"C'mere dear one," he said, in his most resonant tone of seduction. She was teasing him with her eyes, and he wasn't about to let her get away with it.
She was a bawdy wench, Lilith, with few morals. She knew that going to bed with this fierce and tender "man in tights" as she called him, would be heaven.
"You have to catch me first," she whispered, as she shook her head and her behind, with the same lewd motion. She turned and tried to scamper out of the dressing room, only to be hauled back by his strong hand.
"You're going no where, my pretty," he murmured, as he pulled her close. Planting his face between her breasts, he smelled the perfume of some sweet cheap toilet water and her sweat. He let the fragrance cover his face, as he moved from one breast to the other, from one exposed nipple to the next, as he pulled down the front of her 16th century costume.
She was oblivious, not even thinking, in some fairy dreamland, having his rough bearded face pressed into her soft home. She ran her fingers through his thick blonde hair, and simply moaned, throwing back her head as his nibbles turned into testy love bites.
"You belong over my knee, you little shrew," he charged, as he pulled away from her breasts, remembering who he was about to fuck.
"Ah! I'm not the shrew in this cast," she countered readily.
"Yes, but you're the one I'm taming, remember?" His hand reached down to the hem of her dress and explored inside the massive costume for her flesh, for her legs and thighs. The sumptuous feel of quivering womanly flesh was a treasure in his hands. He pressed his advantage to go deeper.
"You're taking advantage of me," she protested without pulling away from him.
"Of course I am, wench, you want it, don't you?"
"But you said you'd spank me for openers."
"And what's wrong with that? You'd be surprised how aroused you'll get."
He had her ass in both hands, her voluminous skirts were all over the place; but he'd captured the place he wanted: her round wide cheeks. He grabbed a handful of each cheek and squeezed hard as he parted her rear cleft, opening it for further exploration.
"Oooo, stop that! It hurts!" she said without using a smidge of complaint in her voice. She spoke in a husky soft melodious voice that with little effort could carry for miles.
"You want more, don't you?" he charged.
"Hummmmm, we'll see," she murmured while she felt his hands feel their way around every inch of her private places. He moved with such grace, teasing where he never should have been. She hardly knew him, but she allowed him entry, and a whole lot more. She was not the kind of woman who could help herself. And he was the kind of man that would not easily stop.
When he suddenly pushed her away, she jerked awake from the dazed sensuality she'd succumbed to.
"You don't want me?" she asked, startled.
"Oh, I want you Lilith darling, but I want you on my lap, over my knee, bending kindly to my wishes." He smiled broadly.
"And it won't hurt?"
"Love taps, I promise, a nice blushing red, and you'll be cumming like a whore."
"Whores don't come," Lilith replied. She looked at him suspiciously.
"You want in my bed or not?" he asked, nonplused.
"You're a scoundrel," she charged back, though there was a magnificent smile on her freckled face, and her tousled red hair seemed to dance about her.
"You wouldn't like me otherwise," he said. "Now, come here, I need to lift your skirt and lay my eyes on that ass of yours."
She tittered like a schoolgirl, blushing wildly, her cheeks a splash of red. She tiptoed to his side, and he proceeded to pull her over his thighs.
He yanked down the mountain of skirts.
"Hey, you'll tear the dress," she said.
"If I do, so what? It's my theatre."
He had a point, she thought, but she loved this costume.
"Just unhook the back, it will come right off," she explained, while trying to maintain her balance, and her aplomb as she teetered on his lap. He followed her instructions, and her legs and ass were quickly bared to his expectant gaze.
"No underwear? You saucy little tart, you're such a blatant slut," he said, seeing all that naked flesh in front of his eyes.
"I like to woo," she explained.
"You wooed me well, now for your just desserts."
"Not the main course?" she shot back.
"That comes later."
He eyed the fine ass for a long time, admiring the way it jiggled when he moved his legs underneath her. He liked fat asses like hers to spank. Hers wasn't really fat, but it was generous, voluminous, fleshy, lots to dive into. He needed this kind of voluptuary to maul. He liked women like Lil that loved the tease and the fuck as much as he did.
A quick strike, and there was the red imprint of his hand appearing in the middle of one white cheek. A second strike and another red imprint appeared on the second cheek. He spanked her with a liberal flourish, laying on good hearty smacks one after another, until all her fine rear flesh was a sweet pink.
"Oooo, you nasty bastard, this is beginning to hurt," she said without really being hurt.
"You like it though," he said. He continued with the spirited spanking, letting his sexual fires grow, just as his cock was growing too.
"What! You're getting off on this?" she exclaimed, noticing his rising dick as it pulsed against her.
"What did you think I'd do? Seeing your bottom like this is an aphrodisiac."
"You're a kinky bastard," she charged.
