Porter (Dick Dynasty #1) (12 page)

“What?” he spun around and flushed a brilliant red.

“Nothing,” I tried to control the chuckles that kept jumping out of me, “I’m just not used to modesty is all. In this industry, everyone just walks around with their cocks swinging freely in your face. It was refreshing, I suppose.”

“Oh,” he smiled sheepishly as I finally pulled the leather over my hips and tucked my package inside, “I don’t get naked in front of many people, let alone dudes. Not to mention you’re the biggest porn star in the world. It’s… intimidating.”

“First rule of Porn Club, Brandon:” I chuckled at my own joke, “You’ve got the biggest cock in the room. Even if you have a pencil dick, you act like it’s something Godzilla would be proud to call his own.”

“What?” confusion and shock washed over his face, “Porn club? What are you talking about?”

“If you’re gonna make it in this industry, that’s the mentality you have to have. I assume that’s why you wanted to be on set today, right? A foot in the door?”

“No!” I was growing accustomed to the nice shade of maroon his face could turn in an instant, “I wanted to be here because you’re shooting with Chardonnay Hilton! I own every film she’s ever done and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to see her perform live!”

Well that’s a first…

I was still staring at him in surprise when a bang like a gunshot sounded at the door, “Your two minutes are up! Get your ass out here and do your fucking job!”

Brandon raised an eyebrow, “Are all porn directors like that asshole?”

I threw an arm over his shoulder and led him to the door, “Not all of them. He’s an exceptionally irritating case of asshole, even for this industry.”

Another series of loud bangs filled the room, spiking my blood pressure and causing us both to jump.

I ripped the door open with such force that Ken stumbled backwards several steps in surprise.

I held up my left hand to Brandon, “Help me get into this stupid thing?”

Dangling from my fingertips was a leather shoulder harness. Two-inch strips of black leather, studded with metal rivets formed the straps that would go over my shoulders. They were attached in a figure-eight formation by a stainless steel D-ring that would sit right between my shoulder blades. The contraption would force my shoulders back, highlighting my pecs for the camera, and the leather would be pulled tight enough to dig into my shoulders a little bit and make my already large biceps look absolutely massive.

Shoulder gear had always been a plus in my book. Leather was one of the few things from work that I was willing to take into the privacy of my own bedroom. I was just glad that I didn’t get paid to wear the pants for very long. They were already starting to chafe.

Brandon made a show of helping me into the harness that I very clearly could have gotten into myself, and followed a few steps behind me as I made my way to the set.

A massive four-poster bed loomed in the center of the room. The frame had been painted a matte black as well as the backdrop and floor. A shockingly vibrant splash of red silk covered the mattress and box spring. Sprawled in the center of the sea of strawberry-colored bedding was a redhead with a delicate frame, loose flowing hair, and milky-white skin for days. Her patent leather stilettos were the same color as the sheets and so was her corset.

Even her lips popped with the color.

All I could think about was how much of a bitch it would be to wash that lipstick off my junk after the shoot was finished.

“She’s even more perfect in person,” Brandon whispered from my side.

“Just stay quiet and keep out of everyone’s way,” I advised, “Assistant or no, you get in the way, they
will
make you leave. If you have to, find a dark corner and rub one out. You might have to fight a camera guy for it though. You’ve been warned.”

We parted ways at the toy rack.

After a cursory glance, I could tell we’d probably only end up using three or four of the two-dozen props they had brought in. My bets were on the dildo, the butt plug, the riding crop, and, God willing, the ball gag.

Chardonnay and I exchanged brief introductions. It was just enough for me to decide that she was a frosty bitch both on and off the set. I wasn’t sure who I was less excited about working with for the next three hours, her or the psychotic director.

“Now that our leading man has overcome his drinking problem, let’s get this show on the road!”

I nearly ripped the megaphone out of Ken’s hand and stuffed it down his throat.

