Kayla I drive through the gates and park my car in front of Director Blake Ensign’s Hollywood mansion and pull my mirror down to check my make-up again. This is it-the biggest audition I’ve ever had.
Apparently Ensign is leaving for Europe soon and wanted to get this part-a leading role-cast before he left. The casting director scheduled twenty-seven call-backs, all at his mansion for his convenience since he’s leaving town. The simple fact that I get to see the inside of Blake Ensign’s house makes it feel like I’ve finally arrived.
And I’m auditioning for a leading role!
It finally feels like things might be happening for me. Maybe Pavel was right-my dreams will come true.
I head to the door, where I’m met by an assistant with a clipboard. “Name?” She doesn’t even look at me.
“Kayla Winstead.”
She finds my name on her clipboard and makes a checkmark. “You can wait in the living room.
Mr. Ensign is seeing people in his office one at a time. He’s running about two hours late.”
Gah. Two hours late. Pavel will be waiting for me at the Four Seasons.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Um, yes, please. Thanks, that would be great.”
My heart is already pounding, and I’m only meeting the assistant.
“Water,” she calls out to what must be her assistant and ushers me into a giant living room area.
The floor is some kind of expensive tile, and the domed ceiling is vaulted-at least forty feet high.
Great marble pillars define the perimeter.
“Hi,” I say nervously to the six other women waiting. Two I recognize from other casting calls.
Only one answers me with a “Hello.” All of them look like I do-petite, blonde, early twenties.
My looks aren’t enough to land this job, not that they ever have been here in L. A. Back in high school, in Wisconsin, they got me every acting and modeling job I tried out for. But here-I’m the proverbial small fish in a very big sea.
I pull out my phone to text Pavel. I’m so sorry-I’m at a casting call that may run late.
He doesn’t reply, but he’s probably in the air already.
I put my phone away to do some deep breathing and get centered.
Nearly three hours later, I get called in. I’m the last one for the day, and it’s already 5:30 p. m.
Pavel will already be waiting for me at the hotel-not that I can think about that now.
I draw a steadying breath and walk in.
Blake Ensign is not behind his desk, but on a loveseat. He’s in beachwear-shorts and a Tommy Bahama type shirt. One bare foot is crossed over his knee.
“All right, come in. You’re the last one, right?”
“Yes.” I look around, not sure where to stand. Or do I sit? I have no idea how this works.
“Read the lines,” he commands with a wave.
I stand directly in front of him and hold the script. I had enough time to memorize the part while I was waiting, but I’m afraid I’ll screw up, so I keep it at the ready, my trembling fingers making the papers shake.
He reads the male part in a monotone voice, and I pick up my lines. They don’t come out nearly as well as they sounded rehearsing in my head in the living room. Nothing like the way they sounded at the first casting call.
Still, I give it my best, making it through a couple pages before he stops me.
“All right, Kayla. That’s enough.”
I screwed the pooch on this one.
“I’m sorry-I’m just nervous. I did a much better job at the first audition. Can I try it again?”
“Come here.” He crooks a finger at me.
I walk closer, but he keeps beckoning. I stop when my toes hit his, then sort of look around, trying to figure out where he wants me. To sit beside him? Kneel at his feet? “I’m a very hard worker. If you give me a shot, I will do everything it takes to please you.”
As it turns out, my choice of words were all wrong.
Ensign sits back and adjusts his cock like I just gave him a boner. No-he’s not adjusting it. He’s holding it. Squeezing it.
Oh God-I can’t take my eyes away!
My heart hammers in my chest.
“Everything it takes, hmm?” he says, his voice suggesting. “I like that in an actress. One of the most important characteristics, really.”
Oh my God. I’m going to #MeToo right now. This is not happening. Please no.
He catches my wrist and tugs my hand down to his dick, covering my fingers to make me squeeze it.
Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I don’t know what to do. I mean, I do. I slap his face and leave. Right?
Of course, that’s what I should do. But burning bridges in Hollywood would be a terrible mistake.
So I need to get out of this nicely. If that’s possible.
“Show me how you’d please me,” he says.
I want to barf. Literally. The contents of my empty stomach churn as I pull my hand away.
I stumble back. “With my talent,” I say quickly. I will please you with my talent. I p-promise.”
“Yes, and I’d like to experience that talent right now.” He says it like he’s totally sure of himself.
Like every other actress who came in sucked him off.
Did they?
