Gaby Reappears
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Auditions - An Old Sign Reappears. free porn video
Auditions
*************************************************
Copyright Oggbashan April 2005
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
*************************************************
Three or four times a year a sign saying ‘Auditions’ used to appear at the entrance to an unmade track leading off a major road I used daily. It always seemed incongruous but I knew what it was about.
About half a mile down that track was a former farm building that was the base for a small mail-order company that sold protective wear, mainly for women. They imported and distributed hotel wear, café uniforms, care assistants dresses etc.
They had been producing illustrated catalogues once a quarter that they sent out to their customers. When they changed from using line drawings to photographs back in the 1960s they needed models to pose in the protective wear. All they wanted were normal women not fashion models or catwalk queens. The cost of hiring from commercial model agencies was too high for the purpose so they started to look for models themselves.
The first catalogue ‘with real photographs’ used their friends and families. After the next quarterly catalogue the friends and family said ‘enough’. The work was boring and they weren’t paid except for out-of-pocket expenses.
The Managing Director had a bright idea. Why not advertise locally for models and select some that would appreciate the work? He put an advertisement in the local paper and was surprised at the response. He had no idea that so many women wanted to be models.
He had so many applicants that he set up auditions. The normal access to his buildings was through a narrow street and trade vehicles were constantly moving. At the back of the buildings, with no access to the main entrance, there was a large paved area that could be a car park. The approach was down the farm track.
He asked a farmer friend to smooth the track’s worst bumps and potholes. Then he specified that the potential models should come down the track. He would put a professionally painted sign at the road end of the track saying ‘Auditions’ and a large yellow arrow pointing up the track.
Some were deterred and thought something was odd. They didn’t arrive. Those who did come were paid their expenses, had several photos taken in the items of protective wear, and were told that if the pictures were used they would get a fee. All those who attended the auditions were sent large sized proofs of the photos and a headed letter from the Managing Director thanking them.
Some of the models were able to use the photos to form a portfolio. Those whose pictures were used could claim that on their resume. If a model was particularly good the MD sent their details to a friend who was a model agency’s rep in London. One in a hundred of the hopefuls got an audition in London.
It seemed to work well for the company and the potential models. It went on four times a year for nearly forty years. A handful of those auditioned had minor successes in London. Then it stopped when the MD decided to wind the company up when he retired. They had a large party for the retiring workforce and those who had been models over the years and all lived happily ever after. The workers left at the close were all retiring on pensions. Anyone young had been encouraged to move to other jobs months or years before the end. The buildings and stock were sold to another mail order company that lasted a couple of years before it folded.
And that was that. Until about three weeks ago.
As I drove down the main road I saw the ‘Auditions’ sign again. It was freshly painted. So was the arrow.
Over the next week I asked my contacts about it. No one knew anything except that an out-of-town company had bought the buildings at an auction.
A few days later I was attending an acquaintance’s funeral. I took one of my friends back to our rural railway station to catch a train back to London. As his train arrived three young women got off it. I was not looking forward to returning to the funeral reception because I knew very few of the people who would be there.
It was so unusual to see three strangers at our station in the middle of the day that I stopped to see who would collect them. No one did. One of them came across to me.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Where can we get a taxi?”
“A taxi?” I replied. “Taxis only come here by arrangement. Where were you going?”
“We’ve come for an audition to be models,” She said.
My interest was aroused. I guessed that they were in their mid-twenties.
They must be going to the old factory. I’d like to find out what was happening there. Anything would be more interesting than attending the rest of the funeral of someone I barely knew.
“Do you have directions?”
“Yes.”
She opened her handbag and pulled out a letter. Enclosed was a map with the farm track highlighted.
“I can take you there,” I said. “It’s on my way.”
“Are you sure?”
“You won’t get there otherwise. The only taxi has to come from eight miles away and will charge you for those miles.”
“Oh. We haven’t got much money.”
I could see that. They were dressed in the current youth fashions of short flared denim skirts, cropped T-shirts and white puffy jackets. All their clothes were cheap supermarket brands.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I suggested.
They looked slightly startled and wary.
“Not THAT sort of deal,” I added hurriedly. “I’m curious about these auditions. Locally we don’t know anything about them.”
They looked even more worried.
