Method Acting Ch. 13: Consultant

This chapter is probably going to be frustrating for some readers. I can only say I felt it was the logical progression of their characters.

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Dakota

Dakota was really tempted to go into the bathroom and just force herself to throw up so the urge to do it might calm down. Lord knew she'd met enough women in the business who'd taught her how.

She, along with some help from Monique, had convinced everyone she should go pick up Samira when she got there. Monique had privately suggested it because it was a good first test; if she (or Sam, Monique insisted, but Dakota couldn't imagine it) couldn't handle being together again and wouldn't be able to work, Dakota could pull the plug before it got too awkward. Samira could just spend the time in Paris or jump back on a plane and go... wherever.

Like she had some sort of sixth sense, her head snapped around and locked on her.

Sam's face was fully visible because of course she had her hair back in a bun. She wore a long dress that hugged her body. Dakota could make out the contours of her toned stomach and the hollow where her navel was. Her well-developed legs pulled the stretchy fabric tight with each step. She must have had some sort of cover on her breasts or her nipples would have been making dents in the fabric, but she couldn't see the outline of a bra.

Unless she has those nipples that pull in. Holy shit, I never actually saw her breasts.

She was of course wearing high heels, and as she moved the crowd parted around her. Some stepped back to gawk, but for others it just seemed to be an instinctive thing where they gave way to her without even realizing it.

She was so focused on Samira she didn't notice the other woman until they were almost in front of her. She was shorter, around Dakota's own height, and had her hair gathered behind her. She seemed fit but mostly average as far as body type. She did have a nice smile and pretty eyes though.

She also, to Dakota's dismay, seemed to be doting on Sam. Following her lead. Almost like...

Samira stopped in front of her, and it was only then Dakota realized she never called out or even waved to them. She expected to see a stern, annoyed, or even angry expression on Sam's face.

She looked... nervous.

Samira was nervous.

"Hi," Dakota said.

"Hi," Samira replied.

There was an awkward pause.

"Do we need to get a cab or a rideshare?" the other girl asked in good English with a Middle Eastern accent.

"Um... yeah, sorry," Dakota said, trying to pull out her phone.

"I will handle that," the girl said, "You two need to talk. Or maybe find a bathroom stall?"

Dakota gaped at the girl and she saw Samira level a glare at her that would have had Dakota bracing for a whip. The other girl just smirked and walked off.

"So... after that I'm guessing she's not...?"

"No," Samira said, "No, she's not. But at the moment it's very tempting to string her up and take a flogger to her."

Dakota swallowed and asked, "So... if she's..."

Samira saved her from trying to finish the question. "Mira. Her name's Mira, she's my executive assistant. I may have... I may have told her about us. Like I'm guessing you told this Monique?"

"Yeah," Dakota admitted, "I was... I was trying to explain to my costar why a dom would be into everything and it just... everything hit me. Monique's our intimacy coordinator. She thought Danny was pushing me or harassing me."

"Is he?" Samira asked, and Dakota could hear the dangerous note.

"No, Danny's a sweetheart, that's the problem. He tries to be a dom and it's... I literally have to keep from giggling sometimes."

Dakota paused and looked up into Samira's face. "I guess... when you've been with the best it's hard to take poseurs seriously," she said.

Samira looked away so quickly it surprised Dakota. "I'm hardly the best P-Dakota."

"If we're alone... I don't mind if you call me Princess," Dakota said in a near-whisper.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Samira asked.

"I don't know," Dakota admitted, "But I know it... feels right. You calling me Dakota just seems wrong."

"I made you think that," Samira said guiltily.

"I know you think you did," Dakota said, "I don't. Maybe I wouldn't because of what you think you did. I just... I know I miss it."

"There are other people in the lifestyle. Thousands, maybe millions," Samira said.

"I don't miss being a slave. I miss being your slave," Dakota said.

"I... I'm not going to have any more slaves," Samira said.

"So... you're not... with anyone?"

"I sold the house and everything in it," Samira said, "I had to have Mira buy me a bullwhip and rush deliver it just for this."

"Oh," Dakota said, "So I know Mira's not your sub, then, but..."

