“Come on, pet, I’m taking you somewhere special tonight.” Every time he called her “pet” in the script, I kind of cringed.
“Where are we going?” She was using a convincingly innocent voice I hadn’t heard her use before and it showed me yet again how capable she was of becoming exactly what her clients wanted her to be.
“Ah ah ah…you don’t get to ask questions,” I snapped.
“Interesting.”She waved her hands in apology for breaking the scene, but I wanted to know what she’d noticed, so I nodded at her to explain.
In her usual voice she said, “I read that line as teasing, but you already sound like you’re disciplining me and there’s anger in your tone. It’s okay…sorry. Keep going.”
Sweet and innocent Elena was back in a flash. “Sorry, Sir.”
“You can take your punishment in the carriage.”
I placed my hand on the back of her neck and forcefully steered her over to the leather couch since the scene now cut to the carriage.
“Get over my knee!”
My tone was a bit much, but I was aiming for menacing disciplinarian, figuring we could always tone it down. I patted one knee and gestured to her, but when she complied, something didn’t click between us and she almost fell. We mostly recovered and she ended up across my lap.
Was that what “over my knee” meant?
She lay there for long seconds and I could feel the expectation hanging heavily in the air. Now what? The scene called for me to spank her and she’d told me to go for it, but it felt like I needed more express permission than that.
I thought the lesson where we role-played the interview had been intense, but this was so much harder. That was all talk. This required action.
I looked down at her jean-clad ass, feeling like an idiot. She was lying on my lap, practically begging for it, and I still felt like I wanted her to give me clearer consent. Maybe Iwastoo wholesome…except if I was that wholesome I wouldn’t be struggling to focus just from the feel of having her body pressed against me.
I took the plunge and swatted her butt a few times. I didn’t actually know the right way to spank a person. Would’ve thought it was obvious, but surely there was a proper technique, and I had no idea what it was.
I brought my hand down on her ass in a weirdly stiff patting motion, continuing with the dialogue, but everything about it felt forced and wrong.
I could hear the laughter in her voice when she took pity on me and stopped the scene.
She got up from my lap effortlessly. “Here’s what I see. Instead of embodying natural dominance, you’re creating an image of what you think a dominant should be…angry, stiff, controlling. We need to get that image out of your head.”
It was a relief to have her explain what was going wrong. I wondered why I automatically defaulted to that model of dominance? Years of hard-ass coaches celebrating toxic masculinity maybe? I’d had some great coaches, but had definitely spent some formative years under guys who thought they needed to yell to show they were in charge.
She continued, “This guy is totally at ease. He’s secure in his power and doesn’t have anything to prove. He doesn’t move with military stiffness—more like a predator. He’s lethal and he knows it and expects his every whim to be obeyed. When you expect people to obey, there doesn’t have to be as much effort in your commands. And don’t forget, this is still sexual between them, so there should be some subtext there—maybe a little naughtiness or a hint of flirtation. Make sense?”
“Absolutely. What did I do wrong with getting you over my knee?”
“When he says ‘over my knee,’ he more means over my lap. It’s a spanking position. I’ll show you the best way to do it in a second. And with the actual spanking, you’re too stiff there too. May I show you?”
It was an innocent enough question and was exactly what we’d hired her for. Having to run through the scene with her had shown me just how unsure I still was. I’d felt stupid even though that hadn’t been her intention.
I needed the hands-on training, but I hadn’t expected it to be this hard. Literally. I was like a goddamned teenager popping boners around her, so I was distracted.
I’d never struggled with this on set before. Surely, I could lock it down.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound relaxed. “Yes, ma’am. What do you need me to do?”
“First of all, never call me ma’am again. I don’t care if you’re a Texan boy at heart. Secondly, I can show you how spanking should feel. Drop your pants and bend over.” She was clearly demonstrating how a command should sound, and she was right. She hadn’t raised her voice or sounded angry, but there was something in her tone that made it clear my obedience was a foregone conclusion.
As I moved to comply, she said, “What, no grin with a juvenile joke?”
“I don’t joke about my work either.” I barely resisted grinning at her.
I dropped my jeans, stepped out of them, and draped them over a chair, thankful I’d overcome my hard-on. For now. Then, I went and stood leaning over the back of the couch.
