NYMPHETS

Cassandra Masters

Copyright resides with author

Free chapter available from bdsmbooks.com
 

Chapter Four

            Chiu-chiu’s liquid, almond-shaped eyes looked straight into Lola’s. ‘I know it’s late but how about a drink – or something?’ The word ‘something’ dripped with erotic implications.

            It was the first time that anyone, cast or crew, had spoken to Lola about anything but business. She was thrilled but had to say, ‘Sorry, Chiu-chiu. I have to report to Rusty. Maybe it won’t take long and then we…?’

            The diminutive oriental pouted. ‘A late meeting with Rusty? It won’t be quick and when Rusty’s done with you, you won’t be up for…’ She paused as Bert and Sly passed on the way to the exit, hand in hand. The dyke and the lipstick lesbian called back cheerful ‘goodnights’ as they left, another first for Lola.

            ‘When Rusty’s “done with me?”’ Lola prompted.

            ‘You’ll see. Girls who have late meetings with Rusty sometimes don’t show up on set for a day or two, after.’

            ‘What do you mean?’ Lola asked.

            ‘Better you find out for yourself. Have fun!’

            ‘It’s a business meeting,’ Lola protested.

            ‘Yeah, sure. ‘Night!’

            ‘Security,’ a two-hundred pound butch-dyke with tattoos all over her muscular arms, let Chiu-chiu and Lola out, grinning from ear to ear. In the parking lot, Chiu-chiu turned right, blowing a kiss back over her shoulder. Lola turned left, toward Rusty’s parked trailer. Her tummy muscles tensed and relaxed in a steady rhythm. Chiu-chiu’s hints both scared and excited her. She’d been dreaming about having sex with the imposing older woman since the day Rusty’d bought her script. After her first day on the set she’d doubted her dreams would ever be realized. Rusty seemed to prefer girls with tiny tits. She was always surrounded by sylphs who fit that description, all of them virtually drooling to get their faces between the voluptuous woman’s shapely thighs. What chance did a pretty, but big-titted writer have?

            Maybe, since Lola’s brave little performance, some small chance?

            The forty-five foot extra-wide trailer was painted glossy black. Lola had heard rumours that Rusty threw orgies in it, sometimes. What if it were an orgy that Lola was walking into? Did she hope that it was, or that it wasn’t?

            She knocked on the door. It was Rusty’s voice, even if husky, that told her, ‘Come!’ Lola pulled the door open and stepped up into dimness. The only light came from two sources – a gigantic television screen that was showing video-rushes of the day’s scenes, and a lamp on the floor that had its shade tilted to illuminate a pair of wide-spread thighs and the pussy between them.

            Lola didn’t know which to look at. The scene on the screen wasn’t one she’d written. There was a woman she didn’t recognize, on her tummy over a wooden bench. Her arms had been drawn back under the bench. Her wrists were tied to her legs just above her knees by towels. Bound in that uncomfortable position, her bottom was vulnerable and available. It was Leslie who was taking advantage of that slender rump, with Moira and Fay, naked, standing by. They watched as they diddled each other.

            Leslie had two fingers of each hand buried deep in her victim’s ass, forcing it to spread so far that her anus was an inflamed gaping funnel, leading into darkness. Lola shivered. She imagined she’d like to have her bum played with but what she was watching was more extreme abuse than she’d even fantasized about.

            Leslie leaned forward and spat directly into the shadowed tunnel. A great gob of spit glistened for a moment before both Moira and Fay leaned over and added their own spittle. Leslie’s fingers worked, massaging saliva round and around, and in. The girl on the bench whimpered, as well she might. Not only did the abuse have to hurt, it was terribly degrading.

            Lola felt a twinge of envy.

            Sloppy sounds pulled her eyes to the real-life legs beside her. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the dim light she could see that they belonged to Cyd. The elegant older woman had shed the skirt to her costume. She was perched on the corner of a desk, naked from the tops of her gunmetal nylons to her thin waist.  The lean lovely’s eyes were fixed to the screen. The fingers of both her hands were busy playing with her quim. She wasn’t frigging. Her oversized clit stood proud but untouched. It was the lips of her cunt Cyd was avidly manipulating. One hand twisted and tugged at the fleshy pendulous outer ones. The fingers of the other hand pinched and rubbed on the bruised-petal inner ones. Both hands were slick with the copious liquids that drooled from her cunt.

            Lola coughed. She started to say, ‘Rusty, you told me…’ but was instantly ‘shushed.’ Rusty, Lola could see now, had changed into an incredibly tight black leather corset, and nothing else. Her waist was cinched until it had to be no more around than Lola’s own slenderness. The constriction emphasized the generous swell of a pair of pouting breasts and the dramatic curves of her lush hips. Maybe Rusty liked girls with tiny tits, but she certainly wasn’t one herself.

            She lay back in a big black leather armchair with one leg negligently over one of its arms. Her position showed off the thick fiery bush at her pubes and the glistening slit beneath it, but she hadn’t been masturbating, like Cyd. One hand toyed with the television’s remote while the other held a thrillingly vicious thin black crop.

            A deep grunt from the tv took Lola’s attention back to it. No! It was impossible! Leslie, on her knees, was braced to get her weight and strength behind her right arm. The girl’s hand was buried, wrist deep, in the bound woman’s anus! As Lola watched, horrified, Leslie slowly twisted her wrist, rotating her fist inside her victim’s rectum.

