Guest Stars

This is probably not the next chapter many of you are hoping for, but I promise it's coming up. Thank you to everyone who's been following along and commenting.

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Interlude: Monique

The wrap party wasn't a huge affair. Part of that had to do with the budget; they didn't have a lot left over to splurge and really go crazy like some big-budget productions. But they still rented out a hotel ballroom and got a huge spread of food and an open bar.

The small crowd was from a combination of it not being a particularly large movie (not counting background extras there were maybe 13 speaking roles) and their dismissing a good amount of the crew for the last month and a half of filming so Dakota wouldn't have to show herself off to more people than necessary.

It was still bittersweet. Four months was a long time, especially condensed into the intense environment of a film shoot. Relationships, both casual and intimate, had formed and reality now intruded for better or worse.

For some, though, it had happened much sooner than that. And reality hadn't just intruded, it had breached the gates and set fire to the stronghold.

Dakota had stood up in front of the crowd and given her thank you speech. She was friendly and funny, thanking everyone for helping her move past being a dorky teenager. She made jokes about coping with being in everyone's 'mental porno cast' from then on, and joked that she was so sick of taking orders that she'd probably scream at the flight attendants when they told her to put her seatbelt on.

Monique had known it was an act. The confrontation with Mistress Samira, followed by the scene with her and Danny, had wrecked her. She'd refused to discuss it with Monique, at one point throwing back in her face the warning she'd given Dakota; she wasn't a real psychologist.

Monique

had

studied psychology, however, and knew there was a lot of risk right now. Dakota had been able to focus on getting the film done. Remembering her lines, her cues, her blocking, her schedule, everything. Now she had nothing. There were no obligations on her time. There was nothing to focus her mind on anymore. And due to her own choices and life circumstances, she had no real family or friends to lean on either.

By working the room, she eventually figured out Dakota had gone to a room in the hotel. Danny was also gone, and a lot of the crew were joking that the two of them were finally giving in to the sexual tension building up through the entire film.

Monique knew that wasn't true. Danny's ex wife and his kids had been visiting the set on weekends. Dakota had actually been entertaining his kids. First she was the celebrity star neither of them ever thought they would meet and just kept them captivated by her mere existence. Then she gradually morphed into the friendly big sister that was old enough to fit into the "mentor" category but young enough to "get" the kids. All of which had given their parents time to reconnect. Despite his wanting to keep it secret, at least twenty people knew Danny had absconded with his family and planned to give his ex a box with a diamond in it.

Monique found Dakota's room, braced herself, and knocked. She had no idea what she'd find in there, and had already promised herself that if Dakota didn't answer, she would get the manager. Major life changes were always shocks, and sometimes people didn't cope well.

She let out a sigh of relief when she heard the fumbling of someone undoing locks. Then she almost coughed when she inhaled as the door opened. She didn't think licorice-flavored paint thinner was a thing, but Dakota had apparently found some.

"Oh, it's you, good," Dakota said, her voice unsteady.

She only had a robe on, and when she'd answered the door Monique got an eyeful. It shouldn't have been a shock, really, given how much of the past month Dakota had been naked on set, but context was everything. There was a difference between seeing an actress nude and made-up for a performance and seeing a woman answer her hotel room door half-naked with her hair a mess.

Monique followed Dakota into the room, dreading what she might see. She let out another sigh of relief when there weren't any other naked bodies on either of the two beds, nor was there a hand mirror or baggies of powder or pills anywhere. The bottle of liquor Dakota currently held seemed to be the only one open, though Dakota saw another one, sealed, sitting on the dresser under the TV. She did raise an eyebrow at the porn scene playing on the TV, showing a redheaded girl completely entwined in ropes, including several that deformed her generous tits. What seemed to be a whole crowd of men hovered around her, taunting, poking, and generally abusing her.

"I need you to tie me...oooh," Dakota stopped to let out a breath, "Tie me up. And then you're gonna fuck me."

"Dakota, that's not-"

"You're the intimacy coordinator!" Dakota insisted loudly, "so...so coordinate the intinimiacy!"

