Alyssa’s Apartment, Beverly Hills, August 2022

Pat barely knocked a third time when the door barely opened. Alyssa Shaw peeked at him, visibly tired. Shaken and worse for wear, she still stands half a head taller than Pat. She was even prettier in life.

Cinema and photography have a subtle funhouse mirror effect on people. For the rare few blessed with immaculate appearance, perfect definition triumphs high definition. Perfect definition was definitely worth the hassle he went through sneaking out of Christine’s apartment and getting on the first plane to LA.

“You’ve been looking for me,” said Pat. “I think we need to talk.”

She whimpered and let him into the house but, as he turned around and closed the door, she kneed his gut and pinned him against the wall.

Pat just smirked at her. She stared at him silently. He laughed in her face.

“Are you done?” she asked quietly, looking at him squarely in the eyes.

“I guess you really do all your own stunts. I’ve always loved that about you. You know I used have your Bond girl poster on my ceiling, so I can jack at it.”

Alyssa flipped open a switchblade.

“And now you’re showing some claws,” he said, and started meowing at her.

“Listen, asshole. I don’t know care why you had Christine Évreux signed me that cheque, but I want you to take back every penny and leave me the fuck alone, alright? And don’t you dare pull whatever you did last time or I will cut you wrist to wrist and watch you bleed out. Bet I won’t even go to jail for it,” she said, a slight shrill infected her voice. Whatever he did last time was traumatic. She vaguely remembered being raped, but little else.

“Go and tell McKenzie or your maman Évreux that I’m done with their bullshit. I don’t respond well to threats, never have.”

“Or else?” asked Pat, giving her a crooked smile.

“You know I can always tell people the truth,?” she said. She pricked him with the knife, but pulled back just before it drew blood. She had good control with the knife.

“What truth would that be?”

“That you raped me.”

“Let’s assume you have the evidence…” he said, doubting her presence of mind that day. He knew Alyssa wouldn’t remember most of it. She was tranced out when he whispered things in her ears and liberally used her body.

“By the way, did you even go to the police? Have your cunt tested?” he asked. He knew she’d never harm him like that even if she didn’t. He made sure of it.

Alyssa gave him a crooked smile. “Let’s assume I don’t, it’s still not always about the evidence, is it? Especially, when it’s true. Especially, when it’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“Attention is the silver bullet for you people, isn’t it? I gave you a taste of my positive press last week. Now just you imagine the kind of press my rape accusation brings.”

Pat reached out a hand to grab Alyssa. She slapped it away, but he grabbed her face and forced her to face him anyways. Instinctively, she pulled the knife hand way.

“No, you will not do that,” he said shaking her head for her. It was a little awkward playing rough with a taller, more statuesque woman, but he managed. He even pulled loose a strand of her pristine blonde hair, that iconic wavy voluminous crown above her head.. She didn’t stop him.

“Will you?” he said staring deep into her eyes, her big round blue eyes that expanded like the ocean. He’d definitely spent more time staring into those eyes through his computer screen than he cared to admit. His celebrity crush was the reason behind all this mess.

“Try me,” she hissed. Her Academy Award was not just for show. She was Best Lead Actress. But good acting or not, she knew in her gut the game was up.

“Right, I totally believe you,” he said, gripping her face harder. Her skin was  somehow soft as a toddlers’. “And if I tell you to take that knife and slit your wrist open because it suits my whim, you certainly wouldn’t do it. And you definitely won’t do it without hesitation.”

Doubt flickered in her eyes.

“Furthermore, if I tell you to get naked on all four while I take you from behind like a broodmare, you certainly wouldn’t do that. At least you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you?”

Pat released her. Alyssa dropped her knife and walked backwards away from him. She bent over a little and covered her mouth. She felt like throwing up, and she did.

“You are a talented and self-respecting woman who does whatever she wants and you certainly wouldn’t jump at the chance to do anything I tell you. In fact, this house isn’t completely empty and you didn’t send all your staff home. You didn’t compromise your security just to obey a short text I sent, and then rationalised it as needing to have a private conversation with me.”

Alyssa hyperventilated, but Patrick petted her head gently and rubbed her cheeks. It calmed her down. She instinctively rubbed her cheek against him, and he wiped her mouth with his hanky. A little fanboy in him vowed neither to wash his hand nor the hanky again.

“See? Like the feet of clays, you crumble,” said Pat. “Scientists call this the falsification method, Ms Shaw. Once you’ve rejected all the false hypotheses, what remains can only be the truth.”

“What did you do?”

“We learn something new about ourselves every day, and not all of it pleasant, you know.”

“Oh, shut the smug, asshole. That’s a little convenient, isn’t it? What, I suddenly discover I have a kink for my rapist?”

“Mee-ow,” he said scratching her neck and she let him. She felt so right being treated like his pet. “Feeling sassy, are we?”

