Blocing

As some may have intuited from my warning in the previous chapter, this one is darker, enough that I had to change the category. Some people will probably be angry by the end of this, and if you feel the need to stop reading I wish you well.

SPOILER: the noncon does not involve Dakota.

==================================

Dakota

Dakota had received a lot of orders from Mistress Samira that made her pause, or stop in disbelief. Some of them made her very nervous and apprehensive.

She'd never gotten one where she felt legitimately scared.

It had been a note left for her after she finished her chores that morning, taped to the bathroom door. She usually went there after cleaning up, and sometimes Mistress Samira left her written orders. Dakota had become used to looking for them after the couple of times she missed one and her ass had been tanned red for it.

> Put on your regular street clothes, in full, and come to my office.

She'd been ordered to wear outfits for going outside before, obviously. As much of a naughty thrill as the idea was, parading Dakota naked through the grocery store wouldn't help anyone. But even then, her outfits usually had a naughty component to them. She'd have on loose blouses with no bra, and her boobs would dance beneath the fabric. Or the shirt would be tight, tracing the contours of her body, and leaving no doubt she was braless. And she almost never wore underwear.

"In full," meant everything; all the undergarments, pants, shirt, socks, shoes.

Then she thought about it. If they were going somewhere farther away, she would need the full ensemble just for practical reasons. Given how wet Mistress Samira made her just from being around her half the time, if they had to go somewhere that would take the rest of the day she'd soak through her pants. And it could be wherever they were going needed her to be fully dressed, not teasing everyone with her free-wheeling tits.

So she was in better spirits when she entered Mistress Samira's office. Then her mistress slid a short stack of paper over with a boarding pass on top. Samira congratulated herself on guessing correctly about the trip. Then she paused.

"Mistress Samira?" she said when she saw the paper beneath the boarding pass.

She recognized it immediately. She'd literally read hundreds of them.

"It seems our...training session is ending early," Mistress Samira said, "Eli sent those over. The plane ticket is for-"

"Tomorrow!?" Dakota blurted out after looking at the date, "They want me to fly out tomorrow?"

"I...I think they spelled everything out in the itinerary. I meant to leave it on top of the script," Mistress Samira said, "You fly into Paris and then they're taking you to...I think it was Marseilles? I guess they're filming near-"

"Pascal needed six months to raise the money," Dakota objected.

"Apparently they got a new investor. Rich eccentric woman loves your guy's work. I guess she heard that the only thing slowing the movie down was money and dropped a whole bunch of it in his lap. They start shooting in two weeks. They need you down there for costuming and stuff."

"What costuming?" Dakota snarked, "They want me naked for most of the film."

"That's...not really true," Mistress Samira said.

"'The camera takes the viewer on a visual tour of the house, contrasting mundane, if expensive, house furniture with the implements and specially designed BDSM furniture. After a while the sounds of sex are heard. There are long shots of three bedrooms, including the four-poster in the master bedroom where chains and cuffs are prominent hanging on the furniture. Finally the camera moves to the kitchen. We see George from the chest up, the rest of the view blocked by a kitchen island. Based on body movement and vocalizations, it's clear he is engaged in energetic sex. The camera circles while the view remains obscured. Motions and sounds suggest George reaches climax. The camera finally reveals the rest of the scene; Katherine/Kitty is kneeling on the floor, wearing lacy lingerie, her hair and complexion disheveled, suggesting she was the partner in the sex. George's penis slides out of her mouth and she visibly swallows.'"

"I doubt that penis shot is going to make it intact if your director wants mainstream release," Mistress Samira said.

"Of course not; they'll move the camera so it's showing his butt from an angle. Then he just steps back and I swallow. They can tell the MPAA I was swallowing orange juice. God, Eli was right; this is just softcore porn, I'm such an idiot."

"It's not," Mistress Samira said, "It's...I don't watch a lot of movies, and I've never read a film script. I want to see this movie. I think a lot of people will want to see this movie."

"Of course they will; I can see the title on the reviews: 'Princess Jewel likes it kinky'. 'Now everyone can see why Prince Reginald killed his father'," Dakota scoffed, referencing the plot of the so-called final Princess Jewel movie where her "Romeo and Juliet"-esque romance that had gone on for the last three seasons of the show was resolved.