"She constantly flirts with me. She's blatantly told me she would like to share my bed. I don't think it would be a good idea," Samira explained.

"So will you be okay with this... consultation?"

"Are you going to be okay with me using you as a demonstration piece?" Samira asked her.

"What would you say if I told you I'll probably be more okay than is good for either of us?" Dakota said.

"I'd say you won't be the only one."

Interlude: Monique

Monique tried to temper her expectations about this Samira woman. The way Dakota had talked about her painted her as an avatar of sexual and violent power, with men and women bowing before her to avoid her wrath. She assumed there was a bit of hyperbole there from a mix of nostalgia and awe because of their relationship.

Then the woman arrived on set and Monique had to mentally backtrack.

She had worked with many powerful people. Some people were just gorgeous or intimidating because of their physique. Others demanded respect and deference because of their public titles, like rulers or commanders. Then there were others where they had an effect on the room, but you couldn't figure out why. In her own language, it was the "je ne sais quoi", a phrase that English had also hijacked for its own use.

This Samira had a presence. You couldn't not notice her. You had to at least acknowledge that she was there and decide what your reaction would be. If she focused on you, you immediately felt like you were being weighed and measured. If she were actually in the movie, Monique's entire job would focus on her, and determining how people were coping with her.

Monique's gaze flicked to Dakota. She seemed uneasy but it wasn't because she was uncomfortable with Samira. She was leading Samira in, but she kept glancing back nervously. It was like..

Like she doesn't feel she should be in the lead, of course, Monique thought.

There was another Middle Eastern woman with them about as tall as Dakota but largely forgettable. Dakota had texted and mentioned she was Samira's assistant.

She, Regis, and a few others had met and agreed there should be even fewer people on set for the consultation. It was only the two of them, Danny, the writer Teri, Dakota, and one camera crew. They were on the house set, in the living room.

Samira had approached Regis first and the man gushed over meeting her. Monique didn't know Regis knew who the woman was. He seemed star-struck, which was new.

She shook Monique's hand with a grip that shocked her; it felt like Samira could have crushed it. "We spoke on the phone, I believe. I'm Samira."

"Monique."

"I wanted to thank you. For the invite. And for supporting... Daktota," Samira said.

Monique noticed the pause. Samira had been about to use another name.

"Of course," Monique said.

Then her eyebrows raised when Sam stepped over to Teri. The woman cowered in front of Samira. Samira immediately stepped well into Teri's personal space and gripped her chin.

"Hello sweetie," Samira said quietly, "You belong to someone, don't you?"

Monique almost stepped over to interrupt, but a quick glare from Sam stopped her cold. When Sam looked back, Monique thought Teri gave a small nod. She couldn't tell if the woman was scared or amazed.

Then Samira bent down and whispered something in her ear. The woman literally shuddered and then Samira stepped away to introduce herself to the camera crew. Monique went over to Teri.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just... I really really want to go home to my husband right now," Teri said, and Monique saw her wipe sweat from her brow.

Her greeting to Danny was more involved. She shook his hand, then stood back and blatantly gave him a once over. Danny bore it but seemed a little annoyed. The assessment went on for a couple of minutes.

"Do me a favor," Samira finally said, "Do not ever try to do this to someone in real life."

"You're saying I'm not a dominant," Danny said.

"No, you are not," Samira agreed, "But I will try to help you fake it for the movie. May I see them run one of the scenes?"

Regis nodded, but then Monique balked when she saw Dakota undressing. "You don't have to do that," she told her.

"I do," Dakota said to her with an odd look, "But really, what does it matter? Everyone except Mira there has seen it all. And will again. Mira, right?"

"Yes," the girl said hesitantly as she moved up next to Monique.

"Are you going to be uncomfortable if I'm walking around naked?"

"Are you going to be upset if I keep the images in my head forever?" Mira replied with a bit of a teasing voice.

Dakota laughed. "See? We're good," she said, and then stripped off her top.

Monique heard Mira suck in a breath and then say something in her own language. "She's a beautiful girl," Monique said quietly.

"How... I'm seriously questioning Miss Nazari's taste now," Mira said.

"There's more to a relationship than sex," Monique said, "especially theirs."