“If I take you there, I’d like to hang around and see what is happening. It is just curiosity. If you tell them that I’m your driver I can stay while you take the auditions. Afterwards I’ll bring you back here. That means that you won’t be stranded in the middle of nowhere and…”
“…and we’ll have an escape route if things aren’t what they should be?”
“Well, yes.”
I felt almost old enough to be their father. I’m not, by a long way, but they seemed like townies stuck out in the rural wilderness they didn’t understand.
The three of them went into a huddle for a few seconds.
“We accept. You can be our driver and hang around waiting for us. No peeking in on the auditions if we have to do partial nudity though.”
“Agreed. I’ll keep away if that is likely.”
They climbed into my car and I started down the station approach.
“My name is Henry, normally called Harry,” I said. “I’m local and have a business here.”
“I’m Deborah, Deb,” said the one who had been the spokesperson.
“Hello, Deb.”
“This is Amanda. She’s my cousin. The other one is Sandra, Sandy, Amanda’s flatmate.”
“Hello Amanda and Sandy.”
“Hello Harry,” They chorused.
“Harry, why are you so curious?” Sandy asked.
I explained about the history of the protective wear company and their models and what had changed. All three of them asked questions as I explained.
“That sounded like a reasonable exchange between the models and the company,” Deb said. “But that was then and now you know nothing about the new owners?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then we three will have to be careful.”
“Yes.”
“And you will be around if we want to leave?” Amanda asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
Amanda was beside me in the front passenger seat. She leant across and pecked me on the cheek.
We had arrived at the entrance to the farm track. The sign was clearly visible.
“This is it?” Deb asked.
“Yes. The track is half a mile long.”
“I’m glad we came with you. If we’d come by taxi I think we’d go straight back to the station.”
I stopped the car just inside the track. I put on my best serious voice.
“Whether we go down this track is your decision. I can’t advise you because I know nothing about the organisers of these auditions, if that is what they are. You are the ones taking the risk. What do you want to do?”
They whispered to each other. Sandy was unenthusiastic. The other two were not keen but intrigued. Eventually they agreed.
“We’ll go on,” Deb announced. “We’ll be cautious and keep our options open. We trust you, Harry, even if we don’t trust these auditions.”
“OK.”
I drove slowly and carefully until we reached the factory buildings. I had expected there to be more cars parked. There were only two, not local. One was a battered small red car with an overlarge exhaust. The other was a current model of a sleek executive saloon. I noticed some changes around the site since I was last here but the whole place looked neglected.
We got out and I locked the car.
“After you, ladies,” I said, indicating the door marked ‘Reception’. “I’m only your driver, remember?”
Deb led the way. Inside the door a woman I didn’t recognise was sitting behind a battered desk. She was power-dressed in a well-cut skirt suit. The office was as shabby as I had remembered it and she looked out of place.
“Hello,” she said, looking past the women at me. “Have you got your letters?”
Deb, Amanda and Sandy produced their letters and handed them over.
“Thank you. I’m Valerie and I’m one of the directors of our company. Who is he?”
“Our driver,” Deb announced hurriedly. “He drove us here and will wait to drive us back.”
“I see. We haven’t got facilities for chauffeurs. I suppose he will just have to wait around either in here or in the car.”
“How long?” asked Amanda.
“What do you mean?” Valerie replied.
“How long will he have to wait?”
“That depends on you three. If you are successful at the first part then it will take about three hours. If not, half an hour?”
Amanda looked at me. I nodded.
“OK. What happens now?”
“I take you through to meet my fellow directors. We take a few photographs and talk to you. Then we assess your potential and let you know whether you have passed the first part. Are you ready?”
I could see the three tense themselves.
“Yes,” Deb answered for them.
The four women went through a door at the back of the office. I looked around, found an old magazine, and sat in a rickety chair to wait. If they were going to be three hours I might use Valerie’s chair. It was the only modern item of furniture. The magazine kept me interested for about five minutes. I remembered that I had some books in the car. I went out to get one.
As I walked back to the office I looked at the differences from the last time I was here. Where the main entrance had been was now a high fence topped with barbed wire. The only entrance was now down the farm track. There had been a telegraph pole with telephone wires leading to most of the buildings. The pole and wires had gone. Was there any telephone connection?
