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Archive-name: Bondage/audition.bi

Archive-author: Dr. Hobbes 

Archive-title: Audition, The



Keywords: Bi (fem), violent, bondage





You were understandably excited about the chance to get a star-

ring role in a movie even though you were not familiar with 

either the production company nor the director.  But when you 

arrived at the studio you first thought you must have the wrong 

address.  To say it was in a bad section of the city would have 

been a naive statement.  But then the producer who called you 

told you that he did art films, so you didn't really expect him 

to have a glossy setup.  At least his promise of exposure at the 

Cannes Film Festival was enough to dispel any fears you may have 

had.  



Once you walked inside and saw how nice the reception area was, 

and how sophisticated the receptionist, your no longer doubted 

the wisdom of your decision.  The receptionist greeted you warmly 

and asked you to have a seat until Mr. Lamborghini could come for 

you.  Lamborghini.  Even the name was reassuring.



"Ah, Miss Anderson!  How wonderful you were able to come early!  

Do come in, my dear.  We have everything set up, so if you like 

we can begin right away."  He was a large man, handsome in a 

rugged sort of way, yet his eyes were surprisingly cold even 

though his smile appeared very genuine.  He was well dressed with 

expensive dark slacks and what appeared to be an expensive silk 

shirt accented with a heavy gold chain around his neck.  He took 

your arm and bowed slightly as he held the door for you.   The 

crew were not so impressive, especially the slick looking young 

man who seemed to be leering at you as though you were dessert.  

There was something definitely unlikable about him, in spite of 

his dark, curly hair, his California tan, and his athletic build.  

Again, it was the eyes that disturbed you the most.  



"All right, gang, this is the big scene now," said Lamborghini. 

We open with a long shot..." 



"Mr. Lamborghini?"  You were hesitant to disturb him, but some-

thing was not right here.  



"What is it?" he snapped, turning to glare at you at though you 

were there to clean up and not to be his star.  



"Mr. Lamborghini, a friend of mine told me you're a little dif-

ferent from other directors he knows, but shouldn't I get ready 

first?  What about makeup?  And what should I wear?" 



He smiled, but it was not a reassuring gesture.  "When I need 

help, Dear, I'll be sure you're the first to know." 



"But..." 



"So!  Now, Frank first we get a long shot of you coming in the 

door toward Miss Anderson.  She has her back turned to you, 

obviously not expecting company.  Her husband is gone for the 

day, and you're his best friend, so at first she's not too 

alarmed to see you.  Then you tell her what you're going to do, 

and her expression turns...



The color drained from your face as you realized the old trap you 

had fallen to with your eyes open.  Frantically you looked around 

for a way to escape.  No one was looking your way, so you made a 

dash for the door to the reception room.  Locked!  Oddly, they 

were still ignoring you.  You ran to a door across the room, next 

to the bed that you had not noticed until now.  Locked!  



"...then her husband comes in and sees you in bed with her.  At 

first he is angry, but then he gets all excited by what you're 

doing...Look, Miss Anderson.  You're not going anywhere.  Don't 

make this hard for all of us.  O.K., now that she's all hot and 

bothered, we're going to have to make a little revision here.  

Might be more interesting this way.  All right, Frank.  We'll 

start where she already knows what's going to happen to her.  

Lights!  Roll 'em!  Action!  Go get 'er, Frank!" 



The one called Frank lunged at you and began pawing at your 

blouse as he pushed you back toward the bed.  You screamed and 

tried to push him away, but he got his hand on the neck of your 

blouse and ripped it off from you.  He laughed and tore at your 

skirt as you tripped and fell backwards onto the bed.  



The camera moved in for close ups as Frank pinned you to the bed 

with one arm and casually pulled your bra off with his right 

hand.  He grabbed your full young breasts with both hands and 

tried to kiss you as you jerked and twisted beneath him trying to 

avoid his lips.  You screamed then and he reared up to slap you 

hard across the face.  Stunned and in shock at the suddenness and 

viciousness of his attack, you fell back while he slowly and 

deliberately slipped your panties down over your legs and tossed 

them aside.  You screamed again as he spread your legs for the 

camera, but you knew you were helpless to resist all of them.  



Suddenly the cameraman stood up, almost dropping his portable 

camera.  There was no sound but the faint whirring of an exhaust 

fan somewhere in the next room.  A very large black man loomed up 

over you, and the one called Frank rose up in the air as though 

snatched up by a construction crane.  The black man tossed him 

against the wall as easily a though he were a pillow.  



"Hobbes!"  Lamborghini cried.  "Look, Mr. Hobbes, we didn't know 

you wanted to watch the filming.  I mean, hey!  Sure, come on in!  

Make yourself at home.  Jane!  Get a drink for the boys!  Sit 

down..." 



"Shut up!" the black man snapped, at the same time stepping aside 

to let the tall, quiet man face Lamborghini who was visibly 

trembling.  



"Mr. Hobbes...please!" 



