by Renee Rose
“Please, Antonio—I know this looks bad, but—”
He walked away, holding up his hand.
She ran after him. “Listen, it won’t happen again. Ever. I promise! I’m really sorry—”
He left the set and slammed the door in her face.
She pushed back the wedge of emotion that threatened to erupt. Do not fall apart here. Not here. Unable to think of what to do, her legs carried her back outside to her car. She climbed in and sat in the driver’s seat, unseeing and motionless.
No thoughts passed. No emotions. She checked out completely, just sitting there in her parked car with the top down, because the mechanism to close it was broken. She probably sat there forty-five minutes before the sound of a door slamming started her out of her stupor.
Emotion flooding back, she put the key in the ignition and started the car, tearing out of there before she made an even bigger fool out of herself.
*****
Rain poured down, running off his windshield in rivulets. Joel had spent most of the day in an emergency meeting with Antonio and the other producers discussing the fate of the movie. Two of the producers were ready to scrap it and walk away. Joel had too much invested in it to be willing to take a loss. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the additional funds to invest to hire a new actress and start over. The filming was two-thirds complete, after all.
Despite Antonio’s adamant protest that he’d never work with Sparks again, Joel had advocated trying to salvage the movie by putting the screws to Marissa and basically forcing her to perform in her contract. The studio’s lawyer had put in a call to her mother and her agent, letting them know she’d be sued for breach of contract and demanding the return of her advance, plus damages. He hoped she’d hire a lawyer and they would negotiate for the completion of the movie.
Antonio had insisted he would quit if they brought her back, but eventually, Joel made him see reason. The director wanted this movie—his baby—finished as much as Joel did.
He pulled up to the front gates of his Venice Beach mansion and stopped. There, sitting in an open convertible Porsche, getting soaked in the rain, sat Marissa Sparks. What the hell was she up to?
He threw the car in park and opened the door, standing up in the rain. “Most people put up the top when it rains,” he called out to her.
“It won’t go,” she said.
He waited, but she didn’t explain her presence.
“What are you doing here?”
“May I come in? Please? I just want to talk to you.”
He nodded and stepped back into his dry car, hitting the remote to open the automatic gate. It swung open and he motioned her inside ahead of him. He followed her up the drive to where she parked in the circle in front of the house. Opening the garage door, he drove in, then got out and beckoned to her.
She arrived like a drowned rat: shivering and dripping wet. She wore microscopic shorts and a tank top and both were soaked through, clinging to her curves. Mascara streaked her face. It was hard to tell if the tears that caused the tracks were still flowing or if it was just rain on her cheeks.
“Come on in,” he said, holding his arm out to her and escorting her in with a light touch at her low back. “Wait here,” he said, leaving her on the tiled floor of his kitchen. He retrieved a giant fluffy orange towel from the bathroom and returned, wrapping it around her and blotting her hair and face.
“Thanks,” she said, looking as small and forlorn as a lost child, her blue eyes huge in her face.
He raised his eyebrows in expectation.
“Joel,” she said, sounding breathless. “I came here to beg you—please—to give me another chance. I know I screwed up. I screwed up big time. I’m not going to offer you any excuses because I know you don’t want to hear them. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Really sorry. As sorry as a person can be. And if you let me back on the movie, I would work every minute of every day to prove to you I can do the job you hired me for.”
He looked at her a long time. “What makes you think I can get you back on the movie? The decision isn’t just mine.”
“I know—” she trailed off, her eyes pleading.
His cock stirred. He happened to love that look on a woman.
“Listen, Marissa. Maybe there’s a chance I can get you back on the movie, but a lot of things would need to change. I think you need some distance from your family. Everyone knows your house is a party twenty-four/seven. And honestly, I think you need a real manager. Someone who takes the job of getting you to work ready to perform seriously. I don’t think your mom is cutting it. Would you be willing to consider a new manager?”
She shrugged, looking miserable. “If that’s your condition.”
His condition. Was he calling the shots on her life now? If so, his conditions would be something a little different.
As if she read his mind, she said, “You’re my daddy, right? You tell me what to do.” She peeked up at him from under her wet lashes.
His cock stiffened, but her suggestion grated. Was she really propositioning him to keep this job?
Tell her you’ll have the studio’s lawyers contact her. Tell her to come back when her life is together.
He closed the distance between them—a mistake, because then he had to touch her. He brushed her wet hair back from her shoulder. “What are you suggesting, little girl?”
Her nipples stood in stiffened peaks through her wet tank top. “I...I don’t know. I just...I’d like a little guidance.”
Tell her to leave.
Desire overruled reason. “Take off your clothes, Marissa.” If she wanted to play the sex card, he’d let her play it.
She looked at him, hope flittering across her face, her chest heaving. She yanked her clothes off, quickly, as if doing it before she chickened out. Or perhaps before he changed his mind.
“Put your nose in the corner,” her said, pointing to the juncture of the two walls.
Her eyes flicked to his and then to the corner. She took one step, and looked back at him with a question.
