![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Ricochet: Chapters 1 - 3
Even in a BDSM universe, where everyone identifies as dom or sub, finding the right partner isn’t always easy.
Matt is a big star on the hit TV show, Collar Crime, and he’s looking for a dom who ticks all the right boxes, including being as tidy and organised as himself.
That definitely isn’t his chaotic co-star, Rick, with his spanking fetish and habit of tying a different sub to his bed every night.
When Matt meets the perfect dom he’s swept off his feet, but he soon discovers that being pursued by a handsome, controlling billionaire isn’t the erotic fantasy he’d imagined.
Maybe the right dom for him is the one he thought was all wrong…
Ricochet Story Notes
Ricochet is an epic,173,000 word original character novel, telling the story of a control freak sub and a wayward dom, and their journey towards finding each other – and themselves in the process. It has all the angst, humour, drama and sexiness you’d expect to find in one of my BDSM universe stories.
Read the first fourteen chapters for FREE here! If you want to buy it, you can find it on Smashwords and Amazon for only $5.99.
Chapter One
Rick turned over in bed and gazed at his beautiful conquest of the night before. The young man was still wearing the gaudy diamanté play collar that Rick had buckled around his neck and his hands were lightly bound together in front of his body with the black silk scarf Rick had fastened around his wrists. When Rick pulled back the sheet, he positively purred at the sight of the bite mark he’d placed on the sub’s juicy, curved bottom during the night.
Rick leaned over and began kissing his way down the sub’s back, one vertebra at a time, until he reached that luscious ass. The young man stirred, murmuring something, still half asleep.
“Come on, baby – open up for me,” Rick murmured in his ear, impatient to plant his tongue deep inside the sub’s ass, where his hard cock had been most of last night and intended to be again this morning.
“You’re insatiable, Rick,” the young man complained, moving his leg obligingly anyway.
“Oh, yeah, I am, and you’re beautiful.” Rick took hold of the sub’s butt cheeks and pulled them apart. “Such a pretty sub… mmm… that’s good… you taste so good, baby,” he murmured appreciatively between licks.
He had no idea what the sub’s name was, but he’d long ago learned that using generics like “Baby” and “Sweetheart” was a good way of not offending his conquests by getting their names wrong. He’d never been any good at remembering names and besides, what did it matter? These beautiful subs he picked up in the most exclusive clubs in L.A. knew they weren’t getting a permanent collar from him.
What they were getting was a night with Richard O’Shea, one of the lead actors on the hit TV show Collar Crime. They also got to keep the gaudy play collar that Rick loved fastening around their pretty necks. Rick always made sure they enjoyed their “night in paradise” as he liked to describe it; he loved showing the succession of gorgeous young subs who graced his bed a good time.
This particular gorgeous young sub arched his back as Rick opened him up expertly with his tongue. Rick drew back, reached for the lube, and squeezed a dollop onto his hand. Then he took hold of the sub’s hard cock and stroked slowly. The sub moaned in pleasure, and Rick anointed his own cock with the lube, positioned himself, and then slowly sank himself into the sub’s sweetly tight, hot channel.
He fucked him hard for several minutes until they both came, and then Rick threw himself down on the bed, panting.
“Man, that was good. You were good, baby.” He smoothed the sub’s dark curly hair with his fingers and kissed the side of his neck.
“So were you. I can’t believe I’m in bed with Agent Alex Tanner from Collar Crime!” The sub gave an astonished giggle. “My mom won’t believe me when I tell her. She loves that show, and she loves you on it. You’re her favorite character – she likes it best when Chief Christie gets annoyed with your antics, swings you over his knee and spanks that cute ass of yours. Hey – how do you do that?”
“Do what, honey?” Rick played with the sub’s hair, gently twirling it in his fingers.
“Play a sub so convincingly onscreen when you’re such a dom in the bedroom?”
Rick had been asked that question dozens of times, but he didn’t mind – it amused him. “It’s called acting, sweetheart.” He smiled indulgently at the sub.
“Well, you’re great at it! So, tell me about the other actors.” The sub pressed a little kiss to Rick’s cheek. “Tell me about Daniel Mayfield. I loved him in the Insubordination movies but he’s even better as Chief Christie.”
A lot of the subs Rick slept with asked him about Daniel Mayfield. His co-star played one of the most dominant characters on TV and half the subs Rick slept with were in love with him – which was a shame as Daniel was a sub in real life.
“Daniel’s a really cool guy. Nobody has a bad word to say about Daniel.”
“And what’s Matthew Lake like?” the sub asked eagerly. “He’s such a sweetie as Agent Harris on the show – is he that cute in real life?”
“Matty?” Rick smiled. “Well, don’t tell anyone but…” Rick lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Matty’s a monster! He has this big entourage and on his first day on set he made them measure his trailer to make sure it was the exact size specified in his contract.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah, Matty’s a total diva. He has tantrums on set and orders everyone around.”
The sub’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re kidding me!”
Rick laughed. “Aw, okay, you got me. Matty’s great, and yeah, he’s just as much of a sweetie as Ben Harris. He can be kind of serious, but I tease the shit out of him until he lightens up. I drive him nuts.” Rick winked.