The black man smashed Lamborghini in the face, then pulled out an 

awesome-looking black automatic and stuck it in the man's mouth 

so his chattering teeth made little clicking sounds on the cold 

metal.  



The tall man didn't look dangerous at all.  He was quiet, even 

scholarly in appearance with his unassuming glasses and the touch 

of gray at his temples.  It was the voice that chilled the room.  

He spoke softly, without emotion.  "Nick, give the girl your 

coat.  She's coming with us...Lamborghini, you know your job 

better than this.  We don't use amateurs when I finance your 

films.  This is business.  You get your kicks on some other 

playground, but not with my money." 



"Look, Hobbes..." Lamborghini mumbled around the barrel of the 

gun.  



"MISTER Hobbes."  Nick pushed the barrel of the gun further into 

Lamborghini's mouth.



"Mifter 'obbes..." 



"Let's go, Nick.  Get the girl." 



The big black man covered you with surprising gentleness, then 

lifted you as though you were weightless.  He held you securely 

cradled in one massive arm, taking the reception area door's knob 

with the other hand.  He shrugged, took one step backward and 

smashed it open with his foot.     With practiced ease he opened 

the door of the black limousine and placed you on the seat as 

gently as though you were a baby.  The man called Hobbes got in 

beside you, Nick slipped in next to the driver, and the car 

rolled away from the curb with scarcely a sound.  



"Soundproof, bulletproof...would you like a drink?" Hobbes asked 

with a surprisingly gentle smile.  



Still in shock, you looked at him blankly and tried to pull the 

coat down further.



"I would have offered you my own coat," he explained softly, "but 

as you can see, Nick's coat covers more of you.  Look, Miss, I'm 

sorry about all of this.  Lamborghini's a fool.  Nobody screws 

around...Oops!  Sorry.  You're understandably upset.  I Don't 

want to add to it."  He smiled again and leaned back without 

looking at you until the limo pulled up to the building with the 

red-uniformed doorman.  



"Mr. Hobbes!  Welcome, Sir.  Would you like any help, Sir?"  You 

were beginning to recover enough to wonder at the way the doorman 

pretended not to notice that you were clad only in an oversized 

man's suit coat.  You couldn't help wondering how common it was 

for this quiet stranger to come here with scantily clad girls.  

As you slowly got out of the limo, the doorman graciously covered 

you with his own long coat and an attendant rushed out to offer 

assistance.  Thinking more clearly now you decided that if you 

were going to be raped, it might as well be in style.  



"Forget it, Miss," Hobbes said with a trace of a laugh in his 

voice.  I brought you here for a hot bath and some new clothes. 

Nothing more." 



You blushed in spite of yourself, and tried to duck down inside 

the coat so he couldn't see.  



The suite was spacious, and servants seemed to be everywhere. One 

bright young woman rushed you off to the palatial bathroom and 

for the next hour you lay back in a huge, sunken marble tub 

wondering if you were dreaming.  



The young servant brought you a beautiful silk gown and a large 

Japanese kimono to wrap around it.  She dried you and helped you 

dress, then led you back into the living room.  Only the man 

called Hobbes was there.  The servants had all disappeared.  



He looked up and whistled softly, and you blushed again in spite 

of yourself.  



"Well!  For the first time I believe it wouldn't be so bad to be 

a dirty old man!" he exclaimed with a cheerful laugh.  "But of 

course you're a guest, so you're quite safe, my little friend."  

He chuckled and you smiled without really knowing why.  



===============================================================



Subject: 2/2 Audition





"Do you have any pets?" 



"Hmmmm...Well, I don't know about this...What the hell!  Would 

you like to see mine?  Her name is Aiki." 



"Eye-kee?" 



"That's right.  She's a pretty little bitch, exceptionally well 

trained.  Maybe she can help you relax after what you've been 

through." 



You're face brightened and you nodded your assent.  



"Aiki!  Here, girl!"  Hobbes called, then whistled.  



Much to your surprise, a beautiful young Japanese girl slipped 

into the room, wearing a see-through blouse and a very short 

mini-skirt.  At first you thought she was wearing some kind of 

jeweled necklace, then to your astonishment you realized it was a 

studded dog collar!  The next thing you realized was that her 

little brown nipples were clearly showing through the sheer 

blouse.  



She came up to Hobbes and knelt respectfully in front of him 

while he reached down to fondle her pretty little breasts through 

the cloth.  



"This is our guest, Aiki.  Would you like to show her how we 

treat pretty young ladies here?  Be nice to her now." 



You were unsure just what to do when the girl stood up and came 

to kneel before you.  Very gently she moved the folds of the 

kimono aside and raised the hem of your gown so that she could 

get her face up between your thighs.  



"No!"  You jumped back as her warm tongue touched you.  



The girl looked startled, and turned to Hobbes with a questioning 

look.  



"It's O.K., Aiki.  Maybe she doesn't like to have it that way. 

Why don't you just remove your skirt and give us a little demon-

stration.  Would you like that?" 



