by Ashley Ladd
* * * *
Mask or no mask, Stacey still couldn't believe she was doing this. What kind of disguise was it? She also had to camouflage her voice which was no easy feat. And of course, she couldn't do a thing to disguise her body when naked. She'd lost a couple sizes since the split with Brand so she hoped that was enough of a change. Somehow, she doubted he'd memorised one body out of hundreds.
It still bothered her that he was shagging other women, especially so many other women. If the unthinkable happened and Lilli was right that Brand was still in love with her or fell in love with her again, could she forgive him all his other women? His seedy profession? Could she trust him? Would he want to leave his new passion, his fame and glory, his fun, behind for her?
Even if he left it all for her, would the ghosts of his many conquests come between them? Could she ever erase them from her mind? Honestly, she didn't know. She was a conflicted mess.
Her nerves threatened to overcome her as she made her way up the dreary, graffiti-covered stairway to the studio. She double-checked the address on the printout she held in her shaking hands. She felt like a fool wearing the mask, but she wasn't about to take it off and chance running into Brand without her fortress.
Lilli had wanted to come with her for moral support, but Stacey was scared there would be more of a chance for Brand to recognise one of them so she'd made Lilli stay behind.
Her mobile phone buzzed, vibrating against her waist. Frowning, she checked the digital display. Lilli, just as she'd suspected. Leaning against the stairwell wall, she answered with a hiss, “What?"
"Well? Did they hire you? Are you in?"
Stacey lowered her voice even though she was the only one in sight. She didn't want it to resound in the stairwell. “I'm not even inside yet, and I'm not likely to get inside if you keep interrupting."
"I can't take the suspense. Get your bum in there!"
"I will if you let me. I'm going to turn off the phone. Goodbye."
"Wait!"
Too late. Stacey made good her promise. She couldn't focus on the task at hand with Lilli in her brain.
She dropped the mobile in her purse. With a big sigh, she grabbed the railing and pulled herself up the steps. How long she stood staring at the closed door, staring at the sign that proclaimed it was Dom Productions Inc. she didn't know. She waffled and almost turned and skipped down the stairs.
Then the door opened and would have struck her in the face if she hadn't jumped back. Clutching her throat, she just stared at the man who reached out to steady her. Brandon.
"Are you all right?” Brand's warm fingers wrapped about her arm and held her up when she would have stumbled down the stairs.
She couldn't speak, couldn't take her eyes off the vision. She could only nod dumbly. His voice was way too charming. His smile too provocative.
Brand tilted his head, motioning inside. “Are you going in? We don't bite, you know. Well, unless you're here to be one of my partners, then maybe a little...” He let his husky, suggestive voice trail off.
His fingers stung, and she jerked back as if burned. Then she realised that she was not in character at all, that she wasn't being submissive or awestruck. And she was awestruck.
He seemed to have grown larger, and not just his bigger-than-life, famous cock. He'd been working out, building his muscles. His biceps bulged. His triceps rippled, too. Light glinted off his bald dome, making him appear wicked, more masculine. Of course, she'd last seen him three and a half years ago. He'd matured a lot.
Seductively disguising her voice as best she could, she muttered a throaty, “Yes.” The less said the better.
He opened the door and held it wide.
"That'll be ‘Yes, Master’ if you're going to work with me."
Oh, God! She'd have to talk to him? She was dead meat. “Yes, Master."
"That's much better. But only speak when I give you permission."
Against her will, she thrilled to the mastery in his voice. Since that was part of the act, she didn't try to stop the quivers that flooded her.
To her dismay, Brand escorted her to the receptionist's desk. “Sit here. I'll find Letty and let her know you're here.” He touched her shoulder. “I like your mask."
Glad the mask afforded the anonymity she so desperately craved, she nodded.
"But if I command you to take it off, you must."
No! Panic attacked her, and she shook her head. That wouldn't do. Getting control of her tongue, she muttered a thick, “No. The mask stays."
"We'll see. It'll be my mission to coax it off, love."