"There is an understatement," Mira said.

Dakota walked onto the set. It was only then Monique noticed she wore the garter and stocking set from the other day. Her eyes darted to Samira.

As soon as Samira saw Dakota, she went stiff. It took her maybe a full minute to recover, and then her eyes narrowed at Dakota as she took her place.

Samira stood next to Regis. He called "action", and the one camera rolled, even though this wouldn't be used for the movie.

The scene was a punishment scene that then transitioned to sex. It was, in fact, the infamous one where Dakota would actually be fellating Danny, at least if everything stayed the way Regis wanted. Monique was still unsure, though now her hesitancy was more because of Danny than Dakota. Dakota's attitude about it was that it would be harmless, if very naughty, fun.

First Danny ordered Dakota, as Kitty, to bend over and grab her ankles, putting her ass fully on display and vulnerable. Then he took what was called a flogger, a handle with a bunch of straps on it, and would smack Dakota's ass several times. After that, he would order her to go down on him, and then have her pose on the couch for actual sex.

They got as far as the end of the punishment when Regis called 'cut'. Samira started in on Danny immediately.

"You are the dominant. You do not ask, you do not persuade. Every time you give an order, you don't just expect it will be followed, you know it will be followed."

"Is this where you tell me it's a state of mind?" Danny asked.

"No, because it's not. It's something you simply are. Just like the slave just is what they are. People fit into the roles, they don't play them."

"I don't think I get it," Danny said.

"I know, that's fine. Watch. Princess! Presentation One!"

Samira had been a strong speaker the entire time. When she gave her command, it was like someone fired a gun. Everyone noticed.

And Dakota immediately dropped where she was, legs spread, hands behind her head. Samira hadn't even turned.

"Mira, whip!"

Mira moved immediately and Monique wasn't even sure the woman was aware of it at first. She handed an intimidating looking whip to Samira, then scurried back to Monique.

"Holy fuck," Mira said.

Monique looked at her in surprise. "You're not-"

"No. Fuck no. But I'll tell you, I am damn glad I had that whip with me when she asked," Mira said.

Samira grabbed a candle from the set and walked over to Dakota. "Open, Princess," she said.

Dakota opened her mouth and let Samira put the candle in it, then had her tilt her head back. The candle was in her mouth pointing almost straight up. Samira walked away, then turned to face Dakota.

Half the people realized what was about to happen and started shouting. Everyone else made a sound after the whip cracked. The top piece of the candle went flying off into the set. Before anyone could recover from that, there was another crack and the next segment flew off.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Danny said, reaching for Samira's whip hand. She caught his before he connected.

"Proving a point," Samira said.

"What the hell is this proving?" Danny asked.

"For that whole demonstration to work, Prin-... Dakota had to stay perfectly still. She moves one way, I miss the candle. She moves a different way and she needs her chin stitched. You note I didn't ask if she was ready. I simply knew she would be. Just like Dakota knew that I wouldn't hit her. That is the basic foundation of the master/slave setup. The master knows the slave will follow orders. The slave knows they will be taken care of as long as they follow those orders."

"Think of your lines," Samira continued, "You ask if Kitty is ready to receive her punishment. That is not a question. That is a warning. You are informing her that it will start. You are not giving her a chance to object or plead her case. You are informing her of what's going to happen. If you're uncertain with a slave, they start to doubt you can hold up your end. They trust you and rely on you for nearly everything. If you are uncertain about your position and control? They become uncertain about their ability to live."

"I'm... just... I'm sorry I just have a really hard time understanding why anyone does this? I mean... fuck if this was real I'd be hurting her!" Danny said.

There was a tense pause. Monique thought they'd hit an impasse, of sorts. She knew Danny's predicament; he was having serious trouble understanding his character's motivation. The entire conflict in the film centered around his character's need to reconcile their body dysmorphia and their BDSM lifestyle. From Danny's perspective, there was no conflict; get rid of the dom play and just live their life.

But she apparently didn't give Samira enough credit.

"Do you want a real demonstration, of why this is worth it? Why a dom would cling desperately to this?" Samira asked. Monique noticed she wasn't only addressing Danny, but Danny nodded.

