The Shoot

"And. Action."

The directive seemed a bit of a cliché, especially for the type of film we were shooting, but it was apparently still the vernacular of the trade. Upon hearing it, I took one more second to mentally prepare myself and then walked through the front door onto the set, in full view of the camera.

The set was actually in a real house, donated frequently for such use by one of the male submissives who owned it. I work full time as a waitress, and do this part time whenever they ask and I am able. It doesn't pay very much, but every little bit helps, especially with my college night courses as I progress ever so slowly toward my degree. It is my understanding that the male subs don't get paid anything for their participation. I guess it's just the privilege and thrill of play acting some of their fantasies in this make believe setting. The director says that she likes to use me when she needs a pixie, girl next door type of look. There is a group out there, she says, that love and crave the idea of being dominated by such. Not as many, certainly, who yearn for the stern, leather clad, whip wielding, Catwoman type. Being a dominatrix was clearly not my persona, or in any way my personality. But I do think I could be a Domme. A good one. It would be so very nice to have someone always at my beck and call, waiting on me hand and foot, seeing to my every want and need ... someone to take care of me. I might be very demanding, but I would never be cruel. That's who I would be, and would want ... another to need. I would want it to be a win-win, for me and ... whomever.

I suspect that this was just as much a fantasy as those that are filmed here. My particular desires are not what people who watch these types of films, and have these kinds of natures, are looking for, as evidenced by the sales of the finished products. Maybe that's why I continue to take part in these video ventures, much like the male subs, to experience a little bit of what it might be like, even if the aspects illustrated here don't really excite me. But at least I do also get paid for it as well, unlike the male participants, no matter how paltry the sum.

Closing the door behind me, I was ready to begin the scene.

"Oh, Bluto." I called out. "I'm home. Get in here right now."

A large, stocky man scampered into the video frame. He didn't exactly crawl on his hands and knees, but rather was leaning forward, with his knees bent and using his arms and hands on the ground to propel himself onward more quickly. When he arrived at my side he went down more fully onto his knees, head hanging down, gazing at my feet. Except for a thick, studded collar and a cock cage, he was naked. He was quite hairy, and looked a bit like a shaggy dog down before me, which I think was part of the idea.

Most subs in these shoots wear leather gimp masks, to protect their anonymity, and perhaps to boost their courage. I guess this is why I never engage in even small talk with any of them off the set. If they don't want to be known, I don't want to know them. This man was one of the few who did not mask, and I had to admire the strength that must take. He was not what one might call handsome, but he did have a kind face, especially when he smiled. I had never acted with him before, but had observed him in a number of other scenes on occasion, and had always been impressed at how good and professional he was. I had even wondered at times if he had ever seen any of my work.

I quickly got back to the action at hand. I imperiously lifted one of my feet a few inches off the ground. He leaned forward to cup it in his hands, and then bent down to kiss the side of my pump. He then carefully slid it off, set it aside, and bent forward again to slowly, softly, reverently bring his lips to the top of my foot at the base of my toes, then again at mid forefoot, and finally again just below the front of my ankle, before gently placing a slipper upon it. As he performed the same service to my other foot, for the first time ever in a shoot I felt tingles begin to course through me.

It is the far more usual procedure in such scenes for the submissive to slaver in a sniveling servile manner over the feet of the Mistress, as he grovels in greeting before her. It is what this script also called for, and what I and I'm sure the director, expected. That she didn't stop the action despite such a huge divergence surprised me. Maybe it was the real sense of serenity that it had created within me, which was probably projected in my outward appearance as well, that had her let it go and progress on. I re-collected myself to press forward.

I looked down at him haughtily.

"So, Bluto, have you completed all of your daytime chores?"

"Yes, Miss" he replied. "And I pray that they all will meet your expectations and approval."

"Yes, well, I'll be the judge of that. Let's go see, shall we."

With that I proceeded down the hall, the camera receding in front of me, and Bluto trailing immediately behind, this time crawling on all fours. Our first stop was the kitchen. I walked over to the double oven and pulled down the doors.

