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Her Leading Man

By: Adaline Raine
Published By: Baronet Press
Copyright: Copyright © 2016 by Baronet Press and Adaline Raine. All rights reserved.
Fourteen chapters / 46,994 Words
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Gretchen Williams had finally been offered her dream job. After years of writing—screenplays, various freelance jobs, and erotic spanking romance—one of her book series had been adapted for television. She had been over the moon at the invitation to join the crew on set and overlook day to day operations. 

Of course she never expected to wind up as the whipping girl. The main actress balked at the idea of a hand coming anywhere near her perfect round behind, and after some deliberations Gretchen offers up her derriere for showbiz . She never dreamed her bottom would be on display for everyone to see, but the bigger problem is the sudden attention from the male lead actor. 

Tristan Callahan knew exactly what he was signing up for when he accepted the contract for a one year term, tentative for a second season at best. The subject matter appealed to him for a variety of reasons, ones he kept to himself. Until Gretchen throws a temper tantrum like a true diva. He takes her in hand, right in her own trailer, proving that he’s been doing very little acting so far. 

They embark into a secret D/s relationship. 

When photos of them together at a local BDSM dungeon surface and leak to the media, they find themselves with tough choices to make. Will their relationship overcome the scandal or is Gretchen doomed to say goodbye to Tristan in true Hollywood fashion? 

Note: Contains erotic elements including moderate to strong BDSM themes, anal play, spankings, and explicit sexual scenes. 

Chapter One

“Here. Cool off.” Gretchen Williams did something completely unbecoming and totally out of line. She took the glass of water in her hand, fresh from the cooler, and splashed it in Tristan Callahan’s face.

To further the insult she chucked the giant red plastic cup at him, and felt liberated. Except, it only lasted a moment. Suddenly her stomach filled with dread. She actually got along very well with the handsome actor.

Why did I chuck water in his face? 

Gretchen bit into her lip as she watched the freezing water drip down over his forehead and saturate his shirt. His eyes darkened, and in seconds he yanked off his t-shirt to dry off. Of course, he did it slowly, deliberately, and watching him watching her was torture. His body looked sculpted in a Greek god chiseled way, probably earned from hours at the gym or other athletic commitment, and she lost the battle to keep her eyes from his torso.

Tristan took a step toward her, his purpose unknown, and she squeaked like someone who spotted a mouse in her peripheral. He raised an eyebrow at her high pitched noise but stopped moving.

“Oooh. It’s a good thing you two aren't really married. I know what he’d do next!” One of the camera guys quipped. 

His line shook her free from Tristan’s hold, and her attitude sneaked back.

“Nah. He couldn’t handle me,” she scoffed as she tossed her long brown and blonde highlighted hair over one shoulder in a dramatic, ‘I’m a diva’ type of way then sauntered off. She swung her hips more than usual as she exited. Gretchen secretly hoped the actor would follow her, but she had no reason to believe he would be concerned about her behavior. She threw a hissy fit without cause, at least to everyone else.

Tristan reached her hot spot with the rhythm of his palm against her behind, though he probably couldn’t find it again when the director called cut.

Desperation raised her voice to state how wrong the angle seemed! Surely the lights weren't bright enough? Anything which came to mind in hopes of securing one more take. Tristan halted the idea, and she enacted revenge.

Too bad she didn’t let the scene finish then pull him to the side and tell him her thoughts. She longed for a real spanking. She felt very overdue for one. The taps on her bottom every few days, for the past few months, didn't satiate her deep desire to be taken in hand.

Gretchen liked naughty swats as much as the next girl, but she wanted a man to hold her accountable physically. He could at least understand where her head lived, even if he had no interest. She leaned down to pluck off her heels. They kept sinking into the slushy snow and it would be better to brave the muck barefoot. She chided herself, knowing how silly her thoughts sounded, as she stomped across the parking lot, toward the safety of her trailer.

She reached it a few minutes later, unlocked it and stepped inside. Her feet were more slippery than she realized and she slid across the threshold and bumped into the small table. “Fuck!” Gretchen cursed as she peeled off her socks, jeans, and blouse. She dumped them into the hamper, then rummaged around to find sweats. She multi-tasked by setting her coffee pot to brew as she searched and promised herself to clean up this place by the end of the week.