            From the speaker, the woman moaned, ‘Oh yes! Twist it, and deeper!’

            Fuck! She was actually enjoying her abuse. Lola’s mouth dried when there was a close up of the woman’s sphincter as a tight band of flesh encircling Leslie’s wrist. And then Leslie began to pump. Lola cringed. What she was witnessing had to be the ultimate in violation. To have a bunched fist plundering you in so intimate and forbidden a way had to be an unbearable humiliation, and yet…

            Rusty remarked, ‘That’s Anal-Belle. She’s an old friend who just happened by so we improvised to take advantage. Her nasty little ass is up for anything you could imagine, and a few things you likely couldn’t.’

            Lola murmured, ‘Of course.’ Once she’d sold her script to Rusty, it was hers to do as she liked with. That’s how it is with scripts. Their writers just hope that what finally appears on screen still bears some slight resemblance to what they wrote.  Producers changed things, usually to save money. Directors made changes, putting their ‘stamp’ on films. Even the actors murdered their dialogue on a whim. That was the business she was in. She accepted it, even if it did hurt, sometimes.

            Rusty flicked the television off and a couple of sidelights on. What next? Lola’d been invited to a business meeting, though she’d hoped there might be more than ‘business’ to it. She hadn’t expected to be confronted by two almost naked women, one of them casually playing with her cunt. What was expected of her? Should she start undressing?

            Rusty lifted her leg off the arm of her chair and sat up. ‘So, Lola-the-script-writer, tell me what you see yourself doing five years from now.’

            Lola swallowed. She tried to change her expectations. That question was a standard ‘interview’ one. She cleared her throat and looked into Rusty’s eyes. ‘In five years? I hope by then that I’ll be a successful scriptwriter, working on serious projects.’

            ‘Not porn?’ Rusty asked.

            ‘I didn’t mean…’

            ‘It’s okay. I know what kind of films I make.’ She paused. ‘There’s talk that you’d prefer to act.’

            ‘No. I don’t have that talent and I know it. Presenting my bare bum is hardly acting, after all. All I want to do is write. Today – that was an emergency and I felt I could help.’

            ‘You saved me time. Time is money. I appreciate what you did, Lola. That’s one reason I’d like to help you get ahead. You seem to have a good attitude.’

            ‘I do?’

            ‘Do what has to be done to get the film made, on time and on budget, right?’

            Cyd was still playing with herself. Even not looking, Lola could hear the obscene wet noises and smell the heady aroma. There was something incredibly depraved about having a ‘straight’ conversation with a curvaceous woman who was naked except for a corset, with another half-naked woman following their talk while doing perverted things to herself. This was how really bad people acted. Lola’d had plenty of experiences with other girls, giggling and proclaiming how ‘naughty’ they were when they diddled or went down on each other. These older women lived in a different world. They accepted perversions as part of everyday life. Theirs was a level of sexual sophistication that Lola’d only ever dreamed about.

            Was she being invited to enter their strange world or was she just there to be used and then discarded?

            ‘I’m not going to switch to making “serious” films, if that’s what you were thinking,’ Rusty drawled.

            ‘I have a couple of scripts I’d hoped…’ Lola began.

            ‘But I might be able to introduce you to someone who produces mainstream stuff,’ Rusty continued. ‘Show me your scripts. If I think they’re okay, I’ll pass them on to her, but only if…’

            ‘If?’

            ‘If you have the right stuff.’

            Lola took a deep breath, ready to launch into a pitch for her scripts.

            ‘Are you totally committed to your craft?’ Cyd asked without pausing in her self-teasing.

            ‘Yes.’

            Rusty said, ‘They say a true artist will sell her mother into slavery to buy paints. What would you do for a chance to see your ‘serious’ work on the screen, Lola?’

            ‘Whatever it takes.’

            ‘You’re sure?’

            ‘Certain.’

            ‘Humiliate yourself? Degrade yourself? Crawl and beg?’

            Lola squirmed with guilty excitement, unsure whether it was because she was being offered a long shot at fulfilling her ambitions or in anticipation of the thrilling things she might be forced to endure to earn that chance.

            ‘Look at her face, Rusty,’ Cyd said. ‘Humiliation and degradation are exactly what she craves – those and pain.’

            Rusty’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is she right? Is that the sort of nasty little slut you are, Lola?’

            Lola bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure.’

            ‘Then we will have to find out, okay?’

            Lola nodded. Her tummy was contracting. Her quim was clenched tight to hold in the juices that threatened to seep out between its swollen lips. She could feel a pulse throbbing in her clit.

            Rusty said, ‘You are volunteering to follow my direction?’

            Direction? Was this about a part in a film, after all? Confused, Lola nodded.

            ‘You can refuse if it gets too much for you,’ Rusty said. ‘Whatever your reasons, you can walk out of here anytime. No one will blame you. You’ll still be able to write for me. All you’d stand to lose would be my introduction to a serious film maker I know. It wouldn’t be out of spite. If my little games are too much for you, hers are much more extreme. It’s better you should know before you get in too deep.’

            ‘I understand,’ Lola lied.

            ‘Action?’ Cyd asked.

            ‘Impatient, as always!’ Rusty replied, not unkindly. ‘Very well, “Take one, scene one, The Degradation of Lola,” a Rusty Rand production.’

            Lola summoned all her courage. ‘It’ was about to start, whatever ‘it’ was.