A flight or fight reaction welled up in her, and her feet were poised to run for the escape. But the rest of her froze to the spot. Did some small part of her want him to find out who she was? Did it want to see if he recognised her once he held her in his arms, once he kissed her?
She wasn't sure. She only knew she'd be filled with ‘what ifs’ if she turned and fled. She'd never get the nerve to cross his doorway again.
The woman he'd called Letty strode over tall and graceful, her long, auburn hair kissing her shoulders. She gave Stacey a friendly smile and stuck out her hand in greeting. “Lovely to meet you. Are you here about the porn star position?"
Trying not to wither or melt into the floor, Stacey nodded. She wished Brand would leave them in peace. Her throat was beginning to ache from masking her voice.
Letty pushed an application form across the desk. “Here, fill this out. Do you have a portfolio? A resume?"
Stacey hadn't thought to bring either, not that she'd have a portfolio and her resume wouldn't qualify her for this. She decided to stick to the truth as closely as she could. Then she wouldn't have to keep straight a pack of lies. “I've never done this before. I don't have a portfolio."
"What made you want to make porn movies?” Letty asked kindly, no leer or sneer in her voice, as if she was interviewing a candidate for a regular office position.
Stacey snuck a glance up at Brand who was still intent on her. Bugger! Did he recognise her? Was he playing her? Or did he always hang over his partners? None of the answers made her feel better.
This time, she wasn't about to admit the truth, that she wanted to be shagged by Brand, or that she wanted to get answers about why he was doing this. Quickly, she fabricated something, hoping it sounded plausible. “I've always dreamed of being a movie star. I thought this would be a foot in the door.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I need the money."
Letty nodded. “Wait here please, and I'll let my boss know you're here. I'm sure he'll want to interview you, too."
Ready to bite her nails, Stacey waited. Was it really going to be so easy to land a job shagging her ex? She felt like she was in the bloody Twilight Zone.
A middle-aged, shaggy-haired hippy-type loped up to them. He thrust out a bony hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Marie. I'm Chuck Langdon, the producer. Letty here tells me you're applying to be one of Rex's film partners?"
Overcome by nerves again, Stacey nodded. The phrase ‘one of Rex's partners’ nearly did her in. At one time, she'd been his only partner. How had things gone so utterly wrong?
"Come back here with me so we can speak privately."
When Brand tagged along, Stacey wondered if he knew what privately meant. But Chuck let her ex into the office and claim the chair beside her.
Chuck pushed away piles of litter and stacked files then folded his hands on his desk. He leaned forward, his eyes glittering. “I like your gimmick, but I need to see your body."
She gulped, yet she wasn't exactly surprised by the request.
"Strip for us, please. You understand, of course, that our viewers only want to see buff, beautiful women, that our stud here would lose his reputation if he was to accept anything less than perfection."
She nodded, hoping and praying her twenty-nine year old body would pass inspection. Closing her eyes and steeling herself, she stood and undressed, letting her clothing pool at her feet.
Then she felt fingers feather down her throat to her breast. The hand cupped the weight of her breast and squeezed her nipple.
"More than nice. I think the audience will like you. I know I do.” Brand drew closer and his warm breath caressed her ear. “I can't wait to stick my big cock inside your pussy and shag the hell out of you."
She trembled, ready to lie on the floor and let him shag her there.
"When can you start?” Chuck asked.
She almost screamed, “Now!” Her juices were already flowing, and she was on fire. Instead, she calmed herself as best she could and said in a low, sultry tone, “As soon as you want me to.” She'd taken a brief holiday from the day job in the hopes they'd want her right away. Their ad had sounded desperate.
"Good. How about right away?"
Her eyes flew open, and she nodded. She wanted to get it over with and get in then out without Brand knowing unless she decided to reveal herself. “Yes. Perfect.” Then her doubts got in the way. “We don't need to practise?"
Brand's throaty chuckle rasped down her spine as he squeezed her nipple harder. “Hot to trot, just the way I like ‘em. You'll go far."