Wait, what day is it? By next week, for sure.

On the way by she caught a glimpse of her ass in the full length mirror tacked up on the wall. Her butt looked adorable in her panties, but her cheeks barely appeared pink. Tristan’s palm left a sting, but not much to look at. It would fade within the hour along with her hope of another, longer session.

“I wish you would spank me like you mean it, Tristan,” she spoke to her reflection, as if it could fly her request to his ears. “Your hands are totally capable at least.”

Three months ago she hadn’t known anything about Tristan other than his movie star good looks and awards to go along with his films. He hadn’t been very active the past year or so prior to this role, and some gossip websites speculated he wanted to slow the pace of his career. Becoming lead in the show based on her best selling book series brought him back into the spotlight.

Gretchen arrived to this point in a very different manner. Since elementary school she dreamed of writing, and had been encouraged along the way to do what her passion told her. Write!

She also worked as a freelance journalist over the years but she found her real niche’ in the spanking romance community. Her books breathed life on screens across the world, after being offered a television contract.  At least once the first season finished production. This series included strong erotic elements, explicit sex, sprinkles of BDSM and domestic discipline as well as real relationship dilemmas. Her fans, along with fellow authors, supported her and she frequently blogged about her new adventures on the set. Gretchen also fell into an odd role when the lead actress balked at the idea of Tristan enacting fake discipline on the show. She offered up her own hide in true ‘whipping girl fashion’, begrudgingly, for Tristan to punish.

Begrudgingly? No, she loved his hands on her as he lectured and spanked. If only he did it off set too. After her little antic of splashing water in his face she would be lucky if he ever spoke to her again.

Gretchen found a black pair of yoga pants and a v-neck purple tee. She shimmied into them, then located her slippers and got into them as well. She curled up on the couch, when the door banged open.

“What the hell!?” she yelled as she jumped up to tell off whoever it was, but quickly shut her mouth when Tristan appeared on the top step.

Oh my God, what is he doing here?

He pulled the door shut behind him and focused completely on her. He didn’t look happy but at least his hair and clothing were dry. “Would you care to tell me what that was all about?”

Gretchen opened her mouth but closed it again unable to form the right words. She opened it again, but nothing could explain her actions.

Tristan always seemed so laid back, not even the tons of comments and stares from crew members flustered him. But now as he stood in her trailer with a scowl on his perfect face, she wondered about his reaction.

“I don’t kn...know,” she stammered. “I just had a bad day or something.”

“I know a temper tantrum when I see one. Give me more credit.”

She did give him a lot of credit. Gretchen wanted, no, needed him to complete the spanking he started before. But, how the hell could she approach him? He was just an actor, after all, playing the part.

“So, what? You’re not talking now? You sure had a lot to say before.” He took several quick steps to her, and to her immense surprise, grasped her chin. He tilted it upwards, similar to a scene acted out with Blondie, the lead actress, a few weeks ago. “Do you know what I do to women who stomp their feet to get a reaction?”

“Cut,” she muttered. “Line well delivered. Five big stars.”

His eyes darkened at her obnoxious put down,and in seconds she found herself in a position she would not soon forget. He released her chin only to wrap his well muscled arm around her waist and bend her over it. She thrashed, kicking her feet wildly. They were not on set and he had no right to tease her like this!

“There aren’t any cameras in here!” she protested as he tightened his hold.

“That’s good, because I’m not acting,” he gave her yoga pants a sharp tug, exposing her lacy purple thong, and hardly rosy cheeks.

What did he know about actually spanking, though? None of those scenes lasted more than ten minutes. Once the lighting trucks around set refused to cooperate and they had to shoot the same scene for almost an hour. It turned into her favorite day on set to date, she fondly remembered. They kept moving the lights around and he had to start over several times.

“Wait!” Gretchen's fingertips brushed against the floor and brought her back to the present. She should have just clamped her mouth shut and enjoyed whatever he planned, but she couldn’t handle another lame play spanking. “I was really angry before.”

“What about now?” His tone held a deep rumble, one she hadn’t noticed earlier. “Your bottom is barely blushing, and I think it’s part of the problem.”