Dakota took another pull from the bottle in her hand and grimaced. "What the fuck. How does she drink this?"

Monique sighed and prepped herself for a long night.

=-=-=-=-=

Two hours later, Monique stepped out of Dakota's room. She went back down to the lobby with the two bottles, one with only a quarter of its contents left. She figured she'd hand the other one back to the bartender.

Regis caught her at the entrance and his French was frantic.

"Did you find Dakota?"

"Yes," she replied in kind, "Stupid girl was drinking herself blind in a hotel room. And yes, she was alone."

Monique had never quite figured out the dynamic between Regis and Dakota. His concern definitely wasn't fatherly, maybe more like an elder sibling? But it also had questionable motives. Everything he'd worried about with Dakota could be genuine concern, but it also could have just been a director worried about his star's ability to perform and represent the movie.

He stood fretting for a moment, though he looked a little less panicked. "Will she be okay?"

Monique mentally recalled the session of fending off come-ons, crying, screaming in anger, vomiting, and exhaustion she'd just shepherded the nineteen-year-old through.

"She's not going to die tonight," Monique said, "Everything else is up in the air."

Regis pulled out his phone and tapped on it, then Monique felt hers vibrate with a notification. "I just sent you info. We set aside some money for psychological help."

"Really?" Monique asked.

Regis rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot. Teri warned me about how intense things might get. I thought we were going to have to use it on Danny so he could come to terms with what he'd have to do to Dakota. But after that woman Samira visited..."

"Yeah," Monique agreed.

They all remembered that day of shooting. They thought they'd seen intensity during Samira's demonstration with Dakota.

When Regis had said "action" that day, Mistress Samira had let herself out.

Samira had kept Dakota in that pseudo-trance state she'd called "subspace" for forty-five minutes of shooting. She'd basically taken over direction, too. Regis had just said what kind of reactions he needed and then Samira had played Dakota's body like a fiddle. A finger here, a palm there, rubbing and caressing or spanking and striking. Monique remembered thinking if Regis had said he needed Dakota to bark like a dog, Mistress Samira would have found a way to make it happen.

And the end of it...Samira had just said she was going to prime Dakota for the end of the scene, and told Danny to be ready. All he was supposed to do was drop the flogger, walk forward, grab Dakota, and then move to suggest he'd thrust into her. Samira had laid down on the couch beneath Samira so she wasn't visible to the camera shooting from behind it. Everyone had seen her hand up between Dakota's thighs. They'd watched the girl start shaking, then begging, crying out for a release. That had been when Monique suddenly wished she was Dakota. She'd never been in a state where she was begging for an orgasm while also obviously in so much pleasure.

Samira had ordered Danny then. Danny walked up behind Dakota, grabbed the girl's breasts, and twisted the nipples while shoving his hips forward. There had been no penetration; he'd made a motion like he pulled himself out of his boxers when he got behind her, but the camera angle hid the fact that he'd stayed tucked away. Everyone could tell he also wasn't hard. Monique could understand that. The scene was obviously erotic but it was also frightening; Dakota had looked like she'd literally lost her mind.

If the lead up was frightening, the orgasm was terrifying. Samira had shouted down people who called for medics and forced Danny to stay where he was so the cameras could capture Dakota's complete undoing.

"Did you actually get enough footage when you yelled cut?" Monique asked. The question had been nagging her since the filming.

"I did. But I didn't know it at the time. I just...Samira wouldn't let anyone help because we were still filming. Then...Well afterward it didn't matter."

Monique just nodded. As soon as Regis had yelled cut Samira had gathered Dakota into her arms. The two women who'd been stiff and prickly toward each other for two days had curled into each other on the couch like lovers. She knew Regis had kept a camera on them. She'd seen the footage afterward of Samira caring for Dakota. They'd set up a similar scene with Danny and Dakota a few days later as the aftermath of the sex, but the impact wasn't the same.

"She was right," Regis said, "I asked her to cameo in the movie, write her in as another dom visiting or something, but it would have ruined it. Comparing Danny to Samira..."