“Hmm.” The sub frowned. “It seems to me you’re a lot like your character, even if you’re not a sub.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Rick agreed easily. “I love Alex Tanner – he’s a fun guy to play. There’s a lot of me in him.”
The sub looked at him thoughtfully. “It can’t be easy for you, being a dom playing the naughtiest sub on TV. Do you have to work hard to persuade the subs you pick up that you’re actually a dom?”
“Did you have any complaints?” Rick grinned, slapping the sub’s bottom.
“No, but it was weird at first. I’m so used to seeing you as Alex Tanner, fooling around on TV. It must be tough for you in real life.”
Rick shrugged. “Look, sweetheart – I’m not complaining. I do okay.”
“Well, you’re young, rich, famous, and incredibly handsome.” The young man snuggled in close and rested his bound hands on Rick’s chest. “So I guess you’re not short of willing subs throwing themselves at you.”
“I’ve never exactly had a problem in that department, but since the success of Collar Crime, yeah, it’s been nice.” Rick winked.
Rick rarely slept alone these days. He pretty much had his pick of every young, beautiful sub in L.A. – and he intended to make the most of it while it lasted. He spent most of his free evenings in clubs, looking for subs to bed. He could usually talk a potential conquest into coming home with him within five minutes of meeting them. Any longer, and he lost interest and moved on to a more promising prospect.
“Matt’s a sub, isn’t he? Have you slept with him?” the sub asked curiously.
“Me and Matty?” Rick frowned. “No way! He’s a neat freak, and I’m easy come, easy go. We’d drive each other nuts.”
“I love how you two are always bickering onscreen.”
“We’re a lot like that in real life, too.” Rick trailed his index finger down the sub’s tanned back.
“Maybe you secretly have the hots for each other?”
“Boy, you do ask a lot of questions. It’s like being interviewed by TeeVee or something. Now, it seems to me there’s too much talking and not enough action going on in this room.” Rick reached down and squeezed the young man’s ass. “I think someone is due an O’Shea special spanking.”
“Really? Why?” The sub grinned naughtily. “Have I been bad?”
“Oh yeah, baby, you’ve been bad.” Rick sat up and patted his knee. “You’ve been really bad. Now, come here.”
He reached out, hauled the sub over his knees, and spent a few moments just savoring the view. He adored giving spankings – nothing too hard or painful, just a slow building up of warmth and sensation in a sub’s ass. He loved watching buttocks wobble under his fingers, leaving a faint imprint of his hand that quickly faded, to be replaced, just as quickly, by another. He enjoyed how the skin felt, warming under his hand, and the pleasure of turning pale flesh into a rosy blush and then a deep pink in hue. He started every morning by handing out a spanking if he could, whenever he had a willing sub in his bed.
This sub was definitely willing. He arched his back and squealed excitedly as Rick slapped his ass, and Rick grinned and wrapped his arm tightly around the sub, holding him close – this was going to be good.
He spanked him for a good ten minutes, taking his time, warming him up slowly and then building to a crescendo that had the young man panting with pleasure.
“Man, that’s good. You’re turning me on so much. I’m gonna have to fuck you hard after this,” Rick said happily as he went about his work. “A beautiful hot ass like this should never be wasted.”
The sub’s squirming confirmed he was of the same opinion, and Rick delivered a few more swats and then couldn’t ignore his hard cock any more – he needed to get in this sub and fuck him through the mattress again.
“You ready to go again, baby?” he asked, pulling the young man up and untying the scarf from around his wrists so he could position him on his hands and knees. “Quickly, ’cause I need to get to work.”
“What time is it?” The sub glanced around the room for a clock.
Rick’s bedroom was painted a shiny white, the doors and dressers were a sleek black, the drapes and carpet a deep scarlet, and the bed sheets were made of a sensuous red satin because he liked how that felt against his skin. The bed was an expensive Delallio, the ornate headboard a swirling pattern of metal curlicues to which Rick could attach handcuffs or rope to keep subs in place while he fucked them.
The one thing Rick didn’t keep in his bedroom was a clock – when subs entered here, he wanted it to be a timeless zone where they could relax and forget about everything except surrendering to the Richard O’Shea sexperience.
“Oh, shit.” Rick glanced at his watch and sat bolt upright. “Shit, shit, shit! I’m late! Sorry, babe – another time. I gotta run.”
He wasn’t just late – he was so late that filming had probably already started. He should have been at work ten minutes ago.
He slid off the bed and ran into the bathroom, took a hasty shower, and then ran back into the bedroom and grabbed the nearest clothes to hand – the leather pants and plain black shirt that he’d worn clubbing last night. The sub in his bed was lying on his back, elbows propped up, looking startled by all the frenetic activity.
“I’m sorry, baby… so sorry… oh, damn it – you look so hot like that, too, all tousled. Wish I had time to fuck you again.” Rick leaned over and kissed him on the lips and then drew back regretfully.
He ran for the door and then glanced back to see that the sub had turned over and was lying on his front again, his beautiful blushing ass on full display.
“Oh, what the hell! I’m already late – what’s another ten minutes? I can’t leave that lush ass un-fucked.”