“Don’t feed me lines,” she snapped then started her struggle anew. Truth be told, she hadn’t written much dialogue for his part. He acted like a more off the cuff type of guy, and his lines did feel the most real. She never connected the idea of Tristan getting cast on the show to actually researching or knowing anything about those bits though.

“You seem to have it in that pretty little head of yours that this is my first rodeo,” he chuckled as he ran his hand down her spine.

Tristan moved slightly to sit down on the tiny couch she had vacated earlier. He placed her over his lap and scissored one of his legs on top of hers.

“Do you think I’d take a role like this without being into the subject matter?”

He brought his hand down hard across her entire behind, three times in quick succession, and it quieted her thoughts immediately. Apparently, he was either a very fast learner or his outside interests matched her own.

Damn! His thighs were rock hard, just like his damn hand. If he spanked her like this on set it would raise more than a few eyebrows.

“Other actors have. I’m sure.” Gretchen finally found her voice, but it wavered instead of sounding confident. “So, you can spank. Maybe you’ll get an Emmy for it.”

“My character is the only one shown actually engaging. It was your idea to keep it hush hush until he and his wife start telling their so-called friends about it. That’s what prompts them to move to a much more,” he landed a series of blows against each cheek as he spoke then paused to rub them, “open minded community.”

Gretchen froze when his fingers kneaded into her skin. He did know what he was doing, lecturing lightly as he spanked, how did she overlook the dominance flowing off him? She didn’t mean in a BDSM way, though he may be willing to listen to her interests there too.

“You threw a full glass of water in my face.” Tristan slid his hand down until it met the soft juncture of her bottom and thigh. He drummed his fingers there, causing her to whimper. It hurt like a bitch when punished for real and he knew it. “I already took a shower today, and I didn’t need a second one.”

The first smack there caused her to yell out. After six more, alternating sides, she was begging him to stop. He did, but only to target the rest of her ample bottom.

Now his hand danced across it, hard, soft, sharp, fast, slow. On and on it continued. He fell into a pattern of sorts, never stopping more than a few seconds to rub or pinch a spot, then his onslaught ceased.

She thought for a moment it was over, and she found herself a tiny bit disappointed. Whenever she had been held accountable for poor behavior in the past, she had been punished until she cried. It wasn’t the intensity, or even the pain, it came from something else. Something was missing.

Tristan pushed her off his lap but he kept one hand firmly resting on her lower back. He wasn’t done with her, a thought which sparked her interest. “You seem to like when I spank you on set but this is different. If there is something you want from me, ask. Don’t push me to do this again without rules.”

Gretchen kept quiet though she very badly wanted to point out that he made the decision to discipline her this way, all bottoms up, in her own trailer. She nodded, letting him know she heard his words. Her mind was blown by the excitement of him actually being, at least somewhat, into the things she liked.

“It’s a good thing we’re not shooting a punishment scene until next week.” A belt buckle clinked from behind her, followed by the swish of leather being pulled out from pants. “Four strikes with my belt. I’m serious about rules.”

“Right, right. Got it, “she muttered into the soft folds of the couch. She hadn’t thought about this outcome, truly she didn’t think he would actually follow her all the way out here and do the exact thing she’d been begging for.

Sexy spankings made her tick, but discipline was something she not only craved, but really needed.

“Count them.”

“Are you serious?” Gretchen turned to glance over her shoulder.

“If you lose count we start at the beginning. Did I answer your question?”

“Yes..yes...Sir,” she stammered then quickly shifted her head forward. It took a lot not to bury it in the couch after the damn, ‘Yes,Sir’ comment.

Where the hell had that come from? No, that wasn't the question. She knew damn well where it came from. Her previous time spent in her local dungeon. It felt like a lifetime ago, and truth be told, she missed it. All of it. The question was why had his presence coaxed it out?

“Count.”

“One.” The first one struck her right cheek and stung like a bee. It wasn’t terrible, there were other places he could have landed it, and she breathed out.

“Two.” The next one snapped in nearly the same spot.

Fuck!

She hadn’t expected that sort of precision at all and it left her breathless for a moment. He was waiting for her cue, and damn patiently she might add.

“Three.”