They stood in silence. Monique didn't share with anyone that when she'd gone to Dakota's trailer a while after Samira had taken her there, she'd seen Samira leave. She'd practically stumbled out of the trailer, furiously rubbing her eyes, and needed a long time to collect herself before she could stand straight and put on a stern face again. Monique had backed away and they'd passed each other "coincidentally" where it looked like Monique hadn't been close enough to see. She'd still caught the tears flowing down Samira's cheeks as the woman walked.

"Monique, I know it's not part of your job, but will you help make sure she's okay? I...I feel like I did this to her, but I know I won't be able to help," Regis said.

Monique looked at her phone and pulled up the message from weeks ago.

> We will fix this

"I'll do what I can," she said.

Interlude: Mira

Mira looked at her phone and pulled up the message from weeks ago.

> We will fix this

A huge knot of guilt settled into her stomach. She felt the cool breeze come in through the window and sneak under the sheets of the bed where it caused goosebumps up and down her nude body. Then she jumped and flipped the phone down when she heard the water start in the shower.

Looking over, she could see the powerfully curvy form of Samira Nazari slipping out of the silky robe she'd donned when she got up that morning. She clenched muscles between her legs and winced at the soreness she felt.

She didn't exactly know how things had gotten so out of control.

When they'd come back from the film set Mira thought she'd been subtle. She made sure to highlight but not obviously call out the line items on expenses related to the trip, and she'd forwarded all the e-mails people sent just to wish her a happy and relaxing vacation.

A week later, she'd asked Samira what happened to the whip she brought on the trip and Samira had fixed her with a stare that made her shiver. When Samira was sure she'd held Mira's attention, she said, "Miss el-Awan. I don't know if you think you are being subtle, but you aren't. Whatever your opinion of what you saw with me on the trip or whatever your personal desires are related to it, I neither care nor am I interested in participating. If you bring any of those topics up with me again, it will be the last conversation we ever have."

Mira supposed she'd gotten a little selfish at that point. Why not have her cake and eat it too?

Once she was sure the coast was clear, so to speak, she'd resumed the heavy flirting with Samira during the course of the day. Suggesting she was horny, begging her boss to take her on the desk, asking her if she needed Mira to come home and take care of her at night, all of it.

She figured the flirting would keep Samira in the right mindset to think about her personal relationships.

Then it had been a late night at the office because they were waiting for critical feedback from a US contact. They'd finally gotten the call at one in the morning. After they got their update and hung up, Mira had quipped, "You know, you could have told me to strip down and crawl under the desk and the wait would have been much more interesting for both of us."

Samira had seemed to almost teleport over in front of Mira and was suddenly standing over her. "What would you do, my little Mira, if I called one of your bluffs?" Samira had purred at her.

Mira had been shocked (and slightly scared) into not moving, so Samira did instead. Their lips had locked, their clothes had disappeared, and shortly afterward Samira had eaten Mira out on the desk the way Mira had been teasing her about for weeks.

After that, the flirting had gone way down, but no more than three days went by without Mira waking up in Samira's bed.

Mira convinced herself that she was still remaining true to their goals. She could never be the perfect lover for Samira; she wasn't submissive enough and had absolutely no interest in the games Samira played with her subs. Samira definitely took the lead when they were in bed, but there was no "mistress", no demanding orders, and no BDSM gear of any kind. She figured the gaps in her abilities as a bedmate would remind her boss of what she was missing. Her mind would turn back to Dakota, and Mira would let her go to chase the woman she clearly belonged with.

But after three weeks with Samira just maintaining the same "coworkers with benefits" arrangement and not showing any signs she wanted more, Mira began to feel guilty. It got worse after Monique texted her and let her know that the end of filming had been rough for Dakota and the girl might be headed for rehab or some sort of inpatient facility for depression.