He gave her a stern, raised-eyebrow look.
She turned back to the wall and approached it, stopping when she reached the corner. She peeked over her shoulder.
She made an incredible sight. He hadn’t had any doubt about the perfection of her form, but seeing her fully naked made him catch his breath. Perfectly proportioned, slender but curvy, she had the body only one in one thousand wanna-be models or actresses possess. Her flawless ivory skin held the clarity of youth, two dimples at the base of her spine accented the delicious globes of a perfectly round ass. The ass he intended to spank until she screamed.
He sauntered up behind her, reaching around pinching one nipple between his thumb and forefinger as the other hand reached for her pussy. He found her swollen and wet. But he didn’t want her to think she could just waltz in and seduce her way back into the movie. She’d have to give up more than that to buy him.
“You were very naughty today,” he said, sliding his finger along her glossy folds as he tugged her nipple enough to make her gasp. “What happens to naughty girls?”
She panted, her hands coming to cover his.
“Hands on the wall,” he snapped.
Her hands shot forward.
She certainly was obedient. But he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d sensed the submissive in her before. Wasn’t that the whole reason he found her so attractive?
“What happens to naughty girls?”
“Th-they get spanked?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered sternly, nudging her heel with the toe of his shoe.
She stepped her feet wider.
With the added space between her legs, he had room to lightly slap her sex. He spanked her there and she squeaked. He brought his hand up a few more times. “That’s right, they get spanked. Did you come here to get spanked by me?”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured.
“Hmm,” he said, his cock s
training at his zipper.
His brain screamed at him to pull back. He should not mix business with pleasure. Not in this town. This was the sort of thing that would land him in a lawsuit, or a tabloid scandal. He could just see the headline: Actor/Producer Joel Sutherland Forces Actress to Submit to Bare-Bottomed Spanking to Stay in Movie.
“If you want me to be your daddy,” he said, his hand traveling to her tantalizing ass, “you would have to stay here until the filming is over. You would live under my rules, and I am very strict. You would receive long, bare-bottomed spankings. And we would start with a serious punishment for your disrespect of everyone’s time these past few days.”
She went quite still, listening.
“Are you prepared to accept my terms?”
Her breath rose and fell in short gasps, her perky breasts moving with it. He slapped between her legs from the back. “Are you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure?” Hell, he wasn’t sure. This might be the stupidest move he’d ever made. But the smell of her arousal made the animal in him push forward. He slid his fingers between her legs and found her swollen sex practically sopping with natural lubricant.
“I’m sure,” she whispered.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed his cock against her low back, breathing in her ear. “Good girl. It takes courage to give yourself to Daddy. I want you to stay in the corner with your hands and eyes on the wall. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she murmured.
*****
Marissa listened to the sound of his footsteps as he walked away. Her heart pounded in her chest like a cat trapped in a pillowcase. She didn’t believe she was doing this. She suspected she was in way over her head, not that she’d ever performed on the old “casting couch” at all.
Exactly how far would he take this game? Was it all for sexual pleasure or did he have a nastier motive in mind, like he was filming the whole thing for blackmail? No, that was stupid. He wasn’t like that. He’d never been anything but a gentleman to her. Still, she had no guarantee that he wouldn’t just have his fun and send her off with a “good luck,” or “sorry I can’t help you more.”
“Let’s go, baby doll.” She jumped to find him behind her again. He took her hand and led her to the couch where he sat down and pulled her over his lap.
The position should have frightened her, but instead it turned her belly to molten liquid, a swirling heat that caused moisture to leak onto her inner thighs.
Joel circled his warm hand over her buttocks, making her skin tingle in anticipation. He brought his palm down with a loud smack. “Why am I spanking you, little girl?” he asked, rubbing away the sting and then repeating the action on the other cheek.
Her mind raced between her fears of degrading herself this way and white hot desire. “Ahh, what?” she asked, trying to play back his words and understand the question.
He delivered a flurry of hard slaps, two on one side, then two on the other, and again.
She wriggled, squeaking.
“Why am I spanking you?”
“Because I was bad?” she asked, the muscles in her pelvic floor fluttering. His hand stung, but in the most delicious way, warming her skin, giving her a focus for all the sexual tension growing within.
“Yes, you were naughty, Marissa. Tell Daddy what you’ve done.”
She drew a breath, suddenly not liking the game nearly so much.
His hand continued to rain down at rapid intervals, making it hard to speak.
“I’m sorry,” she cried out, the only words her brain produced.
“Thank you for your apology,” he said calmly, still beating out a steady tattoo on her naked bottom.
Heat had begun to build, and she no longer enjoyed the spanks, as they came too fast and too hard.
“Please…”
He paused and rubbed her blazing flesh and she attempted to catch her breath. “You’ve misbehaved, Marissa. You brought the production of my movie to a halt. Because of you, there may not be a Canyon del Oro. I will lose my entire investment.”
