I Married a Master

by Melanie Marchande

  What I didn't expect was to look up and see her kneeling at my feet.

  I worked my mouth open and closed a few times, failing to find any words that would fit the situation.

  "I'm tired of running away from what I need," she said, softly. "Punish me."

  An eternity passed.

  "Jenna..." I searched for the right words. "You don't have to..."

  Her eyes blazed, and I drifted off.

  "Ever since I came to New York, I've been scared," she said. "I guess it's been there my whole life, I just pretended like it wasn't. I acted like I was confident and I couldn't fail. But I know that's not true. And ever since I got here, I've been setting myself up for misery. You know how I ended up at that stupid porno audition? Because I never even bother submitting to the ones that seem too ambitious for me. I was going for something that seemed like it was on my level."

  She smiled, bitterly, then went on.

  "That's how I've been thinking, ever since I came. And when it seemed like you were about to start some roleplay, I freaked out. Because I'm afraid to do the one thing that I really want to do. If I suck at roleplay then I suck at acting, and if I suck at acting, it's all over."

  She stopped, breathing quickly, and I found myself mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest.

  "Acting is all I have. It's all I've ever wanted to do. The stakes are too high - so I just run away from it. I have to stop running away, and I need your help to do it."

  My heart was racing as I stared at her. Holy shit, she actually wanted it - and for the right reasons. She understood why I did what I did. She needed my discipline, wanted my discipline, and I was ready to give it to her.

  Take a deep breath, Chase. Count to ten.

  I had to consider the ramifications. We weren't really together. Sure, I wanted it to seem authentic, but this was going way, way too far.

  But it was too late. I couldn't put a stop to this now.

  "Are you sure?" I asked her.

  She blinked, slowly.

  "Yes."

  There was no doubt in her voice, in her expression. Inside, I thrilled.

  I fought to keep my face neutral. "All right," I said, slowly. "Give me a minute. Let me think up a suitable punishment."

  She nodded, smiling a little. "Should I leave you alone?"

  I shook my head. I was afraid if she walked out of the room, she'd never come back. Not that I thought this was some moment of insanity, but it certainly wasn't her usual thing. I didn't think she'd regret it. But given enough time, she might try to back out. Especially given her checkered past with the subject.

  I could do the obvious. A straight up, "you messed up and now I'm punishing you" spanking. Followed by wild sex, of course. That was a given. But there was another scenario that popped into my head and just wouldn't leave. But it might be too much, especially considering the source of her anxiety and what she'd just gone through with her last audition.

  Still, it was worth a try.

  "Would you be willing to try an experiment with me?" I asked, finally.

  She nodded, eagerly.

  "Here's my idea," I began, taking a deep breath. "I want to roleplay. But it's going to be easy. You'll just be yourself. I'll be a casting director. You're coming in to read a scene in which a husband spanks his wife, for disobeying him." I heard her breathing quicken, saw her eyes widen slightly. "But he doesn't find your read convincing enough. However, he likes you...so he's determined to raise the stakes until you can prove that you're right for the part." I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

  For a moment, the only sound in the room was her rapid breaths. She sat up straighter, pulling her shoulders back so that I had no choice but to notice her arousal through the thin fabric of her shirt. Outwardly, I stayed calm, but my fingers gripped the edge of the mattress.

  "I think you forgot one character detail," she said, at last, with a secretive smile. "The casting director...does he wear Magnum XL condoms?"

  "If you play your cards right, maybe you'll find out." I felt a rush of relief, then excitement, anticipation zinging through my veins.

  "So." She was biting her lower lip, a little gesture that I normally found endearing. But now, it went straight to my dick.

  "You need a safe word," I said. "To end it, if you need to. At any point."

  She frowned. "If I use it, doesn't that defeat the whole purpose?"

  "No. Jenna, listen - it's important that you understand what this is for. I'll push your boundaries for you, but I'll never break them. You have to respect your own limits, so I can respect them. If you feel a little uncomfortable, if you feel nervous, that's one thing. But if at any point in time you feel like you can't continue, like you need to stop - that's what it's for. To keep you safe. To keep both of us safe."

