OnLocation (4 page)

“Why, Sir?” For all his domineering, he seemed to put her
pleasure first, in a fucked-up kind of way. She wanted her release, he knew it
and he was denying her.

“Because I want to feel it when you do.” He retrieved one of
the floggers from the drawer. It had more long tails of soft leather than Terry
could easily count, and each was an inch wide. It looked wicked, although she
supposed it could be worse. “By the way, saying Sir after I glare at you
doesn’t count. So the first one will be punishment.”

“You’re going to whip me, Sir?”

“Flog. Whips are nastier. To tell you the truth, I’d never
bother with this wimpy thing most of the time.”

Oh. She supposed that should be a relief. He was going easy
on her.

“But on a sufficiently sensitive spot and used right I think
it can produce the right effect.”

Uh-oh.

He traced idle circles around her nipples. She tried to will
herself to be calm, not to react, but her body had other ideas. Her nipples
bunched and hardened, sticking up toward the ceiling. He pinched them between
his thumbs and forefingers, making them peak even more. Then he pulled. Did he
intend to use that thing on her breasts? She supposed so, or he wouldn’t be
paying them so much attention. The more her nipples ached, the more she wanted
to feel it. Maybe it would be a relief, even.

He flicked the flogger lightly over her breasts and it
didn’t hurt at all. It was more a strange caress than pain, the creamy leather
sliding over her smooth skin. The smell of it was somehow reassuring as well,
like the sofa at her parents’ place. He stood up from the bed, still leaning
over her, and brushed the flogger across her harder. It stung, but it wasn’t
bad. And damn him if the sparks from her breasts weren’t going straight to her
pussy, making that ache too. “Please, Sir.”

“You haven’t received your punishment stroke yet.” He
smirked. “And that’s the part I’m looking forward to.”

“Sadist.” She blanched as his expression darkened. She
shouldn’t have called him that name, apparently.

He smirked. “Right you are. That’s sadist,
Sir
. And
that would be a second punishment stroke. I do enjoy it, Teresa. If I ask you
to suffer for me, you’ll always know that you are doing it for my pleasure as
well as for instruction. Always. And right now.”

The flogger’s tails flew forward. She’d learned something
about them from the strokes she had received. The tails got in the way of each
other, and when they struck with the broad edge the blow was spread out over
her breasts, the way the leather of a softball glove spread out the pain of
catching a line drive, even if you didn’t get it quite in the webbing. All of
which meant that she was completely unprepared for the shock as the very tips
of the tails flicked against her left nipple. It was totally different,
sharper. She reached to cover her breasts and protect herself, but only ended
up yanking against her bonds. As he swung the flogger down against the other
nipple, she thought to thrust her chest forward, hoping to catch a set of
broad, flat tails rather than the tips, but he adjusted his stroke perfectly.
Her peaks were on fire. “Ow!”

The fucking bastard was grinning at her.

“That hurt!” Then she added, “Sir,” because she didn’t want
him to have an excuse to do it again.

“Yes,” he agreed calmly, and bent down to kiss a tender
peak. That might have soothed the burn, but then he sucked on it, bringing it
back again. Each time he sucked he pulled on a string of nerves that ran
straight from her nipple to her core. He thrust two fingers into her pussy and
they went in easily. She moaned. Her body shouldn’t be reacting this way to
pain. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right. Yet at some level, she had known it
would when she sat down and started flirting with Kyle the first time. She’d
always enjoyed it when her lovers got carried away and a playful kiss had
turned into a bite. Always hated it when they apologized instead of telling her
they had meant to do it.

Kyle didn’t seem like the apologizing type.

“Seems I’m not the only one who enjoys a little pain.” He
had a self-satisfied smile on his face that under any other conditions she
would have wanted to wipe off a man.

“No,” she protested.

“You like it too, don’t you?”

“No Sir.”

He nodded, as if expecting that answer. She didn’t think it
sounded very credible. Didn’t he feel how wet her pussy was when he slid his
fingers in so easily? She gave a gasp as he withdrew them.

“Well,” he said, “it was worth a try, hmm? Now you know. No
worries. I’ll get you untied, and you don’t ever have to do this sort of thing
again.”

She would have believed he was sincere if it weren’t for the
fact that the smile hadn’t gone away. He wasn’t really going to stop.