Or am I just the lucky one at the end of the day?
Wait-why am I even wondering? It doesn’t matter-I just need to get myself out of this.
“Well, that’s not…” I try to swallow. “I need to go. I’m sorry this isn’t going to work…” I make a beeline for the door.
“You sure? I could open a lot of doors for you, Kayla Winstead.”
I hate myself for even hesitating. I mean, I really, truly hate myself. But that’s how bad I want this dream.
Tears prick my eyes as I turn. “Thanks, but I’d rather get there a different way.”
Why did I even thank him? Seriously. What is wrong with me?
I throw the door open and stumble out, ignoring the assistant, who is on her phone, and the assistant’s assistant, who is also on his phone.
I throw open the front door and run out, straight to my car. Once I’m in it, I back out as quickly as I can. It’s not until I’m on the road driving that I break down into sobs.
I need to talk to a friend. I could call one of my roommates, but something makes me call Sasha, instead. She’s the strongest woman I know. She’ll make me feel better.
The moment she answers, she hears me sniffing. “Kayla? What is it? Did Pavel do something? I will kill him.”
“No, it’s not Pavel. I’m supposed to be with him right now, but…” “But what? What’s going on?” Sasha’s Russian accent gets thicker with urgency.
“I just got… casting couched.” I sniff.
“Aw, fuck!” Sasha has the cutest way of saying fuck. I love her accent. “What happened? Are you okay? You should go to the police.”
I suck in a breath. “No. I don’t want to go to the police. Nothing actually happened. I mean, he didn’t force himself on me or anything. It was just sexual harassment. He wanted me to give him a blowjob to prove how far I’d go to please him.”
“What a dick! I’m so sorry that happened to you. God, don’t tell Pavel, he will literally kill the guy.”
I sniff but my sobs subside as I suddenly focus on her words. “Um, when you say literally…” “I mean… seriously, Kayla-Pavel will kill him. Like shoot him in the head and kill him. Bratva men are serious about protecting their women.”
My pulse races. “I… I can’t let that happen. He already told me he’s wanted for murder in Russia.
At least, I think that’s what he implied.”
“Really? I didn’t know. But that’s how it’s supposed to be-we’re not supposed to know such things. Honestly, I don’t think I’d tell him if I were you. He’s going to want vengeance. Pavel is not a forgiving guy, I know that much about him.”
I mop my tears with one hand while steering with the other. I probably shouldn’t be driving in the state I’m in.
“I think you should #MeToo him on social media,” Sasha declares. “It could win you sympathy points and get you other casting calls. You know-use this to your advantage while shaming the hell out of him.”
“I don’t know…” I say slowly. I still fear getting blacklisted.
“Yeah, actually, Pavel could see it, and that could backfire. Nevermind. Bad idea. And, I mean, if you want Pavel to kill him-I’m not judging. It could be nice having your warrior slay dragons for you.”
“No,” I say quickly. “God, no. I would never want to be the reason he killed. I mean, I don’t want any of that.”
“Of course you don’t. Well, maybe cancel with Pavel for this weekend if you’re not up to seeing him. Tell him you’re sick. He doesn’t have to get his dick sucked every single weekend, right?”
For some reason, the thought of not seeing Pavel sends a whirlwind of anxiety rushing through me.
“No, I’m okay. I’m an actress. I know how to change my mood-or fake it.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I think you need a big hug right now, not Pavel domming you around.”
Actually, the thought of diving straight into that role-the fantasy role where all I have to do is surrender-sounds perfect. “No, I’m good. Thanks for talking me through this. I knew there was a reason I called you and not Ashley or Kimberly.”
“All right. Virtual hug to you. Call me again if you want to talk more, okay?”
“I will, thanks.” I end the call just as I pull into the valet parking for the Four Seasons. I tug the mirror down and wipe under my eyes. I look like crap, but maybe I can tell Pavel I need a shower first. He knows I’m coming straight from an audition that ran long.
Squaring my shoulders, I take my bag from the trunk and enter the hotel. I practice my smile, trying to lighten my mood. Whatever I do, I can’t let Pavel know the truth.
Pavel I stand on the balcony of the hotel room, trying to unclench my fingers. Kayla’s hours late and hasn’t responded to my last couple texts checking in. The need to get in a car and drive somewhere very fast to make sure she’s unharmed spikes about every five minutes, but of course, I don’t know where to drive.