"All scrubbed and scoured, I trust." I said as I ran my finger over a portion of the bottoms of both. I didn't say anything more as I looked at my fingers, and then closed both doors. I went over and opened several cabinets and looked within.

"All the dirty pots and pans, and dishes cleaned and put away, stacked correctly." I said as I also closed those doors. "And all the countertops wiped and polished."

Without another word, I moved on down the hall toward the bedroom, Bluto again crawling behind. Just outside that room there were two hampers. I opened them both.

"Ah, empty." I observed. "Is all the laundry washed, dried, ironed and put away?" I put to him as he sat back on his knees.

"Yes, Miss."

"And did you handwash all of my intimates?"

"Of course, Miss."

"And did you take a good sniff of them all before?" I smirked.

"Oh no, Miss. Not without your permission."

"See that you don't" I concurred.

In the bedroom, I saw that the bed was well made as I walked over to open the French doors of the large closet.

"All my clothes hung neatly or folded. And all my shoes and boots lined up in order. Do I need to see if they've all been shined?"

"No, Miss. They all are. Every pair."

I nodded. "They better be."

Our next destination was the large ensuite. I made a show of inspecting the whirlpool bath, the sink and vanity with all of the carefully arranged creams, lotions, powders and sundry, and that the medicine cabinet was fully in order. Finally, I came to the commode.

"I know that you just love keeping my toilet gleaming and pristine for me to sit upon to take care of my private business, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss. Very much so"

"And I'll bet you like to lick the seat clean where my bottom has been, before completely polishing it for my next use." I internally cringed at such a thought.

His face was aghast. What an actor.

"Never, Miss. Please believe me. Only when you allow it."

"Yes" I agreed. "That should remain as a special reward."

I gave one final look around. "One last place to see" I announced as I made our way down to the living and dining room area.

"All swept and vacuumed." I proclaimed as I walked through them both. "And all the tables, chairs, and cabinets dusted and polished." I concluded my tour by the fireplace, where I slowly ran my hand across the length of the mantle above. I looked at my fingers, and then made my way over to sit on the sofa, my face impassive as he knelt, tremulously, before me. After several very long moments my lips curved up into a smile.

"I'm very pleased." I declared. "You've done a wonderful job."

His face, which had been a picture of anxious fear, evolved into one of astonishment, capped off by the most brilliant smile.

"CUT" the director roared.

I can't say that I hadn't expected it.

"Angela," she sputtered, "what in the holy hells are you doing?"

"I just thought that it was clearly such a nice effort everywhere, that I should say so." I responded

"Well, that's not what the pathetic sods that we're hoping will buy this clip are looking for" she retorted in her clipped British accent. "So, we're going to do this last part again, and you better do it right, or you'll never work here again. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded, chagrined, though still a little bit triumphant. She gave me a moment to compose myself.

"And. Action."

I stared down upon Bluto and snarled.

"You call this place clean" I began. "I have some dust on my finger from the far corner of the mantle over there. Totally unacceptable" I ranted on. "I don't know why I put up with this, or you anymore. I know that there are any number of other worms out there who would slither on their bellies through any sort of slime to beg me to take them instead of you. I think it's long past time for a change."

He threw himself down onto the floor, prone before my feet.

"Please, Miss, Please. Please forgive me. I'll try harder. I'll work harder. I'll do anything that needs to be done to be allowed to continue to serve you, I swear. Please, I beg you, don't dismiss me."

I could have sworn, myself, that the script called for him to say 'please don't throw me out with the trash', but maybe he had a reason for his own phrase. Interspersed with his pleas, he began to kiss the ground around my feet, as if he didn't dare or deserve to touch me in any way without my directed consent, despite his deep desire to do so, but he still had to in some way demonstrate his devotion. It was another ad lib on his part, and compelling, convincing not only the Mistress, but me as well. It was in the voice of the Mistress that I had to carry on.

I sighed.

"You vex me so, Bluto. I suspect it would indeed take me a lot of time and effort to thoroughly train another slug. And as hard as I might find it to believe, they may still be worse than the abject failure that you are." I sighed again. "So, against my better judgement, I'll give you one more chance to do things right."

