Thread: Inside Power Exchange [GypsyRose & Dane Stalling]

Matt's response to her pose didn't go unnoticed, and she smirked playfully at him over his safe word comment. She knew what that was, of course, though in her own undertakings 'No' or 'Stop' had always been sufficient. At first, she hadn't really seen the point, but some of her research had at least opened her eyes to another way of thinking. She could see how it could be fun to say no, to pretend to say no, so long as both knew it wasn't really meant ... and how you'd need some kind of very clear signal when it moved to 'no' for real again. Particularly in some of these rooms ... It was nice that Matt took her question seriously. A lot of people didn't. She was a pretty face with nice size tits and a curvy ass. Her brain was, at best, an inconvenience, especially if she asked questions they hadn't thought of. That seemed to be a little more true in the industry, though with certain people it'd always been true. It was something you just had to live with, when it wasn't worth the effort of butting heads -- or the loss of income -- but all the same, it made her like, and appreciate, her attractive co-star all the more. With interest, she watched as Matt turned off the lights, with dramatic flair. The deliberateness of his actions seemed to highlight the darkness all the more, and lent an atmosphere of anticipation and foreboding all at once, especially when he walked toward the throne and moved behind it, an intent expression on his face that said her presence had been forgotten. Regan wasn't insulted. It happened to her occasionally, though the roles she had been offered outside community theater hadn't been inspiring enough to warrant it much lately, and she recognized the signs. Matt was letting the role speak to him, even if he was doing improv rather than following a script -- unless he'd gotten one when she hadn't. He was pretty good, too, taking on an air of command, of spoiled decadence like some Shakespearean king, or, for a more modern reference, The Tudors or Game of Thrones. She felt a little shiver run through her as he lounged on the chair, and the urge to do likewise, throw herself into the role and go to kneel before the throne, a supplicant eager for the king's judgment. As if he'd read her mind, he made an imperious gesture, the light making his hair shine like a nimbus ... or a crown. Off with her ... Click to expand... As he paused, her mind completed the expectant line, feeling a bit of nonsensical disappointment, until he spoke again, with a rather different twist. His face was still regal, commanding, but there was a hint of softening, amusement, and something more in the directed light, made harsh by planes and shadows. Her lips quirked, just a bit, as she decided 'what the hell', and threw herself into the spirit of things. Regan put a note of uncertainty in her expression, imagining Matt now as some long ago king, stern, but not without humor, a man of passions and hungers. She looked to the left, then to the right, as if seeking some other that he must be addressing as she shaped her expression with both a hint of fear, and longing as well. Taking the hem of her sweater in her hands, she lifted it slightly, letting it serve as a royal gown, and bent her knees in a graceful, slow curtsy. Then slowly, letting herself imagine the royal court gathered on the sidelines, attentive, whispering, nudging one another, Regan moved to the center of the room, her hips swaying softly, her hands crossed modestly in front, until she could kneel at the throne's foot, eyes suitably downcast. Letting the tension build for a moment, she looked up, angling her face just so to catch a glimmer of the spotlight, and took hold of her sweater hem as she stared up into the face of her king, her lips parting in breathless anticipation and filled with the hope, and expectation, that her offering would bring him pleasure. Slowly, she began to lift the garment, with just the hint of a smile, exposing her lightly tanned midriff, the toned abdomen, inch by inch, not stopping even when the sweater fabric dragged over the pristine white lace of her bra and the generous curve of her breast, her breath coming slightly faster. There you two are! I see you've been getting familiar with the setting. Excellent. We have a set where you'll actually be shooting, of course, but this is great atmosphere, isn't it? Carole didn't miss a beat as Regan let her shirt fall back in place and began to stand, reaching out to flip on the lights in cheerful, no nonsense fashion. Regan wondered if Matt felt as disappointed as she did at the interruption.