"I never said I wasn't," he agreed. He let his hand continue raising the color pink to red, until the sassy woman was squirming so much he couldn't contain his erection, or Lilith on his lap.
"What did I tell you," he charged sweetly, as he lifted Lilith from his legs and pushed her to the nearby couch. Drawing down his tights and pulling out a swollen manhood, he parted the waiting woman's thighs and found home, planting himself inside the succulent opening.
"Ah, ah, ah yes!" She had a marvelous panting style, that voice such sensuous music.
"Awwww Gawd!" he groaned, moving in against her tighter still, then he began a brisk hard banging screw. She was a glorious ride. He especially found her squeezing inner muscles a delight to his hard flesh.
He looked delightedly at the expression of joy on her face, her head thrown back, her mouth parted and panting, and her eyes closed as if there was something magical on the inside of her mind.
Her legs did a fine shimmy under him, and she orgasmed first. Ah! Never let them tell you they don't like spanking, he told himself again, just before he came himself. They rocked together until the lusty sensations had passed, and they fell together, a heap of sweaty flesh.
"Mr. Shakespeare, I need to speak to you," a voice came from outside the room, instantly violating their well-conceived peace. "Can I come in?" the female voice further asked.
"No, no you can't," Orlando shouted, but the door opened anyway, and a dark-haired young woman stood on the threshold looking in.
"I have to talk to you about rehearsal tomorrow," the woman announced.
"Can't you see you've interrupted me," Orlando charged nastily. "Have you no couth at all? Who are you anyway?" he asked, not knowing who the girl was. He was pulling himself from Lilith, the poor woman's legs still widely parted showing off her wet cunt. A fact that didn't seem to faze the woman at the door. Orlando pulled his tights back in place, his prick still noticeably bulging, it had not yet shrunk back to his non-erect size.
"You told me to talk to you after rehearsal, that's why I'm here," the intruder spoke again. She was a fascinating thing, coal black hair, and eyes that looked the same; they seemed to reflect no light at all, they were that dark. Though on close inspection, Orlando noticed that there was a hint of green coming from them. Strangest eyes he'd seen in a long time. She had pale skin, and the loveliest looking hands he'd seen on a woman in sometime.
"Who are you?" he asked again.
"Tempest," she said.
"Ah, yes, what is your real name?"
"That is my real name, on my birth certificate," she replied defiantly.
"Well, Miss Tempest, you're ill-mannered and rude," he informed her.
"I wasn't intending to interrupt anything. But I had to have an answer before I left the theatre, and I didn't know how else to get it."
"That makes you impatient too," Orlando added, sarcastically. He ran his hand through his messy hair and waited for her to speak.
"I've decided being aggressive is the only way I'm going to get noticed, and get anywhere with my acting. To refresh your memory, you said I fit the part of Bianca. I wanted to see if you'd made your final decision."
Orlando smiled, and shook his head; the woman transfixed him as much as she annoyed him.
Lilith was casually combing her hair on the couch. Still naked from the waist down, she wasn't about to be usurped by this interloper. Thank god they'd both orgasmed, this woman would likely have stopped them in the middle of screaming, she was that single minded.
"Be a sweetheart, Lil, and take off a while, we'll get together later," Orlando suggested. He gave Lilith his most charming smile, and pulled her to her feet, pushing the bottom half of her costume in her arms. "Later, don't go too far. Promise?" He was thinking of taking her again before the night was over, they'd really just begun. There was so much more woman to explore there, and he imagined that round rear of hers would enjoy another punishment as much as he would. He watched her still pink buns jiggle away.
Drawing Miss Tempest into the room, Orlando closed the door.
"Sit down," he said. His voice instantly bristled, his words curt.
Tempest sat, and looked up at the actor/director, not upset at all with the man's abrupt change, if she even noticed.
"Now, who are you again?" he asked.
"Tempest. I auditioned for you last week. I understand that I have the understudy's part of Bianca, and I'm aware that your Bianca quit the play yesterday. So, I'm here to take her place." She almost sounded as if she rehearsed the speech.
"That hasn't been decided yet," Orlando told her, trying to get it clear what the actress wanted.
"I'm the best for the role. I was better than your original actress, and you'll see that. You want me tomorrow?"
"I want you to shut up first," Orlando charged. "You'd probably make a better Kate," he mumbled to himself, as he paced slowly back and forth, continuing to run his hand through his hair as he looked down at the expectant woman.
"Of course I would make a terrific Kate," she jumped on the notion. "You want me for that part? I practically have all the lines learned." She looked up at him hopefully.
"Oh, yes, now I remember," Orlando's face lit in recognition. "You're the one that staged a temper tantrum on my stage a few days ago."
"That was not a temper tantrum, we were simply having creative differences; but I'm sure that we can iron things out."