Then he reached up to untie her. She remembered insisting on
not being tied up. It seemed like a long time ago, as if it were something that
had happened to a different person. He might know better than to believe her,
but he was still going to follow through. That too seemed entirely consistent
with this strange man. She’d tried to bargain with him before, but he hadn’t
backed down. There wasn’t much give to him at all, it seemed. His latex-covered
cock was still standing straight but he didn’t let it distract him from working
at the knots around her wrist.

“Please, Sir.”

“Please untie you?”

She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t want you to.
But she knew that
wouldn’t be enough. “I do. I do like a little pain. Here. With you. Please,
Sir.”

“Please what?”

“Please do whatever you want, Sir.” She knew when she said
it that it probably went too far. The wicked grin he gave her made her shiver.
She barely knew him. She didn’t know what “whatever you want” might entail.

“Good girl,” he told her. She beamed, and then questioned
her reaction. She ought to see it as demeaning, but she was glad he was pleased
too. He got her attention back as he tightened the rope around her wrist where
he had gotten it loose, and then moved down the bed. He pulled her legs apart.
“I want to do to you now what I’ve wanted to do since last night.”

“What was that, Sir?”

“Fuck you. Hard.”

He positioned his cock at her entrance and paused for only a
moment. Then he pushed inside, filling her completely with one thrust. She
expected him to start moving in and out. The brief moment of fear and distrust
was gone. The way she felt, she didn’t think it would take her long at all to
come.

Instead he stayed inside her. She didn’t remember ever
feeling quite so full. He glided his hands up her belly to her breasts, and
then pressed his fingers and thumbs against the side of her nipples.

“Would you like me to?” he asked.

She knew he meant pinch. It would hurt. He would enjoy it
too, take pleasure in her pain. She wanted both—her pain, his pleasure. It was
hard to admit. She took a sharp breath, then nodded. “Please.”

He moved his hips back, his cock sliding halfway out of her.
Then he thrust forward, rocking her hard, and as he did his fingers closed
around her tender peaks and squeezed. She cried out at the sharpness of it. Her
pussy clenched around his cock. It felt so wrong and so good at the same time.

“Good girl,” he said and she relaxed. It was nice when he
said it. She was okay, safe. His fingers tightened and the pain hit her again,
but it was safe pain. It didn’t warn of some injury. It told her that he was in
control, and she was pleasing him by taking what he gave her. The truth was, it
pleased her too. The pinches sent aftershocks over her whole body. They made
her toes curl. She felt more alive than she’d ever been.

Each thrust of his cock filled her pussy and drove her body
hard into the bed. She looked for his eyes, and the smile was gone from them,
but it had been replaced with something better, a driving need. Good. She was
about to come. He looked like he was too.

He said something about permission.
But it was too
late for that. It started at her core and spread outward, her muscles no longer
taking orders from her brain. Her pussy contracted around his cock. Her thighs
tightened and her legs kicked. She was screaming, she couldn’t help it. His
face had vanished in a haze of white light.

When the haze started to clear, she heard him grunt and felt
him pulse inside her. He was coming. She tried to squeeze his cock, to milk his
balls of every last drop, but her pussy was already doing that without her
control. Her orgasm went on and on, lasting through his. Only when he was sated
did it stop, and only the fact that her wrists were tied stopped her from
relaxing every muscle in her body and lying on the bed feeling like a boneless
puddle.

“Wow,” she murmured.

He chuckled. Damn it, even after coming he was still in
control of himself. She didn’t feel in control at all.

He gripped the condom as he pulled out of her, and then
tossed it into the wastebasket. She couldn’t read him.

“Did I please, Sir?”

He grinned. “Oh yes, Teresa. You pleased.”

Well, that was it, then. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, although
he wasn’t likely to say ma’am, and she supposed she couldn’t complain. She’d
never had sex so powerful, even if it was just sex. She wanted something more
though, something emotional. Even an indication he wanted to do it again.

“Are you going to leave me tied here, Sir?”

“Not a chance. That wouldn’t be safe, not without me to
watch over you. But you look lovely there and I was admiring the view.” He
reached over her and untied her wrists, then massaged the feeling back into
them. They hadn’t gotten all the way numb, or even tingly, but the massage
helped.

He kissed her behind the ear. “Come to my room at nine for
your punishment.” He let her wrists go.

