TITLE: Rewarded 1/?
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Mistakes have consequences
FEEDBACK: It's a giddy little thrill at a reasonable price
WARNINGS: Spanking
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: BTF, Of Elves and Men, my site; all others please ask, but
I'll surely say yes
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This series contains BDSM and kink, and falls under
the category of 'stuff Elizabeth never thought she'd write'. Proceed
with caution
DATE WRITTEN: July 17th, 2003
"It is not the eastern shore that worries me. Something draws near -- I can feel it."
"CUT! Orlando, you forgot one of your lines again!" Pete looks highly annoyed, and I don't blame him. This is the seventh take in a row that I've blown, and he looks ready to kill me -- or, failing that, at least deliver a good maiming.
"I'm sorry, Pete."
"Well, now it's after five and the light's changing, which means we can't get any more filming done for the day," Pete sighs. "So we'll all have to be here again tomorrow morning."
There's a chorus of groans, and I cringe. I'm not exactly winning any popularity contests today among the cast and crew. I shake my head and trudge back to the trailer, feeling like a complete amateur. For God's sake, I only have a few lines in this movie and I *still* can't remember them. What I need tonight is to go back to my house and get really, really monged.
Viggo looks up and actually smiles at me when I enter the makeup trailer. That's amazing to me, considering that I wasted the man's entire day with my idiocy. But then again, he's never been anything but unfailingly nice to me, and has helped me so much as an actor. "Hey," I say as I sit down next to him. "I'm really sorry about today."
"Don't worry about it," he assures me. "Everyone has their bad days."
I sigh in relief. "Thanks."
"Listen, why don't you come by later and rehearse a little so you don't have the same problem tomorrow."
"Really? That'd be great," I say enthusiastically.
"Good. Come by around nine, alright?"
"Perfect."
*****
"Come on in," Viggo says as he opens the front door to his house.
"Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me out, man," I stutter nervously. In the month since meeting Viggo, he's become like a hero to me; the man is so dedicated to his work and is such a genuinely nice guy.
"Well, I don't think any of us wants a repeat performance of what happened today. Now, do you have any idea why you were screwing up all of those takes?" he asks, sitting down on his couch. He makes a gesture for me to sit down beside him and I do.
"For starters, those bugs were killing me. It was like we were filming 'Lord of the Sandflies'," I joke. Viggo just raises his eyebrows and stays silent; my cheeks flush at the lameness of my humor attempt. "Um, but besides that, I don't really know."
"No ideas?"
"Not really." I shift nervously on the cushions, detecting a change in Viggo's attitude. The usual friendly tone in his voice is gone, replaced with a new and unnerving harshness.
He sighs. "Okay, then. Well, I have a way to ensure that you won't fuck up like that tomorrow."
"What is it?"
"This." A devious glint comes into his eyes, and he suddenly launches himself at me. Before I know it, my pants are being undone, and my jeans and boxers are pushed to my knees.
"What the fuck?!" I yelp. I find myself thrown across his legs, and begin to panic. Is he actually going to spank me? What the hell is going on here? I attempt to wiggle free of his hold on me, but he's too bloody strong.
"Hold still," he growls. A stinging slap hits one of my arse cheeks, and I cry out in pain and shock. This can't be happening.
"Let go of me, you twisted prick!"
There's no verbal answer, just another slap, this one delivered on the other cheek. Tears spring to my eyes as crisp smacks rain down on my arse, and I'm in disbelief that Viggo bloody Mortensen is spanking me. If this is some kind of practical joke, it's not funny.
The real problem is that, for some reason, my dick starts getting this idea that it's playtime, and around slap number eleven, I start to get hard against Viggo's jeans-clad thigh. What the fuck? Spanking doesn't turn me on! I'm not some kinky sod who gets off on this shit! Except that it feels so fucking good for some reason, and I'm powerless to stop my cock from acting on its own.
Viggo's chuckle is all the proof I need that he knows I'm hard, and he suddenly pushes me off of his lap. I stand up and immediately pull my pants back up with inelegant haste. Fuck, it's humiliating enough to be spanked like a bloody toddler, but having Viggo know that it was making my dick hard is so much worse.
"Now, I think you should go home and do something about that erection of yours," Viggo says with an infuriating grin.
I glare at him but stay silent. It's not like I'm really capable of any kind of intelligent conversation right now anyway, seeing as I'm sporting a pole you could pitch a tent on. I storm out of Viggo's house and drive way too fast back to my place, shifting around in the driver's seat the entire time so I can minimize the pressure on my sore arse.
Without bothering to turn on the lights, I lean against the wall of my bedroom and pull out that irritating erection. Immediately, my thoughts fly to the feeling of Viggo's strong hand repeatedly hitting the flesh of my arse. I come a few moments later, the feeling of hot stickiness splashing over my fingers makes me groan my relief. I wash my hand and take off the rest of my clothes, unable to believe that I just beat off to the memory of being spanked.
I stumble into bed, shivering in pain and pleasure as cool cotton sheets
skim over my raw flesh. My mind is a whirlwind as I drift off to
sleep, but one thing is for sure -- I'm definitely not going to fuck up
on-set tomorrow.