She hadn't wanted to admit it, but Mira had seen a change in Samira as well. She had always been blunt and efficient, but since coming back from the film set she'd been downright ruthless. Several managers in the organization had been publicly humiliated by Samira in various ways because of inefficiencies and mistakes in their areas of responsibility. One of them, upon being handed an unfavorable review of his departments, had challenged Samira to do his job for a week. She had stepped in and done his job on top of her normal responsibilities, increased his department's productivity by 10%, reduced the error rate by 20%, and made several staff aware of benefits details they'd missed, issues she knew about when she spoke to the employees in question. At the end of the week the former manager had been let go and one of the people there had been promoted to manager.

Still, the staff in that unit hadn't

liked

her, per se. They appreciated the impact she had, but Mira had visited Samira multiple times while she stationed herself in the department and the people there seemed to treat her like a wrathful god; you appreciated what they did, you admired their power, and you were thankful for their help, but you never wanted to interact with them or be called to their attention in case they smote you.

After the note about Dakota's condition, Mira refocused on the overall goal. She was having fun, and Samira knew how to take care of a girl even without whips and floggers. But Mira knew it was just fun for them.

So she'd tried to push Samira's mindset in the right direction by waiting for her in bed wearing the most stereotypically risqué harem girl costume she could find. When Samira had walked in to Mira welcoming her "mistress" home and promising she, the harem girl, was willing and eager to cater to her every need, Samira had frozen in shock for maybe two minutes.

Then she'd proceeded to fuck the hell out of Mira.

A few different toys had been laid out by Mira, just thinking she'd offer Samira some variety. Fifteen minutes later, she'd been tied to the headboard by her own scarf and harem pants, had a vibrator with a clit tickler and g-spot massager jammed in her pussy at full blast, had two clamps on her nipples and a gag in her mouth that was connected to the chain linking the two clamps. All of this was while Samira had taken a harness and was using it and the large dildo slid inside it to fuck Mira's ass harder than she'd been fucked

anywhere

in her whole life.

She wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed by how she must have looked in the middle of everything, or that she'd cum more often and harder than ever. She'd seen the term "feargasm" online, usually used as a joke, but she felt like she'd actually had several that night.

Mira had brought a change of clothes and stashed them. She just had to walk gingerly to get them.

"There's no need to slip out all dirty," Samira told her, emerging from the bathroom wearing only a towel, though it did cover everything, "Feel free to wash up."

"Thanks, but I should get going," Mira said.

"You aren't injured, are you?" Samira asked, "I know I asked last night but I'm hoping nothing else cropped up?"

"No, no; I'm okay," Mira insisted.

She didn't want to admit that what drove her was a sense of guilt, but also of fear. She had an odd, almost primal sense that if she didn't get out of that apartment before Samira finished showering and dressing, she wouldn't be allowed to leave.

=-=-=-=-=

She spent the weekend trying to come up with clever ways to get through to Samira and shift her thinking back to subjects that would remind her of Dakota. She considered dyeing her hair blonde but figured that was too on the nose. She had ordered a garter belt and stockings like the ones Dakota had worn; they would arrive that Wednesday.

Mira still felt a little guilty about seducing the woman to do it, but, again, there wasn't any reason she couldn't get something out of this.

She was a bit confused when she got a message to report to the apartment of Tahir al-Dubai, but she knew sometimes he held important executive discussions there. She guessed Samira wanted her around for one.

She got to the building and was guided up to his apartment. She smiled as she remembered being introduced to Samira for the first time. Despite what Samira might have assumed, she didn't sleep with Tahir, though she did treat him to a full view of her naked body. She would have fucked him if he'd asked. He was a Sheikh's son, after all.

She got up to the apartment and walked past the lowered lounge area where she'd first met Samira. Tahir came around the corner with a wide smile, which Mira returned along with his greeting. Then she was confused when a larger man came out with a suitcase.

"Mira, great news," he said, "Samira has recommended you for a manager position at our operations in Los Angeles."

"Los-...In the

United States

!?" Mira blurted.

"That is the Los Angeles I'm referring to, yes," Tahir confirmed, "It is unfortunately a bit of an urgent need, so we would need you to travel today. Samira contacted some people within the company and they arranged travel and luggage for you. Our offices are in the process of securing an apartment for you there as well. It should be all in hand by the time you arrive."

"But...I...Samir-...I mean Miss Nazari needs-"