Sweet Pain 1

All of the following is complete and total fiction. Not a word of it occurred, nor would it.

Sweet Pain starring Madelaine Petsch

(MF, BDSM, Cons, Oral, Anal)

by MrMaxLord

Madelaine stared at her phone. She was alone, save for her dog Olive, in her bedroom. She felt like she'd been staring at the screen of her phone for days, despite being just fifteen minutes. It wasn't the whole screen either, just one section, one app icon in the upper righthand corner. A black square, rounded corners with a thorned white rose running diagonal across the app just above the letters "LS" written in red.

Her thumb hovered over it, feeling as though it weighed tons and needed to drop down and activate the app but something was holding her back. The redhead was wracked with desire and nerves. There was a war going on in her head between a mighty need and a powerful anxiety.

Madelaine couldn't quite place where she'd heard about the LifeStyle app first, but she learned the basics about the app in the make-up room. It was an open secret the kind of things Madelaine was into. It seemed like it was a daily event on the Riverdale set that the make-up team had to cover up bind-marks on Madelaine's wrists. Little bits of rope burn most of the time, handcuffs others. They'd joke about it of course. They were all adults after all.

While Madelaine could guess she first learned about the LS app there, she was 100% sure it was Trevor, a member of that make-up crew who first discovered she had it. He saw over Madelaine's shoulder that she had just downloaded the app and in the mirror in front she looked more than a little confused. She had no idea how to put in her profile. Except the name. She went with Madame. It sounded regal but not necessarily dominant, which she was most definitely not in the bedroom. I wasn't the mechanics of it either. That was easy. It was the content. She wasn't even sure it was right for her. She wasn't the ball gag type. Madelaine was more into being tied up, being dominated. Pleasure spiked with pain as opposed to the reverse.

Trevor decided to help her. It was aid Madelaine had no problem taking as she knew Trevor wasn't doing it just to get in her pants, given what she lacked under those pants. The set up was easy. Like, dislikes, sexual desires, a quick bio, a profile picture, all the usual trimmings but just with a BDSM flavor.

That was months ago. Madelaine hadn't checked it since. She'd even kept her profile to private so she wouldn't even get notifications. As much she wanted too, the idea of meeting someone like this still stressed her out. Just because someone read he likes and dislikes didn't mean they'd agree or be honest when contacting her. There was a lot of trust to be had with her sexual activities and something about a dating app made things all the more difficult in her head. How was she to know whether the guy was legitimately in to what she was and not much more extreme? Or if he was just someone who was experimenting and she was the extreme one, which was less dangerous but potentially much, much more embarrassing. So, she forgot about it. Months went by and she didn't even look at The LS.

Then a dry spell hit, and hit like a freight train and after two solid months the shower massager just didn't do the trick in killing the craving. Then she remembered the app and tried to fight against the urge, the curiosity. However, desire ended that battle which led Madelaine to where she was at the moment; dressed in her pajamas on her bed, staring at her phone and giving her dog a belly rub.

"Fuck it," she said, pressing her thumb to the icon and re-opening the long-dormant app. The black screen with red letters reappeared and Madelaine signed back in to her private profile. She did a quick scan of everything she and Trevor had put in all those months ago and looked at the picture she uploaded. Madelaine opted to not show her face in the profile pic. It was shoulder down and had her strawberry blonde locks on full display and her body adorned in her favorite play time outfit. It was a two piece of tight leather. The top covered her breasts, with a zipper running down the front with a silver circle as the pull. The bottoms were similar, making her already amazing ass look unearthly. To top it all off and the only thing that could really be seen above the shoulders was a choker with a chrome circle hanging off of it.

Madelaine remembered thinking this was too cliché to include as her profile pic on a BDSM hook-up app. Trevor of course pointed out cliché's didn't really matter when Madelaine had the body she had. It was just the kind of ego-boosting advice that convinced Madelaine Trevor was right. As she saw the profile picture again, she once more couldn't help but agree with Trevor.

She took a deep breath and flipped the switch. Private profile. After that she exited the app and got off the bed. She wasn't going to wait by the phone for notifications. Instead she went to the kitchen to feed the dog and make herself a quick dinner as well. Just plain old normal activities to trick the butterflies in her stomach into calming down.