Samira looked at everyone on the set. "You're about to witness a true BDSM scene. It will be extreme. It can be disturbing. If you think you will be bothered, please leave. Not you," she said, putting her hand on Danny's chest, "You need to see this. Director, you remain as well. Everyone else, you can stay or leave, but if you stay you do not interrupt me or my slave."

As she was talking about in her speech to Danny, the last part clearly wasn't a request. It was a warning. There was another minute or so of silence while she stared down everyone in the room. She walked over to Mira and Monique and took a small handbag from Mira. She also looked at Monique.

"This will probably bother you. Promise me you will be open minded," Samira said.

"This is my job," Monique replied. But the demand scared her.

Then Samira walked over to Dakota and took the candle. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"How much do you think they just said to each other?" Mira said barely above a whisper.

"Probably an entire book," Monique said.

"Princess! Kneel on the couch. Face the back, hands on the top, legs spread," Samira said.

"Yes Mistress Samira," Dakota replied, then got into position. Her knees were on the cushions, her hands on the back of the couch, her ass facing the room.

"Oh my-" Monique started to say, then Samira's arm uncurled and the whip with it.

The crack seemed to echo even louder and Dakota cried out. Everyone on the set gasped, winced, or cursed as a bright red line appeared on Dakota's ass cheeks.

A second strike cracked out across the set, and then a third. On the third hit, Dakota let out a sound that resembled a howl.

Monique felt pain in her hand and realized she was digging her nails into her palm. Then another hand took hers. She looked over and saw Mira groping blindly at her closed fist. They clasped hands and nearly crushed each other's fingers, but neither of them took their eyes off the scene.

They saw Samira move forward, coating her hand in some sort of lotion she got from a bottle in the bag. When she reached Dakota, her hand rubbed and caressed the red-lined flesh of her backside.

Dakota started talking, Monique thought, but she couldn't be sure. Samira fixed that for her.

"Louder Princess," she demanded.

"Please. Please don't stop Mistress Samira," Dakota said. Her voice was uncontrolled, naked begging.

"I'll keep going if you can show everyone it's worth it, Princess," Samira said, "Are you going to do that for me?"

"Yes Mistress Samira," Dakota said.

The entire time Samira had used one hand to massage the lotion into Dakota's ass. The skin glistened in the stage lights. Then like a serpent strike, Samira's hand snaked out and grabbed the flogger. She brought it down on Dakota's ass.

"Yes. Yes! Yes! Mistress Samira, please!"

Then Samira swung the flogger up between Dakota's legs.

"FUUUUUUCCCCCK!" Dakota wailed out as her whole body began quaking violently.

Mira muttered something in her language.

"What?" Monique asked.

"Look at her! She's... she just climaxed."

Monique looked, really looked, and then gasped.

The pink nipples at the tips of Dakota's magnificent breasts were pointed. Her body shook, but the lights on the set meant it was anything but cold. Her breathing was ragged and deep. Her pale skin was flushed.

And her thighs glistened in the lights.

Samira had resumed rubbing her hand over Dakota's ass. It was mostly pink, with the bright red stripes from the whip standing out brighter than the rest.

Monique looked around at the rest of the people watching. Regis looked shocked, but hungry; he may not have fully understood what was going on, but he recognized the extreme emotion and was eager to get it on film. Danny looked dumbfounded, and Monique knew she'd have to work more with him so he could process what he'd seen. Then she looked over at Teri. The woman had tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth. But her expression wasn't one of sympathy.

She had a yearning look. Like someone who was hungry, watching another eat a gourmet meal.

Monique looked over at the woman still holding her hand. "Bet you're never going to have a report late for her again," Monique tried to joke.

"No, I imagine not," Mira said. Monique waited, because it seemed like the woman had more to say. Mira suddenly looked over at Monique like she was coming out of a trance and pulled her to the side, slightly farther away from everyone.

"You are close with Dakota, the girl?" Mira asked, "She trusts you?"

"I... I believe so, yes," Monique said.

"Good. We will fix this," Mira said.

"Fix what?" Monique asked.