Back in the office I saw that there was no telephone, no fax, not even a terminal block for a telephone. When Deb had shown me her letter the phone number given had been a mobile, not a landline. That hadn’t seemed significant before. Now I was beginning to think that this was a fly-by-night operation. Why? What did they want the models for?
The back door of the office opened and a scruffy young man with a ponytail rushed through. He was tall but thin wearing worn jeans and a grey T-shirt.
“Stupid bitch!” he shouted back as he left. He climbed into the small red car and roared off down the track. I opened my book and began to read.
About twenty minutes later Amanda came back into the office. She was wearing a chambermaid’s uniform, a dark blue dress, a small linen apron, dark stockings and sensible shoes.
“Harry?”
“Yes, Amanda.” I had remembered that this one was Amanda.
“Did a young man come through here?”
“About twenty minutes ago. He drove off in a hurry. Why?”
“They want to do some still and video shots of us with a man. Now the only man has gone… Except you.”
“Me? What sort of video?”
“They want some ‘interesting’ shots to show off some of their uniform ranges. They say that the old catalogue was too fuddy-duddy. They want to spice it up.”
“Do they indeed? I can understand that they need to be a bit more adventurous but what do they mean by ‘spicing it up’? Are you three happy with that?”
“That depends. We aren’t sure. They have already paid our expenses and now they are offering a hundred pounds each for the next session.”
“And a hundred pounds is a lot of money?”
“It is to us. Perhaps not to you. Without you we don’t get the money.”
“OK, Amanda. I’ll listen to what they want and then ask you three whether you want to continue.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek again. I enjoyed that. Amanda has a pleasant figure and it was a long time since I’d been hugged.
I winked at her.
“I’ll just have to make a quick phone call to cancel an appointment. OK?”
Amanda didn’t understand but she nodded. I went out to my car and rang a friend. I was back in the office in less than a minute.
“OK, Amanda, lead on.”
Through the back door we walked down a long corridor. The paintwork was chipped and grimy. Through another door we entered a large room that had been the packing area. It was roughly partitioned into cubicles. One of the cubicles was set up with lights, video and still cameras. I followed Amanda into it.
The set was like a hotel room. The main item was a double bed with brass rails at the head and foot. Deb and Sandy were sitting on the bed dressed like Amanda. Valerie and two other women were standing beside the cameras. Another woman had her back to me, talking to Deb and Sandy. She turned round as we entered. She raised an eyebrow at me. I recognised Margaret, a local woman of my age. She was dressed in a simple white blouse and dark skirt. Her breasts, that I had frequently admired from a discreet distance, strained at the buttons of her blouse.
Margaret walked towards me. When her face was out of sight of the women by the cameras she held a finger to her lips.
“This is Harry,” Amanda announced.
“Hello Harry,” Margaret said as if she didn’t know exactly who I was.
Valerie joined us.
“Harry, we want to show the uniforms off in a slightly sexy way. Do you think you could co-operate with the models?”
“I’ll try, Valerie.” I said. “I have no experience or training so you will have to direct me.”
“I can do that.”
Her tone seemed slightly threatening.
The first few poses seemed innocuous enough. I sat on the bed with each of the three women sitting on my lap. Each in turn showed their legs, wrapped their arms around me, rested a head against my shoulder and tried to look as if I was attractive to them.
The next few shots showed more leg, their uniform dresses were unbuttoned to show some cleavage, and my tie was loosened.
Valerie clapped her hands.
“OK! Now for the video. Harry, the plot is like this. You sit at the table typing on the laptop. The three girls knock, come in and start to make the bed. You ignore them.
Behind your back they take off their aprons. They grab you, gag and bind you and push you on the bed. All you have to do after being tied up is to react to them. They know what they have to do. OK?”
“Yes,” I said reluctantly.
“Then sit at the table and start typing.”
I did. The laptop, a very old model, already had a new Word document open. I began to type the minutes of a recent committee meeting from memory. I had just got beyond those present and apologies for absence when Deb flipped her rolled apron over my head and into my mouth. She pulled me backwards. My hands flew up and were grabbed by Sandy and Amanda.
They dragged me off the chair. Amanda’s apron tied my hands behind my back. Deb pushed me on to the bed. Sandy tied her apron around my ankles. The three of them covered me with their bodies as I pretended to struggle. They turned me onto my back. Deb straddled my upper chest.