The crew sprang into action as lights were repositioned and run through their different settings. Filters were changed out, seemingly at Ken’s whim, brightness was adjusted, some lights were even swapped out entirely only to be changed back to where they’d been when they started.

For someone who was so pissed off that I wasn’t on set on time, there sure seemed to be a lot of shit left to do before we could start shooting.

My costar huffed out a long, bored breath beside me.

“Has he been like this all morning?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, “at least he’s not throwing things anymore. He really doesn’t like you or your brothers very much.”

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, causing the leather to strain against my bulk, “There are a lot of people who don’t like my family. The Westboro Baptists picketed our house once. Now
that’s
a special brand of stupid right there.”

She laughed quietly, showing the first sign that she wasn’t an absolute ice queen, “I worked with Parker once. He told me the story. Did they really stand out there for two days with signs and yell at you guys every time you came out of the house?”

“Yup. Poor Preston was only about six at the time. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on. He had snuck out to play and they yelled and screamed at him until he ran back into the house in tears. My mom had to lock me in the bathroom to keep me from going out there and doing something stupid. My dad was off on some shoot, of course, so I felt like it was my job, as the man of the house, to make them leave.”

“Did Parker really shoot off a shotgun to get them to leave?”

It was my turn to laugh.

“No,” I smiled, “I’m surprised he told you that version instead of the one where he lobbed a beehive into the middle of them. That’s always been his favorite. Unfortunately, the real story is a bit mundane. We just stayed inside for so long that they got bored and went away. If you go to their website, I think there’s still a page where they brag about the two-day stand they took against moral corruption outside the Ruff House. Those people are whack jobs.”

“If you two are done,” the megaphone screeched, “you have paychecks to earn.”

“I’m gonna kill him before this is through,” I growled to her through gritted teeth.

“Not if I beat you to it,” she chirped. The million-dollar smile on her face could’ve fooled even me.

At least I finally got to work with someone with some acting skills!

Unfortunately, it turned out that her only real ability was smiling.

Staging was tedious at best. Blocking was like trying to teach a cat to play dead. The girl just didn’t get it. Luckily, the script wasn’t too complicated. She only had to have her lines read back to her a dozen times each.

Ken had blown through an entire pack of cigarettes before the cameras even started rolling.

“Clear the set!” he screamed into his microphone.

Finally
, it was time to start shooting.

I made my way over to the fluffer. She was probably in her early twenties. Mid-length brunette hair, too much eye makeup, and a tan so dark you could tell she spent at least four days a week in a tanning bed. Her eye shadow was silver over her greyish-green eyes and her lipstick, as she took my cock in her mouth, was Barbie pink.

I let my head fall back and stared up into the darkness of the rafters over head while she did her business.

Ken called Chardonnay back on scene and that was my cue. I retrieved my now-stiff anatomy from the pearly-pink clutches of Hooker Barbie and did my best to tuck it back into the tight leather.

It looked like I had a nine and a half inch club vacuum-sealed to my leg.

I shook my head over the cheesy representation of BDSM and walked into frame.

“It’s
my
fantasy, right?” Chardonnay asked in a low, smoky voice, “That means I can make you do whatever I want, right?”

I crossed my arms in front of me causing my biceps to bulge and strain against the harness and my pecs to swell into massive pads of muscle. I just nodded my head slowly in response to her question.

She reached over to the wall of toys that had been wheeled next to the bed, “I wanna start with this one.”

She grabbed the flogger off the rack and slapped it gently against her palm. It was black leather, about eighteen inches in total length, with dozens of strips that, if used properly, could leave tiny little welts without causing any actual damage.

I held out my hand and waited for her to place the handle in my palm.

Instead of doing what had been blocked out, she shook her head and bit her bottom lip. She ran the handle of it between her legs and curled a finger at me, motioning for me to join her on the bed.

Knowing that sometimes you just had to go with your gut, I chose to follow her lead. Ken hadn’t called cut yet, so I didn’t really have much choice.

The moment my hands and knees hit the mattress, she sprang on me like a tiger, bringing the business end of the flogger down on my lower back and ass.