He bent over and took her nipple in his mouth and lathered it with his tongue.
It was almost her undoing, and she leaned into him as her knees began to turn to jelly. His mouth, his lips, felt like heaven. He'd learned a thing or two.
Around her nipple, he murmured, “I'm good darlin'. I don't need practise, but if Chuck says okay, I'm all for it."
Chuck frowned. “Don't go wearing out the new girl until we know her stamina. I want the first time on film. After that, you can do whatever the bloody hell you please. Go get outfitted.” He shooed them off. He stabbed a button on his speakerphone. “Letty, take the new girl to the costume mistress."
"Will do, sir."
Brand swaggered beside her as if he was the biggest baddest thing this side of London. With his bald head, he reminded her of a very evil, very sexy jinn who could wrap his magic around any woman he wanted.
She hoped he wanted her. But would he if he knew who she was?
"You're a lucky woman,” Letty confided. “Chuck wouldn't let me have the part."
Jealousy strafed Stacey as she regarded the gorgeous young woman. “Why not?"
Letty shrugged her hands. “I don't know. It's not as if Rex hasn't shagged me before. Chuck knows that. Maybe he wants someone fresh. I don't know."
The jealousy bloomed into a monstrous thing, and Stacey's nails dug into her palms. This woman had carnal knowledge of her husband.
But then, so did a ton of other women. And tons more had ogled his naked body all over the world, at every hour of the day and night. If she did this, they'd ogle her, too. But would that make her even?
No. Not even if she were to shag a hundred blokes and let them post the films on the internet. Not that she planned to become a full-fledged porn star.
The wardrobe mistress fitted her in red leather boots, a red leather cape, a spiked dog collar and spiked bracelets. The woman rouged her nipples and waxed her pussy. Then she directed her to the cosmetologist who proceeded to give her a manicure and pedicure as she dusted her face and boobs with glitter.
Stacey had never paraded naked in front of anyone before, and she reeled with the sensations, part intoxicating and part fright. The manicurist didn't seem to be shocked, turned on, or repulsed by her nakedness despite the fact that her naked boobs stared her in the face and her exposed pussy was but a foot from her eyes.
Across the room, Brand worked out in tight shorts, gym shoes and nothing else. He had bulked up to at least to twice his former size, and she couldn't tear her gaze from him. She noted that he did not pay her the same compliment which she found irksome. Was he that jaded to naked women? Or didn't she turn him on enough?
Maybe the problem was that she had never turned him on enough. He was certainly a tiger with so many other women. She wondered if she should leave and preserve what was left of her modesty.
She was poised to flee, sneaking out the door or bounding out it if necessary, when Brand rejoined her with a passionate glint in his eyes.
"Nice. More than nice.” Unabashedly, his gaze raked her body and lingered on her pussy as he licked his lips. He held out his hand to her. “Are you ready for the hottest sex of your life? For some pain with your pleasure?"
He pulled her to her feet and against him so that her nipples grazed his chest. “I guarantee the pain will make the sex so much hotter."
All she could do was nod. She was supposed to be into this Dom-submissive stuff. Hadn't she wanted her man to be a real man? To possess her? This was her chance. So why was she scared to death?
The wardrobe mistress scuttled up to them. “Let me put on her costume, you. No pawing her until she's dressed, you hear?"
Brand blew the older, grey-haired woman a kiss. “Then hurry up. My cock's about ready to burst out of my pants.” He gave Stacey a heady look. “Wanna feel?"
Blimey, did she ever, but she felt suddenly shy.
As if he read her thoughts, he shook his head. “This won't do on camera. If I tell you to touch me, you have to do what I say, when I say, as soon as I say it. Capice?"
Her mouth suddenly dry, she nodded. “Capice."
"I think you need a little practise. Do as I say. Now, touch my cock. Rub it. You may say, ‘Yes, Master'."
With excited fingers, she rubbed his cock through the stretchy fabric of his shorts. Electricity seared her, and she jumped back.
"Keep rubbing. Don't stop.” His voice was more guttural as he clamped her wrist in his beefy hand.