In her head, she thought,

It'll definitely be the last Princess Jewel movie if I do this.

"It's not like that," Mistress Samira said, snapping Dakota out of her musing, "I read it all the way through. It's a real, meaningful movie. Maybe I'm biased because it just deals with BDSM, but whoever wrote it knows the lifestyle. Despite that, it's not just about the lifestyle. I would see this movie. I would tell all of my friends in the lifestyle to see this movie. I would tell people

not

in the lifestyle to see this movie. You need to do this."

"I don't want to," Dakota said.

"Why?" Mistress Samira asked.

Dakota wished she could tell what her mistress was thinking, but the woman had a poker face Dakota had never been able to crack.

"What-...What do you mean 'why' Mistress Samira? You want me to be away for months shooting this movie. You want me to be serving a different dom, and showing myself off on screen?"

"That's not up to me-"

"What the fuck are you talking about!?" Dakota yelled, "You're my fucking mistress, of course it's up to you!"

"Sit down," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota did. It was automatic.

"Eli told me you don't have a new agent. If you turn this film down, are you going to be able to find work?" Mistress Samira asked.

"I don't need to Mistress Samira," Dakota said, "I have millions of dollars in the bank. What are your expenses for this place? A couple thousand a month? We could live here forever and never have to worry about it. Or you could go back to work if you wanted, and I could...I don't know, give actual massages, if you think we really need to have more income-"

"Why are you saying 'we'?"

Dakota felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She had to swallow twice to keep bile out of her throat. She took a slow breath because she thought she'd throw up.

"Because...you're my mistress," Dakota said weakly.

"You hired me to teach you about BDSM for that movie," Mistress Samira said, waving at the script, "I've...I've been training you for that reason. You can't be my long-term slave."

Dakota felt tears leaking down her cheek. "Mistress Samira...please...why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mistress Samira said.

"No! It's not obvious! This...this is amazing. It's perfect!" Dakota insisted.

"Make me cum with your mouth," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota paused. "What?"

Mistress Samira stood and sat on the corner of her desk. She had a long skirt on, so when she spread her legs she didn't reveal anything, but she gathered some of the material at the front to pull the hem up over her knees. "Come over here and lick my pussy until I have an orgasm," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota didn't move.

She still had feelings, yearning for her mistress, but in the past couple of weeks she'd been too caught up in new experiences. The subspace activities, all the different BDSM scenes, the excursions. It had distracted her She...she wanted to be with Mistress Samira but this was...cold and impersonal. Sudden. She had the fantasy built up in her head, and this wasn't it.

Mistress Samira stood and walked back behind her desk. "I'll drive you to the airport tomorrow," she said.

"No!" Dakota said, "Come back, I'll do it, I'll-"

"You'll do no such thing," Mistress Samira said, "I'm not going to have a slave that forces themselves through intimate encounters. Don does that shit with his subs and it never did anything for me. I've taught you as much as I'm willing to, and probably more than you need for this movie. I'm sorry, because I shouldn't have led you on the way I did."

"Led me on about what?" Dakota asked, feeling a small spark of hope.

"Led you on about becoming my sub," Mistress Samira replied, then had to take a breath, "When you...when you got yourself into subspace I wasn't thinking. I should have stopped it after that week."

"I was trying to seduce you," Dakota said.

Both women looked shocked. Dakota shocked herself by saying it, Mistress Samira seemed shocked to hear it. Dakota got a little thrill because she rarely surprised the other woman.

"Why would you do that?" Mistress Samira asked.

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK?!" Dakota screamed loud enough that Mistress Samira winced.

Dakota wiped away the tears that sprang up and clouded her vision. When she did, she was shocked again to see tears in Mistress Samira's eyes.

"I'm...I'm so sorry. God I'm...I should have realized. I've totally failed you as a mistress," Mistress Samira said.

"What are you talking about?" Dakota said, genuinely confused. The tears from her mistress had given her hope. She'd been encouraged when Mistress Samira apologized, but then she said she'd failed...