“That’s for keeping me waiting,” she moaned as I grunted in surprise. I pressed her down on her back and bit her collarbone. She brought the leather straps down once again, causing my hips to jerk forward and rub my leather-clad cock against her thigh. “That one was just for fun,” she whispered in my ear.

So
that’s
how you wanna play it, huh?

I grabbed her wrist the next time she lifted her arm and stopped its descent before she could make contact again. I pried the hard leather handle from her palm and threw the thing across the room.

It was my turn to play.

I reached over to the wall of toys and drew a four-foot strand of satin into the bed with us. She smiled pretty for the camera before closing her eyes and lifting her head to be blindfolded.

Instead, I jerked her arms above her and quickly tied them to the bed.

“The best part of a fantasy,” I growled against her neck, “is how quickly it can become reality.”

Her body arched beneath me, thrusting her tits into my chest and her hips into my groin.

I made a meal out of her, nipping, licking, and kissing my way over her mostly-exposed breasts. I left the corset in place, but quickly unsnapped the garter belts attached to her panties and rolled the thigh-high socks down to the ends of her toes, massaging her long, firm legs as I went.

She squirmed with each flick of my tongue as I made my way back up to the inside of her thighs.

She let out a pealing squeal of pleasure and ground her mound against my face the first time I thrust my tongue inside of her.

That just wouldn’t do.

I grabbed the ball gag from the rack and quickly secured the metal clasp at the back of her head before flipping her over so that she was forced to support her weight with her elbows and her knees. The satin had twisted with her, drawing her hands tighter to the metal frame.

I lay down on my back with my head between her legs. She was smooth and swollen as I sucked her clit into my mouth. I applied pressure to it with my lips as I quickly flicked my tongue back and forth. She moaned against the rubber ball in her mouth and squeezed my face with her thighs.

I reached down and quickly freed my dick from the crushing pressure of the leather pants. It sprang into my hand like a lightsaber to a Jedi and I began a slow, gentle rhythm that would look good for the camera without taking me too close to the edge.

I focused on the technicalities of what I was doing. I did my best to be mindful of camera angles, lighting problems, and the fact that we needed to get a good forty-five minutes of footage out of the shoot before we could go. I also tried my hardest to ignore the camera guy with the raging hard-on practically on top of my left hand.

I slid my limb away from the offending bulge and slipped two fingers into Chardonnay. Her body jolted at the sudden intrusion and her slick entrance clamped down around the digits, crushing them in its warmth. The muscles slowly loosened up as I twisted my wrist and slowly pulled out of her while still working her with my mouth.

Another twist of the wrist and I plunged my fingers back inside her. Her body rocked backward to meet me this time and we quickly fell into a gentle rhythm.

The next time she tightened around my fingers it was accompanied by a moan as her orgasm trickled down my wrist. I continued working both of our sexes with my hands and lapped at her slit with my tongue as she rode out the wave of her first climax.

When the pulsing around my fingers finally subsided and her entire body shuddered above me, I finally slid them out of her and rose behind her with my cock still in my hand.

I used my free hand to pull my next toy off the rack and smiled when her eyes sparked with desire.

It was a riding crop about the length of my forearm. The handle fit comfortably in my palm. The two-inch keeper at the other end of the fiberglass rod was a soft and flexible strip of leather.

I flicked her hair out of the way and pressed the cool leather to her cheek, “I don’t remember telling you to come.”

I freed my other hand and used it to unlace the corset she was still cinched into. Once the back fell open and the lace and bone contraption fell to the bed, I slowly trailed the crop down her neck and spine.

When I reached the mounds of her now-bare ass, I lifted the crop several inches and brought it down on her with a snap. Not hard enough to cause any real pain, but enough to leave a pink spot and a bit of a sting.

I did the same thing on the other cheek.

I placed the crop on the bed next to us and made a show of surveying the rack for my next tool. I already knew which one was going in her next, but we had a job to do and it all had to look good on camera.