“Punishment?” she asked. “What am I being punished for,
Sir?” It seemed horribly unfair, but she knew she would be there.

“For coming without permission. You’ll learn.”

He walked away and she watched his butt as he did. She
supposed with his body, there was no reason to be self-conscious about being
naked. He closed the door behind him.

She sighed and held herself for a few moments. A cuddle
would have been nice. She wanted him to hold her.

I knew from the start he wasn’t exactly a warm person.
She gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to turn down the best sex of her life
because the man she was having it with wasn’t into cuddles.

Then she smiled. “I’m not the only person who has something
to learn here,” she said aloud. She got up and opened her suitcase. She’d get
some clothes on—she wasn’t going to walk down naked to retrieve her clothes from
around the pool. Then she’d find Gallagher and get him started taking pictures
of the way the waves came up on the little cove at the far end of the island.
That was where Odysseus’ ship would come ashore in her vision, and if he was
going to take video, that was as good a place as any for him to start.

I don’t do novices. So why am I fooling around with
Teresa?

Kyle closed his door behind him. He wanted to be alone with
his thoughts for a while. Gallagher was up. Kyle heard him moving about, even
if Teresa seemed oblivious.
Teresa.
He refused to think of her as Terry,
having envisioned Terry as some old movie guy. He pulled back the shades that
covered his window and looked out.

Gallagher was at the pool. Kyle watched as the man picked up
Teresa’s bra, looked at the label and set it back down. Kyle frowned. They
should have been more discreet, he supposed. Although Teresa had been obvious
enough about her flirtation the night before, and maybe she was happy letting
Gallagher know she was getting sexually satisfied elsewhere. It didn’t matter.
The way Teresa screamed, the whole island would have known. Downstairs in the
basement, the dungeon was soundproofed, but the upstairs bedrooms were not.

He wondered what Teresa would make of the dungeon. He wanted
to see if he could make her scream again. To see how much she could take and
enjoy. His cock hardened at the thought of her tied up again, naked. She’d
liked the flogger and she’d liked the pinching. How would she deal with
clamps—clover clamps preferably, the kind that tightened when a sub wiggled or
when he pulled on the chain between them. How would she deal with a cane? A
single tail?

Kyle had no business thinking about those things with a
novice. Even many experienced submissives found that much pain hard to take.
But he never dreamed of soft cushions and champagne and sweet caresses. Not for
a very long time. He enjoyed his sex intense. When he was fucking a woman hard,
he had no room to think about anything else. When he was using a cane, he felt
every stroke he delivered. It kept him focused.

He hadn’t wanted to stay focused after fucking Teresa. He’d
wanted to hold her and be held, to feel her soft breasts against his chest and
unbraid her hair so he could run his hands through it. If he’d stayed there any
longer, she’d have seen a different side of him, one he didn’t want to let her
see. Better she view him as a strict, uncompromising Master than as a lover.
Mastery he could provide, and pain, and pleasure. Love was another matter. Love
was something that made you lose control, and he couldn’t afford to lose
control.

He looked out the window again. Gallagher had gotten one of
the big trunks that presumably held photography gear and was lugging it into
the jungle. It was obviously no easy burden for him, but Kyle had no intention
of shadowing the man around, carrying his gear. Still, something about it
struck him as off. Why would the man have gear packed in such a way that he
could barely lift it? For traveling on the boat, maybe, but for actual work? He
shrugged. It probably didn’t mean anything. People made choices he considered
poor all the time. Hell, Teresa fooling around with him was probably a bad
choice. At least Gallagher’s choice gave him a workout. Kyle could give Teresa a
workout too, although he didn’t want to harden her soft, luscious curves. He
smiled, thinking of her.

He heard knocking from the hallway. Since it wasn’t his door
and Gallagher was accounted for, it was Teresa knocking at Gallagher’s door.
Obviously she wasn’t going to find him there. He heard her footsteps on the
stairs a few moments later.

He was still standing at the window when Teresa walked out.
She was dressed again, which was a pity. She wore blue jeans and a dark-green
blouse that set off her hair perfectly. She looked around and started picking
up her discarded clothes, although she left his where they were. Good, it
showed she was being neat, not so embarrassed by what they had done she had to
suppress the evidence. He could pick up his own clothes later. She folded hers
and set them on top of the box where the towels were, and then called out for
Gallagher. There wasn’t any response.