Damn. I should’ve put a tracker in her phone like Ravil and Maxim did with their women. I chose not to because I already control so many aspects of Kayla’s life, plus it felt like a betrayal of trust.
She gives herself freely, and she wouldn’t lie. My enemies are in Chicago, not here, so I didn’t think her safety was at issue. Why would I need to track her?
My phone beeps with an incoming text. Just got here. I’m so sorry, Master, the audition went really long.
Thank fuck. I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding and step inside. I want to go down and meet her, to carry her bag, but I’m not sure which way she’s coming, so I wait until she knocks on the door.
I open it, all set to give her a cool command to take off her clothes when I realize her mood is all wrong. She avoids my gaze, ducking her head as she passes me. I pick up her suitcase and bring it to the rack.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.” She still barely meets my gaze. Fuck-are her eyes red?
What in the hell happened?
I catch her hips and turn her to fully face me. “Hey,” I say softly, waiting for her to settle under my hands. Under my gaze.
But she doesn’t.
“What happened?”
She turns out of my grasp to face her suitcase. “Nothing. Just a bad audition, that’s all. And I was stressed because I knew you were waiting.”
I want to tell her I was fine, that she didn’t need to stress over me, but something doesn’t ring right. I’ve had too much practice beating the truth out of liars. She’s a good actress, but something’s off, and it’s not just her lack of submission.
“Hey.” I stay where I am. “Turn around.”
She freezes, another tell. Prickles crawl up the back of my neck. What in the fuck is going on?
When she turns around, her eyes have the wide rabbit look, but more scared than eager to please. I don’t like this version of it.
“Did you just lie to me?” My words seem to take all the oxygen out of the room. There’s a plummeting sensation, like we’re in an elevator dropping quickly.
“Pavel…” Again, not the right response.
I go cold all over. Alarms go off, but I don’t even know what they mean. “Why did you lie?” My voice is so soft, it’s barely more than a whisper.
“I did have a bad audition,” she insists.
I believe her, but I wait because I know there’s something she’s trying to hide.
“W-what makes you think I’m lying?”
Gospodi, now she’s really freaking me out. I step into her space and cup her chin, trying to will whatever’s in her brain out of that pretty mouth.
“I detect lies for a living,” I tell her. We stare at each other for a moment. Her pulse is frantic at her throat. I can’t decide if this is a dom moment or a boyfriend moment. Do I threaten punishment if she won’t talk? I settle for the minced, “Come clean.”
“I got casting-couched. The director wanted me to suck his dick to show how much I wanted the part.”
My nostrils flare, and I let out a string of curses in Russian. That man will pay. But… “Why didn’t you want me to know?”
“I just-” She stops herself from speaking and swallows. She’s still hiding something again.
A massive alarm goes off in my head. Everything flashes hot and cold as my brows slam down.
“Wait… did you do it?”
Her outrage couldn’t be faked. She slaps my face hard, and relief flushes through me.
“Sorry.” I catch her wrist and bring her fingers to my lips to kiss them. “I’m sorry, Kayla. Of course, you didn’t.” I shake my head, still trying to make sense of it. “It’s just that you lied straight to my face. It scared the shit out of me.”
Her eyes swim with tears.
“Why didn’t you want me to know? What did he do?”
She still resists, lowering her chin and drawing back a little.
I rub my hands up and down her arms as if she were cold. “What’s his name?”
Kayla shakes her head.
“No?” I didn’t mean to put a dangerous edge on the word, but she draws back at my tone, and her ass hits the suitcase. I still have her wrist, which I use to steady her.
She wets her lips. “Sasha said you’d kill him.”
I let out a humorless chuff of laughter as her reluctance to be forthright suddenly makes perfect sense. But then the notion that Sasha thinks I will kill this guy-that he deserves to die for what he did to her-sharpens the ruthless part of me to a lethal point.
“His name.” It’s a command, and she doesn’t miss the tone.
She swallows. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Did he touch you?” This man is fucking dead if he did.
She shakes her head repeatedly but then says. “He… he put my hand on his cock-o-over his shorts. But when I pulled away, he let me go.”
I nod slowly, considering what I’m going to do with this cocksucker.
“Does that mean yes, you’re going to kill him?”
I draw in a slow breath then shake my head. Kayla doesn’t want me to. Her soul’s too pure to have that on her conscience. “What do you want me to do?”
Her expression is uncertain. “Please don’t kill him.”