  I could tell she didn't really know what I meant by that, but the beginnings of understanding were dawning across her face. She still didn't look happy about it, but I knew if things went too far, she'd be happy we had this conversation.

  "So, how do you pick a safe word?" She licked her lips, and I had to resist the urge to kiss her.

  "Any word is fine, as long as it's something you wouldn't say naturally during the encounter. Mostly it's meant to take the place of 'no' or 'stop,' in case it feels right to say those things as a part of the scene."

  She smiled faintly, her eyes darkening a little in a way that made my pulse quicken in response. "Do you think that's going to feel right to say those things?"

  "Maybe," I said.

  It seemed wrong to wink, although she certainly looked intrigued by the idea.

  "I like...caramel."

  She grinned.

  "Oh, very funny." I lifted her chin with a firm hand, reminding her who was in charge. "Is that caramel with a K?"

  "If you want." She fluttered her eyelashes. "Anyway, it's not going to matter. I won't use it."

  My grip tightened, ever so slightly. "Promise me that you will, if you need to."

  "Fine." She took a deep breath, and I finally felt she was serious. "Fine. I'll use it if I need to."

  I nodded, letting her go. "So, go out into the hallway. Give me a few minutes, then come up and knock on the door. From that point on, unless you need to safeword, we don't know each other. You're Jenna Hadley, aspiring actress, and I'm Benjamin Chase, casting director. That's Mr. Chase to you, of course."

  She stood up, arms folded, gnawing on her lip again. God damn it, how was I supposed to focus on my role when she was driving me to distraction, just being her?

  "Can I ask you for a couple more notes, before we start the scene?" she asked.

  I had to laugh a little bit at the double meaning of scene. "Sure."

  "Should I pretend like we're in a normal casting office, or...?" Her eyes flicked to the bed.

  "I'll leave that up to you." Smiling, I gestured towards the door. After a moment's hesitation, she went.

  A few minutes. Not that she was going to count - and she was probably going to give me a lot less than one hundred and twenty seconds. That would feel like an eternity to her, waiting out there. I could use some time to gather my thoughts, to prepare a real performance, but I didn't have it. Not now. Hell, I had no guarantees she was even coming back in the room.

  In the end, all I did was tuck my hard-on up under my belt so she wouldn't be distracted.

  Showtime.

  Right on cue, she knocked. I put on exactly the kind of smug expression that I imagined casting directors wore all the time, which wasn't too much of a stretch.

  "Welcome," I said, looking down at an imaginary clipboard in my hand. "You must be...?"

  "Jenna Hadley," she said, with a pretty blush and bright, eager eyes. I shook her hand, letting the skin contact linger just enough to remind her what we were doing. "It's so good to meet you. I didn't get any script or materials ahead of time, but your assistant told me -"

  I silenced her with a raised hand. "Yes, that's fine. We'll go over all of that in a minute. Plea
se, sit down."

  She looked around the room as if she'd never seen it before. "Um...sorry, did you want me to sit on the bed, or...?"

  "Wherever you like," I said. "I know this setting is a little unorthodox, but I find it helps people relax. Give a more...natural performance."

  Her face scrunched up a little bit, in that wonderful way of hers. "Oh...okay. I guess, um..." She perched on the edge of the mattress, and I took the chair on the opposite end of the room. All I wanted to do was close the distance between us, pop the button on those not-quite-Daisy-Dukes and feel exactly how excited she was for myself. But I had to do this right.

  "So...what am I reading?"

  I cleared my throat. "It's very simple, you won't even need a script. I'm more interested in your reactions, and your ability to ad-lib in a scenario so it seems natural. Most of the film will be scripted, but it's easy enough to find somebody who can parrot lines like they mean it. I want to make sure you can bring something special to the table. Not just the ordinary stuff."

  "Okay." Her whole body was practically humming with nervous energy, and I wasn't sure how much of it was put-on. Either way, I could hardly wait to kiss her breathless while our bodies crashed together on that very bed where she was sitting so primly.