One fixed video camera and two hand-held ones were recording this. One of the cameras closed in on my face close to Deb’s legs. Deb moved forward towards my chin. I looked up at her. She had a stern expression on her face. She lifted the hem of her uniform’s skirt to hold it tight across my mouth. My eyes opened wide in surprise.
I felt one of the others sitting down across my hips. Deb slid the dress up my face until I was concealed under it and inches from her panties. The white cotton panties moved to brush against my mouth and nose before I disappeared underneath her pantied pussy.
Another body straddled my legs. All three started pounding up and down on me. The bed creaked and groaned as they moved. I gasped for breath as Deb lifted herself.
“Faster!” Deb shouted. They were beginning to hurt me as their weight thumped down. My breath was forced from my lungs. I could only take short breaths in between.
“Cut!” I heard Valerie faintly. Deb lifted herself to her knees. I looked up at her stomach poised above me as I gasped for breath. The others climbed off. Deb moved down to rest gently across my hips.
“You all right, Harry?” she asked.
I looked up her body, past her heaving breasts, to her face. She looked genuinely concerned. I nodded. I didn’t have enough breath to speak.
“Thank you,” said Valerie. “That looked good. Now for the next scene. Are you ready Margaret?”
“Yes, Valerie.”
“OK. Back in position, girls.”
They swamped me again. Deb’s panties lowered over my face gently.
“Action!”
I didn’t know exactly what happened next because all I could see was Deb’s panties. Suddenly she and the others climbed off. I blinked in the sudden light.
Margaret was standing a few feet from the bed with a large gun in her hand. She waved it at the women.
“Move!” she ordered. “Take off your stockings and panties.”
The three started to object but complied as Margaret pointed the gun.
“You!” Margaret addressed Deb. “Tie their hands behind their backs with a stocking.”
Deb did. I goggled helplessly. I wriggled on the bed to pretend to struggle with my bonds.
“Simon, my delightful husband,” Margaret said to me, “Keep still until I am ready for you.”
Deb finished tying Amanda’s and Sandy’s hands.
“You two! Lie down on the floor. Face down!”
Amanda and Sandy obeyed.
“You!” To Deb. “Tie their ankles together and bend their legs. Tie the ankles to their hands.”
Deb complied as Amanda and Sandy faked despair.
Margaret motioned to Deb to stand aside as she checked the bonds. Then she tied Deb’s hands, pushed her to the floor beside the others, and hog-tied her to match. Finally she stuffed panties in each woman’s mouth. They weren’t their panties but perfectly clean ones that had been lying beside the bed out of camera view. Amanda, Deb and Sandy acted disgust and reluctance.
Margaret put the gun down on the table beside the laptop. She came towards the bed carrying a large plastic bag.
“Well, husband,” she said, “You have got yourself into a predicament, haven’t you? I knew you had a fetish for uniforms but being tied up with chambermaids’ aprons is a bit weak even for you. I brought a uniform dress just to arouse you. When our divorce is heard next week you won’t be able to claim that we haven’t consummated our marriage recently. What a shame. That admission might cost you dearly.”
I shook my head angrily. Margaret slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a white half-cup bra. My eyes were drawn to her exposed breasts as she eased herself out of her blouse. I didn’t have to act my excitement when she unzipped her skirt and let it drop. A short white half-slip hinted at what was underneath.
Margaret took a dark blue dress from the carrier bag. She pulled it down over her head and fastened it up to her breasts. A wide, dark elastic belt with a silver buckle held it around her waist. A white nurse’s cap on her head completed the outfit.
She climbed on the bed and gradually moved up my body, displaying her breasts through the open top of the dress. She lifted her hands to the bed-head and lowered her cleavage towards my face. I liked Margaret. I had appreciated her breasts but never this close. I could feel my erection pressing against my trousers.
Just as Margaret’s breasts were so close that I couldn’t focus my eyes there was a shout beside us.
“Hold it!”
Margaret and I turned our heads. One of the women photographers had come into the set, grabbed the gun from the table and had advanced towards us. Keeping the gun back she reached for Margaret’s wrist and slapped a handcuff on it. The other cuff went round the bed-head’s rail. She moved around the bed and repeated the cuffing on Margaret’s other wrist.