"Them," Mira said, gesturing to the two women. Samira had Dakota's head gathered to her bosom while Dakota had her arms wrapped tightly around the larger woman. Monique couldn't imagine desperately clinging to someone that had just done that.

Mira apparently had a similar thought. "I... I believed I might work on her. Spend months flirting, breaking down the woman's walls. Then we might be lovers. Maybe more."

"That woman doesn't have walls. She is a wall," Monique said.

"Yes... she is a wall, but she needs someone to put behind it. A wall defending nothing is a monument that people admire, but it rots and crumbles."

Monique kept staring at the sight of the two women hugging each other. She read Samira's posture. She wasn't apologizing or sympathetic. She was a mother with her child. Monique's instinct had been to run over and help lead Dakota away from Samira when she was done. Now, not only was she sure Dakota wouldn't have left Samira's side, she was equally sure Samira would have forced her away.

"I have only known Samira Nazari a little over a week. I have never seen her show as much focus and emotion as she did with that girl."

Monique pulled out her cell phone, as did Mira. Monique got Mira's number and sent a text over.

> We will fix this.

Sam

Sam tried to be sneaky about wiping her eyes as she stood up. It pained her in many ways to disentangle herself from Princess. Ten minutes of aftercare after a scene like that was pathetic.

Then again, there was a reason she decided she wouldn't be taking on subs anymore.

Sam looked over and spotted the woman Monique. She waved the French woman over, signaling she should move quickly. When she got there, she gently guided Princess into the woman's arms.

"Take her back to her trailer," Sam said, "Do not let go of her. Make sure you are touching her at all times for the next half hour. If you are comfortable enough with it, hug her and rub her head. She may try to beg off and tell you she is okay. She's not. Half an hour."

Monique nodded and led the unsteady Princess away. When they got to the side of the set Sam saw Maria look questioningly at her, then at Monique and Princess. Sam nodded and her assistant helped the other two.

She then walked up to the actor, Danny, who looked like he'd just seen a miracle. Or a massacre.

"That is why doms do this. They care for their subs. They have special skills and instincts, and they can gift their subs the most amazing sensations they've ever felt. There is pride in that. Pride and pleasure. It is a responsibility that few things compare to."

"I... think I get it," Danny said.

"If you need to quickly remember, remember these," Sam said, "Your commands are reality. Your slave relies on you. There is nothing else in your life that is as rewarding as caring for your slave. In all ways."

Danny nodded to her. He would never be a dom. She hoped he was skilled enough to pretend. She stopped over by Regis, who seemed to be reviewing film. She peeked over his shoulder and saw a washed-out replay of her and Princess.

She suddenly had to fight back tears when she saw the strike that brought on Princess's climax. The power, the control, and the rush of the moment had overwhelmed her. She felt like an addict that had accidentally gotten a hit.

"That was so raw, the emotion, the power," Regis said, "I would cast you in the movie, but... perhaps you could be written in? A friend of the mademoiselle?"

"Trust me, you do not want me in the movie," Sam said, "I do not... take direction well."

"No, no, you give the directions, for sure," Regis said, then he looked concerned, "Tell me, am I un cretin? Danny, he is not the dominant. We know this. Will this fail?"

"No," Sam said, "But that is why you cannot have me in the movie. I would make it plain his character is not the dominant for P-... for Kitty. With... Dakota's help, he can get there."

"Yes, c'est bon," Regis said. Then Sam stared at him until he looked up at her. His expression was nervous.

"Promise me, monsieur. Promise me that she is not in this movie simply because the child star naked will be a scandal. Promise me you will let her act and you will prop her up and the vultures will not devour her," Sam said. She knew her voice was low, and she thought she saw fear in the director's face.

"No, I swear it. It is a thought, but... she is more than the show she was in, the throwaway movies she acted for. Her mother did not see; she would not let the little bird fly. I wish to set her free."

He seemed sincere enough. Sam nodded and turned to leave. "Madame?" he said, stopping her. She turned back to him.

"What do you think I should do, to make this work for America?" he asked.

"I'm so far from a movie expert it's not funny," Sam countered.

He shrugged. "Sometimes the outside opinion is better," he said.

Sam thought for a moment. Then she had an idea.