Once the redhead was done making dinner she ate the quickly made pasta dish at her coffee table in the living room while editing a new YouTube video. Doing everything she could not to rush to the phone and see if she got any notifications. She ran through a checklist in her head, anything to occupy her time and not make her seem desperate for the throngs of people who'd never know how eager she was to see if she got a bite.

Wash the dishes? Check.

Walk the dog? Check.

Answer emails? Check. Everything she could come up with ended with its own unique checkmark and it had only taken an hour. She exhaled deeply and decided to tap out. The anxious redhead went back to her room and re-opened her phone, tapping the LS app as soon as the phone was unlocked.

She got some bites alright. One hundred. One hundred responses to her profile going public. That was an ego boost. What brought it down were how many of the responses just plain sucked.

There were the usual ones who were just garden variety, one pump chump perverts wanting nudes and telling them how much her profile picture made them cum and imagining what her face looked like and how it would look covered in said cum. The kind of people who clearly were not part of the lifestyle that even a sub like her would eat alive in the bedroom.

Then there were the men who despite her profile clearly marking her as a sub were asking her step on their balls or peg them or piss on them or any other things that clearly were not in her orbit. She didn't kinkshame but she did wish others would at least respect her kink and not waste her time.

It was seeming night one of her search was to be filled with nothing but duds who sent her messages that read Ur so hotttt!!!11! and PLEASE PUNCH MY BALLZZ until something unique caught her eye; proper grammar. Once that shock wore off, Madelaine found herself more intrigued by the subject line which simply read, "Read this." Nothing else. Nothing designed to impress, nothing flashy. It was simple. It was direct. And maybe best of all, it wasn't a request...it was an instruction. It was a demand.

She pressed on the message and began to read.

"Madame,

I'm sure you've gotten plenty of messages today. I'm most likely one of hundreds. However, I also think most of those messages are from people who don't speak out language.

I know, it must seem presumptuous to think we're on the same wavelength. However I'm guessing a woman like you and I have had similar experiences on this app, though to varying degrees. You're probably getting a lot more base requests than I ever have.

Where I believe that we meet however is our desires. Just from reading your bio I can tell the chances of our tastes aligning is rather high. From what I can tell the more...extreme sides of this thing of ours. There's nothing wrong with a little pain as long as its sweet. But I think we both know how quickly it can go sour.

I'd rather have lemonade than bite into the fruit. Though, if you don't mind the comparison I would mind a bite of your peach. While I'm sure that's cliché and you've read more than your fair share of variations before getting to this message, I feel it simply had to be said. You know what you have and I'm sure you know how much it's admired.

I'd like to see where this might go and how much our tastes truly align. If you do as well, then write me back.

Sincerely,

Good Sir"

She liked what she read. The tone of it. Kind, but making it clear he was in charge. Not a single request. He never asked her to do anything. Conditions? Yes. But if conditions were met, she was given instruction. Madelaine liked that. Even the name. Good Sir. It had a ring to it. Of course it helped that it wasn't xXxAssFucker42069xXx or PegMeMommy or anything explicitly begging for attention and screaming about what was understood; that this was all about sex.

She wrote him back, hoping she restrained her eagerness enough and came across just as pleasant as Good Sir had, volleying back his opening salvo.

It was a fun round of email tennis for the next couple of days, Madelaine opening the apps each and everything with an excited smile and giggle. Weather relaxing on the couch, in bed, or in the bathtub, Madelaine found time to respond to Good Sir and his buttery texts. And they were texts, not sexts, no matter how much they danced around it.

However by day three things got a bit more concrete. Good Sir proposed a meeting. Madelaine readily agreed. He said steakhouse and it was the one time Madelaine had to give a flat "no", being vegan. Fortunately Good Sir understood completely and asked if she could pick the place, as he had to admit he didn't know any good vegan eateries in the Los Angeles area. That made the ravishing redhead very happy. She liked it when a guy could just go with the flow. At the appropriate time of course. She was still hoping, rather confidently in fact, that in the bedroom he'd decide the flow and everything else.

