I nod, then steal a glance at Harley, who is leaning back in his chair, observing everyone. When he catches me looking at him, he winks, and my mouth pulls up in a cheeky grin as I wink back.
He and I will get along just fine. I kinda like that he’s an experienced Dom. That means no entanglements. A pro. He must’ve had inexperienced subs plenty of times, though maybe not on camera, and he’s used to hit-and-run meetups, or whatever they call that in the scene he’s from. That makes it purely physical, and that sounds hella good right now.
No relationships for me, thank you very much. I’m still digging my way out of the hole the last one shoved me in. But I’d better not think of TJ because that will put me in a sour mood for the rest of the day. Motherfucking asshole. Backstabber. Lying, cheating son of a bitch.
See? Not good for my mood.
“Byron, is that your real name or your porn name?” Ian asks. His question pulls me back into the present.
I snicker. “My real name. I wouldn’t have picked something quite so posh as a porn name.”
“Ian brings up a good point. We have a lot of newbies here, so you may not be familiar with this, but make sure to choose your porn name in the next few days. Once you’ve picked it, that’s how we will all call you, just to avoid slipups during filming,” Daddy says. “So for those of you who don’t have an alias yet, have you given any thought to what name you want to use?”
“I’m gonna go with Baby,” Ian says. “Because nobody puts Baby in the corner.”
I laugh along with everyone else. “Sweetheart, no one would ever put you in a corner,” Harley says, and Ian bats his eyes at him.
“Why, thank you, Sir.”
“How about you, Max?” Daddy asks.
Max—a gorgeous redhead I wouldn’t mind being paired with at some point—shrugs. “Benton, my best friend, suggested Thunder.”
“Thunder?” I ask.
“Yeah. ‘Cause he says that when I fuck people, they’ll see lightning and hear thunder.”
Laughter explodes around the table, and it takes a while before everyone has calmed down again. “You’re feeling that confident about your abilities, boy?” Marshall says good-naturedly.
Max shrugs again.
“We picked Max for his...physique,” Daddy says. I’m sure I’m not the only one who immediately focuses on Max’s crotch. He wears his shirt pulled out of his shorts, though, so I can’t tell, but surely, Hunter had to be talking about his dick, right? The guy has a nice body, and I love me some gingers, but he’s not extraordinarily ripped or anything. That leaves his dick, which, I have to admit, would be a prime asset in porn. Also, yummy.
“I volunteer as tribute,” I quip, and that brings on a new round of laughter.
Max grins, looking a little embarrassed.
“Eager to start, huh?” Harley says, and he gives me another wink. “You replacing me before we even had our first scene, boy?”
“What can I say? I could use a good dicking.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, boy. I got you, and I promise you won’t complain about my performance,” Harley says. I’m liking him more by the minute.
The contrast with the last work meeting I attended couldn’t be bigger. That was before I got fired, of course, and I was in a room full of elementary school teachers, all of whom would’ve had a conniption if they heard me use words like dicking.
Hell, Bruno, the principal, would’ve dropped dead on the spot of a heart attack, I’m sure. We’re talking about the judgmental asshole who got me fired after he heard about my video. Yeah, I prefer this banter and flirting. The pay is better too.
“So what about you, Byron? Picked a name yet?” Ian—and I’d better start calling him Baby from now on—asks.
I nod. “Ziggy.”
“Ziggy?” Daddy asks.
“After Ziggy Stardust. I’m a huge David Bowie fan.”
“I love seventies music,” Harley says. “Music was so creative and diverse back then, everything from glam rock to funk, soul, reggae, and of course, some of the most iconic rock songs ever recorded. Some of my all-time favorite songs are from that era.”
“It appears you two have a lot in common,” Daddy says, sounding happy.
“You mean you actually want us to talk while shooting?” I joke and earn me another round of laughs. I’m on a roll today.
“I’m gonna have my hands full with you, aren’t I?” Harley says, but he’s smiling, so I don’t think he means it in a bad way. “A high-maintenance sub. I’m always in for a challenge.”
A sub. Right. That’s the part I’ve conveniently pushed down. I’m supposed to be a submissive. For someone who’s never taken orders very well, that’s gonna be the challenge of the century. I’d better hope that either Harley can make me want to submit or that my acting skills have improved since I got a C in drama class in high school because otherwise, I’m in trouble.
2
Marshall
After the bonding session at the studio, Hunter had pulled me aside and asked if I would mind leading a brief kink talk—mostly as a way to cover his ass—and then sit down with each of the Kinky Boys to go over their contracts and limits ahead of any of their scenes being filmed. He thought it would be a good way to sidestep the issue of some of the more inexperienced subs feeling pressured into agreeing to things they might not be fully comfortable with.
It’s an interesting position to be in, and one I certainly never expected before I took this job. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve sat down with a sub to discuss a contract, safewords, and limits, but preparing for a limits negotiation with a handful of subs I’ll never touch? It’s strange to be sure. Of course, I’ll be having the same conversation with the Doms, which will be even more outside my comfort zone. But that’s why I took this job, isn’t it? Comfort zones are for cowards.
I pull into the parking lot of Kinky Boys studios to find a couple of cars already here. I check the time and realize I’m a few minutes late, and I sigh. I could’ve sworn I left with plenty of time. Someone must’ve changed the clocks on me because there is no way this is my fault yet again. All right, fine, my stepfather is probably rolling over in his grave at the continuance of my chronic lateness, but we all do the best with what we’re born with. Some people are blond or brunette, some have blue eyes or brown, and some people are punctual, while others can’t manage to be on time if their life depends on it. Variety is the spice of life and all that shit.
As soon as I step inside, I can hear the sound of excited chatter echoing off the walls of the repurposed warehouse. The acoustics in this place will be amazing for filming scenes.
My footsteps seem to thunder as I stride toward the correct sound stage, the laughter and talking tapering off as I near. The hush that falls over the group is exactly the kind of easy power and control over a situation that first got me interested in the kink scene back in my early twenties. Nothing is more arousing than walking into a room full of subs and instantly having their full attention.
“Sorry I’m late,” I apologize.