Rick turned back, unzipping as he went, and got out his semi-erect cock. He didn’t undress; he just slapped some more lube on his cock, pulled the sub up onto his haunches, and thrust straight into that waiting hole. He loved how the sub’s warm ass cheeks felt against his balls as he hammered into him and the way the young man threw back his head and shrieked in pleasure as Rick fucked him through the mattress.
Rick came with a shout and then quickly pulled out, grabbed a handful of the sub’s thick, dark hair, and pulled his head back. He delivered a loud kiss to the sub’s mouth, then released him and ran for the door again, tucking his cock back into his pants and zipping up as he went.
“Help yourself to breakfast, if there’s anything in the fridge,” he called. “And let yourself out.”
“You’re leaving me here alone?” the sub asked, in a surprised tone.
“Sure – why not?” Rick grinned over his shoulder.
“Because I could steal all your stuff!”
Rick paused, his shoulders tensing. He turned, with a shrug. “You could, yeah. You gonna do that, sweetheart?”
The young man frowned. “No, but it’s kind of weird you leaving me in your place alone, a big TV star like you…”
“Well, my housekeeper will be here in about ten minutes, so if you’re gonna clean me out, be sure to do it before he gets here.” Rick gave a cheery wave and continued on his way.
“Wait! When will I see you again?” the young man asked.
Rick grimaced. “Oh, soon. Real soon. I’ll call you.”
“You don’t have my number.”
“I’ll find it. I’ll look you up.” Rick grabbed the door handle.
“You don’t even know my last name.”
Rick hesitated and then turned around again. “You’re right… what is it?”
“Newman.”
“Right… Newman… uh…” Rick made a face.
“You don’t remember my first name, do you?” the young man accused. “It’s Greg. Greg Newman. You should remember my name, Rick. Makes me feel kinda cheap and dirty after what we did last night.”
Rick sighed. He walked back to the bed, sat down next to the sub, and ran a gentle hand over the young man’s cheek. “Greg, you were great, but don’t go expecting anything,” he said softly. “I don’t do relationships, and I don’t do reruns except on TV. I showed you a great time last night, didn’t I? And this morning, too – yes? Let’s leave it there.” He pressed a kiss to Greg’s dark, curly hair and got up. “You can keep the play collar,” he said. “As a memento of your night with Richard O’Shea. Something to tell your kids about one day, huh?”
He ignored the flash of outrage in Greg’s eyes as he ran to the door again. He just managed to duck in time as something flew over his head and hit the wall, before sliding to the floor; it was the gaudy play collar he’d put on Greg’s neck last night.
“You can keep your fucking collar, asshole!” Greg yelled.
Rick winced. Not his best exit ever, he thought, as he wrenched open the door and fled towards his garage – but not his worst, either. One sub had daubed “SHITHEAD LOSER” all over his bedroom walls in bright pink lipstick, while another had helped herself to the contents of his toy chest before leaving. It had taken him years to build up that toy chest and it contained some of his favorite play equipment. He’d been sad for nearly half an hour before he realized it was a good excuse to go shopping, and then he’d spent one of the best days of his life flashing his credit card around some of the most exclusive toy boutiques in L.A., rebuilding his collection. Every cloud had a silver lining, and if anyone was going to find that lining, it was Rick.
He ran down the stairs to his garage, threw one long leg over his shining black Harley, revved the engine, and sped off towards the studio.
Chapter Two
Matthew Lake stared at Daniel Mayfield, and Daniel stared back, tapping one finger lightly on his script as they waited.
“Where the hell is he?” Matt hissed. “I wouldn’t mind, but this is the third time this month.”
“You’ve kept count?” Daniel raised an eyebrow, and Matt bit on his lip, flushing.
“I count everything. I can’t help myself. I also know how many times it’s rained this month and how many times you’ve tapped your finger on that script,” he confessed.
“It can’t be easy being locked up inside your brain.” Daniel glanced at Petra, the show runner, who was standing to one side with a look of thunder on her face, bashing her finger repeatedly onto the keypad of her cell phone. “Wherever he is, I have a feeling Petra will have something to say to him when she finally gets him to answer his phone,” Daniel murmured.
“Poor Rick.” Matt felt a surge of genuine sympathy for his co-star. Rick was the most infuriating actor he’d ever worked with, but he also had the ability to lift a set just by setting foot on it. His huge personality brightened every room he was in, and he made the long hours and hard work fun, even on the days when they really weren’t.
A second later there were the usual loud clattering sounds and change in energy that signaled Rick had arrived, and he strode onto the set, still in his own clothes, waving his arms around apologetically.
“I’m so sorry, everyone!” he yelled. “Domestic emergency.”
“You mean you overslept?” Daniel asked smoothly.
“More likely a sub slept over,” Matt muttered, and Daniel stifled a laugh.
“I’m here now! I’m ready,” Rick announced to the room at large. The cast and crew loved him, for all his wayward ways and truly abysmal timekeeping, so Matt could sense that Rick was instantly forgiven – but not by Petra.
“It’s the third time this month, Rick,” she scolded.
“Who’s counting?” Rick spread his arms wide. “Well, except Matty, of course, but he counts everything.” He shot a grin in Matt’s direction.
“I’m counting,” Petra snapped.
“Three times in a month isn’t that many.”
“It’s only the ninth today.”