“Okay, what the fuck did you do to me?”

“Do a little soul searching, maybe. And ask yourself how you actually feel about me. What you’d like to call me, say if we were having sex,” he said putting his hand inside her negligee. She felt very wet on his hands.

“My… my master? What?”

He smiled.

“I’ve always been a vanilla gal. So once again, pardon my French but what the fuck did you do?”

“Oh, a gentleman never tells.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, what?”

“Fuck you, master.”

“Good girl,” he said. The words made Alyssa felt so… happy, drunk happy.

“Trust me kitten, this is a battle you lost long ago. It’s a testament to your willpower, holding out this long, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else did it. But it’s time to let your biology take its course.”

Teary eyes Alyssa finally let herself go and rubbed her face against his hands in earnest. She purred into them and shook with pleasure at her own surrender. It felt every bit as good as the voices in her head had been promising for weeks. And no, she’d never deny him anything. He owned her mind, body, and soul.

“On your knees now,” said Pat pushing her down. She didn’t resist. He reached into his carry-on backpack for a collar and a leash. Oh yes, the pay-off was very much worth the looks he got at airport security. If only they knew who these were for. “You know what to do with this?”

She swept her hair back and put on the collars. She then clipped the leash and gave him back the handle. It was his turn to smile crooked as he emptied his backpack for more toys. Alyssa just gave him a dirty look through her dried tears.

“Hey, don’t kink shame other people, especially if you’re also into it,” he said.

Alyssa snorted. “Me? Into this?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” said Pat with a lop-sided grin as he fed her a ball gag. “Now, princess, say ahh.”

***

“Alright, you win,” said Alyssa. “This whole sex slave business? Feels too good to be a one-time thing.”

They were lying naked in her bed and she was spent. She laid on his chest. It was a bit of an awkward pairing with a taller woman resting on the man’s chest. Her torso ending where his thighs were. Her leg went on for days.  The collars and harnesses were dropped on the bedroom floor, discarded.

“I’m told it does,” said Pat.

Alyssa gave him a wicked grin. “Oh, you have no idea,” she said.

“That means no more boyfriends, yeah? I am a jealous god.”

“Hmmm.”

“Alyssa…” Pat said, playing with a cute little mole on her rips.

Alyssa stared up at Pat seductively, two large diamonds peered into his soul. For a moment, he felt like a mouse staring at a constrictor, and he felt so vulnerable. All the tough talk, but he was still a little boy standing in front of his celebrity crush.

“Uh huh?” she said, pride welling up in her chest from his reaction. She wanted to stopped herself from grinning, but she grinned anyways. She was so very satisfied with herself. She was a girl standing in front of a man she can give herself completely. No more doubts, no more choice, no more “plenty of fishes in the sea.” It was the first time her beauty gave her certainty and not doubt. He came to her only for her body, but this time she didn’t care. Her body existed only for his pleasure.

“Alyssa, what?” She asked laughing.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, babe. Spit it out and I’ll give you an autograph,” she said, grabbing a Sharpie from the bedrest.

“No,” he said.

“Pretty please, master? I’ll do anything you want, master” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Fine. How’d you know I was behind Christine’s cheque?”

Alyssa part laughed part snorted.

“What?” he asked.

“I know you were affiliated with her?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well… that and she was a little weird with me.”

“Weird how?”

“It’s more like a hunch, but she was… avoiding me.”

“Yeah, Christine avoids everyone.”

“That’s what I thought. Before I notice your massive, massive crush.”

“What? I never…”

“Said anything? No, you didn’t,” she said. She crawled up and nibbled his earlobe.

“But?”

“Let’s just say you wear your heart all over your face.” Alyssa chuckled. “And let’s just say it’s only became kind of endearing now because we’ve… updated our relationship status.”

Alyssa giggled. She had never been a giggler.

“So, you figured Christine was a fuck puppet just cause her intern was staring at you – a literal cultural icon – a little too long? I’m surprised they didn’t put you in a straightjacket.”

“No, but I didn’t need to figure all that out to realise something’s up, right? At least not when a dodgy heiress, who apparently hates my gut, signs me a massive cheque. And then I was raped by her intern. Too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“No. I… actually thought I was being discrete.”

“Let’s just say you are a very sentimental person with very expressive features,” she said, smiling coyly and signed his chest with flourish. “In fact, I think you’d be a great actor if you channel that. You’d get type-casted a lot though.”

“Then, your career would plateau, and you’d never get a shot at the Oscars,” she said.

Pat groaned.

“If your mainstay is going to be this clock and dagger shit, I think you should layer up, babe. I promise you, it’s not just your hypothetical acting career that’ll suffer if you don’t.” She entwined her legs with his, sighing contently. Just touching him made her wet again.