"We can iron things out?" he said with a laugh. "Haughty little bitch, aren't you."
"I beg your pardon?" she answered back indignantly.
Orlando's eyes suddenly went dark and he fixed the actress with a lethal glare. "Let's get things straight, Tempest, my dear Tempest." He was clearly mocking her, and she didn't like it. "This is my theatre and I direct. I also act, I do anything I damn well please, exactly the way I want to do it. You, on the other hand, are just an actress, a sweet budding one at that. But if you're planning to be part of my cast, you will follow my orders. You will take my direction. You will wait for me to decide who plays what part. You think you can remember that?"
She didn't reply, just looked at him in awe.
"You get it clear, we'll get along fine. Otherwise, you can take your impudent, childish, discourteous manner somewhere else."
"I just . . . ." she tried to speak.
"You just nothing, I'm speaking now." She was taken aback by his abruptness. "You were good, yes, but you aren't the only actress in the world, and I can replace you in a second. That means you button your tongue, mind your manners and don't ever, ever open my door without an invitation. You got that?"
She didn't answer.
"Yes," she said quietly. It was clear that she didn't want to say it at all.
"Good. Another thing? You might remember, since you seem to be so self-willed."
"I've been known to have alternative means of keeping my cast members in line, specifically my female cast members."
"Certainly you're not talking about . . . "
"About sex? No."
"Oh." She looked bewildered not knowing what he meant.
"Before I fire a cast member, if I'm particularly pissed off at them, but I think they might still have a place in my play, I often spank their naked tushes to get my message across."
"Spank?" She looked at him dumbfounded.
"Yes, very hard, with a belt or paddle or my bare hand." He waved his palm in front of her, with a slightly threatening gesture.
"You wouldn't dare," Tempest replied.
"You wouldn't want to try me," he said, with a smile. "Now get out of here, be at rehearsal promptly. And if you ever want to act in any theatre in this town, you'll behave yourself as a professional, not the bitch you've been with me."
Tempest nodded, rose from the chair and exited the room, trying to decide if she had won anything or not. She had a part in the play, she guessed. Perhaps that's all the triumph she could expect.
With Tempest gone, Lilith returned to the dressing room to continue where she and Orlando had left off.
"She's quite a bitch," Lilith said, when they were safely alone again.
"Oh, I told her I'd spank her if she gets this way again," Orlando said with a laugh. "Should have scared her enough to get her cooperation. I thought it was just a good joke."
"Do you have to keep her at all?" Lilith asked. "I mean, isn't she just going to be trouble. She's already antagonized just about everybody with that arrogant glare of hers.
"She's a damned good actress," Orlando said remembering the brilliant audition she'd had. "Better than you are my dear," he informed the lusty woman. "But, not likely better in bed."
"You really are horrible, Orlando," Lilith purred, though she was taken in his arms, and happily letting him pull away her massive costume one more time.
Summarily dismissed, Tempest remained outside Orlando's dressing room door, considering the man who'd just challenged her. It was rare to find anyone, least of all a man, who would confront her, and she rather liked it, in a bizarre sort of way. Orlando would be quite a catch, she thought to herself; though that business of spanking was clearly absurd. Yes, the director may have taken "round one" of their contest; but it was hardly over. In addition to priding herself on being a great actress, she knew she was a devastating femme fatale, who could easily woo men into submission. She knew she'd have no trouble with Orlando Shakespeare, once she got under his skin. And she was all the more enticed by that nasty bulge under his tights. Winning this man over would be a pleasure.
Some time later . . . .
"I'm late, how's it going?" Orlando asked, running down the side aisle of the theatre, practically out of breath.
"Rocky, if you ask me. Little princess Tempest up there wants to do the scene her own way," his assistant director Grey informed him.
"And how's that?"
"Exactly the opposite of what you wanted."
"I see. Why don't you run it for me," Orlando suggested.
"On your marks again," Gray shouted to the cast.
The two watched the scene unfold.
"See what I mean?" Gray whispered.
"Yeah. Little interpretive genius," Orlando commented. He admired her spunk, even if it was misplaced.
"But you didn't want it that way," Gray reminded him.
"No. That interpretation would work for Kate, but not for Bianca."
"Gee, I wonder why?" Gray said sarcastically. "You'd better explain it to her. She's pretty well pissed off the entire cast, and I know she's pissed me off. I'd fire her."
"You just have to know how to handle her," Orlando said, with a pleasant smirk. "Tempest," Orlando called out, getting the brunette's attention. "You remember how I asked you to rehearse this scene?"
"Yes, but it works better this way," she retorted immediately.
"Well, it's very nice acting, but it's not what I want, so you do it my way. Run it again from the opening."
Orlando stepped back and let his assistant direct the scene.