“Ah. Okay. Sorry.” Only Rick could somehow manage to look naughty, contrite and utterly adorable all at the same time. He was like a big, overgrown puppy.
“I want to see you in my office after this scene’s done,” Petra said grumpily. “And you’re not ready. Go and change your clothes, get your ass into make-up, and put your damn collar on.” She turned and stomped off, and Rick grimaced broadly at her retreating back.
“I’m in trouble,” he lamented to the room, with theatrical mournfulness.
“Yes, you are. Now go and get ready. Filming’s been held up for long enough because of you,” Daniel said tersely. Although he was the lead actor on the show he rarely threw his weight around, so if he handed out a reprimand it really stung.
Rick certainly got the message, and he hurried off to his trailer to get changed without the usual theatrics, much to Matt’s relief.
Matt paced around the set, going over his lines repeatedly in his head while he waited, hating the delay as it gave him too much time to fret about his performance in the upcoming scene. They were on the set of the gleaming silver and black command center that was the Collar Crime H.Q., crammed full of high-tech computer screens and gadgets – although it looked a lot more impressive on TV than it did in real life.
He was relieved when Rick returned a short while later, dressed in character as Agent Tanner, with a plain black collar fastened around his neck. He was six feet four of such ludicrous good looks that Matt wondered how anyone could have been put together so well and still be human. He had jet-black hair, tanned skin, a perma-stubbled jaw, and a pair of broad shoulders that looked fantastic in the tight tee shirts the show liked to put him in. His long legs looked equally good in the jeans his character habitually wore, too. His most beautiful feature was his liquid-green eyes; they looked out of place with his tanned skin and dark hair, but they had a depth and luminosity that the camera loved.
He ran across the set, sank gracefully to his knees on his mark at Daniel’s feet, and looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, instantly in character.
“Hmmm… don’t you look like the perfect sub,” Daniel commented, glancing at his script and then down at Rick again.
“I know. I’d fuck me, for sure.” Rick winked, and Matt rolled his eyes.
“Let’s get started!” the director bellowed, and Matt took his position and tried to get into character as the rookie young field agent, Ben Harris.
Ben came from a strict Lenkan family who had disowned him because of his decision to join the collar crime unit. They liked to keep their subs sheltered and arrange jobs and marriages for them inside their own community. An outcast from his own people, Ben was always searching for a place to belong.
Rick played Agent Alex Tanner, the wayward sub that Chief Christie had tamed during the first season of the show. He was a maverick ex-army ranger, who’d received a dishonorable discharge and was living by his wits on the streets when Christie had seen something in him and recruited him to work on the newly formed collar crime unit.
The unit was a specialist task force charged with investigating crimes involving collars, in cases ranging from domestic abuse and employee harassment to international espionage. Alex was famously naughty, getting into all kinds of scrapes that earned him a punishment from the tough, totally toppy Chief Christie every few episodes.
“So, what stupid stuff has Alex Tanner been up to now?” Rick asked, glancing at the page in his hand.
“Damn it, Rick – don’t you even know which scene we’re filming?” Matt snapped, his nerves frayed by the late start.
“As I’m on my knees, I’m guessing it’s one where Alex gets what he deserves. Again.” Rick grinned.
“If only life imitated art,” Matt muttered under his breath.
Rick shot him a wounded look. “Was there something you wanted to say to me, Matty?”
“Yes! You waltz in here, hours late, and you don’t even know what we’re filming. It’s not just Alex Tanner who deserves a punishment, you idiot.”
The room went silent, and everyone looked at him. Matt bit on his lip and started counting down from one thousand in his head, which usually calmed him.
“I know which scene we’re filming, Matt,” Rick said quietly.
“Good – so could we damn well start filming it, then!” the director yelled.
Rick was word perfect in his scene, which made Matt feel terrible about his outburst. They shot several takes, but each time he put in a flawless performance.
Right at the end of the final take, Daniel opened the prop file that was supposed to contain their mission for the week, while Rick and Matt looked over his shoulder at the contents as they’d rehearsed… only to find those contents had been replaced by a recent edition of Show Scoop magazine. The front cover showed a big photo of Daniel, sitting bare-chested in a hot tub, under the headline: Hot Tops in Hot Tubs! Take a look inside at our hot tub hotties!
Matt smothered a laugh, Rick kept a studiously straight face, and Daniel delivered his line without missing a beat. The director called “cut”, and Daniel immediately turned to Rick and delivered a mock spanking with the rolled-up magazine.
Everyone laughed, and Matt felt his bad mood fading as it always did in the face of Rick’s practical jokes. Ever since the Hot Tops in Hot Tubs edition had come out, Rick had been teasing Daniel about it mercilessly. He’d bought a dozen copies and it had become a running joke that he’d place them strategically around the set for Daniel to come across during filming. On one memorable occasion, he’d pinned the picture of Daniel in the hot tub on the noticeboard in the chief’s office, and nobody had even noticed until the episode aired. Matt had no idea how Rick had managed to smuggle the magazine into the file for the scene’s final take, but it had lifted the mood on set.
The crew dispersed for a coffee break, and Rick ran over to where Matt was standing. “Hey, buddy.” He hit Matt playfully on the arm. “I’m sorry I was late.”