“You know, I think there’s something really wrong with my brainwashing method. I keep churning out naggy girlfriends instead of slave drones.”

“Gee whiz… crank the affection meter up to twelve and see what happens,” she said.

Annoyed at her sass, Pat tried to tickle her. She kept swatting his hands, and the whole affair devolved into a lover’s scuffle, with Alyssa giggling uncontrollably as Pat tried and failed to get a hold on her. Eventually, he gave up and laid back, exhausted.

“You know,” he said after a pause. “I never imagine you quite this… bubbly. God knows how much SNL and Jimmy Fallon I watched when you were on. And you’re always this classy, funny person..”

“Pffft,” she said. “You really need to stop fangirling. Seriously, I’ve had stalkers who were much less of a fan.”

“But, truth be told, I haven’t let my hair down this far since I started acting,” she conceded finally.

“That’s… twenty-three years?”

“Twenty-two,” said Alyssa.

“Thirty-one minus nine, inclusive, is twenty-three. You forgot to count the first year.”

“Like I said, master. Stop fangirling,” she said with a grin.

Pat sighed. He sat up and deliberately disentangled himself.

“Really, I think you wouldn’t have signed my chest if you wanted me to stop obsessing. I think that’s my problem in a nutshell, Alyssa.”

“You’re all very fun before I turn you. But once I do, you’re all act like… sock puppets filled with my libido. Stepford wives. Fantasy made flesh. Saying and doing the most outraged things, but it all rings hollow and it all gets old.”

Alyssa tilted her head. He frowned.

“However you’ve made us, there is a strong sexual element to it. I don’t need to remember to know what’s in my head. And I meant what I said about how I used to like only vanilla sex. I think it’s just that we are the product of how you’ve made us.”

“Be that as it may, Alyssa…”

“Lisa,” she said taking his cheek in her hand.

“Be that as it may, Lisa. Take that problem to the n-th degree, if I bring you to my bedroom, plastered the wall with your poster and on my bed there’s a duvet with your likeness. Would you have a problem with having sex on that bed?”

Alyssa paused, then shrugged.

“Any self-respecting woman would have a problem with that. Before today, you would have. You even tried to come at me physically earlier.”

“Yet I retained the capacity to think rationally, to watch out and plan for your safety. To give you advices,” she said.

“I like my women keen and intelligent. And besides there is a necessity to that if I’m going to secretly maintain tens of thousands of kept women, they all need to be cunning and subtle about everything.”

“Okay….”

“But that’s the problem. I made you all in my own image. Now all the women in the world talks like I want, and acts like I want. Even my celebrity crush…” he said waving his hand up and down in her direction. “Acts like she’s straight out of my wet dreams. Which suspends my disbelief a ‘lil if you catch my drift.”

“You’ve turned all the food in the world into your favourite dish, and now there’s neither variety nor spice in life.”

“Just so,” he said.

“Well… have you tried having dating a normal person recently?” she said.

“‘Harem high command’ thinks it’s too risky. I think it’s way too much effort.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’re too comfortable and you have nothing to work for anymore,” she said pondering.

Pat nodded. “All this shouldn’t be a problem, but it is.”

“Of course it is, babe. You don’t have to be modest with me. Boredom, lack of purpose, it’s a classic one for people around me, and you. Around us.”

“People brag about what they don’t have,” she said. “So, why do certain men grate on endlessly of human destiny, space exploration, and the rest” she said.

“They have too much money and a gaping lack of purpose,” he said.

“Just so,” she said.

“Half way then?” She said after a pause. “You could brainwash them halfway, but still leave some room to… ‘work for it’?”

“That’s exactly what I tried with you.”

“Poor choice of target, master,” she said. “Diva tantrums aside, I’m…”

“It makes no sense in any world for you to be seeing me, and that creates a cognitive dissonance leading you to suspect foul play.”

She gave him a dry smile. “I was going to say I like it pretty vanilla and then it’s alarming I suddenly don’t. But I guess there’s something to that.”

He snorted.

They sat together awhile. The silence was companionable, but Alyssa also looked deep in thought.

Then she said, “I think you have a lot of soul searching to do. But one thing I can say for sure.”

Pat raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not your programming pretending to be your celebrity crush. I’m me and I’m working around what you’ve put inside me for my own ends.”

“Honey, you were just in a harness.” he said, rubbing her cheeks lovingly.

She gently put a thumb on his mouth to silence him. He sucked it. She was, after all, a crush of his.

“That doesn’t mean you’ve fundamentally changed me. You rewired my pleasure centres, sure. But that’s about all you did. In your words, take this problem to the n-th degree, but I would’ve had sex with you, even debase my dignity in your room full of my own poster, if it’d feel half as good as it would now.”