Once the location was decided upon the waiting game was upon them both and while Madelaine for some reason couldn't imagine the man she'd been talking to was as air-kickingly giddy as she was, the perky starlet could only hope he was at least excited. The dinner was three days away and those days turned out feeling like three months. Throughout those seventy-two hours she went through her entire wardrobe a dozen times over before finally settling on the right number. Black skirt, open-toe strapped black heels, black jacket with a red and black patterned blouse. From her hair to her lips to her wardrobe on set, she just couldn't seem to escape the color red. However, as she looked herself over in the mirror, she couldn't deny that it looked damn good on her.

Dressed to the nines, Madelaine called a cab. Good Sir was not coming to pick her up. He suggested-yet-told her they were to meet at the restaurant separately. He believed him picking her up would set up some kind of expectation. Meeting there would set nothing like that, at least in his view. Madelaine went along with it. No real skin off her nose. It did however just making the tension that much higher.

It took anywhere from ten minutes to eternity for the cab to arrive and almost two forevers in the car before she arrived at the restaurant. She paid the driver got out and headed inside. Though she didn't know exactly what Good Sir looked like, or even his name, he was in the same boat. They did give each other descriptions though. Madelaine detailed her outfit to the moment it was put together and he afforded her the same courtesy. With that information she scanned the lobby of the restaurant for men in greyish blue jackets, matching pants with a button up black shirt underneath. And glasses. Black-rimmed glasses.

Her eyes scanned the small lobby of the eatery, stopping for a few moments on any man who fit the bare bones description she had but came up short until her brown eyes met a matching pair behind a set of black-rimmed glasses.

There he was, but he didn't quite fit he image of him. That wasn't bad or anything. Rather, she found the actual good sir quite handsome. He tall, which was a plus, and lean. The lean was what surprised her. He wasn't skinny or lanky by any means, but Madelaine had expected someone a big bigger to match the soothingly imposing aura put off by his words.

However, the way he carried himself as he walked over to her revealed that confident and gentle dominance. He knew it was her, the was no doubt and that was all in his stride. He wasn't pushing anyone out of his way. True, it wasn't crowded but there were a few people in his bee-line to her. However, they seemed to pass out his way without looking at him, sensing the same thing about him she did.

As he got closer Madelaine noticed Sir's hair. Black with a little bit of length but not too much. There was product in it as well, some strands hanging down in perfectly placed chaos. It was loose enough to appear as if it was random, but 100% under his control. She tried to surprise an excited smile as he finally came up to her.

"Madame?" he asked, confident he was right.

"Good Sir?" He nodded and smiled.

"Since I think it might be a bit rude for me to ask your true name first, namely because I know it already, allow me to introduce myself. Wayne Richmond."

Wayne stuck his hand out and Madealine clasped it, his firm yet gentle grip making her melt a little. "You know my name?"

"Of course Madelaine," he said. "You're on TV pretending I didn't know it would be insulting both you and me. Why dance around the issue?"

"Fair enough," Madelaine said. "Did you know the whole time or..."

"Just now," Wayne assured. "And even then, needed that last bif of confirmation. Would have just asked for a photo otherwise." That got a smile from her. "So, table for two?"

Madelaine nodded and the pair went to be seated. It wasn't long in getting a table, one for two in the middle of the room. The dining room itself was sparely populated, the typical Tuesday night crowd. Once the host left them with their menus, the two were left alone, waiting for their server.

"So, what do you consider small talk?" Wayne asked.

"Stuff that doesn't really matter." Madelaine answered honestly. "The kind of back and forth about nothing that doesn't tell people anything about each other except all they can think of to break the ice is traffic and weather."

"Same page. I mean, how's that supposed to help me know you? I mean what a coincidence, we both hate traffic, that's a foundation to build something on."

"That's why I always think the questions should start with work," Madelaine said. "People always assume i fyou do that you're asking about money. Far from it. To me, what you do for a living is a good way to maybe find something out about a person, you know? I mean I'm not saying your job is your life or anything but it's something of some kind of substance. You can find out what people know how to do, what they really want to do."