That was always the problem with Rick; it was almost impossible to stay mad at him. Rick could be exasperating but there wasn’t an ounce of malice in him.
“Am I forgiven? Say I am. Pleeasse.” He got down on his knees, pressed his hands together in supplication, and fluttered his dark eyelashes outrageously.
Matt sighed. “You’re forgiven.”
“And am I still an idiot?” Rick asked, batting his eyelashes even more.
“Oh, you’re definitely an idiot.” Matt rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the little grin curving his lips, and Rick was on his feet in an instant, laughing. He slung a heavy arm around Matt’s shoulders, tucked him into a neck lock, and then planted a big kiss on his hair.
“Yay! I hate it when you’re mad at me, Matty. Now… where’s the cookie table? I’m starving. No breakfast, and I expended waaaay too much energy last night – and this morning. Look… concave.” He grabbed hold of the hem of his tee shirt, pulled it up, and pointed at his ripped six-pack.
“Any excuse to show off how much you work out,” Matt said, laughing anyway because Rick’s good moods were always so infectious.
“You betcha.” Rick winked, running off towards the cookie table.
“Hey!” Matt called after him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Hmmm?” Rick turned back, in the process of cramming a giant chocolate-chip cookie into his mouth.
“Petra? She said she wanted to see you after the scene.”
“D’oh!” Rick slapped the side of his own head. “Thanks buddy. I dunno what I’d do without you and your memory. I wish you could learn my lines for me, too.”
“Yeah, well, we all wish you could learn your lines for you, instead of hiding them on crib sheets around the set,” Matt retorted, but Rick was already halfway out the door.
Matt watched him go, shaking his head. So much drama, for so little point – that was Rick all over.
He glanced over and saw that Daniel was reading a book, as he often did during a break in filming. With his bulging muscles and shaved head, Daniel looked like the last person you’d want to meet down a dark alley at night. Matt had been scared of him for his first month on the show until he’d realized that Daniel wasn’t remotely like the tough sub he’d played in the famous Insubordination movies, or the commanding Chief Christie on Collar Crime. People sometimes mistook his aloofness for arrogance, especially as he was such a big star, but Matt had soon figured out that he was just very shy.
Matt considered going over and talking to him, but he didn’t want to interrupt Daniel’s reading, so he pulled out his cell phone instead and saw that he’d missed a call from his dom, Emily. He’d been dating her for about six months, and they were good together. She was cool, calm and collected, and he liked how smooth their relationship was: no drama or bumps in the road. She always did what she said she was going to do and was where she said she’d be. He knew where he was with her, and that was the way he liked it.
The sex was pleasant, too. Not that she ever managed to take him down, but he liked serving her, and she liked being served. It was a perfectly smooth arrangement that suited them both well. He pressed for voicemail and listened to her message.
“Matt – it’s Emily. I see you’re in my diary for this evening, so I’ll pick you up at eight. Please don’t wear that red shirt; it does nothing for you. Don’t make me come up to the house to knock. Be ready on the porch.”
And that was that; all perfectly to the point, which Emily always was, and which Matt liked… so why did he feel like something was missing?
Chapter Three
Rick loped into Petra’s office, still eating his cookie. Petra was a plump, attractive black woman, several inches shorter than him but tough as nails and easily able to out-top pretty much any other dom in the room. She glared at him and didn’t offer him a seat; this didn’t bode well.
“Rick, you’re a screw-up,” she told him bluntly.
“Aw, I’m not that bad. So I like a little fun – who doesn’t?” Rick flashed her his most disarming smile.
“Look, I’ve been in the industry for years, Rick, and I’ve seen actors as big and hot as you are right now disappear without a trace. Too much partying, too many drugs, too much alcohol…”
“I don’t take drugs,” Rick said, wounded. “And I don’t drink that much, because…” He made a wilting motion with his hand in the direction of his groin. “Now, I’ll admit I like partying – I like getting attention from all the pretty subs – but can you blame me? Before I was famous, I used to have to work a lot harder to sweet-talk subs into my bed, but now they practically fight for that pleasure. How can I resist? They’re so cute and willing. All they want is for me to run my hands over their sexy bodies, and I’m only human. You’re a dom, Petra – you must understand.”
“Maybe you have a sex addiction,” she mused.
“Because I like subs? Show me a dom who doesn’t like subs.”
“There’s a difference between liking them and consuming them. You party like it’s going out of style, Rick, and I bet you never go home alone.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Rick winked. “So what if I sleep with a lot of subs? I get my yearly STD vaccination. I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Whatever. It’s your life.” Petra shrugged. “But you don’t fuck up my show. I’ve soft-pedaled with you so far, Rick, because you’re one of the main reasons this show hit so big, but nobody’s indispensable.”
“You’re not going to fire me, are you?” Rick asked, genuinely shaken.
Petra shook her head. “No, but I am going to come down on you like a ton of bricks every time you screw up, so I strongly suggest you don’t go out clubbing any more during filming. You can party on hiatus.”
“That’s only two months of the year!”
“Then you’d better make the most of them.” Petra gave a sweet smile. “In addition…”
“There’s more?” Rick asked, aghast.
“Yup.” Petra fixed him with a stern look. “You’re not to be late, by so much as one second, for the rest of the season. If you are, you’ll go straight to the discipline room and take licks. Hell, I’ll march you there myself.”