I consider and nod. “If you don’t want him dead, I’ll respect that. You have my word. But I am going to make sure you’re the last woman he tries this shit on.”
I wait for her to soften, then I slowly draw her into my arms. “Are you okay, little flower? You swear that’s all that happened?” She wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face to my chest. I kiss the top of her head. When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay. It was upsetting, but I’m fine. And you’re here.”
The last three words do something foreign to my heart.
“Tell me what you need.”
She lifts her head and peers up at me. She’s soft and supple and totally submissive again. “Just you,” she murmurs. “Us. To be your slave tonight.”
“Hm.” I tip her chin up, drinking in her unconditional surrender like it’s the fuel that keeps me alive. The electricity sparks between us and a haze of filthy ideas flash through my head. “You definitely have a punishment coming for lying to me. But I’m going to feed you and make sure you’re all right first.”
Her eyes dilate, and her nipples poke through her red scoop-neck blouse. “I’m not hungry yet.
Honestly. I just want to play.”
“Come here.” I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom where I turn on the shower. “Strip.”
She’s instantly eager, kicking off her heels, shimmying out of her top and slacks. I lean back against the counter to watch her bra and panties come off, my dick lengthening in my pants.
“Wash off your day, blossom. Take your time.”
“Yes, Master,” she murmurs, head bowed.
I marvel at my urge to kiss that bowed head. How affectionate she’s taught me to be in just a few short weeks. That first night at Black Light, after I broke her as I’d known I would, the urge to walk away-hell, to run away was so strong. But Maxim directed me back to her. Said I owned her now.
That she was mine. And that weight, that responsibility felt so light and heavy at the same time. I’d never held a woman before that night. I’d fucked. I’d scened with some women, though I was new to the BDSM world. But Kayla curled up in a blanket in my arms, needed to be held, and it forever changed me.
Whatever it is that she calls up in me is what makes me unwilling to walk away. This relationship is impractical at best-probably unhealthy for her, yet I’m here for the seventh weekend, more invested in seeing her again than I am in my next breath.
I stay where I am and watch through the glass shower doors, enjoying the view for a bit, then head into the bedroom to prepare for our scene.
This is the part that disturbs me. How excited I am to hurt Kayla. How hard I get when she whimpers, when she pleads. How much the idea of punishing her, then soothing it all away makes me feel like a mountain.
The justifications I have in my head-that she wants this, that she asked for it, that she enjoys it, too, only go so far. She just had an upsetting experience at her audition. Bad enough to make her cry.
Should I really go through with this?
But she said it’s what she wanted. She seemed excited. And she has a safe word. I keep reminding myself of that. She has a safe word, and she doesn’t want me reminding her that she’s free to walk out that door any time she wants.
So it’s up to me to figure out how to give her what she needs.
I prepare for our scene.
The water in the shower turns off. Kayla doesn’t dally. In just a few minutes, she walks out of the bathroom, her naked body flushed from the heat of the shower. I watch her from the armchair by the sliding glass doors as she comes to me, stealing a glance at the implements and pillows I laid out on the bed before she kneels at my feet.
I take a mental snapshot of yet another magnificent picture. Kayla’s wet hair falls over her shoulders, sending rivulets of water trailing over her puckered nipples. She sits on her heels, her open thighs inviting my fingers to stroke between her legs to find out just how wet it makes her to submit to me.
“I’m sorry for lying, Master,” she murmurs.
I doubt either one of us is very sorry now. But I do want to make this point. I nearly choked on my heart for a minute there thinking we were over. Not understanding why she would ever try to deceive me.
“Thank you.” I don’t touch her-not yet, even though I can see she wants it. She leans forward, her pretty face tilted up, those eyes trained on my face. “Don’t keep things from me again, blossom. I don’t lie to you; I expect the same respect. We don’t lie to each other.”
Her chin wobbles. “Yes, Master.”
“Listen, I don’t want you scared of me. I like to run the show, but that doesn’t mean I won’t respect your wishes.”
She blinks. “What if I wished you to not do anything?”
Blyad’. She wants me to give this guy a pass? No fucking way. “Nyet. Someone puts their hands on you, they’re going to answer to me, end of story. You’re mine, Kayla. That means I protect you to the death.”
She shifts her butt on her heels, like that turned her on. “Yes, Master.” Her voice is soft and honey-sweet.
I unzip my jeans. “Show me you’re sorry.”