After a few more tries, she headed off into the jungle.
There was only the one path, and if Gallagher wasn’t in the house or near the
pool, there was a limit to where he could be. Kyle was glad she wasn’t afraid.

He wanted to follow her and keep her safe. Safe from what,
he wasn’t sure. From Gallagher? They had arrived together in a boat, and the
other man didn’t seem to pose any obvious danger. The jungle looked dark and
ominous, especially at night, but there wasn’t anything that would cause
serious harm there—the biggest threat was tripping over the tree roots. She
wasn’t in danger and there was no subtle way to follow her. If he’d stayed he
could have simply walked with her but that moment was past.

Better not to get too close. He didn’t want to stir feelings
in her that he couldn’t reciprocate. He didn’t want to stir feelings in himself
that he couldn’t follow through on. He watched Teresa until the jungle
swallowed her up, and then he turned away.

* * * * *

In the end, Terry found Gallagher about ten feet away from
the area she wanted him to shoot. He didn’t have his gear out, although from
the looks of the heavy trunk, he’d brought much of it along. He looked winded,
possibly from carting it around, but he wasn’t doing anything but standing
there.

It took her several minutes to explain what she wanted,
thinking of how very unnecessary it was to scout out the scene all the while.
Still, Stegner wanted video, so Stegner was going to get video, and she was
going to do her best to make it the most useful video that could be taken.
Maybe it would be inspiration. She realized she didn’t think of Stegner as an
artist who could even be inspired. His early films had been decent, but at this
stage he was simply a hack. Maybe he dreamed of getting it back. She shrugged.
He had his job, she had hers and she wished he’d let her do it.

Either way I get paid.
It wasn’t satisfying, but it
was something.

Gallagher set up the camera. When she felt he had it right,
she walked away. She decided to see how far she could get around the edge of
the island. There wasn’t much of a beach; the trees came right up next to the
shore and in some cases mangroves were rooted under the water itself. It made
for an interesting effect, and she suspected it would be rather spooky at
night. Maybe Stegner could use it, although it certainly wasn’t authentic. She
took off her shoes and picked her way carefully through the shallows when she
needed to, watching out for jellyfish. The tide was heading out at the moment,
which meant that any jellyfish would probably have been washed out with it, but
she wanted to be careful. She’d do the other side of the island a different
time. Kyle might know when the next low tide was. She should ask him. In the
meantime, she tried to imagine how it would look closer to dusk, stopping now
and then to take photos.
It would certainly be harder to spot jellyfish.

By the time she got back to the building it was afternoon
and her stomach was rumbling. Kyle was nowhere to be seen. He’d probably eaten
already. She fed herself a sandwich, helping herself to some tuna fish salad
someone, probably Kyle, had made. She considered knocking on his door. He’d
told her to knock at nine and it was barely after three. Would he punish her
for showing up early, even if it was completely unrelated? The thought of him
flogging her breasts again made her shiver. Her nipples bunched up as if
someone had cranked the air-conditioning.
I wouldn’t mind if he did flog me.

She marched upstairs. Of course he might find some other way
to punish her. A spanking, maybe. That would be fine too. A flogging across her
thighs. It bothered her that he might even come up with something she couldn’t
anticipate, something that would be worse or more painful, but it excited her
too. By the time she hit the top of the stairs, even the fact she didn’t know
what he’d do was delicious as well as frightening.

She knocked on the door and waited. No answer. She tried
again. She called out his name. Still no response.

She’d walked past the pool on the way in and peeked in the
kitchen as well as walking through the living and dining rooms. Of course there
were other rooms upstairs and he could be in any of them, but why would he be?
She walked back downstairs and was startled to find Kyle standing in the living
room. He hadn’t come down the stairs, and he hadn’t been outside, so where had
he come from? It was as if he’d walked out of the closet or something. He was
wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt that did little to conceal the muscles
underneath.

“Kyle, I had a question.”

Kyle shook his head.

“What, I don’t have a question?”

He shrugged, still not saying anything and then took two
long strides toward her, closing the gap. He was so close she had to look up to
see him. “Sir. I am always Sir to you when we’re alone. Your question can wait.
Nine o’clock.”