“Aw, Petra.” Rick crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a sulky little frown. She ignored him.
“I’ve been reviewing your contract.” Petra waved her hand at a file on her desk. “I note that there’s no get-out clause from corporal punishment.” Some stars had those written into their contracts but not many, as those stars were generally judged to be difficult, thinking themselves bigger and better than everyone else. All the same, it was rare for a show to physically punish one of its stars; they were usually too busy trying to keep them happy. “So, we’re going to make a start on addressing your tardiness problem right now,” Petra told him firmly. “You’ll report to the discipline room at 1pm for six with the strap.”
“What?” Rick stared at her.
“Six this time – so you know I mean business. Next time you’re late it’ll be seven, then eight, and so on. No upper limit.” She smiled at him sweetly. “I’ll reset the numbers at the end of each season, so you’ll start out next season at six again.”
“Petra!”
She sighed. “Rick, honey, you’re a nice guy. Everyone loves you like crazy, me included, but I figure that you need treating like I treat my subs: you screw up – you get punished. If it saves you from self-destructing, and your career from going down the pan, then I’m happy, even if you don’t thank me for it. Like I said, Rick, I’ve seen it happen before.”
“You’re a mean, mean woman, Petra.” Rick stuck out his lower lip in a pout.
Petra rolled her eyes. “And you’re one of the good guys. I’m doing this out of love. You’re worth saving, Rick.” She stood up, grinning at him.
“Hah! Love!”
“Yes, honey. Love.” She patted the side of his cheek and then went and opened the door. “Out – get back to work. And report to the discipline room at 1pm sharp.”
“Yes, Chief,” Rick grumbled, ambling towards the door. He was still dressed in his character’s clothes, and he felt entirely in character as Agent Alex Tanner after a chewing out by Chief Christie.
Petra snorted. “Oh, trust me, Rick – Chief Christie is a pussycat compared to me. You screw up, and I will punish your ass until you get back in line.”
“Ah well. You win some, you lose some.” Rick grinned at her cheerfully as he left the room.
The thought of official discipline didn’t bother him; he’d experienced it plenty of times in his life and while he didn’t like it, he could handle it. The lack of partying bothered him more. What the hell was he going to do with himself for the next four months if he couldn’t go out clubbing?
An idea occurred to him, and he took a detour to find the craft services manager, Gloria. This whole discipline thing might suck, but if anyone knew how to make the best of a bad time it was Rick, and Gloria was just the person to help.
“Hey, people!” he announced when he returned to the set, jumping onto Agent Tanner’s desk so everyone could hear. “It’s party time! Our beloved leader, Lady Petra, says this cute little tush has to take some punishment at 1pm.” He patted his ass theatrically. “So, you’re all invited.” He flashed a broad grin around the room. “The popcorn and Cokes are on me.”
The room exploded in a buzz of gossip, and Rick laughed. He figured it was better to let everyone know about his imminent punishment and give them all some fun at his expense, rather than getting embarrassed about it and skulking around, hoping that nobody would find out.
“About time. Someone should have taken a paddle to your tardy ass years ago,” one of the crew called out, and Rick mock-spanked his own ass in response.
There was a general mood of amusement in the room. Someone would probably sell the story about Rick O’Shea taking a workplace spanking to the Daily Investigator, but Rick didn’t care. There was no point trying to control this kind of story – it always got out. He didn’t think it did his reputation as a hell-raiser any harm anyway.
He jumped down off the desk and was engulfed by a crowd wanting all the juicy details about what Petra had said to him. He spent the rest of the break laughing about it until it was time to shoot the next scene. Then the crowd around him dispersed… except for one person.
Matt stood before him, looking genuinely shaken. “Rick… I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Petra did that.”
“Oh, hey.” Rick flicked a strand of blond hair off the kid’s face. “It’s fine.”
“But… I mean… did she give you any warning?”
“I think she might have mentioned it last time I was late.” Rick shrugged. “I wasn’t really listening.”
Matt let out an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Rick, you’re so stupid.”
“I know. I can’t help it.” Rick spread his arms wide in a gesture of helplessness. “Hey, Matty, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“About what I said earlier, about you deserving it – you know I didn’t mean that,” Matt blurted. “I was just nervous about the scene and all that waiting around didn’t help, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart – I know that.” Rick gave Matt a fond smile. Underneath the OCD and the weird counting fetish, the kid had a good heart. He was a cutie as well – twenty-five years old, about five ten in height, with a strong, slender body that he kept toned by doing vigorous bouts of yoga. He had a mop of unruly blond hair and the sweetest pair of blue eyes Rick had ever seen. No wonder he was able to bring a special kind of innocence to his portrayal of Agent Ben Harris; there was something of the little boy lost about Matt, just as there was about the character he played. “You take things way too seriously, Matty. Life’s too short and none of this shit really matters.”
“Yes, it does,” Matt protested. “It’s your career, Rick. There are some things you should take seriously.”
“Lighten up, kid.” Rick patted Matt’s arm. “Now, what are we shooting next?” he called out, glancing around. “And if it’s a scene where I have to bend over the chief’s desk for punishment, then I’m going home.”