  Patience, patience.

  "Well, you'll be playing the role of a 1950's housewife," I told her. I let my eyes roam her body, lingering on the tanned expanse of her bare legs. "You're not exactly dressed for the part, but..."

  She blushed deeply. "I'm sorry. They didn't..." Swallowing hard, she found her voice again. "It's hot out. I just wanted to be comfortable."

  "There's nothing wrong with that," I reassured her, trying to make my voice soothing, but not too soothing. After all, this whole thing was predicated on me playing the part of a sleazy casting agent who didn't mind taking advantage of a vulnerable actress.

  Or maybe I was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he wasn't normally like this. Maybe there was just something about her...

  I shifted in my seat, as if I was trying to go back to acting like a professional. "My apologies, Ms. Hadley. I only meant that I'll understand if it takes you a little extra time to get into the right mindset."

  She cleared her throat. "So...what exactly is going on in this scene? What am I ad libbing to?"

  "Your husband's just come home." I glanced back down at the phantom notes in my lap, wondering if she noticed the straining erection running up the length of my zipper. She was doing a good job of pretending not to look, anyway. "Earlier, you discovered that he's been lying to you about some bad investments that he made. You're angry, but you know he was just trying to shield you from worrying. When he walked in the door, you didn't have his martini ready, like you always do. He was upset, and you lashed out, because of course you didn't make it because you know that he lied...but you don't want to admit it." This was way too much backstory. I had to get to the point. There was a damn good reason I wasn't a real screenwriter.

  "So," I said, "deeply upset by your disrespect, he's turned you over his knee."

  Time froze.

  Her reaction was perfect. Eyes widened, jaw dropped slightly, breathing quickening. She crossed and re-crossed her legs, shimmying a little on the bed like she couldn't get comfortable. I knew the feeling.

  "Um..."

  "Is something wrong, Ms. Hadley?" I asked - a little sternly.

  "Oh, no, it's just...it's not what I expected." She let out a nervous laugh. "That's fine."

  My eyes narrowed. "It doesn't seem fine, Ms. Hadley. Are you offended by the content of the scene? If so, we can end this right now."

  "No!" she exclaimed, quickly. Then, softer: "No. I'll do it. So you just...you want me to react as if I'm being spanked?"

  I nodded. "Your husband's name is Howard. Work from a basis of 'no, Howard, please! Stop! You're hurting me!' Et cetera, et cetera. But bear in mind, the most painful part is that you've disappointed him. It's really not about the spanking at all."

  "Oh...right. Okay." She took a deep breath, screwing her face into a slightly pained expression. "Howard, no! Please - stop. Don't."

  I hid a grin behind my hand. She was doing a spectacular job of being awful.

  Before she looked up, I rearranged my face into a look of bored disappointment. "Hmm. Let's try that again, shall we?"

  "Sorry," she muttered, squirming again. God damn it, if she didn't stop that...

  "Sit still," I commanded, before I could think better of it.

  She gasped, looking up at me. "I'm...excuse me?"

  "Sorry. I just mean, please try not to squirm. It's very distracting." I tried to look irritated. "Let's just get on with this, okay? Try to really put yourself in the headspace."

  "I'll try," she said, biting her lip. I throbbed.

  You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. In spite of my order, she was still rubbing her thighs together a little, and I knew exactly why. The seam of those jean shorts was pressing right where she needed it. That wasn't quite fair.

  "Again, Ms. Hadley," I said. "You can...assume the position, if that makes it easier."

  Her eyes went wide as saucers, face turning bright red. "Position?"

  "You know." I made a meaningless gesture. "Like you're really being spanked. Whatever that means to you."

  "Uh...is that really necessary?"

  "No," I said. "But if this next read doesn't blow me away..."

  "Okay," she said, quickly. She stood up, situating herself so that her hands were flat on the mattress, and her ass was in the air. But not facing me, of course - she was sidelong, and while I appreciated the view, I was feeling a little shortchanged.