"I agree with tat," said Wayne. "However, the work path does leave me at bit of a disadvantage. I mean, I already know what you do. You vamp it up as a town's resident red-headed femme fatale. I know there's more to it than that but still, it's a healthy bit of info."

"And how's that an advantage?" Madelaine leaned in, smiling as she waited for his answer.

"Well, I would hate to think of shooing you away due to boring conversation, let alone monopolizing the boring."

"Doesn't that depend on my attention?"

"I suppose," Wayne admitted. "But you're a professional actor. I mean sure, downtime and all that but it's got to be at least fun more often then not."

"It can be," Madelaine said. "Friends to talk to, dogs to play with, someone usually has some kind of game system in their trailer. But still, sometimes weather makes the days longer and you just hit that wall where even fun seems like the single most draining thing on Earth and everything feels boring and tedious, regardless of something being your dream job. I mean I think that's a common thing, at least if someone loves what they do."

"Well I can't disagree with that."

"Well, how about some better frame of reference then?" Madelaine asked. "You know, just to see how much we relate on this subject."

"I sculpt and designs toys for a living," Wayne said. "Mainly collector level stuff. The really detailed stuff."

"Big companies?"

"For that niche market yeah. McFarlane, NECA, Super 7, guys like that. Mainly on accessories but I've done some of the main stuff."

"Nice. Sounds like you get your creative juices flowing on a daily basis. I think some of my friend might even have stuff you've worked on if you're in the collector market."

"I kind of double dip in it," Wayne said.

"Details?"

"Well it's not exactly original work but I 3-D print spare parts for older toys. 70-80s stuff that was easily breakable or with small parts that vanished because kids played with them. Usually Star Wars, He-Man, GI Joe. Nice little business for someone who just want the toy to look it did when they were kid. 3D printer ended up paying for itself. I mean it's not making me Jeff Bezos but I'm certainly more comfortable."

"Creative and industrious, what a combo," Madelaine said. "This is why real talk is always better then small talk. So many breadcrumb trails to follow. From there, a lot of ways to get to know you."

"And how about getting to know you?" Wayne asked. "Unless you object of course."

"Not at all, thank you." Madelaine was getting more and more relaxed. Wayne still had the air of confidence and authority about him, but there was a built-in sense of gentleness to him. It was a quality Madelaine had found all too rare in many of her men, long or short term in their stays in her life.

"Your profile name, Madame. First off, congratulations on actually getting it. I mean you'd think a name like that would be snatched up within the first hour when the app came out."

"I know right? I got really freaking lucky."

"Any particular reasoning behind it?"

"It[s pretty simple, if not a bit of an ego stroke. Big shock right? An actor feeding into their own ego with something no one else will pick up, especially coming from someone who would say "roll" and cut" when their parents would record home movies and ask about my lighting."

"I've heard worse."

"And I've seen it first hand," Madelaine said. "But the short and sweet of it is I thin the word Madame sounds sexy and kind of fits into this....little world of ours and it kind of matches my name. Madame, Madelaine...I just like it."

"I don't know if I'd call that an ego stroke," Wayne said with a smirk. "In fact the main thing to mind was I thought it was clever. Sexy as well. You're right on the money there. Something about the structure and sound. Sensual, hot...one Hell of a name."

"You care to spill about what Good Sir means?" she asked, a dash of tease in her inquisitive tone.

"Well, in this thing of ours you hear terms like master thrown around a lot," he said.

"That you do."

"I'm not a fan of that term," he said, taking a sip of the complimentary water dropped off bt the busser. "NO offense to those that are. I can see the appeal of the term but I never want to be called it. Don't like the connotations. Feels too...sinister. Just doesn't work for me. I never want to here anyone call me master during our private times. They both may begin with M but I thing Madame sounds so much more appealing than master. Master is far too harsh. Sir however? I think it rolls better off the proper tongues. And it sounds sexier to me. That's what it all oils down to doesn't it?" Madelaine nodded. "As for the Good, I just needed something to fill the character limit and using it a phrase like Good Sir seemed far more appealing then adding extra Rs, three X's and the number sixty-nine."