Everyone laughed, and Rick soaked it up. He was on fire for the next few hours, laughing and joking around between takes, keeping the cast and crew entertained while hitting it out of the ballpark during scenes. He loved feeling like this – although it was a shame it took an imminent punishment to spike his adrenaline so effectively.
At 12:50 he rounded everyone up and led them over to the discipline room, feeling like the pied piper – he had most of the cast and crew behind him, laughing and joking as they went. Petra was waiting by the door, a sour look on her face.
“Leading a revolt against your sentence, Rick?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd he’d brought with him.
“No way! These guys are here to watch the fun,” Rick replied. Gloria was standing outside the discipline room with a table full of sodas and popcorn. “Help yourselves, guys,” Rick yelled, waving at the table. “Let the entertainment begin!” he added, running into the discipline room like it was his favorite place on earth.
The room wasn’t used very often, so it smelled musty, but the studio disciplinarian was ready and waiting. He came over, hand outstretched.
“I’m Miles Green, and I’m going to be performing your discipline today. I’m a great fan of yours. Oh, man! I can’t believe I’m gonna be spanking Richard O’Shea!”
“Hah! Enjoy it, my friend. Half the country would love to be in your place – well, fans of the show anyhow. They can’t get enough of Alex Tanner taking a good spanking.”
“You’re not Alex Tanner, though,” Petra told him, coming over. “You’re an actor, not a federal agent, Rick.”
He laughed and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. “Aw, c’mon, Petra, it’s gonna be fun. Don’t spoil the show. We’ve gotta keep the mob entertained, or they might turn ugly.” He jerked his head in the direction of the viewing gallery, which was now full to bursting point.
Petra rolled her eyes at his obvious over-dramatization. “Just remember, unlike on the show, your ass does actually get tanned in here. We don’t cut away, and you don’t get to act the reaction shot. Although it might improve your acting to actually experience it once in a while,” she commented darkly.
“Aw – are you saying my acting sucks?” Rick pouted.
“No, I’m saying that you’re playing one of TV’s most famous subs – but you’re a dom. It won’t do you any harm to take a spanking every now and then – it might help you get in character.” She went to take her place in the viewing gallery.
“I much prefer giving them,” Rick called after her.
“Ready?” Green asked, pointing at the spanking bench.
“I’m ready. You guys ready?” Rick yelled to the audience.
“Ready, Rick!” came back the howled reply. People were laughing, chomping on their popcorn, and generally enjoying themselves, and that made Rick happy.
He walked over to the punishment bench with Green beside him.
“So, I have to read you your rights and stuff,” Green said, opening a file and drawing out a laminate.
“Save it – I know the drill. I’ve been here before.” Too many times, but there was no reason for anyone else to know that. If Petra thought six with the strap was going to have any effect, she really had no idea. He’d taken worse – far worse.
“Here goes, people. The great Richard O’Shea ass gets an airing. Savor the moment.” Rick announced, as he slowly pulled his belt out of his jeans, sashaying from side to side like he was doing a striptease. His co-workers all whistled and catcalled, and he took a bow and threw his belt onto the floor.
“Uh… we don’t usually do it this way,” Green murmured to him. “Just… uh… well, pants down and over the punishment bench please, Mr. O’Shea.”
“Aw! You’re taking all the fun out of it.” Rick allowed himself to be nudged over to the bench, and he took down his pants and boxers and leaned forward. It might have been a while, but it was an old, familiar position – he knew what to do.
The punishment bench was designed to hide the miscreant’s private parts from the watching crowd – all they could see from their position was his face – and that was easily visible so that people could see justice being done, etched in his reaction. Some people screamed when they were punished – and Rick decided to do just that.
When the first stroke fell he gave a theatrical yelp, which caused the crowd to laugh. He let the laugh warm him – being a clown had always been his refuge whenever he was under fire.
His ass felt hot just from the one stroke, but he could handle it. He stuck his ass out even more, winking broadly at the crowd, and screamed loudly at the next stroke. He yelped and hollered his way through the next four, making a huge fuss about each one, while winking and grinning at the audience the entire time.
When his sixth had been delivered he stood up, pulled up his pants, and came forward to take a bow, amid the sound of riotous applause.
“My dear co-workers, I apologize for my many faults and defects, and most particularly my crappy timekeeping,” Rick told them. “I trust you feel I have been duly and adequately chastised – and that you will find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
Another round of applause assured him that his audience agreed on both counts – and, more importantly, that they still loved him.
They started to file out, and he retrieved his belt from the floor as he watched them go. Daniel came over and gave him the kind of shrewd, knowing look that Chief Christie was always giving Alex Tanner. Rick found himself squirming as much under that steady gaze as Tanner always did.
“One of your more embellished performances,” Daniel murmured.
“Well, over-acting always was my forte,” Rick replied, trying to deflect the intensity of that steady gaze. He glanced down at his belt as his fingers fumbled while threading it through his jeans.
“Oh, I think you’re a much better actor than you give yourself credit for,” Daniel said gently.
Rick glanced up at him sharply, and Daniel reached out, squeezed his arm briefly, and then he left. Rick stared after him, feeling antsy after the punishment, although he had no idea why. His ass was hot and sore, but that wasn’t the problem. He could handle that, but the weird emotions he was experiencing weren’t so easy to handle. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so he wandered over to Matt’s trailer and knocked on the door.