"I...I don't know what I did or when, but this has obviously gone too far," Mistress Samira said, "You need to go to Boston tonight, you need to be away from me. I'll give you Dr. Carlisle's number, use the money you were going to pay me, set up some emergency-"

"Mistress Samira, what the fuck are you talking about?" Dakota snapped.

"I brainwashed you," Mistress Samira said.

Dakota couldn't speak for a moment. "How...when...what do you mean? I'm not brainwashed."

"You're straight," Mistress Samira said, "You laid out the limits when we started. You safeworded out of sexual contact with a woman in a scene, just because it was a woman. Now you say you tried to seduce me."

"You can't brainwash someone like that Mistress Samira," Dakota insisted.

"Of course you fucking can, I've done it!" Mistress Samira snapped.

The words seemed to echo in the room in the moment of silence that followed. Dakota felt a chill in her heart. "You have?"

"Yes, it was..." Mistress Samira said and then paused, "That's not my story to tell you. Regardless, a month ago you would have thrown up at the thought of eating pussy, now you're trying to insist you'll be fine with it. You're either lying to me, which just reinforces that you're not going to be my sub, or I've messed your head up so much that you believe it's what you want now, which is worse."

"Have you heard of fluid sexuality?" Dakota demanded, "Trust me; I live in LA, it's a thing."

"Your head isn't in any kind of state to figure out what you actually want and what you think you want because I beat it into you. God, you don't even realize what kind of risk you're taking staying here. You need to leave," Mistress Samira said.

"I already told you I'm not doing the mov-"

"I don't care about the

ya khara

movie! Go to France, go back to LA, wherever you need to go, just...you need to get away from me before I do any more damage," Mistress Samira said, slipping into another language in the middle and sounding frantic.

"No, this is stupid, I'm not brainwashed, and I'm not leaving," Dakota said, pulling off her top.

"What are you doing?" Mistress Samira asked.

"I'm stripping down naked; that's how your slave dresses," Dakota said, unhooking her bra.

"I'm not training you anymore. We're done," Mistress Samira said.

"You aren't training me, I'm serving you, Mistress Samira."

"You aren't my slave, Dakota! You never were! We were both pretending! That wasn't-" Mistress Samira's voice choked off.

Something about hearing her say "Dakota" broke her. She didn't know why it was that, why that was the final straw. All the denials, the dismissals, none of it had gotten through until Mist-...until Samira had called her "Dakota" instead of "Princess."

Dakota grabbed her shirt and bra, quickly covering herself, suddenly horrified at the idea of the woman seeing her body. "I'll have Eli release the money. I'll wait outside for the Uber."

"Your clothes-"

"Give them to the next stupid slut you have to beat into fucking you," Dakota shouted back over her shoulder as she walked to the front door.

=-=-=-=-=

Burlington Vermont to Boston Massachusetts was a trip that would take three and a half hours by car, so there was no way Dakota could do that by Uber.

Well, technically that wasn't true, but it was far less hassle to call a car service. Once they'd left the city and seemed to be in the middle of woods that would make the set dressers of Princess Jewel jealous, Dakota pulled out her phone and dialed a number she'd been told to delete.

"Eli Chambers."

"T-thank you for taking my call," Dakota said.

"I was sort of expecting it. I can refer you to several other agents I trust and who are willing to support you working with Pascal. I have-"

"Would-," Dakota cut him off, choked on her words for a moment, then continued, "Eli...is there any way you could forgive me and consider representing me again? At least...at least for this film?"

"To be frank, Miss Song, our brief relationship was not one of my more pleasant ones. I don't believe our styles and outlooks align," Eli said.

"I know," Dakota said, "I know, I...I can't begin to describe how sorry I am. For what it's worth...you were right. You were right and...I don't have anyone else right now and I don't have the energy to go through finding an agent while trying to start this movie next fucking week. I'll...I'll give you 20% for Cord Progression."

It was double the usual cut an agent got. Of course, Pascal was still basically an indie director producing an indie movie. Even if it somehow got Oscar-worthy attention, most Oscar films barely broke $60 million, and the budgets assumed they'd settle much lower. It wasn't like Eli would be getting 20% of multiple millions of dollars. She had royally screwed Eli over, but she was hoping her groveling might help.