Hidden behind Margaret’s body I couldn’t see as she tied Margaret’s ankles together. I felt the effect of her next action. She pulled violently on the bonds so that Margaret thumped down across my face pressing her breasts either side of my head. My lungs emptied as I took her weight.
Margaret’s arms were cruelly stretched to the cuffs. She felt this was beyond acting and her mouth opened to object. A ball gag was forced in and strapped tight. I started to struggle. This didn’t seem like fun any more. Margaret was in real pain as she hung from her cuffed wrists.
Valerie’s voice cut through the noise of my struggles.
“Sorry, folks. That’s it. We’re done. You should be able to free yourself in a while. If not… I’ll leave the handcuff keys on the office desk.”
I could hear them packing away the cameras and equipment. I couldn’t see anything because I was buried deep in Margaret’s cleavage. As I rolled my eyes from side to side all I could see was creamy breast and the extreme edge of her dark blue dress. She was grunting into the ball gag. I could faintly hear muffled grunts from the three women writhing on the floor.
Margaret slumped down on me. She had been trying to hold herself up but the sustained effort had been impossible. Now I was gagged, blinded by her breasts and in real danger of being smothered to death. I wrenched my head violently sideways and snatched a breath through my nose.
The door slammed shut. We all kept quiet as we heard their footsteps retreating down the passage. We even heard their car driving away.
Then Amanda spoke.
“OK. I’m free. Hang on a minute and I’ll sort everyone out.”
She must have freed Sandy next. Sandy untied me and pulled me out from under Margaret. As I emerged I could see Deb working at her ankle bonds and Amanda untying Margaret’s feet. Deb removed Margaret’s ball gag.
“My hands!” Margaret squealed. “Please someone, free my hands!”
“Sandy’s gone for the keys,” Deb replied. “Should only be a few seconds now.”
Deb and I pushed Margaret up the bed so that the pressure was off her wrists. Sandy came rushing back into the room waving the keys. She threw them at Deb.
“They’re coming back!”
Deb removed the cuffs from Margaret’s wrists.
“Follow me!” I ordered. They did without a hint of argument. That was a surprise.
Out of the large room I turned away from the office and into a small room. I lifted a trapdoor in the floor, pressed a light switch to reveal a flight of stairs leading down. The stairs were far wider than the trapdoor.
We ran down the stairs. I dropped the trapdoor and bolted it on the underside.
At the bottom of the stairs was a tiled passage leading towards another set of stairs going upwards.
“This used to be the crossing point from station platform to platform,” I said quietly.
“But there isn’t a station!” Margaret objected.
“Not now there isn’t, but there used to be one here until it was moved nearer the town in the 1890s. Even the railway line was re-routed. That doesn’t matter. They won’t find us down here. They haven’t got time to look far…”
“Why not?” Deb asked.
“Because their route out was blocked by an inconvenient harvester and when it is moved it will be replaced by a police car.”
“How?” She asked.
“Remember that I had to cancel an appointment, Amanda?”
“Yes,” Amanda said doubtfully.
“I rang one of my friends and asked him to block the track and call the police if I wasn’t on the phone to him by three o’clock. It is now half past. The police should be here any minute.”
On cue we heard a police siren. I went back to the trap door and listened carefully. Nothing. Then I heard women’s voices shouting in the distance. I gathered that the police had found them.
I opened the trap door and emerged slowly. The others followed. Once we were in the office we could see that the three women were backed up against a wall arguing with two policemen and a policewoman.
We went over to them.
“We’ve got them, Harry,” one of the policemen said. “What have they done?”
“False imprisonment for one,” I said. “Conspiracy to defraud perhaps for another; use of firearms…”
“Oh, good,” said the policewoman. “That will make a nice tick on my report sheet. Where’s the firearm?”
“Probably in the car or in a handbag.”
“Why are you dressed like that, Margaret?” the policewoman asked.
Margaret was still wearing her nurse’s uniform and her breasts were still partly uncovered. She pulled the bodice together and began to fasten it.
“It’s a long story…”
“Then perhaps all of you ought to accompany us to the station.”
We did. The firearm was a plastic replica. Valerie and associates agreed to pay Margaret, Amanda, Deb and Sandy the one hundred pounds each in exchange for them withdrawing the complaint of false imprisonment. I declined the money.
Valerie and the others were released with a Police caution and told emphatically not to come back to our district. I don’t think they will.
