Passion Fruit

"What is this?" she asked. The tone of her voice inquisitive.

Vow walked over, his footsteps loud on the wooden floor.

"They call this a St. Andrews Cross. It's used by people who enjoy certain 'situations'."

Grace looked blankly at him. "Certain situations?"

Vow put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. They kissed. Even in her heels, Vow towered over her, his grip strong. He whispered in her ear.

"Do you trust me?"

He ran his fingers slowly through her hair.

"Yes," she said.

He kissed her again before turning her so she faced the St. Andrews Cross. She was nervous and her heartbeat was rising. She felt something dark was going to happen. It excited her. Something she couldn't control. It turned her on even more.

She felt his fingers unzip her dress before slipping it off her slim shoulders to the floor. Still standing behind her, his hands caressed her neck, giving her goosebumps. He unhooked her bra and cupped her bare breasts. She gasped and rested her head on his chest, her eyes half-closed as he played with her nipples, alternating between soft and hard pressure. Grace's hand darted between her legs as she enjoyed the warmth of her lacy black panties, pressing her index finger against her swollen clit. She felt Vow slide his fingers into her panties before pulling them down. A moan escaped her mouth. She now stood naked, except for the heels, facing the cross.

"Perfect," said Vow.

Grace was now just inches from the contraption. It was like something from medieval times. He spun her round, so she was now facing him, her back to the cross. He told her not to move as he disappeared into the darkness, returning with several strands of soft and transparent medical tubing. Material you could easily bend, tie and manipulate.

"Spread your legs and hold out your arms," he commanded.

Grace did as she was told. The cross felt hard against her smooth skin. Vow bent down towards her right ankle and tied it against the bottom corner of the cross using the tubing. He repeated the process for her other ankle before securing her wrists against the soft leather. He stood back to admire his work. Grace had her arms and legs splayed like a crucifixion. Grace clenched her fists, not fully at ease. Vow told her to relax. To enjoy the moment. Grace had never given a man such control or put herself in such a position. It was precarious, but also exhilarating.

"Now, we need one more thing to complete the look."

He left the room and returned with a studded black and red collar, which he attached around her neck. With her hair still up, he could secure it easily. It was tight around her neck, but loose enough that it was comfortable. "I love my women in only a collar and heels."

"What are you going to do to me?" Grace asked.

He put his finger to her lips. "Don't speak unless I give you permission." His face was serious.

The Grace Kennicot she knew would have laughed in someone's face had they said that to her. She didn't like being told what to do, especially in such a forceful manner. But Vow was in her head and she felt compelled to do what he said, like black magic. He picked up her purse, rummaging through the contents. He found what he was looking for and approached the cross. He bent down on his knees so he was inches from her naval. Grace was trembling as she prepared herself for whatever was about to happen. But the next sensation wasn't his fingers or his tongue. It was her lipstick. Vow was writing something just above her pussy using red lipstick. He was slow and deliberate, like an engraver.

"We have your new name," said Vow as he finished.

She tried to read the upside-down letters. It was too difficult.

Vow spoke. "It says S. L. U. T." He lingered over each letter and then spoke the word.

"Slut."

Grace bit her lip. She groaned as Vow took the tip of her lipstick and caressed it up and down her glistening lips and clit. She wanted to be a slut for Vow. He threw the lipstick across the floor and spread her with his fingers. She could feel his breath on her clit and pulled hard on her restraints. Vow sunk his tongue into her wetness. She moaned deeply. As he ate her pussy, Grace could see the reflection of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror angled in front of her. Vow was on his knees feasting on her. She wanted to grab his head and pull him even deeper inside her. Grace thrust her hips out as far as she could. She came hard in his mouth, spitting a stream of obscenities. Vow looked up at her, his face covered in her juices. She was gasping and panting, the orgasm still warm and fresh. Vow rose from his knees. He wiped some of her cum across her belly. Then he abruptly walked out the room and left her on the cross.