The leather bit into the other side as it kissed gently but with meaning. She hissed, the skin more sensitive there for some reason, then gritted her teeth.

“Four.”

She braced for it this time, and hissed once more as he aimed it to land across both cheeks. She stayed like that, not sure what to do now. The buckle clanked, this time as he put it back on she imagined, and she waited.

“Pull your pants up.” His body brushed against hers as he returned to the couch and sat. She wanted very much to tell him off at this point as she struggled to get her pants to her waist, her emotions so jumbled from the odd string of events, when he reached up and tugged her into his lap.

She shook her head, vehemently, unsure of what her sudden problem was, but he laid her head against his chest and it caused a massive eruption. Tears poured down her cheeks in hot waves, and soon she was a sniffling mess. This is what she had missed the most, how did he know? “I’m...I’m...I’m…”

“Shhh. It’s okay,” he stroked her hair while she sobbed. “Calm down, then we can talk.” Tristan held her close until the sobs finally ended, several minutes later.

“I'm sorry I threw water in your face.” Gretchen sucked in a shuddering breath and let it out.

“Are you?” Tristan pulled back so he could catch her eyes. “If you hadn't, we wouldn't be sitting here like this.”

“Okay, you’re right. I'm sorry I threw the water but I'm more sorry I didn't try to talk to you first.” Gretchen blinked, as it just occurred to her that she was sitting on Tristan Callahan's lap!

No one would believe her, even if she did say something, except maybe her sister and her best friend. She reached around him to grab a box of tissues, and wiped her face.

“What the hell is on your mind now?” Tristan frowned. “For someone who writes dialogue all the damn time, you sure keep quiet.”

“Why did you follow me?” Gretchen decided to get up, it would be easier to keep her distance that way, and stood. “I mean what did you have in mind?”

She busied herself by fixing a cup of coffee and held the pot up to him. He nodded, as he seemed to be thinking over his answer, and she poured one for him too.

“Well, I can tell you my intention was to deepen the shade of pink on your perky little bottom. I did, so mission accomplished. I admit I wasn't entirely sure I'd read you correctly a few months ago.”

“Did you, uh, just say you followed me with the sole purpose of spanking me?” Gretchen nearly dropped the creamer in her hand but recovered quickly.

“Mmhm.” Tristan stood to accept his mug then sank back into the couch. “Does that surprise you?”

“I haven't been in a relationship, discipline or otherwise in a while. Writing takes up so much of my time, that I kind of let my needs slip.” She sucked in another breath, something she felt she would be doing a lot around him from now on. She didn't need to be babbling to him about her needs!

“Bring your coffee over here and sit back down.” Tristan inclined his head to the right side of the couch. “I want to hear what else you've been neglecting to do for yourself.”

Oh, God. He sounded very much like a Dom she used to know and his words made her lower regions clench, in a good way. Too good, she remembered.

“You're not my Dom,” she finally sputtered out in between the war going on in her head, to sit by him or to stand awkwardly by the tiny counter where the coffee lived. Both sides held appeal so she kind of stood in the middle, watching him.

“While I'm extremely flattered by your deduction skills, I said nothing about being yours.” He got up and met the distance between them. “When I first got on set, you weren't this bundle of nerves. What happened?”

“Why do you even give a—” His hand shot out, took her hand in his, then firmly placed her palm over her mouth.

“We don't have rules. This was a one-time, see what happens when you poke the bear meeting. If that's all you want then continue spouting an attitude.” Tristan brought his free hand from his side, traced it up her thigh, over her hip, and finally rested it at her waist.

Gretchen felt her heart skip a beat as his huge green eyes stared at her. This can't be happening! She blinked, but he still stood there, mere inches away.

Geesh, why was she having a fan-girl moment now after months of working with him? It wasn't his actor status, no, it was the realization he would not hesitate to spank her when she bratted off.

“Is this all you want, Gretchen?”

He spoke her name in the most incredible fashion. How the hell did she get so lucky? But, wait. What if this was some sort of game? Could it simply be research for the role she invented? No, it had to be something more or he wouldn't have bothered to chase her. Finally after a few seconds she shook her head back and forth.

“No? Do you want to discuss this like two adults?”

She sighed under her own hand then nodded.

