack assured her.

  But she was already off set, picking up her bag and marching towards the dressing rooms.

  Peregrine drifted over, linen jacket slung over his shoulder.

  ‘That’s it for today. We’ll just wait for Tack and Celia and then I’ll lead the way to my not-so-humble abode.’

  Peregrine was right about his abode being not-so-humble.

  As Richard, Lucy and Rob followed his car up the driveway, each one exclaimed at the perfect setting and the giant swimming pool.

  ‘Pool party!’ cried Lucy.

  ‘I think she’s getting overexcited again,’ said Rob, and she calmed herself instantly.

  By the time they’d parked in the carport and transferred their luggage to their guest room, the others were outside by the pool, enjoying cocktails.

  A bikini-clad Emma was in the water, doing laps with Tack, while Celia and Peregrine lounged on recliners, chatting about the movie.

  Lucy, still plugged and feeling messy, sweaty and sex-stained in her little skater skirt and poplin top, was almost too embarrassed to join them.

  Richard and Rob bore her on, though, bringing her to stand in front of Peregrine while they took the two spare recliners.

  ‘Cocktail, gentlemen? What’s your poison?’

  Lucy, ignored for the moment while Peregrine pottered over to his mobile cabinet, could do nothing more than stand there, feeling the languid gaze of Celia upon her.

  ‘Long time no see, Richard,’ she said.

  ‘Too long,’ he replied. ‘You’re looking great, as ever.’

  Lucy pressed her lips together, trying to bite back a stab of jealousy. It was in the past. Richard was with her now. He’d said so dozens of times. And Celia had Tack, the Hot Property magazine’s Stud of the Year.

  It was all good, she said to herself, all good.

  ‘Aren’t you coming in?’ Tack shouted.

  ‘Can’t risk sunburn, darling.’

  ‘Jeez, Ceel, you’re smothered in factor three thousand there. C’mon. Give that butt a workout.’

  Celia sighed, shrugged off her kaftan and walked to the pool.

  Lucy was fascinated to observe a few tiny pinprick bruises at the exposed edge of her buttocks – Celia Britt had been recently spanked. Paddled, most likely. She recognised the effects. There was no make-up required for her onscreen spanking.

  She made a move for the vacated sunlounger, but Richard held up his hand.

  ‘No,’ he said, and it was all he had to say.

  She sighed with exasperation and tossed her hair, but
she obeyed all the same.

  Only when Peregrine had returned, with bespoke cocktails for her two lovers, was she permitted the luxury of notice.

  ‘Well, young lady,’ said Peregrine, reclining once more and putting out his cigarette. ‘You’re looking rather sheepish. Do I gather that there has been some misbehaviour?’

  ‘She was driving us mad on the plane,’ said Rob. ‘Wouldn’t give us a moment’s peace.’

  ‘Hm, not ideal on a twelve-hour flight,’ said Peregrine. ‘But I think there’s been some recent punishment, unless I’m very much mistaken and no longer recognise the walk of the plugged.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ said Richard, enjoying Lucy’s florid embarrassment. ‘In fact, I think it’s time that was removed.’

  He sat up and patted his thigh.

  Lucy knew this might happen. They had discussed the idea of her first public scene taking place in the US, where she would benefit from the safety of her relative anonymity. The moment seemed to have come awfully soon, though.

  She glanced over at the pool. The three swimmers were happily oblivious.

  Peregrine’s broad smile, on the other hand, made her terribly nervous. But Richard was still patting his thigh and wouldn’t stand for hesitation.

  She draped herself over his lap, directing her eyes to the ground. At least she didn’t have to watch him watching her …

  Richard made a meal of raising her skirt and lowering her knickers, drawing Peregrine’s interested attention to the semen stain on the gusset.

  ‘Filthy little minx,’ murmured Peregrine. ‘I can imagine she needs plenty of correction.’

  ‘Plenty,’ said Richard, resting his fingertips lightly against her vulva for a moment before tracing the path to the plug.

  This was always a stomach-churning moment, but Richard was especially cruel today, taking his time, tugging it little by little instead of his usual swift, eyewatering but clean motion.

  Her muscles rebelled, wanting to cling to the dratted thing. She moaned with discomfort and the gentlemen laughed.

  ‘It had a heated rub stuff on it,’ said Rob. ‘Warmed her up, I think. Always makes her madly horny too. That’s why she was so desperate for a jump on set.’

  ‘I must get some of that. A kind of joint or muscle rub, is it?’