I drove Amanda, Deb and Sandy back to the railway station once they had changed back into their normal clothes. They each kissed me goodbye. Margaret watched with a smile on her face. After their train had left I asked why she was smiling.
“Now I know what turns you on, Harry,” she said. “I kept the nurse’s uniform and the three chambermaid uniforms. There are some more lying about at the factory. Would you run me out there before someone else takes them?”
I did. That is why I am back on that bed, bound and gagged with three aprons while Margaret, dressed as a nurse, rides me into submission, her breasts bouncing merrily. She wanted to finish me off properly. I don’t think she intends to let me get away even when she unties me…
*************************************************
Copyright Oggbashan April 2005
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
*************************************************
Three or four times a year a sign saying ‘Auditions’ used to appear at the entrance to an unmade track leading off a major road I used daily. It always seemed incongruous but I knew what it was about.
About half a mile down that track was a former farm building that was the base for a small mail-order company that sold protective wear, mainly for women. They imported and distributed hotel wear, café uniforms, care assistants dresses etc.
They had been producing illustrated catalogues once a quarter that they sent out to their customers. When they changed from using line drawings to photographs back in the 1960s they needed models to pose in the protective wear. All they wanted were normal women not fashion models or catwalk queens. The cost of hiring from commercial model agencies was too high for the purpose so they started to look for models themselves.
The first catalogue ‘with real photographs’ used their friends and families. After the next quarterly catalogue the friends and family said ‘enough’. The work was boring and they weren’t paid except for out-of-pocket expenses.
The Managing Director had a bright idea. Why not advertise locally for models and select some that would appreciate the work? He put an advertisement in the local paper and was surprised at the response. He had no idea that so many women wanted to be models.
He had so many applicants that he set up auditions. The normal access to his buildings was through a narrow street and trade vehicles were constantly moving. At the back of the buildings, with no access to the main entrance, there was a large paved area that could be a car park. The approach was down the farm track.
He asked a farmer friend to smooth the track’s worst bumps and potholes. Then he specified that the potential models should come down the track. He would put a professionally painted sign at the road end of the track saying ‘Auditions’ and a large yellow arrow pointing up the track.
Some were deterred and thought something was odd. They didn’t arrive. Those who did come were paid their expenses, had several photos taken in the items of protective wear, and were told that if the pictures were used they would get a fee. All those who attended the auditions were sent large sized proofs of the photos and a headed letter from the Managing Director thanking them.
Some of the models were able to use the photos to form a portfolio. Those whose pictures were used could claim that on their resume. If a model was particularly good the MD sent their details to a friend who was a model agency’s rep in London. One in a hundred of the hopefuls got an audition in London.
It seemed to work well for the company and the potential models. It went on four times a year for nearly forty years. A handful of those auditioned had minor successes in London. Then it stopped when the MD decided to wind the company up when he retired. They had a large party for the retiring workforce and those who had been models over the years and all lived happily ever after. The workers left at the close were all retiring on pensions. Anyone young had been encouraged to move to other jobs months or years before the end. The buildings and stock were sold to another mail order company that lasted a couple of years before it folded.
And that was that. Until about three weeks ago.
As I drove down the main road I saw the ‘Auditions’ sign again. It was freshly painted. So was the arrow.
Over the next week I asked my contacts about it. No one knew anything except that an out-of-town company had bought the buildings at an auction.
A few days later I was attending an acquaintance’s funeral. I took one of my friends back to our rural railway station to catch a train back to London. As his train arrived three young women got off it. I was not looking forward to returning to the funeral reception because I knew very few of the people who would be there.
It was so unusual to see three strangers at our station in the middle of the day that I stopped to see who would collect them. No one did. One of them came across to me.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Where can we get a taxi?”
“A taxi?” I replied. “Taxis only come here by arrangement. Where were you going?”
“We’ve come for an audition to be models,” She said.
My interest was aroused. I guessed that they were in their mid-twenties.
They must be going to the old factory. I’d like to find out what was happening there. Anything would be more interesting than attending the rest of the funeral of someone I barely knew.
“Do you have directions?”
“Yes.”
She opened her handbag and pulled out a letter. Enclosed was a map with the farm track highlighted.
“I can take you there,” I said. “It’s on my way.”
“Are you sure?”