"Thank you, Miss, thank you" he breathed. "You won't regret this, I promise."

"I better not" I sneered. "But there still have to be regrets. For you. For this mess today." I looked down at him ominously. "Climb up now, and get over my knees."

This was the part of these scenes that I was not enamored with at all. At least in today's shoot it would be bare-handed, and not with any implements, whose use I abhorred even more. Projecting a look of terror, he got up and over my lap. He was so much bigger than me, but he positioned himself on his toes on one end, and used his down hanging hands on the other to keep most of his weight off of me. It had to be very uncomfortable for him, and now I was going to make it even more so. There could be no faking it. In the obligatory close-up, the camera wouldn't lie.

I steeled myself and brought my arm up, and then my hand down onto his upraised buttocks with a resounding smack.

"Thank you, Miss" was the required response.

I brought my arm back and down again with another stinging swat on his other cheek.

"Thank you, Miss."

I continued, resolutely, again, and again, and again, over and over. Before long, my palm began to ache, and I could only imagine what he felt. I dearly hoped that this might be a desired element of his own real inner need. As it went on, seemingly endlessly, his 'thank you's' began to be accompanied by small sobs. Were these true, or just part of his consummate performance. I clearly wished for it to be the latter. When his backside was fully a vibrant, rosy, red, I saw in the corner of my eye the director finally nod, and I mercifully was able to stop. I had to remain in character however. I gave him a not so subtle shove.

"Get off of me now, you lazy oaf."

He slid off my lap and back onto his knees below me.

"I hope you've learned your lesson" I continued. I then slipped my right foot out of its slipper and pointed it towards him. "Now show your appreciation."

As written in the script, he was supposed to slavishly slather my foot in utter humiliation and debasement. Instead, he once again took my foot in his hands, and began to lightly and gently caress with his lips just the tips of my toes.

"I am extremely grateful to you, Miss, for taking the time and effort to provide me with any correction that you deem that I need. I do not deserve, but am ever thankful for any attention that you ever bestow upon me" he professed as he paid homage to each of my toes. "I will always do anything you require to ever be yours."

As he offered this seeming, and unanticipated prayer, I couldn't suppress the sudden thought of how exquisite it would be to press my toes between his lips, and have him suck on each one, for hours on end, in ardent adoration. And tingles welled up within me again. I had to painfully wrench myself back to the scene. I gazed down on him implacably and recited my final line.

"One last chance, Bluto. Don't miss it."

I couldn't be sure, but I thought that his lips then pressed more firmly, and lingered longer, on the bottoms of my toes. What I did know for certain, was that my tingles had become tremors.

"And. Cut ... That's a wrap" a voice in the distance boomed. We both stood up as the director strode over to us.

"Very well done, Angela" she commended me as she arrived. "Except for that momentary lapse in the middle, which you corrected for admirably, you were marvelous. I think we've got a real winner with this one."

Except to hand him the key to his cock cage, without even looking at him, Bluto was totally ignored. He took the key and shuffled away and out of the room, to my disappointment. I had really wanted to speak to him.

"You even handled beautifully that miscreant's botching of his role" she continued after he had left. "I don't know why I use him. Free labor, I guess" she chuckled. "I left it in though. I think it added very nicely to the aura and allure of your command" she further commented. "He'll still get an earful about it you can be sure" she snorted. "Anyway, I might have another part for you next week" she added as she handed me an envelope containing $100 cash, my pay for the day. "Are you available next Thursday at 4?" My breakfast and lunch shift at work ended at 3 that day, and I had no classes that night, so I took the offer before it could be given to somebody else. I could always use the money, no matter how it sometimes made me feel.

"Good, I'll email you the script" she finished as she walked away.

I slowly gathered my belongings to head for home and another lonesome night. Unfortunately, the weekend as well. Nothing new about that. I have always been too finicky and narrow focused in my social interests for my own good. Too cautious too. But I will only ever want what is right for me. Not like anything that is usually depicted in this make believe world.