Grace waited in silence for Vow to return. A minute passed. Then another. She considered her situation. Naked, with her wrists and ankles bound to a large wooden cross. A panic hit her. What if Vow didn't return or if this was some kind of sick stunt to him? How the hell would she get free? Before she worked herself into a state, footsteps marched towards her. Grace stiffened. Vow came into view. Gone was the suit. Gone was everything. He was naked and holding a large bag in one hand and something else in the other. It looked like a small mirror. He put the bag on the floor next to the cross and faced Grace with the mirror. She could see two thick lines of white powder on the mirror with a rolled up note next to them.

"One line each," he said.

Grace peered at the powder. "I'm not sure about this. What is it? She didn't do drugs, even though she'd always been curious.

"I didn't give you permission to speak slut. You trust me. Remember?"

Trust. It was like the apple and the snake. The temptation. It was too strong to resist. The magnet pulled her closer. She nodded. Further down the rabbit hole we go.

Vow took his line first, making it disappear in seconds. Then he held the mirror in front of Grace and put the end of the rolled up note under her right nostril. Grace looked at Vow, took a deep breath and snorted. She needed a second and third attempt to finish her line. Vow dabbed at the leftovers and smeared it on her gums. It hit her a few seconds later. Euphoria swept over her body.

"Oh my god!"

Vow smiled. "No talking slut. Besides, I've got another use for your mouth now."

Grace felt wonderful. Like she was floating into the stratosphere in a warm haze of brilliant sunshine. Vow flipped a switch on the cross. She felt it vibrate. Then she gasped as the cross started moving.

"It's moving, it's moving!" she shrieked.

"That's right, we're going to have you at a more accommodating angle."

The cross rotated slowly by ninety degrees so Grace was horizontal when it stopped, like a wild boar on a spit roast. Her shackled wrists and ankles held her securely in place, the tubing elastic enough to keep her comfortable. The mysterious white powder was still doing amazing things to her. Vow grabbed her hair, thrusting his cock into her mouth. She gagged and spluttered at first, the compromising position so alien to her. But she was high and craved every inch of him.

Grace relaxed as Vow grunted and drove deeper. He had a tight hold of her hair and was yanking her head back and forward in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Her drool coated his prick as she grunted for more. Grace craved his cum. She needed to taste it, to have it inside her again. Vow came aggressively, splattering the back of her throat with his seed. Grace savoured it. She flicked at his cock head with the tip of her tongue to catch more strands of cum as he withdrew. Some of it ran along her cheek and chin, dripping onto the floor.

Vow flicked the switch on the cross to bring it back into an upright position. The blood rushed back into Grace's head, intensifying the rush even more. It was like being on some kind of crazy fairground ride where every sexual pleasure was magnified. Vow leaned over and untied the tubing from Grace's wrists and ankles. She felt good to be free, but still hungered for his cock. Vow put his hands on her hips and spun her around. The speed took her by surprise and she almost lost her footing, but Vow steadied her. She thought about wiping his cum from her face, but decided against it. She knew that wasn't her decision. Grace enjoyed seeing properly for the first time Vow's 'slut' lipstick message written on her body. Her body continued to pulse.

Vow told her to lean forward and grip the top of the cross. He kicked her legs apart, exposing her cunt and asshole. Vow went to his bag again, taking out a small bottle. Lubricant. Grace bucked forward as she felt a big dollop gently being massaged into her tight asshole. It surprised her how quickly her asshole relaxed, most likely from the powder. Vow easily slipped a finger inside her ass. Grace pushed back on it.

Grace wasn't sure she could take Vow's dick in her ass, but like the vigorous face-fucking, her body was operating in a different orbit from her mind. She gripped the wooden frame of the cross firmly as Vow eased himself in. His cock slipped in easily. She lowered her head as he grabbed her hair roughly and began sliding in and out. Groans filled the apartment as Vow ass-fucked her on the cross. He switched between slow and fast, shallow and deep, stretching her out. Grace loved the feeling of complete fullness. She was close to cumming again. Vow smacked her ass as he fucked it, telling her what a slut she was. Grace felt like a wild animal caught by a hunter. She visualised a deer in the headlights, its antlers a trophy. These vivid images swirled around her head until a massive orgasm ripped through her body, reducing her to guttural noises she'd never heard herself make before.