  "Go."

  "Oh, Howard...please, no," she moaned. "You're...you're..."

  I growled, stopping her. "You sound like you're enjoying it. What the hell are you doing? Why are you wasting my time like this?"

  She jumped upright, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to do this! What kind of audition doesn't even have a script? I can't..."

  "It doesn't sound like you want this part," I said.

  "I do." Her tone was desperate. "I just, I don't think I can do this. I can't just pretend like someone is spanking me."

  Taking a deep breath, I surveyed her. A perfect performance. Body quivering, eyes watering, and ready to do anything I asked.

  Ready for me.

  "Here's the thing, Ms. Hadley," I said. "Jenna. I like you. I think you're right for this part. You have a great look, a vintage look. People are going to eat that up. But I can't give you the part if you don't convince me you can do this scene. It's pivotal to the role. If you think the problem is that you can't just imagine being spanked...well, we can fix that." I gestured towards my lap. "I'm willing to go out of my way for you, Jenna. Don't make me regret this."

  "I..." She took one step towards me, staring, her hands balled into fists. "I don't think..."

  "Not many people would do this for you," I said, smoothly. "Probably no one else in this town, in fact. This is your lucky day, Jenna."

  Breathlessly, she walked over to me, pausing when she drew close. "What should I...?"

  "Lay across my lap." At the feeling of her body heat, I almost groaned, thrusting my long-suffering hard-on into her taut belly. But that wouldn't be consistent with the role. She slid around, trying to find a comfortable spot, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep quiet. To keep my body still. It was almost impossible.

  She twisted her head around to look up at me. "Is this okay?"

  "Yes, Jenna, that's fine." I laid my hand on the soft denim that covered her ass. "Do you think you'll be able to get the right experience while you're wearing these? In the film, you'll be spanked through panties only." Her breath caught in her throat. "I think it's best to go for authenticity, don't you?"

  "I'm not sure," she whispered.

  "I think it's important for the role," I told her, smoothly, reaching under her pelvis to undo the shorts. In spite
of her command performance, she couldn't hide how badly she wanted me to touch her there. She whimpered softly, arching into my touch as my fingers ghosted past the top of her panties. I returned my hand to her ass. With one sudden movement, I yanked her shorts down and smacked her lightly on that soft, vulnerable skin, now protected only by lacy black panties that stood out in stark contrast, making my mouth water.

  She yelped, squirming on my lap. "Oooh...Mr. Chase...I mean, Howard...?"

  I spanked her again. "You still sound like you're enjoying it. I'm going to keep spanking you harder until you seem like it's actually upsetting you, instead of turning you on."

  Jenna made an outraged noise. "Turning me on? How dare you, Mr. Chase? I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but..."

  "I think you're the kind of girl who prances into an audition with hardly anything on." Smack. "I think you're the kind of girl who picked your outfit today solely based on whether you thought it would make me hard." Smack. "Well, congratulations." I rested my hand on the small of her back, holding her firmly in place while I thrust against her quivering body, letting her know exactly how much I wanted her. "You succeeded. Do you feel that, Jenna?"

  She nodded, making another tiny whimpering sound. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Chase," she gasped. "I didn't meant to...I just thought...please, don't punish me anymore."

  "I'm not punishing you, Jenna." I caressed her ass, where a slight blush had started to appear from my tender loving care. "I'm trying to help you. But I can't help you, if you can't act like a woman ought to when she's being punished. Not like a whore."

  A sharp intake of breath. I went too far.

  Her fingers tightened around my thigh, holding on for dear life. "I think you like it when I act like a whore," she said, softly, shimmying her ass under my hand. This time, I let myself groan. If she kept doing that, this was going to get very embarrassing, very quickly.

  "Stop it," I ordered, harshly, smacking her once more. "This isn't about what I want. If you want this part, then you'd better muster up some tears."

  She squirmed again, and I almost abandoned the whole thing. The temptation to pick her up and toss her over the bed, and give her what we both wanted so badly - it was almost overwhelming.