The girl smiled and pulled her skirt off.  She was not wearing 

panties, but what startled you even more was that she was com-

pletely bare.  As you watched, she knelt with her thighs spread 

and slowly masturbated herself in front of you.  



"That's enough, Aiki.  Now take off your blouse and get down on 

your hands and knees and run around the room for us." 



 The Japanese girl was naked in a moment, obediently got down on 

her hands and knees and began crawling around the room.  



"Well, what would you like to do with her, Dear?  She's yours for 

as long as she gives you any pleasure.  You can ride on her back, 

have her eat you, you can give her enemas, have her do interest-

ing little things to herself..." 



"What do you mean!?" you cried in dismay.  Yet in spite of your-

self the possibilities began to race through your mind.  



"Why is she doing this?" 



"She's a sex slave." 



"What?" 



"A sex slave.  She does anything that gives me pleasure, and she 

does it willingly." 



"Anything?"  Your voice was suddenly husky.  



"Come here, Aiki." 



Still crawling on her hands and knees, the girl came up to Hobbes 

with a big smile and waited.  



"Get it out, Aiki.  Show our guest how good you are." 



The girl obediently unzipped Hobbes trousers and pulled out his 

erect penis.  She moved forward, took it into her mouth and began 

sucking it like a piece of candy.  



"That's enough, Aiki.  Bring the whip, the multi-thonged one." 



The girl crawled away, and you cried out "No!  Don't do that to 

her.  You can't." 



"Would you rather I'd do something else to her?  We don't want to 

leave any marks on her pretty body, but I'm open to suggestion." 



"Isn't there anything else you can do?  Make love to her, or 

something?" 



"Of course.  Or I can do the same for you, if you like."  He was 

smiling, but there was nothing threatening in his manner.  You 

knew that it was intended as a free choice.  



"Will she...ah...can she..." 



"Of course, if you'll let her.  Aiki!  Come here!  No, no.  Get 

up, Aiki.  Give me the whip and let's see you do something nice 

for our guest now.  She won't jump this time.  If she does, we'll 

try the whip on her!" 



You knew he was joking, yet something about the suggestion excit-

ed you in spite of yourself.  Now Aiki was undressing you, and 

you trembled with expectation at the feel of her warm tongue. She 

held you close to her, with you still standing and she kneeling 

between you thighs, licking and sucking you until you thought you 

could stand it no longer.  Then as you began to come, you felt a 

sharp sting on your little buttocks, and the sound of the whip as 

it stung you.  Yet you could not move from t he eager tongue, and 

you waited with fearful anticipation for the next blow.  It did 

not come.  



Instead, Hobbes laughed.  "Just couldn't resist that the way you 

were squirming around Aiki's tongue.  What a fascinating sight 

you two made." 



Pulling away from Aiki's face, slipping her hands away from your 

thighs, you looked at Hobbes with a mixture of desire and anger. 

"How could you!?" you demanded.  "You said you wouldn't hurt me!" 



"And did I?" asked Hobbes easily, looking at your naked body with 

great interest.



"Well, no...not really."  You rubbed the spot that still stung 

slightly, then spread your thighs slightly as he came up to you 

and slipped his right hand down to fondle your labia.  He stopped 

then and put both arms around you to hold your naked body close 

to him.  One hand reached down to lightly rub your little butt 

while the other gently massaged your shoulders.  



Suddenly you squeaked as you felt Aiki's tongue flicking you from 

behind, trying to get in between your little buttocks.  



"Don't do that!" you squealed, but then she gently pulled the 

cheeks apart and with Hobbes feeling of your labia and fingering 

your clit from the front and Aiki running her hot tongue in 

against your anus, you sighed and let them have total access to 

your warm body.  



The evening was the most memorable of your life, one you longed 

to experience again and again.  Hobbes and Aiki taught you so 

much that you had never known, and now could not live without.  

But it's late, and biographers are human.  So we must conclude 

and come back some other evening.  



When you awoke the next morning, in your own apartment with no 

memory of how you got there, the phone rang as you were getting 

up 



"Miss Anderson?"  The voice was unfamiliar, and you were wary.  



"Yes?" 



"Miss Anderson, my name is Harry Franklin.  I'm a producer with 

New International Studios." 



"Oh, my!  Another porn movie!  Look, fellow, forget..." 



"No!  No!  Don't you recognize my name?  I'm horrified!  Two 

Academy Awards in five years, and you don't know ME?  Please, 

Miss Anderson, don't break my spirit and threaten my life at the 

same time!" 



"Yes. Yes,  I do recognize your name.  But you've got to be 

playing some kind of a cruel joke.  I want to be an actress, but 

you couldn't possibly be offering me a chance to be in one of 

your movies!  How do you know I can even act?" 



"Miss Anderson, you can learn to act a whole lot more easily than 

I can learn to swim!" 



"What...?" 



"Mario Lamborghini was fished out of the river this morning." 



(Now lest this be mistakenly taken as a biographical sketch, let 

me assure you that things are not always what they seem.  My 

bodyguard's name is not Nick.) 



--



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