Her stomach tightened, all eroticism fading. She wasn’t afraid—he didn’t sound angry—but guilt made her feel sick. She had only thought about her own loss of fortune. She hadn’t considered how much Joel had invested in the movie or what would happen to him or the movie without her.
He tapped something smooth and hard against her sit spot.
She craned her neck around to see. He held a large wooden hairbrush in his hand. Her bottom clenched reflexively.
“Little girls who disrespect their director, co-stars and self get spanked with the hairbrush.”
Her belly flipped. He brought the back of the brush down against her sit spot and she jolted forward, trying to crawl off his lap. It hurt. Way more than his hand. This was not fun. Not at all.
He clamped an arm around her waist and hauled her back into position, pinning her two legs under one of his to hold her in place.
“Wait,” she shrieked, alarmed.
He said nothing, just started spanking at a quick pace, alternating one side and the other in quick efficiency.
“Owwww,” she howled, still struggling.
“You have been a mess ever since we left New Mexico. You are on the path to throwing your entire career away, and I’m not going to let you take the movie down with you.”
“I am sorry!” she gasped. “Ouch, please!”
“I know you are, sweetheart. But I have to keep spanking until I’ve decided you’ve learned your lesson.”
“No-o,” she wailed. She wished she had not offered herself up like this. She’d been picturing something totally different. Something that didn’t hurt so much. Something sexier. This wasn’t sexy. Well...it sort of was, but she didn’t have time to enjoy it because she was too busy paying attention to the pain exploding on her poor bottom.
“Marissa, I’m sorry about your boyfriend, if that’s what this is all about. But you are better than this.”
Just his mention of Billy made her cringe. How freaking pathetic was she? Was she really going to ride this train till it hit bottom over that loser? No. Maybe he had been the impetus for her irresponsible behavior, but here, in the presence of a real man, he seemed completely insignificant. And she sure as hell didn’t want to admit to Joel that she’d let some loser rock boy sink her ship.
A sob of frustration welled up in her throat and she held it, drawing a fluttered breath.
“Don’t hold it in, sweetheart. I want your tears.”
Fuck. That. Except his request seemed to summon exactly that—a wall of emotion surged from her chest into her throat and came out in a cough, which turned into sobs. The tears weren’t far behind. She tried to hold it in—she didn’t want to cry in front of him, certainly not bent over his lap being spanked with a hairbrush. It was too humiliating.
She held her breath, then choked on a sob erupting from her chest.
“That’s it, Marissa,” he said, his voice rich with warmth, even though he continued paddling her throbbing bottom.
She kicked her legs. “Please,” she wailed. “Please stop.”
“Let it all out, baby girl,” he said.
She collapsed over his legs, crying like a baby, surrendering to the idea that he’d never stop spanking her. And that was when he finally did stop, circling her bottom with the brush, its smooth wood now a caress.
“Oww,” she sobbed.
The brush disappeared and his hand massaged her swollen ass, the heat making her flinch.
She continued to cry. Insecurity blasted through her. How would she ever look him in the eye again? What if he pushed her out the door with a wham, bam, thank you ma’am and never let her back on the movie? What if he told everyone?
“Don’t...don’t leave me,” she blurted with a sob, then froze, wishing she could pull the words back into her foolish mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that. Leave her? How could he leave her when he wasn’t even dating her? She held her brea
th, wanting to slither off his lap and hide under the sofa.
Joel lifted her up to cradle on his lap. “Of course I won’t leave you. Daddies don’t leave their Little’s just because they’ve been naughty.”
She covered her face in her hands.
He pried her fingers back. His gaze was warm and loving, as if she were his beloved child and not an unreliable co-star with a huge cold sore on her lip. He kissed her wet cheek. “The spanking’s over and you’re forgiven.” He pulled her head against his chest and stroked her hair.
She leaned into his warmth, his gentleness soothing her raw emotions. It was a surreal moment. “Did you enjoy that?” she asked, not angry, just trying to understand him, or what just went down.
As if in response, his cock twitched beneath her bare thigh. The corner of his mouth turned up, but he shook his head. “No.” He stroked his thumb across her collarbone and down, cupping one breast. “Well, yes, some of it,” he admitted with a wolfish smile as he flicked her nipple with his thumbnail. “You looked pretty cute standing in the corner.” His cock moved against her bottom.
His arousal reassured her, gave her a sliver of confidence back. She wanted him—needed him, actually. She kissed him lightly on the neck. Then again a little higher, on his earlobe.
His cock pressed more insistently, but he nudged her off his lap to stand. Before she had a chance to register her disappointment, he stood and scooped her back into his arms, carrying her down the hall to a beautiful master bedroom.
*****
Joel bypassed the bed and kept going, into the master bathroom where he gently set Marissa on the travertine tile counter. She winced a little and glared, which made him smile. He rather enjoyed a pouting girl after a good spanking. Marissa made a perfect Little. He knew her body responded to his dominance, but he didn’t know what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. Was she just playing the part he asked her to play to stay in the movie?