“Good.” Tristan freed her from his grasp then he nodded back to the couch. “Sit.”

Gretchen didn't rush, but she did move faster than normal to get herself situated on the cushions. He sat down next to her, then casually took a sip from the mug.

“First rule, you are to respect yourself at all times. That includes how you treat me. When you treat yourself badly it is a direct reflection on me. If you disrespect either of us, there will be consequences. Agreed?”

“Yes.” She took a long sip from her cup. “But, what sort of consequence?”

“We'll get to that. Now tell me what has been bothering you.” Tristan set his arm around her shoulders. “Something has you worked up.”

“I haven't been getting much sleep. Sometimes instead of going back to the hotel I just crash here on the couch. It's sort of safe, I mean as far as places go, but it's not very comfortable.”

“It's not safe here at night, with the lack of security and a flimsy lock on the trailer. Second rule, if I find you here before six in the morning I will assume you slept here and enact consequences. Agreed?”

Gretchen swallowed hard. She didn't know if she were ready for this sort of arrangement but he had a point. It certainly wasn't anything that would block her personal freedom. She didn't belong in her trailer past hours anyway. “Agreed.”

“What else?”

“I gained five pounds, which might not seem like a lot, but it is. I've been lucky to grab fast food whatever hour I can and eat it before I fall asleep.” Gretchen wished she hadn't told him about that. It hinted at either laziness or too much stress. If she ate two full meals a day it would be a lot, but the late night feasting surged her calorie counts higher than needed. 

“Third rule, one tiny meal, six times a day. Simple things, grab and go is fine but you need balance. I've got a book with quick recipes, including make ahead meals that will keep you going.” Tristan took another sip. “I will ask you in the middle of the day and the end of the day what you've eaten. If it's less than six meals, healthy, balanced ones, there will be consequences. Agreed?”

“What if I'm really sick with the stomach flu or something?” Gretchen knew she was being a slight smart ass, but really, she needed to know. “And what about dessert?”

“Barring sickness, I expect a list of six meals....not, 'Hey I grabbed a handful of grapes and two squares of cheese' sort of thing. Plus, dessert can be balanced. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She lifted the mug to her lips and took a long sip. She was starting to catch on, though she was revealing a lot about herself to a man she didn’t know very well. “Tristan, what do you get out of all this?”

“I’ll explain it after we go through everything. What else are you struggling with?” He mimicked her actions with the mug as he waited for her answer.

“It's stupid, but I, uh... I don't take time for myself. I don't mean I need to be spoiled,it's just every free minute I'm working.” Gretchen turned to look at him fully. “I don't know how to relax at all.”

“This one is a bit more complicated.” He went silent for a few minutes while she simply stared at his gorgeous face. Tristan seemed to be working this one out more than the others. “Rule four, I will tell you one thing to do each day completely for yourself. I give great massages, so we'll try that tonight and I'll come up with more things. It's a matter of eventually doing something automatically every day to give yourself a break.”

“You're going to massage me?” The idea of his hands on her body, made her weak in the knees and wet in between her thighs. “With your hands?”

“Unless you'd rather I use my tongue?” He finished his coffee and set the mug down.

Gretchen nearly choked on her coffee. She waved away his look of concern and focused on breathing again.

“I'm sorry, it was a joke.” Tristan rubbed her shoulders and she felt herself relax. His statement proved true and soon her worries were miles away from the trailer. “Come over to my hotel tonight and I guarantee you will sleep well.”

Gretchen blinked at him wordlessly. She was too afraid of what would come out of her mouth if she opened it.

“Oh wow. That sounded horrible.” Tristan dropped his hands. “I meant from the massage. But, the point as I said is to relax. If you don't, you will have to double the time the next day. Agreed?”

“Agreed. There's one last thing though, and I’m scared to try and explain. I don’t think it will sound the way I mean it.”

“Try me anyway.”

“I like to be spanked when I'm doing sexy things but uh, it's the idea of it being used as a disciplinary tool that I really need.” Gretchen felt a huge wave of heat flush over her face. Why am I telling him this?

“I figured it might be why you were so eager to step up to the plate. I'm even tempted to believe you pushed for Blondie to be hired. She supposedly is against dropping her pants for any reason on syndicated television.” Tristan gave her a small smile.