"She didn't change a damn thing," Gray said exasperated when the run through was over.
Orlando didn't say a word this time, but raced up to the stage apron, and jumped up with ease. He motioned Tempest aside.
"You seem to have forgotten, my dear, there is one director here. That is me. Gray just follows my instructions. You, play the scene my way, or I'll find someone else." He was pleasant but very sincere in his gentle admonishment. It wasn't like Orlando to scream until he was really pissed off. Then holy hell broke loose, and there was no one who wanted to be within ten miles of the man. Now, he was as calm as a sleeping puppy, but very pointed.
Not knowing Orlando's disposition, Tempest offered yet another objection. "You're making a mistake," she said. "I know this character, I know how to play Bianca. You're getting in the way of my performance." She had a way of screwing up her face when she was excited, her cheeks were blushing and her eyes began to flash. There were muffled "Ooos" and "Ahhhs" throughout the listening cast members. It was almost predictable the outcome of this battle, they could have cast lots on the how long it would take before Orlando took the actress backstage.
"If there is a mistake, Miss Tempest," Orlando explained patiently, "then you can let it be my mistake, not yours. I trust you're actress enough to change your style to accommodate me?" He was painfully patronizing.
"Certainly," Tempest answered, as if the director was besmirching her competence as an actor.
"Then show me," he said. His eyes for just an instant flared with a spark of anger.
His "Bianca" was taken aback, but she was into character again before she could truly understand the meaning behind this brief conference with Orlando. Unfortunately, her lack of appreciation for Orlando's sincerity would be a disastrous error in judgment.
Orlando watched the scene from the wings, the luscious bosomy Tempest hardly changing an inflection in her crisp clear voice. She moved just the slightest bit differently, but it was the same Bianca that came through - Tempest's Bianca, not Orlando's. She was one stubborn hellion.
"Tempest," Orlando called sharply from his position, moving forward to where she stood.
"How was that?" she asked, thinking her changes appropriate.
"Dreadful," Orlando answered. He assumed a cool calculating posture and stared the actress down. The tension filled moment seemed so brimming with possibilities. It was explosive, though Orlando took great pains to contain his emotion. "Do you know what I did to Lilith the night you so rudely interrupted us in my dressing room?" the director finally asked her.
"No, I don't know that. I wasn't paying attention," she replied.
"Well let me show you." He briskly took the woman by the hand, and leading her to a convenient chair at center stage, he sat down, pulled her over his waiting knees, and began to spank her bottom, that was looking very luscious in its next to nothing pair of stretchy lycra shorts.
"What the hell are you doing!" Tempest roared the instant the first smack landed. She kicked and screamed for all she was worth.
The cast surrounding them watched delighted by the sight of Miss Prima Donna getting her due. Several applauded the action, and offered jeering whistles of approval.
"Stop it now, you fucking asshole!" Tempest shouted. Her legs were all over the place, while her hands tried desperately to cover her smarting bottom.
Orlando, oblivious to the raging woman, continued his fiery blast, laying one blow after another on Tempest's wiggling bottom. The smacks were hard and jolting, and went right through her garment. If one were to peak underneath, it would surely be blushing with a fine red hue. When her hands went up to cover her behind, he grabbed them with his large left hand and pinned them against her back.
"Stop this now!" she stormed, and stormed again, but it was to no avail.
"Do you want to do the scene my way?" the director finally asked her.
"Get your bloody hands off of me!" she answered.
"Do you want to do the scene my way?" Orlando repeated, his voice rising, as did the fury of his smacks.
"Stop it now!" she wailed again.
"I want an answer." He accompanied the demand with several more fierce smacks.
"I won't," she vowed.
"Then I won't stop." He started in again, zealously spanking the wiggling bottom with great gusto. The steady staccato rhythm looked so fierce, the watching cast stood there in awe of it. Though they'd often heard about Orlando's infamous spankings, few had had the opportunity to view one first hand.
"Stop!" Tempest was crying, still flailing her legs, though some of the spark that began the foray was beginning to diminish. Either she was too exhausted, or she realized that she was not going to win this battle. It would only get more painful.
"You do the scene my way?" Orlando repeated his initial query.
"Yes, yes, I will," she wailed at last. "Just stop. Please!"
And true to his word, Orlando slowed the spanking, then stopped altogether.
Before the director could prevent her from doing otherwise, Tempest bolted from his lap, and then from the stage. The humiliated crying actress disappeared behind the curtain. It was clear, there would be little more accomplished, at least until she had recuperated.
"Start with Act III, any scene she's not in," Orlando ordered. "And don't get sloppy just because I'm gone," he said, charging off. He needed to recuperate himself; it had been a long time since he'd had such an unwilling woman over his lap. He didn't know whether to feel depleted or inspired.