Vow was like a machine. After he finished fucking her ass, he pulled out and slammed straight into her cunt. This time it started fast and only got faster. Gripping her thighs, he crashed into her with full force from behind. He undid the pin on her hair, so her long brunette hair flowed over her back. He pulled her hair hard as he fucked her. Grace thought last night's sex with Vow was intense. This was indescribable. She came twice before Vow pulled her off the cross and fucked her on the carpeted floor; her shapely legs wrapped around his broad shoulders. Over the next two hours, Vow fucked Grace in every room in the apartment. The powder, whatever it was, still coursed through her body as she enjoyed the incredible sex. The night seemed to last forever. They eventually collapsed, breathless and dazed, both falling into a restless sleep.

Morning came. Grace dressed quickly and unsteadily. She was shaky and said little except she needed to get home. She called an Uber. It arrived within minutes. Vow walked her to the door naked. She turned around.

"I don't know what to say."

Vow took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. He held her there.

"Thank you," he said. She wasn't sure if it was still the drugs or the whole experience, but he once again sounded different.

She kissed him and looked into his eyes. He smiled and opened the front door, kissing the back of her head as she left. Walking down the stairs, Grace put her hair back into a bun and collapsed into the seat. She slept for the next two days.

Later in the week, Grace arrived back on the set and found she was no longer needed for any scenes. She was told of a new movie production starting in a couple of weeks, which they would put her forward for. Her role on Vow's movie was over.

Final Act

Three months passed since Grace's encounter with Breslin Vow. She'd tried to put it behind her. It had been the most exhilarating night of her life. But it had been with a man she shouldn't have been anywhere near. She tried to get out more, attending art shows, exhibitions, anything to take her mind off it. It was at one event where she met a Swedish photographer called Leif. He was funny and sweet. They started dating.

It was a cold and clear morning when Grace dropped into a Starbucks in Manhattan before work. She noticed a woman staring at her. The woman looked familiar. Grace was still trying to place her when she walked over.

"Hey, I'm sorry to disturb you, but do you remember me? I'm Sara. I worked on the Breslin Vow movie."

Grace remembered her now. She was the woman in the New York Yankees' baseball cap who took her to Vow's trailer that night. "Oh hi, nice to see you again," said Grace on autopilot.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Sara asked.

Grace glanced out the window and started playing with her bracelet. The last thing she needed now was some drama with a woman she barely knew over an event she had worked hard to justify as a first and last mistake in New York. But she smiled and said, "Of course."

Sara squeezed in opposite her. The Starbucks was busy, but most people had their faces glued to their phones, oblivious to anything else beyond that digital screen.

"Grace darling, I need to confess something to you. Seeing you here today has to be some kind of sign."

Grace saw the look on Sara's face. "Go on," she said.

"Ok, well this is all going to sound a little crazy but please hear me out. How do I start? Ok. That time you spent with Breslin Vow. Well, that wasn't Breslin Vow."

Grace looked at her. "What?"

Sara repeated herself. "Your time with Breslin Vow wasn't with Breslin Vow."

Grace was amused now. "Well, who else would it be?" She thought this was some kind of joke.

Sara continued. "I know that you think it was Breslin Vow. And to a certain extent it was Breslin Vow in physical form, but it wasn't really Breslin. Let me explain more. I've been working with Breslin for the last twelve years. The man is an incredible actor, one of the best. Do you know what a method actor is Grace?"

Grace wasn't sure. "No," she said, still highly suspicious.

"Well, a method actor uses a range of techniques to achieve better characterisations of the characters they play. It's an acting philosophy created by a Russian guy called Stanislavski. Many actors today use the method approach, where they try to experience certain situations for themselves to then call upon when they're acting. Let's take an example. They might stop eating food or sleeping if they want to portray a character who can't sleep or needs to appear malnourished. Another example, when Robert De Niro was nominated for an Oscar for Taxi Driver in 1976, what many people don't know is that Bobby spent four months working as a taxi driver in New York to get into the role. I mean, the guy literally was a taxi driver, picking up passengers every night. Basically, the method actor goes to pretty extreme lengths."

"Ok," said Grace. This was all news to her. She thought acting was all about getting a script and memorising your lines. Clearly not for some.