“You weren’t there,” Rick said, brushing past Matt when he opened the door, and going inside.
“No.”
Rick turned to see Matt shrugging. “Why? There was popcorn and soda. It was fun.”
“Not for me. Honestly, Rick, why do you get yourself into these scrapes? It’s all so avoidable. Sometimes, I swear you go out of your way to cause havoc. Why can’t you just…?”
“Be more like you?” Rick raised an eyebrow. “Counting every bird in the sky, every cookie on the table, every time someone sneezes? Always obeying the law to the letter, never getting into trouble, and never once allowing yourself to let your hair down and have a good time?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I just like things to be in their proper place and organized. It’s simpler that way. Anyway, why the hell do you care if I was there or not?”
“I don’t, I just wondered, that’s all. I thought you might still be mad at me for being late today.”
Rick poked at the fruit in the bowl on Matt’s coffee table thoughtfully, like he was seriously considering eating it.
“Leave it alone.” Matt slapped his hand away. “Everyone knows you haven’t eaten anything healthy since about 1973.”
“Just how old do you think I am?” Rick asked, pouting.
“You’re thirty-two. Your birthday is on November 5 when you’ll be thirty-three,” Matt told him automatically. “It’s numbers.” He shrugged apologetically. “I can’t help myself. They stick in my brain.”
“You’re weird, Matty.” Rick stared at him, his head on one side. “But as long as you’re not still mad at me, I don’t care.”
“I’m not still mad at you.” Matt sighed. “I just don’t like the thought of you taking licks in public. It’s demeaning.”
“Nah. It’s fine. I’m a dom – I can handle it.”
“Well, sometimes I’ve wondered,” Matt said thoughtfully.
“If I can handle it? Of course I can. I once -”
“Wondered if you’re actually a dom. You do play Alex Tanner very convincingly.”
Rick looked up and then burst out laughing. “Oh, Matt. Matty Matt Mattser. I’ve known I was a dom since I was about thirteen years old. But hey, if you ever want me to top you just say the word, and I’ll prove it.” He gave Matt a lascivious wink.
“No, thank you,” Matt replied primly. “I prefer my doms a little more…”
“Boring? Talking of which, how is that accountant you’re dating? Emmy, Emma, Ermentrude… whatever her name is.”
“It’s Emily, and she’s fine. It’s great. Wonderful. And… uh… the sex is good.” Matt thrust his chin out defensively as he said that.
“Oh, I’m sure the sex is very sensible, well-organized and controlled.” Rick grinned.
“Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t actually necessary for sparks to fly in order to have good sex,” Matt replied tartly. “Emily and I share common values and attitudes and are very well suited.”
“Of course you are. Her job is counting things and your hobby is counting things; it’s a match made in heaven.”
“I’ve certainly kept count of how many stupid things you’ve done since I met you,” Matt retorted.
“Really?” Rick winked. “How many?”
“Sixty-two – if you count every single instance of lateness as coming under the general umbrella of ‘late’. If you count each one individually, then it’s 109.”
“Wow. Can you list them all, as well?”
“I can, starting with the day we first met, when you showed up on your Harley making a loud fanfare and parked it in the showrunner’s parking space.”
“Hmm… you know, I can count, too. For example, I can count every single orgasm I’ve given to every single sub I’ve ever topped. D’you want to hear about those?”
Matt flushed. “No.”
Rick laughed; teasing Matt was always so much fun.
“Oh, you’re infuriating. I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you having to take public discipline,” Matt said irritably. “Did it hurt, by the way?”
“Nah. Well… yeah. But I deserved it. The worst part was that Petra ‘strongly suggested’ I shouldn’t go out clubbing again until hiatus.”
“But that’s four months away.”
“I know! That’s what I said.” Rick shook his head mournfully. “She didn’t care.”
“Is she allowed to do that? I mean, you can do what you like in your personal time, can’t you?”
“Well, like I said, it was more a suggestion than an order, but as she has the power to fire me I guess I’ll just have to do what she says.” Rick shrugged.
“Hah! Four months without clubbing? I bet you don’t last more than a week.”
“A whole week?” Rick grinned. “Wow – you’ve got a higher opinion of me than I thought. I don’t think I’ll make it through the weekend.”
“If you get yourself fired, I’ll never forgive you,” Matt said plaintively, sitting down on the couch, next to the fruit bowl.
“Aw – this means you do actually like me after all.” Rick gave Matt a cat-got-the-cream smile. “I knew you did really, even though you call me names, and throw things at me, and stuff.”
“I do not like you! I’m just thinking about all the fuss the press will make if you go and get yourself fired. They’ll hang around my house for weeks, looking for a quote.”
“Nah – I think it’s because you like me.” Rick flashed Matt his most infuriating grin and strode towards the trailer door.
He managed to duck, just in time, as a well-aimed apple almost hit the back of his head.
Really – subs throwing things at him twice in one day? Rick chuckled to himself as he left the trailer: he must be doing something right.
Chapters 4 - 6You can buy Ricochet from: Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, Amazon.es, Amazon.jp, Kobo or in various different formats from Smashwords for only $5.99!