Dakota

Dakota wanted to float in the sea of sensation longer, but she knew she was losing it. It was okay, though, because her mistress was holding her, making sure she was safe. She reached up and ran her hands through Mistress Samira's hair, down to her neck. Then she decided to be bold. She pulled a little, and stretched up with her mouth.

"Whoa! Dakota. Hey, it's me."

Dakota blinked and actually focused her eyes. She was halfway to pulling the intimacy coordinator down for a lip-lock.

"Shit," Dakota said, trying to swing away but still feeling weak, "I'm sorry, I..."

"I get it," Monique said, "Well, no, this is a complete lie. I have no idea what happened out there, except you were getting whipped and then you seemed... well..."

"I had the mother of all orgasms?" Dakota suggested teasingly.

She was surprised when Monique blushed. "I... Mira had to clue me in."

"I imagine it's hard to tell whether I was being tortured or ravished," Dakota said.

There was a pause and Dakota felt a little thrill as she could tell Monique, the supposed expert, had questions. "Go ahead and ask; I don't mind."

"I just... I'm in shock, really," Monique admitted, "How can that feel good?"

"Mis-... Samira explained it to me. Pain releases endorphins, just like sex does. There's some other chemicals too. The thing is you have to push past the panic reaction and just sort of... accept the pain. Then it just becomes another source for endorphins. When you get to the right mix... it's like a drug high, but better."

"Was it like that for you all the time? When... when you were with her?" Monique asked.

Dakota felt a pang in her chest. She thought back to the house in Vermont. "Yeah. Actually, yeah, it was. I would have an orgasm like that... every other day, at least. Sometimes M-..."

"You can just say it; I will not think it weird," Monique said.

"Mistress Samira would keep me riding the pain/pleasure high for an hour or more. Or we'd have these sessions where she'd train me in orgasm control. I'd have to try to orgasm when she told me, except I had... well there was a lot of stimulation," Dakota said.

There was a knock on the door. Dakota quickly found a bathrobe and tied it on. "Yes?" she asked.

"It's me."

The voice sent a whole tornado of emotions swirling through her. "Yeah, come on in."

When Samira entered she seemed to fill the trailer. She was still in her heels; if she just lifted her arms she'd touch the ceiling. Samira looked at Dakota, searching her body and her face. Dakota resisted the urge to pull her robe off and get into a presentation position.

"I'll leave you two-"

"No, Miss Gavreau, you... you should stay," Samira interrupted.

"What's up?" Dakota asked.

"I spoke with Regis. He's removing the blowjob scene," Samira said.

Dakota saw Monique relax a little, but she was curious. "Why?"

Samira took a breath, then said, "I convinced him it would have more of an impact and wouldn't upset the ratings people as much if he replaced it with a subspace scene. A real subspace scene, then the sex, instead of the blowjob."

"Real subspace...?" Monique asked.

"What we just did," Dakota said, "But... you're telling me you're going to get Danny to do that to me?"

"Of course not," Samira scoffed, "He would kill you."

"So then..." Dakota pressed.

Samira took another breath. "I would do it. Regis told me they could set up the cameras and film different takes. We... you and I... would do a scene. A BDSM scene. I would get you to subspace and... well... do what you and I do-... did. Danny would be there so they can get some shots of him interacting with you while you're in that state. I would direct him. He doesn't do any of the pain; that's all me. They would shoot some separate stuff of him cracking the whip or using the flogger, then edit it together later. Then sometime later you shoot the sex scene."

"Aww... Danny's not actually going to fuck me after you put me in subspace?" Dakota joked.

"No," both Samira and Monique said, then looked at each other in surprise.

"Damn," Dakota said, disappointed, "I'm guessing that feels amazing."

"I've... um," Samira started and then paused.

"What?" Dakota pressed, "you can't just stop after that."

Samira let out a sigh and said, "Some subs have said it's the most erotic and fulfilling sex they've ever had."

"I... cannot fathom having sex after being hit with a whip down there and enjoying it," Monique said, "But I'm not a sub. Look, I'm just going to state the obvious, since I know from the little I've talked to Mira that you like things direct. Can you two handle this?"