“I didn’t let you put me in a harness because you’re my master. Not really. I did it because it suits my needs. It feels fucking good to do whatever my master wants, so I do it. That’s my free will. That’s what makes me who I am. That’s the real Alyssa. Not some idea about who I should or shouldn’t be.”

“Okay?” he said.

“The idea of an Alyssa Shaw is just that, an idea. Whether it says I’m an actor, an icon, a sexpot with a heart of gold. It’s always been a fairy tale, and mostly for own consumption. It felt good and right to have principles, felt right to ground myself in decency, to try and give back what I can. So that’s what I kept doing.”

“That’s who we all are, Pat. We all have a fiction about who we are, what we do, and what we’re working towards. But really, the real us do as we will. What feels good and right in the moment.”

“So, my point is. I’m not some broken toy for you to agonize over. And I suspect neither are your other… dolls. So, please, get out of your own head and can the solipsism. It really isn’t a good look on you.”

“You might be a kind of god,” she said. “You’re not actually God. There are things you can’t do, problems you can’t solve. That means, there’s a life worth living, if you want it. You just gotta put in the hard work of figuring out what life and stop yourself spiralling. That’s the hard part.”

“Trust me, I was very recently where you were. Back against the wall, neck-deep in my own bullshit. Rich and pretty enough to get away with anything. I’m out now. You’ve freed me. Collar around my neck. Tamed and happy as a kitten. And honestly? I think you’re the one person in our little gang still hanging out alone in the toilet.”

“Sucks to be you, really. So, you know, fix your lot before you condescend mine,” she said.

“Meow,” he said with a crooked grin. He petted her and smelled her hair, but was otherwise quiet. It smelled a hint of clove and a pinch of amyris.

“Not just a pretty face, are we?” he said after a long pause.

“Just doing my job, boss,” she said, biting her lower lip in mock shyness. “A girl’s got to eat.”

Oh God, he thought. It’s those eyes again. And she beamed at his reaction.

“Your job?”

“You know, the one where I get into people’s heads and, sometimes, pretend to be them?” she said, playing with her gold locks and scrutinising at her nails in mock vapidness.

“Huh… I see you’re not so terrible at it,” he said.

“Not at all,” she said grinning. She kissed him for the first time ever, slowly and deliberately.

“Besides,” she said.

“It feels good?”

“Mhmm-hmm.”

Alyssa kissed him lower and lower, to the chin, to the chest, and to the crotch. She purposefully planted kisses all over him. She went to every nook and crevices, and she cleansed them with her tongue, all while dangling her cleavage and toned body in front of him. She jacked him, then she rubbed her pussy against him, and then she licked him in place new and novel. She presented him with a thousand options and one, and probed him for he liked. She found a theme he liked. She confirmed it. Then, she alternated and improvised a variation on that theme. On and on it went.

Even her voice tells a story. She didn’t moan at him. She started in silence, but occasionally a quiet, sexy growl would escape her. A growl that told him she was getting off on servicing him. The temptress was the one losing control. He’d be fucking her brains out just by existing. As if he had grown from man to some profane fetish that corrupts her with his mere presence. His rational voice told him that Alyssa was doing what she did best: putting on a show. That he was watching another one of her movies. But it didn’t matter. We are all creatures of experience, not rationality.

He had always known that some women would have been too much for, but Alyssa was a different octane of too much. Without his power, Christine could have frozen the blood in his vein and dismantled his dignity piece by piece, but Alyssa, oh great and terrible Alyssa, would have exploded in his face like a thousand suns. She was Death, the destroyer of worlds. If Helen of Troy was the face that launched a thousand ships, Alyssa Shaw was Venus herself with a surface temperature of 464 degree. If only she took all that energy and use it for her own ends, anyone would be utterly at her mercy.

Between the soft cleavage, hard nipple and toned wet crotch pinning down his thighs, Pat was rocked hard. Added to the fact he was being tickled by his celebrity crush, and he drifted so close to blessed release, but there was nought he could do as he deescalate and edge him again and again. Alyssa hovered so near and yet, if desires are measured in yearnings, so far. She smelled of cinnamon, saffron, and amyris. She was fire made flesh.

Pat surrendered himself to her ministration. Just as he was nearing the final approach, her deft hand wrapped his cock like a silken sash. She repositioned herself as she nimbly inserted him, letting the inviting warmth of her cunt caressed him over the limit. An intense curl ran into the depth of his balls, and he violently emptied himself inside her. She accepted all him cum and all of him into herself, and she baptised him with her acceptance. Then she came as he came, loudly and with complete abandon, for his pleasure was hers. Both were finally sure there would be no more sex that night.

Alyssa retreated, and Pat found her staring at him. A sheen of sweat now christened her from head to toe.  “Promise me one thing, master,” she said. “Whatever’s eating at you, fix it. For your sake. And mine too.”

She kissed him chastely on the cheek and snuggled in for the night.