What is his problem? Can’t we have a normal conversation?
But her anger melted away as quickly as it had come, replaced by desire. He
smelled right, that was part of it, all musky. She felt weak in the knees. It
took her a moment to even remember what her question was. “Tides, Sir. I need
to know when the tide is out on the east side of the island.”

He frowned. “Same time as on the west side of the island.
Don’t go swimming, it’s dangerous.”

Sigh. She knew that it wouldn’t be different, and the way
she’d asked the question made her sound stupid. “I’m not going swimming. Wading
maybe. Just trying to walk around the island so I can see what spots would be
good for filming.”

“Should be around ten tomorrow morning. I can take you
around in the boat. Safer than wading because a rip can come up and even a
decent swimmer can be swept out. You’re not good at listening, are you? I said
your question could wait. I’ll talk to you at nine o’clock. There will be
clothes in a box outside your room and you will wear them and nothing else. Be
there at nine and be prompt or there will be consequences.” As soon as he
finished, he kissed her, drowning her objections in a hot rush of swirling
tongue.

“Sir?” she asked.
What clothes? What kind of
consequences?

“Not another word.” He moved past her, and then he was gone
up the stairs.

Strange man.
She turned and stared after him. He’d
said her question should wait but he’d gone ahead and answered it anyway when
he thought she was going to do something dangerous. And he’d offered to take
her out in the boat to make sure she was safe. He pretended not to care, to be
so cold and distant. She remembered the way he’d squeezed her hair with a
towel, obviously aware of how much water it soaked up when it was braided that
way, and she smiled.
You are not as hard as you pretend to be.

She spent the next three hours uploading the photos she had
taken and typing up her observations. She didn’t know if Stegner would read her
report or have some flunky read it and distill it for him, but she wanted to be
thorough. One thing was becoming clear to her, and that was that housing any
substantial number of people on the island was going to be problematic. The
house could hold a few stars, but most of the staff were going to have to sleep
on a boat or commute from the mainland. If they tried to set up tents or
something on the cove, they’d use up the best spaces for actually filming the
movie.

She came down to eat dinner and found Gallagher in the
living room rather than Kyle. He was watching TV, which seemed to be an
Australian reality show. She watched for a few minutes and decided it was no
better or worse than
Jersey Shore
. He looked up eventually. “You want to
cook up some steak?” Gallagher asked. “There’s some potatoes too.”

Go cook them yourself
, she wanted to say, but they
both needed to eat, and she suspected Gallagher was as ignorant as he was lazy.
“How’d your shooting go?”

“Good, good.”

“I’d like to see,” she lied.

“Stegner wants me to send them to him directly.”

She frowned. That got her off the hook, but it rankled. “Do
you know how to cook, Gallagher?”

“Not really.”

“Well, watch a cooking show instead of that crap and learn.
I’m not going to be your chef this whole week.”

Gallagher shrugged. “I’ll eat sandwiches.”

Terry rolled her eyes, but Gallagher had already turned back
to the television, so the gesture was wasted. She walked into the kitchen and
was surprised to see a sign on one of the cabinets with two columns on it, one
for cooking, one for cleaning. Kyle had put his name on two of the dates for
each, which was an even third. There was a pen on the counter below.

Guess we get two evenings of sandwiches.
She wanted
something more substantial tonight, however, so she put her name down for
cooking and started scrounging around in the fridge. The thought of cooking for
Kyle made making food for Gallagher palatable.

She found some tuna steaks in the freezer and ran some water
over them to thaw them. A cupboard had a large bag of jasmine rice, which would
have been a challenge to lift if it was full but fortunately it was half empty,
so she started that going in a pot on the stove and then worked on salad. She
was on the road so much that she rarely ended up making dinner, but she found
it oddly relaxing that night.

She heard Kyle’s footsteps on the stairway, even though he
wasn’t being particularly loud. Maybe she was tuned in. He stopped in the
living room and said something to Gallagher she couldn’t make out. It didn’t
matter, she supposed. She wondered what it was like to be Gallagher, trapped on
an island as a third wheel. He had to have seen the clothes strewn about the
swimming pool, even if she and Kyle weren’t being all lovey-dovey in public. Or
in private, for that matter. Kyle had gotten her motor running and given her
the ride of her life, but love was most definitely not what was going on.
Just
as I want it
, she told herself, although she wasn’t entirely convinced.