‘I’m not into pain,’ he wailed.
‘I won’t hurt you, sweetie,’ she said with a beaming smile. She reached a false-nailed hand up to muss his already-mussed hair. ‘It’s not proper pain, anyway. It’s pleasure-pain. Try it. You’ll see.’
‘He’s not an actor,’ objected Sebastian. ‘He doesn’t have the paperwork.’
‘He don’t have to act. He just has to get whipped and –stuff. He doesn’t have to put his cock in anyone either, so we don’t need the medical. Oh, go on, Seb.’
‘I’m tempted … We can’t force him, though. It’s assault.’
They both subjected Trevelyan to the full force of their persuasions, Evie wheedling, Sebastian cajoling until he agreed to take the place of the injured submissive.
‘Just think what a story you’ll have,’ said Sebastian, smiling, as Trevelyan began to shed his urban hipster uniform.
Adam’s sense of Schadenfreude grew to monumental proportions as he watched Trevelyan buckled into a harness and collar, then oiled by an enthusiastic Evie.
She rubbed the sheeny lotion into Trevelyan’s pale buttocks, giving him a running commentary.
‘You’re nowhere near as fit as Cal,’ she told him, gratifyingly for Adam. ‘He’s got a fucking amazing body. Yours is average.’ She frowned. ‘At best. But you’ve got a lovely little bum, really soft and tender. It’ll mark better’n Cal’s, I bet. I have to whack seven bells out of him before I get a good stripe.’
‘You don’t seem the type,’ said Trevelyan with a fearful laugh.
‘What, the mistressy type? It’s fun, that’s all. I can dish it out and I can take it. I’m lucky like that.’
‘Which do you prefer?’
‘Depends who’s the other half of the equation,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Totally depends on that.’
Kasia came over, waving some script notes.
‘OK, guys, we need to be clear on what’s going to happen. Evie, you take this guy, I can’t pronounce his name, for a walk around the garden on a leash. You give his bum a good whack every now and then, right? Then you make him do doggy tricks – sit, lie down, that kind of thing. Can you handle that?’
She stared hard at Trevelyan, who nodded.
‘We’ll do that, then move on to the next bit. So, here’s the leash …’ She attached it to Trevelyan’s collar, handing the looped end to Evie. ‘You start from the cherry tree over there. Take your places. Oh – you forgot the cock ring.’
‘The what?’ yelped Trevelyan.
Adam laughed to himself, watching Evie squeeze a tight circle of rubber over the tip of Trevelyan’s hardening cock.
‘That squeezes!’ he complained.
‘Gets you hard, though, don’t it? Come on, Trev. You need wood, love.’
She cupped her small hand around the journalist’s burgeoning prick and the laughter died in Adam’s throat. Evie’s palm exerted gentle pressure on her target until he grew, stiff and proud, to the full length.
Only then did she tug on the lead and pull him over beneath the flowering cherry tree, the pair of them standing amidst the fallen blossom like a hellfire depiction of Sin in the Garden of Eden.
A clapperboard snapped into action and Trevelyan contorted his features immediately into what he must have considered the closest approximation to a submissive expression. His tongue hung out like a dog’s, with forlorn eyes to match.
‘Lassie, come home,’ muttered Adam scornfully.
‘On your knees!’ said Evie coldly, her local burr subsumed by a heavily faked approximation of Received Pronunciation.
Trevelyan sank to the ground, looking up at his mistress.
‘Do you dare to look at me?’ she said, giving his face the lightest of slaps then grabbing his hair and forcing his chin downwards. ‘Look at that instead. That shameful erection. Who’s that for, boy? Eh?’
‘For you, uh, mistress.’