She almost considered offering similar favors to what had happened the first time they met Samira, but even thinking of anything related to her former mistress threatened to send her off an emotional cliff.

"All right, fine," Eli said and Dakota almost cried in relief, "But just for this movie. After that..."

"Whatever you want," Dakota replied, "I'm on my way to Boston. I should be there in three hours or so and the flight out is tomorrow..."

She talked with Eli about details for getting things like her passport and credit cards to her before she left the next day. She'd had all of that put in secure storage.

"So you're still going through with the movie then?" Eli asked.

Dakota paused. "Have you read the new script Eli? Does it change things from what you said before?"

She heard Eli sigh over the phone. "I'll admit this is better than I was expecting. It's still a Pascal film, but the characters are way more developed, and the storyline isn't as high concept or outlandish as he usually tries to pull off. Still, BDSM is not exactly normal, and most people only know about it from 50 Shades. Grabbing mainstream audiences will be tough."

"I'll be straight with you. If I were handed this and told to find a female lead, I'd go for a more experienced actress whose star is losing its shine. Think Ali Larter or Hayden Panettiere in the 2010s. The nudity would be just as much of a titillating shock, but people had seen them act in dramatic roles before."

"Dakota for you...this wouldn't automatically blow up your career. You can make the argument the nudity is necessary for the movie and the scenes, but that argument only sticks if you nail the performance. Otherwise you just become the girl Pascal chose for the shock value when someone else could have acted it better."

Dakota was silent for a while, thinking. "And what happens if I

do

nail it?" Dakota asked.

"Best case, you're the next Léa Seydoux. You can get naked in every other film you do but no one cares because they respect your craft. You could be asked to do anything from being a Marvel superhero to sharing the screen with Bradley Cooper and Cillian Murphy. Or you could go the Rooney Mara path; make a big splash with this film, then only come back every 3-5 years for big, impactful movies, since you've said before you're more interested in acting than you are in making money, and never take your clothes off on screen ever again."

There was another long stretch of silence.

"Look, sleep on this," Eli said, "I can tell you're not in the right frame of mind right now. Get to your hotel, relax. If you really want me to, I can get someone to put some THC or some booze in your room. Just don't ask me for anything else."

Last time she ignored Eli's advice, she'd had her life destroyed.

"Okay. I will. Maybe...if you could find some sweet wine for me, I might like that. Thank you. Thank you so much Eli. I...I don't know-"

"Don't worry about anything like that right now, honey," Eli said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Dakota hung up the phone and watched the woods fly by.

Sam

Sam was sure she'd made the right decision, especially after that blindside of a revelation from the girl. Sam had messed up and badly, horribly miscalculated.

I should have pulled the plug when Prin-...when Dakota had that panic attack on the bench. I didn't slow down enough, I didn't give her enough time to adjust. I made her whole existence about me faster than she was ready to accept it and gave her fucking Stockholm Syndrome.

Sam swallowed down the last of the Arak in her glass, then poured herself another and added the water after to turn it the familiar milky white. She laughed grimly as she recalled the day she and her friends in Isreal had "educated" themselves on the particulars of sex. That same day they had snuck some Arak out of one of their parents' collections. One look at the drink after they added the water and they had been unable to control their giggling. From that point on they never called it anything except "the devil's cum."

Then she remembered years later when they had debated which had the worse taste and had universally agreed they preferred drinking the devil's brand; at least it had some benefits

after

you swallowed, unlike so many men they knew.

Lost in thought and somewhat drunk, it took Sam a minute to realize she'd gotten several notifications on her phone. She hesitated; Dakota had a long car ride to think up and send any number of messages. Sam didn't think she could handle that, regardless if they were pleas to return, insults and threats, or even just a quick request to send a few favorite pieces of clothing she didn't actually want to abandon.

She took another swallow of liquor and picked up the phone. She didn't recognize the number but opened the message.

> Hey Sam, it's Amelia.

> I wanted to let you know, you completely fucked up the Cordobas. I think they've been fighting since that night.

> I didn't help. I was in the middle of a scene with Rafael at the office and he told me "your slutty clothes make me do this."

> My brain just stuck on "make me do this" and what you said to him and I just couldn't help snorting.