Page 29 of Baiting Kong

Scout swallowed hard at hearing that and tried not to let Mr. Duchamp see how much the change bothered him.

“Your new accessories will be added on the set.”

Accessories and no lines?

He didn’t need the man to explain any further than that; he knew exactly what kind of accessories the man meant. Donny Duchamp was a slimy little prick who made every shoot he attended a difficult session for all the actors involved. The man constantly asked for reshoots of scenes that had gone off without a hitch, repositioning them and suggesting things he felt would make the scene hotter and more appealing to the audience. Sometimes his ideas weren’t so bad, like with the cold cans of whipped cream he’d brought in a few shoots back. Scout and his scene partner had started things off with a wildly unscripted whipped cream war, spraying one another and even getting some on the lens of one of the cameras, which dripped untilthe cameraman was given permission to wipe it off. Laughing, they’d made a mess of each other and the bed before things got steamy as they used their lips and tongues to clean each other off. Of all the scenes he’d shot, that had felt the most real, mostly because they’d gotten to just have fun and get messy before things had truly gotten filthy.

Squaring his shoulders, Scout tipped his chin up and tried to stare Mr. Duchamp down, just like his brother had taught him. The man’s eyes narrowed before his lips twitched, curling into a sneer when Scout refused to look away.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Scout growled. “Whatever changes you’ve made, the whole thing is gonna suck anyway, so quit jaw-jacking about it and point me to whatever it is you want me to wear this time.”

Mr. Duchamp chuckled and stepped aside, pointing Scout towards the so-called dressing room, which was really just an old supply closet with the door removed. Most days he loved the feel of leather, but today, Scout rolled his eyes at the so-called costume that awaited him. It was really just strips of leather that crisscrossed up his thighs and along his arms, with strips going over both shoulders, like a harness with a metal ring in the center, and others that ran over his hips, like jeans with the ass and front cut out.

They’d have laughed their asses off down at the Joker’s dungeon if they’d seen the poor parody of a set they’d created. Black room, red bedding, scene partner bare-chested and kneeling on the bed in leather pants, a leather hood with eyeholes so he could see, and the mouth zipped shut.

Dangling from his finger was the ball gag he’d expected, the expression in his eyes hard and unreadable when Scout stared into them. Sighing, he sat and flipped his hair out of the way, sitting still for the man to position it. Quickly and efficiently, the man got it secured, while several other men moved aroundthe room. When the man grabbed his wrist, Scout immediately growled around the gag and tried to pull away. A little test of strength ensued until Mr. Duchamp slapped something on the comforter near Scout’s thigh, drawing his attention.

“Do you wanna get paid, or do you want to void the contract?” Mr. Duchamp asked, scowling at him until he relaxed and let his scene partner attach heavy metal cuffs to his wrists.

O-rings and tiny padlocks secured them before thin silver chains were fed through the rings and secured to more rings in the beam on the ceiling, leaving him little wiggle room, especially once they added the spreader bar to keep his legs where they positioned them. Kneeling in the center of the bed, he felt extremely exposed and a little frustrated at not being able to see the implements he could feel them placing on the bed beside his knees.

Glancing down revealed little. It was hard to turn his head in that position, and each time he tried, he just wound up with hair in his eyes. He was sure he’d spotted a cane and some kind of flogger, but nothing else was identifiable. The only thing he did know for certain was the day was gonna suck if he couldn’t get his thoughts in check.

Pretend it’s Kong, the voice in the back of his head whispered.Pretend he’s got you trussed up in one of the private rooms at the dungeon. Pretend it’s his hand stroking your side, his voice telling you that you’ve been a wicked, naughty boy who deserved to be punished.Focusing on that and not the man he was with, Scout didn’t even flinch when the first strike came. He just imagined Kong behind him, pinching each welt he raised on Scout’s tanned skin, chuckling in his ear when Scout flinched and moaned. With Kong, the punishment he received would be the perfect mix of pain, fun, and foreplay, not the sloppy slaps his scene partner treated him to.

Didn’t he know to start softer and slower to warm him up so he could sink into it easier? Obviously not, when some stings were so sharp they nearly pulled him out of the fantasy he was creating in his head.

Just needed to focus on that and only that. Hold on to the images of Kong and remember that after today, he only had to do five more shoots, just five, and he could walk away from the porn business for good.

He held on to that through the rest of the scene and afterward, during the discussion of if they needed to try reshooting at a different angle. With his hands bound and the gag still in, he hadn’t been a part of that conversation, despite how much he’d squirmed around, trying to get their attention.

In the end, one of the cameramen had been the deciding vote when he’d declared the lighting perfect on the footage he’d captured, effectively ending the debate on whether there was a need to do it again. Personally, Scout was starting to feel like Duchamp only asked for reshoots so the perverted bastard could get in another jerk-off session watching what took place on the bed.

“Sorry if I got a little rough,” his scene partner murmured in his ear as he leaned over his shoulder, trying to untangle the straps of the ball gag from Scout’s hair.

Scout sucked in a deep breath the moment the gag was free and rubbed the corner of his mouth where one of the metal pieces had dug in, hoping it hadn’t left him with a bruise he’d have to explain away later.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Scout replied, keeping his voice low as the man uncuffed his wrists. “I could hear him telling you to go harder.”

“Fuckin’ hate this job.”

“You and me both.”

The moment the last restraint had been removed, Scout scurried off the bed, stumbling the first few steps back to the dressing room. Every movement felt clumsy as he dressed back in his clothes and got the hell out of there before someone changed their minds about needing more footage.

Sore, limping, and exhausted, Scout headed back to his cabin at the Joker’s compound in the hopes of a shower and a nap before his shift at the bar. His ass burned from the paddling he received, and his shoulders ached from being suspended overhead and later bound behind his back. His side bore the imprint of the chain that had been trapped beneath his body and the mattress his scene partner had been doing his level best to fuck him through.

The man’s fingerprints were already forming bruises on every spot of skin the leather hadn’t covered on his hips. It would probably be days before they and the ones that were no doubt forming on his backside faded. Everything sucked, but he was so close to securing the other half of the payment he was owed on the contract that he was willing to endure just about anything they put him through to get it.

His back twinged when he stepped onto an uneven bit of sidewalk, a reminder of how difficult it had been to be bent forward and pinned in place while his arms were secured behind his back. There was just one thing he needed to do first, before he retreated to the silence of his room.

Provided Teddy was sleeping.

Please let him be sleeping.

Avoiding interactions with him was becoming as difficult as avoiding Kong. At times, he longed to be back at the campsite, even if it had been far less comfortable than the cabin at the Joker’s compound. He just had to hold it together for a five more shoots, then he’d be done.

Unless he landed himself in a jail cell first.

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