"Well, here's the thing," said Sara. "You see, Breslin is such a perfectionist and utterly dedicated to his craft. There's no-one like him today. He's a massive student of Stanislavski but believes that most of the so-called method actors today haven't stayed true to Stanislavski's core principles on realism. Breslin doesn't feel they go nearly far enough to really get into the character they're going to be playing. So Breslin goes to - how can I say - extremities."

There was a pause. Sara played with her coffee cup.

"Please continue," said Grace.

"For any film Breslin does, he absolutely becomes that character the whole time. Literally the entire time, not just when they're shooting, but 24/7 and often for months. It depends on how long the shoot is. I don't know any other actor to go to these lengths. I know it puts incredible pressure and stress on Breslin, but it's how he wants it. It's who he is."

Sara took a sip of her coffee, which was too hot. She pulled a face before continuing.

"This latest movie of Breslin's had a huge amount of secrecy around it, right? You remember signing the non-disclosure form from the studio? It meant you couldn't talk about the film at all, even with close friends, family, whatever."

"Yes, and I still don't know what the movie's about," said Grace.

"It's just been released for a special screening in New York tonight ahead of its worldwide premier at Cannes. I can tell you more about the film now. Breslin plays a serial adulterer, a man who lives a life of deception and lies. His character has major mood swings, and I think it's his best work ever. It's a deep psychological exposé of the trappings of modern life and the pressures of society. His character plays out dominant sexual fantasies under the control of mind-altering drugs and there's some really graphic sex scenes and violence as he spirals further and further out of control. It's already being thought of as an early Oscars' front runner for Best Film and Best Actor. In the movie he plays a character called Brad Voight." Sara moved closer to Grace, leaning in. "Grace, when I took you to the trailer that night, I wasn't taking you to meet Breslin Vow. I was taking you to meet Brad Voight."

Grace put her coffee down. She let the words sink in.

Her mind was trying to piece things together, going back over those twenty-four hours with Vow. It was still impossible to believe she'd been with a character the whole time, an actor who'd inhabited another person so completely. It was like they had dropped her into the movie itself. It just couldn't happen.

She replayed events and conversations with Vow. It fell into place. The frequent change in his demeanour and never wanting to talk about himself. Something an adulterer would always do to hide something. The 'BV' initials he'd signed off with in his WhatsApp message to her didn't stand for 'Breslin Vow', as she'd originally assumed. They stood for 'Brad Voight'. And all that stuff about him not travelling much or being interested in food and restaurants wasn't Vow speaking, it was his character. That's why things didn't match up. Even the basic apartment in Queens and tatty trailer made sense now. His character Voight wouldn't have had a big-shot uptown pad or Hollywood-style trailer to fuck in. She thought about the restaurant in Queens she met him in. Was the manager Paolo a method actor too, playing his role to perfection? Every conversation and interaction she'd had with Vow had been with Voight. Her head hurt. She had so many questions.

"But wait," said Grace. "What about Vow's wife?" She lowered her voice, "I mean, we did a lot of crazy things together. Not just sex, but drugs and kinky stuff too. Stuff I didn't even know about."

Sara smiled. "Grace, not only does Breslin's wife know about everything, she encourages it. She's in the film business too, it's how they met. She's as dedicated to the craft as him. They have their own ways of dealing with situations that call for extreme intimacy, and everything you and Breslin did would have benefited the character and movie. I guess they justify it as a necessary sacrifice in the name of art."

Grace had never been someone's piece of art before. She felt quite proud for a second. She remembered Vow talking strangely about his wife the first time they spoke in his trailer. How much he loved her. Had that been Vow talking out of character momentarily as his way of dealing with what was to come?

"Wow," she said. "This is nuts."

"It's difficult to take in Grace. I totally get that but it's who he is and what he does," said Sara. "And all these stories in the press about Breslin assaulting his manager, and the 'girlfriends' who've called him every name under the sun? Well, they're all staged stories by Breslin and his wife. They leak these stories to the media to support a certain character he was playing. They're very much in love and totally dependent on each other. When he sent you the text message as Brad, do you remember the image on his WhatsApp profile photo?" Grace remembered. It was the beautiful black-and-white photo of a church. "That's where they got married, a tiny church in his hometown in the middle of nowhere. No-one would ever recognise the church of course, and there were only a handful of people there that day for the wedding. It's one of the subtle techniques he uses to stay sane when he's in character."