"Yes, Master.” She longed to free his throbbing cock, to feel his hot, pulsating flesh.
"You may put your hand inside my shorts. You may pull them down and caress my cock."
Panic filled her, and her eyes grew wide. “But everyone will see!"
"Did I say you had permission to question me? Such impertinence deserves punishment."
She quivered, remembering his many punishments to his other partners.
He slapped her breast then nipped it with his teeth, harder than anyone had ever bitten her. Pain made her jolt but was quickly replaced by an exquisite ache in her groin, and she moaned.
"Did I give you permission to moan?"
Her eyes widened. She wasn't even allowed to moan? She was going to get a lot of punishment. Her body quivered in anticipation.
Chuck chose that moment to stride out. “What in the bloody hell! Can't you keep your dick in your pants for a few lousy moments? No woman's safe with you around."
Brand gave her a wolfish grin. “That's why I'm such a great porn star and why we're both millionaires. Admit you love it."
"I don't love it, but I'll admit your libido is taking us to the top. You're the fuckingest bastard I've ever met. Keep it up."
Brandon chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “I plan to. So many women, so little time."
She prayed he didn't mean it, yet she was about ready to come, just listening to him. How was this turning her on—and why?
God, she was a slut! A whore! She didn't care how many women he'd shagged as long as he hurried up and shagged her now.
"Time's money. As long as my two stars are raring to go, let's get it on film,” Chuck said and clapped his hands.
She didn't know if she could hold out very long she was already so hot. She had to ask even if she felt stupid, “How many times am I allowed to come?"
All eyes turned on her, and she felt herself glowing crimson all the way down to her pussy. She wrapped her robes more tightly around her.
A slow smile dawned on Chuck's hairy face. “As many times as you can, darlin'. I think the audience is gonna love you."
Brand whispered in her ear. “Only as many as I allow. Any more and I'll inflict punishment."
She pulled back and looked at him, then realised he might recognise her eyes. She also remembered she was the submiss
ive, and that it wasn't permitted to look her master in the eyes so she lowered them. “Yes, Master."
"I didn't give you permission to talk. That's another punishment coming, and it won't be so mild as the last."
Bugger! Would she never learn? She pursed her lips and hung her head as she followed her partner to the set.
Instructions were given and sultry mood music filled the studio. The lights dimmed, and they took their places.
Brand transformed into Rex, and he gave the audience a little scenario to set the scene. “Jasmine Marie is a very naughty girl who has to be punished for her own good ... and ultimate pleasure. And I'm the bloke to teach her a lesson."
Blimey! It almost sounded as if he knew she deserved punishment in real life for divorcing him. Yet, he hadn't seemed to recognise her both to her relief and ire.
"In order to teach her the lesson she deserves, I'm going to tie her up—after I strip her and show her who the boss is."
She let her eyes do the talking, as she'd been taught, looking as scared as possible. She tried to run, but only half-heartedly, letting him catch her.
"Oh, you naughty twit, you can't outrun me. You shall never escape and soon, you won't want to.” He caught her in a dramatic show, his big hands spanning her waist, grazing her breasts. He lifted her as if she weighed less than a feather, hauling her to his den of iniquity. She screamed with all her might and flailed her arms. She kicked and clawed, but he only laughed at her miniscule efforts.
"Stop wildcat, or your punishment shall know no bounds. You are all mine, and I shall do with you as I wish."
She spat in his face, feeling like a real wildcat. But she didn't fight hard when he shackled her with a spiked collar and then tied her hands behind her back.
He kissed her lips, biting the lower one, but not enough to bleed, just to make it tingle, then put a ball gag in her mouth. “You are mine."
How she wished that was true, not just for now but forever.
"Put your legs together."
She refused, but she was no match for his strength. Lithely, he flipped her on the floor, knocking the wind out of her. Then he bound her ankles. To her surprise, he didn't stop there. He wound silken rope around her waist then criss-crossed it between her breasts so that they thrust out.