"We just did," Dakota pointed out.

"This is going to be a longer scene," Monique reminded them, then looked at Dakota, "Dakota, you just admitted to me this is like the drug high. You just relapsed. Now you are offered another hit."

"It's not like that," Dakota insisted.

"Are you sure?" Monique asked, "I do not comprehend all, but it was clear watching that what you two did was powerful, intense, and intimate. When all is done, the both of you will walk away? All es tre bon?"

There was a long stretch of silence, as Dakota and Samira looked at each other, then Dakota said, "Maybe you could give us a minute now, Monique?"

Monique left without either of them looking away from the other.

"She's right," Samira finally said, "I wasn't thinking; this is a bad idea."

"Why? You just said it'll make the movie better and I wasn't really eager to give Danny a blowjob." Dakota asked.

"Because it's not healthy, encouraging you like this," Samira said.

"Encouraging me? By helping with the movie?" Dakota asked.

"Stop it," Samira snapped, "Us being together like this isn't healthy, you know that."

"I know you're making excuses," Dakota said, "Am I really that... repulsive? You're so desperate to avoid being with me that you're making up bullshit excuses about why it's dangerous and risky?"

"They aren't made up. There are lots of reasons this is a bad idea. I'm just focusing on the most obvious one."

"Yeah, I've heard that; you supposedly brainwashed me, based on what happened to the mythical sub who you broke. Who is she? Where is she?" Dakota demanded.

"That's not my place to say," Samira said, "It's her life-"

"I don't want her fucking address. I want you to tell me what happened," Dakota said.

"I fucked up. Just like I did with you," Samira said.

"That's not good enough," Dakota said, "It's not good enough to throw away what we had."

"Really? What did we have, Dakota? Do you remember? Because I remember a lot of one-sided orgasms."

Dakota flinched when she said "Dakota" instead of "Princess," flashing back to that pivotal moment months ago, but then she steeled herself. "Order me," Dakota said.

"What?"

"Command me. Tell me to do it," Dakota said, standing up and closing the distance between her and Samira.

"Do what?"

"You know what. It's the first legitimate problem you've brought up with what we did. So fix it. You're the mistress, I'm the slave. Like you said to Danny; you don't expect the order to be followed, you know it will be. So give me the order."

"I'm not going to have a relationship with someone who's choking down bile every time we have sex because they think-"

"You have no idea what the fuck I think, or feel, or want," Dakota shouted, "You kicked me out because you got scared. You didn't want to work on it, you just got scared and ran. You probably didn't bother to try fixing things with your last sub either. You just dropped her and-"

The crack seemed to echo in the trailer, but it wasn't from a whip. Dakota brought her hand up to her face, where she could feel the reddening from Samira's slap. Then looked up at Samira's face and stumbled back onto her bed. She remembered the look on Samira's face when she found out the Cordobas had ignored a safe word.

Samira looked like that now.

"You... are an entitled Hollywood bitch who has no idea what you're talking about. You aren't getting what you want so you're throwing a tantrum and lashing out. You want a real reason I won't take you on again? Fine. You ask me here to save your movie from being a farce of a production with a laughable simp playing a dom and then you try to use it to manipulate me into taking you back? We call that topping from the bottom and if I allowed it I would be even more pathetic than you want me to be."

"I didn't manipu-"

"You knew I would have to give a demonstration to get your Danny to figure out what domming really meant. You practically leapt out of your clothes so you could flash your body at me because you know how good you look. And when you did, what were you wearing? The outfit I picked out for you every day we were together. Did you think I wouldn't notice everyone else on set was confused because that's not your regular costume? Your 'clever scheming' was heavy handed and juvenile. If I took your approach, I would leave right now, get on a plane to the Middle East, take Mira to my office, and fuck her senseless. Then I'd send you a picture of her happily smiling while she eats my cunt."

Dakota felt like crying, but she was still too frightened.