“You won’t get there otherwise. The only taxi has to come from eight miles away and will charge you for those miles.”
“Oh. We haven’t got much money.”
I could see that. They were dressed in the current youth fashions of short flared denim skirts, cropped T-shirts and white puffy jackets. All their clothes were cheap supermarket brands.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I suggested.
They looked slightly startled and wary.
“Not THAT sort of deal,” I added hurriedly. “I’m curious about these auditions. Locally we don’t know anything about them.”
They looked even more worried.
“If I take you there, I’d like to hang around and see what is happening. It is just curiosity. If you tell them that I’m your driver I can stay while you take the auditions. Afterwards I’ll bring you back here. That means that you won’t be stranded in the middle of nowhere and…”
“…and we’ll have an escape route if things aren’t what they should be?”
“Well, yes.”
I felt almost old enough to be their father. I’m not, by a long way, but they seemed like townies stuck out in the rural wilderness they didn’t understand.
The three of them went into a huddle for a few seconds.
“We accept. You can be our driver and hang around waiting for us. No peeking in on the auditions if we have to do partial nudity though.”
“Agreed. I’ll keep away if that is likely.”
They climbed into my car and I started down the station approach.
“My name is Henry, normally called Harry,” I said. “I’m local and have a business here.”
“I’m Deborah, Deb,” said the one who had been the spokesperson.
“Hello, Deb.”
“This is Amanda. She’s my cousin. The other one is Sandra, Sandy, Amanda’s flatmate.”
“Hello Amanda and Sandy.”
“Hello Harry,” They chorused.
“Harry, why are you so curious?” Sandy asked.
I explained about the history of the protective wear company and their models and what had changed. All three of them asked questions as I explained.
“That sounded like a reasonable exchange between the models and the company,” Deb said. “But that was then and now you know nothing about the new owners?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then we three will have to be careful.”
“Yes.”
“And you will be around if we want to leave?” Amanda asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
Amanda was beside me in the front passenger seat. She leant across and pecked me on the cheek.
We had arrived at the entrance to the farm track. The sign was clearly visible.
“This is it?” Deb asked.
“Yes. The track is half a mile long.”
“I’m glad we came with you. If we’d come by taxi I think we’d go straight back to the station.”
I stopped the car just inside the track. I put on my best serious voice.
“Whether we go down this track is your decision. I can’t advise you because I know nothing about the organisers of these auditions, if that is what they are. You are the ones taking the risk. What do you want to do?”
They whispered to each other. Sandy was unenthusiastic. The other two were not keen but intrigued. Eventually they agreed.
“We’ll go on,” Deb announced. “We’ll be cautious and keep our options open. We trust you, Harry, even if we don’t trust these auditions.”
“OK.”
I drove slowly and carefully until we reached the factory buildings. I had expected there to be more cars parked. There were only two, not local. One was a battered small red car with an overlarge exhaust. The other was a current model of a sleek executive saloon. I noticed some changes around the site since I was last here but the whole place looked neglected.
We got out and I locked the car.
“After you, ladies,” I said, indicating the door marked ‘Reception’. “I’m only your driver, remember?”
Deb led the way. Inside the door a woman I didn’t recognise was sitting behind a battered desk. She was power-dressed in a well-cut skirt suit. The office was as shabby as I had remembered it and she looked out of place.
“Hello,” she said, looking past the women at me. “Have you got your letters?”
Deb, Amanda and Sandy produced their letters and handed them over.
“Thank you. I’m Valerie and I’m one of the directors of our company. Who is he?”
“Our driver,” Deb announced hurriedly. “He drove us here and will wait to drive us back.”
“I see. We haven’t got facilities for chauffeurs. I suppose he will just have to wait around either in here or in the car.”
“How long?” asked Amanda.
“What do you mean?” Valerie replied.
“How long will he have to wait?”
“That depends on you three. If you are successful at the first part then it will take about three hours. If not, half an hour?”
Amanda looked at me. I nodded.
“OK. What happens now?”
“I take you through to meet my fellow directors. We take a few photographs and talk to you. Then we assess your potential and let you know whether you have passed the first part. Are you ready?”
I could see the three tense themselves.
“Yes,” Deb answered for them.