“I don't know what you mean.” Gretchen lifted her chin. “She was awarded the role. I didn't have any say in that matter.”

“Maybe not directly but removing the lines about nudity and implied sex could most definitely be pinned on you. You posted the casting call for the lead actress role.” He leaned back against the cushions, relaxing. “Things would have gotten very ugly for her if you didn't offer to take her place in those compromising scenes.”

“Well, fine. Go me.” She dragged the subject back to her statement about his hand on her bottom in a non-sexual way. “Anyways, what is your take on what I just said?”

“Mm. You mean because I didn't respond right away?” Tristan cocked his head to the side. “Five minutes after I met you I had you bent over a couch in front of sixty people, cameras rolling. I think it's safe to say, I won't hesitate to spank you.”

“Uh, well, I mean about the discipline thing.” Heat creeped up her neck and she fanned herself as he stared. 

“Yes, Gretchen, some punishments will be a spanking, but not all of them. I will always follow through but I will never do it if I'm angry.” He took her hands completely in his. “You asked me a question earlier, ask me again.”

“What do you get out of all of this?”

“Other than finally getting some questions that have been bugging me for months, answered?” He grinned, as if trying to put her at ease. “A new partner to go to the local club with? It's, uh, well, it's a dungeon, and I don't know if you're—” he stopped. “Wow, your eyes just lit up like it’s Christmas morning and you found a pony.”

“You want me to be like, yours?” Gretchen looked down, embarrassed but he squeezed her hands until she raised her head.

“No, I don't want you to be like anything. I want you to come to the club with me, and while you're there you will have additional rules to follow. Basically, for however long we are there, playing or otherwise, you will belong to me.”

“Uh-huh. Why me? I'm so me and you're...well...I mean...have you looked at you?”

“Rule five. You will not put yourself down in any way. No mean-girling yourself. If you do it again in front of me, or I hear about it elsewhere, I will treat it the same as disrespect. Agreed?”

“Oh, that's a hard rule,” she sighed. “Yes, agreed. Please answer me honestly though. Why did you approach me?”

“You threw water in my face. I figured whatever the outcome, it couldn't be any worse than that. I could have drowned.” Tristan winked at her and she felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

“Can I ask you something else?” Gretchen carefully slid her hands out from his. He nodded, though appeared confused as she pulled back. “Is there anything else this covers? I mean...um...is sex ever a punishment?”

“Nothing I've mentioned so far has anything to do with sex. Some things I do might bring you to orgasm, but we would discuss it first before we go. This isn't dating.”

“Well, I mean I get that part. I used to be part of my local scene.” Gretchen immediately wanted to take those words back.

She hadn't gone that often, and more than once had regretted entering into a particular activity with certain Doms. She had been very naive' at the time and more than once found herself compromised. Of course the most compromised scenes were in her own house, with her live in boyfriend at the time. Wanna-be Dom. Good for nothing piece of crap who thought kneeling on rice for a trivial matter sounded perfectly logical.

“Your hands are shaking. Did something happen?” Tristan leaned forward to cup her face.

“Oh!” Gretchen had enough of spilling secrets. She leaped up and off the couch. “It doesn't matter. I just wanted to know if sex had crossed your mind or something.”

“It does matter though. If something happened—”

“Don't you think I've told you enough for one night?”

They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long minute before Tristan broke the awkward silence.

“You're right. We did cover a lot of bases but I would let go of your  tone really fast.” He stood up, and once again took her hands. “I'm staying at the Grand over on Broadway. I'll text you later on.” Tristan brought their hands to his mouth, kissed once, and let go.

“Yeah, sure.” Gretchen nodded, too overwhelmed with all that had just occurred to say much else. “I'll be there.”

“You better,” Tristan warned, and then just as quickly as he entered, he left the trailer, the door closing loudly behind him.

Of course, the door closed loudly no matter who went through it, but his absence felt larger.

She had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that he had waltzed in here, flipped her over his lap, and spanked the daylights out of her.

Now she was expected to go to his hotel room and let him massage her. Well, she supposed it could have been a worse order. Hopefully she wouldn’t embarrass herself anymore tonight.

 

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