"But I'm not an entitled bitch. I'm the dom. I maintain control, I take care of my sub, and I follow through on my promises, in this case to your director. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay here for two days. We're going to map out your scene. I'm going to whip and spank you into subspace and you're going to let me. Not because you need the movie role or you don't want to let your castmates down, and not because I'm a dom and you're a sub who I could have dancing on a table in the middle of a dive bar if I wanted. It'll be because we both know the film needs the help so you don't waste your career. You're going to have the biggest orgasms of your life in 4K HD, and I will make sure you come out of it feeling cared for and soothed. Then I will disappear from your life, for my own reasons, and you will deal with it."

After Samira left, Dakota had to spend ten minutes in intense focus to avoid having a full blown panic attack.

=-=-=-=-=

Dakota had been afraid for two days that she was going to arrive on set for the scene and lock up. The whip would hit her and all she'd be able to do is scream in pain and panic.

They'd run through the scene rehearsals and she'd tried to focus on Regis and Danny the whole time. The tall woman, standing off to the side, dressed in black, towering over everyone, she had to block out. Monique had tried talking to both women, but Dakota had told her she was fine. Dakota could tell Monique didn't believe her, but Samira had been right about one thing; it would be better for the movie if they could get this done. She didn't know how she'd manage it, though.

But she'd shown up for the day and Mistress Samira, still wearing her dress, had barked a command at Dakota and it was like breathing. She just settled into the familiar rhythm of obeying Mistress Samira. She moved where she was told, positioned herself as she was told, and responded to her voice. By the time the first whip strike landed, Dakota forgot to be afraid of it.

Some part of her still trusted that Mistress Samira wouldn't hurt her. Not really hurt her.

Maybe she had been brainwashed.

The pain coursed through her body, but then the wonderful tingle of the lotion bit into the lines on her ass. She didn't want to admit it to anyone, even Monique, but it was this sensation she remembered the most, that she missed the most; the burning fire mixed with the cool tingles of the menthol gel. The two sensations mixed together seemed to flow directly into her pussy.

Everything was sensation. Pain soaked into her body, heating it and flooding it with intense reactions. Soft caresses started at points in her body and flowed around her skin. The lotion felt like raindrops of ice to soothe the pain and inflame her nerves. She perversely wondered how a more intimate application would feel, and began pushing back when she felt the slick hand on her rear, hoping she could get even a finger to graze the sensitive star of her asshole.

Then... penetration.

Something pushed inside her. It was small, and it moved slowly. A finger. Whose finger? She opened her eyes but she was looking at the fake window of the set; everyone was behind her, and when she started to turn her head she was interrupted by sharp pain. She wasn't even really aware of sound. She heard voices, but figuring out who was speaking would take effort and detract from the sensations. She didn't need to know, really. It was better to stay in the sea of sensation.

The invader found her core and massaged it. It felt like someone pumping her full of pleasure from the inside. Her body was filling up with ecstasy, but it was under pressure. It was held in place, waiting for something. But the finger inside her kept pushing more and more into her.

Her nerves were tuned so sharply that she felt a presence behind her just because their shadow blocked the heat of the lights on her ass. She didn't know who it was. Was their finger inside her? What would they do? What would Mistress Samira tell them to do?

Mistress Samira would help her, she knew. She called for it. She begged her mistress to release her, to end her torture, to break the dam inside her.

Hands suddenly grabbed her breasts and twisted her nipples.

As if the nubs of skin had been pressure valves, everything building up inside her suddenly released. She heard someone screaming and crying all at once, but she couldn't figure out who it was because her brain was lost to the complete tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure that overwhelmed it. It was more than she could handle, she thought, and she was sure she would drown in it, unable to breathe, dead from an excess of pleasure.

She started floating. Ascending to heaven, maybe, or just drifting off in the wind, no longer mortal, to be absorbed into the universe. But something touched her. A warm presence entered through her chest and restarted her lungs. Helped her to breathe. Stayed with her. Reminded her that she had a body, that she was still alive, that nothing would end her.

Her hair. She always liked when Mistress Samira stroked her hair. She lay, surrounded by warmth, and knew that she didn't need a masseuse or a master of yoga or drugs to help her relax.

She just needed Mistress Samira's body, and her hand running through her hair.

"Mistress Samira? Why did you stop?" Dakota asked when the fingers no longer combed her hair back.

"I... I am sorry Dakota," Monique said, "She is gone."