As I approached the back door of the house to leave, he was standing next to it, now fully dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a collared pullover shirt. He stood a good 10 inches taller than my 5'2", but despite his imposing stature, somehow I innately knew that this bear of a man would never in any way ever conceive of making me feel small.

"Forgive me, Miss," he addressed me as I came near, "I was wondering if you would grant me a brief moment of your time."

I welcomed the opportunity.

"The shoot is over, so it no longer need be Miss" I corrected him with an encouraging grin. "My name is Angela. And I strongly suspect yours isn't Bluto."

He smiled sheepishly. "It's Alan" he said.

"It's very nice to finally meet you for real, Alan" I responded. "And yes, you may have a moment."

He seemed relieved and even appeared to relax a little.

"I would just like to thank you for the compliment you gave to me during the shoot. No one has ever said anything like that to me."

This was not quite what I had expected.

"Well, the house did seem spotless and very tidy, and I liked imagining that it was you who had done it, so it seemed only right and fair that I should say so. Even if it was all make believe."

"Still, no one has ever complimented me like that ... anywhere." His expression became disturbed. "And you took some heat for it too."

"Oh, that didn't bother me" I lied. "And anyway, I wasn't the only one who deviated from the script" I pointed out. "Time and again you were supposed to obsequiously slobber over my feet. Instead, you did something completely different. What was that all about?" I asked with a small, uncertain laugh.

His face grew solemn. "I just believe that you deserve more respect than that" he said. "... even veneration."

Jolted, I had to let a few moments pass.

"You mean the Mistress in the scene?"

He shook his head slowly, no. "We both know that she's not you."

I didn't know what to say to that, and an uneasy silence ensued. He realized it as well.

"I think I've used up more than my moment" he finally broke through. "Let me just thank you again. It may have seemed trivial and unreal, but it meant a great deal to me."

With that, he turned to take his leave.

"Alan."

For some reason, I didn't want this conversation to end. He turned back to me, and I scrambled to find something, anything, to say to keep it going.

"Did you enjoy the spanking I gave you in the shoot?"

His smile was more rueful this time.

"Those are my least favorite parts of any of these scenes. Actually, favorite is a completely inappropriate word to use." He paused a moment, and his smile became sheepish again. "But it was made more than tolerable being administered by you."

"It's also far from enjoyable, and is always very difficult for me as well" I admitted back, and then returned his smile. "It was so much easier, though, when it was your lovely derriere that I was paddling."

I stopped short, mortified. Had I really just said that? The silence became even more laden and heavy. He clearly sensed my discomfort.

"Please forgive me again" he responded. "I really should go." And he turned away once more.

"Alan."

He turned around more quickly this time, as if he, too, wanted our discussion to continue, but that the decision to do so was solely mine. I searched my mind for a safer topic.

"What do you do for a job, outside of ... this"

Again, the sheepish smile that I was coming to very much like.

"I'm a writer. Of fiction." His smile now became more wistful. "Although I would love to move on to non-fiction."

"Are you good?"

"I'd like to believe so. I make more than a decent living from it." His smile faded. "... at least financially."

"And the rest?" I prodded.

"Empty" he replied.

I nodded. I understood just what he meant.

There didn't seem to be anything more to say ... or do. This time when he started to leave, I thought to finally let him go. He reached the door and put his hand on the knob.

"Alan."

For perhaps the last time, he returned to me.

"Yes?"

I took a leap ...

"Do you think you can clean a house, and take care of a household, as well as I implied that you did in the shoot?"

His reply couldn't have been more earnest. "I would strive to my utmost to do so as perfectly as would be expected."

... and I landed on the other side. Now to see if I had done so successfully.

"348 Pine St. Apt. 3C"

"348 Pine St. Apt. 3C" he repeated.

"With my job as a waitress, and night school, and the time I spend here, I can't keep up and my place is always a mess. Tomorrow is Saturday. Be there at 8 in the morning, and there will be a full day of chores awaiting you." I paused, and smiled. "And if you do them all as well as I expect, and I'll be the sole judge of that, there will be another compliment for you at the end. This one true ... and real."