The four women went through a door at the back of the office. I looked around, found an old magazine, and sat in a rickety chair to wait. If they were going to be three hours I might use Valerie’s chair. It was the only modern item of furniture. The magazine kept me interested for about five minutes. I remembered that I had some books in the car. I went out to get one.
As I walked back to the office I looked at the differences from the last time I was here. Where the main entrance had been was now a high fence topped with barbed wire. The only entrance was now down the farm track. There had been a telegraph pole with telephone wires leading to most of the buildings. The pole and wires had gone. Was there any telephone connection?
Back in the office I saw that there was no telephone, no fax, not even a terminal block for a telephone. When Deb had shown me her letter the phone number given had been a mobile, not a landline. That hadn’t seemed significant before. Now I was beginning to think that this was a fly-by-night operation. Why? What did they want the models for?
The back door of the office opened and a scruffy young man with a ponytail rushed through. He was tall but thin wearing worn jeans and a grey T-shirt.
“Stupid bitch!” he shouted back as he left. He climbed into the small red car and roared off down the track. I opened my book and began to read.
About twenty minutes later Amanda came back into the office. She was wearing a chambermaid’s uniform, a dark blue dress, a small linen apron, dark stockings and sensible shoes.
“Harry?”
“Yes, Amanda.” I had remembered that this one was Amanda.
“Did a young man come through here?”
“About twenty minutes ago. He drove off in a hurry. Why?”
“They want to do some still and video shots of us with a man. Now the only man has gone… Except you.”
“Me? What sort of video?”
“They want some ‘interesting’ shots to show off some of their uniform ranges. They say that the old catalogue was too fuddy-duddy. They want to spice it up.”
“Do they indeed? I can understand that they need to be a bit more adventurous but what do they mean by ‘spicing it up’? Are you three happy with that?”
“That depends. We aren’t sure. They have already paid our expenses and now they are offering a hundred pounds each for the next session.”
“And a hundred pounds is a lot of money?”
“It is to us. Perhaps not to you. Without you we don’t get the money.”
“OK, Amanda. I’ll listen to what they want and then ask you three whether you want to continue.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek again. I enjoyed that. Amanda has a pleasant figure and it was a long time since I’d been hugged.
I winked at her.
“I’ll just have to make a quick phone call to cancel an appointment. OK?”
Amanda didn’t understand but she nodded. I went out to my car and rang a friend. I was back in the office in less than a minute.
“OK, Amanda, lead on.”
Through the back door we walked down a long corridor. The paintwork was chipped and grimy. Through another door we entered a large room that had been the packing area. It was roughly partitioned into cubicles. One of the cubicles was set up with lights, video and still cameras. I followed Amanda into it.
The set was like a hotel room. The main item was a double bed with brass rails at the head and foot. Deb and Sandy were sitting on the bed dressed like Amanda. Valerie and two other women were standing beside the cameras. Another woman had her back to me, talking to Deb and Sandy. She turned round as we entered. She raised an eyebrow at me. I recognised Margaret, a local woman of my age. She was dressed in a simple white blouse and dark skirt. Her breasts, that I had frequently admired from a discreet distance, strained at the buttons of her blouse.
Margaret walked towards me. When her face was out of sight of the women by the cameras she held a finger to her lips.
“This is Harry,” Amanda announced.
“Hello Harry,” Margaret said as if she didn’t know exactly who I was.
Valerie joined us.
“Harry, we want to show the uniforms off in a slightly sexy way. Do you think you could co-operate with the models?”
“I’ll try, Valerie.” I said. “I have no experience or training so you will have to direct me.”
“I can do that.”
Her tone seemed slightly threatening.
The first few poses seemed innocuous enough. I sat on the bed with each of the three women sitting on my lap. Each in turn showed their legs, wrapped their arms around me, rested a head against my shoulder and tried to look as if I was attractive to them.
The next few shots showed more leg, their uniform dresses were unbuttoned to show some cleavage, and my tie was loosened.
Valerie clapped her hands.
“OK! Now for the video. Harry, the plot is like this. You sit at the table typing on the laptop. The three girls knock, come in and start to make the bed. You ignore them.
Behind your back they take off their aprons. They grab you, gag and bind you and push you on the bed. All you have to do after being tied up is to react to them. They know what they have to do. OK?”
“Yes,” I said reluctantly.
“Then sit at the table and start typing.”
I did. The laptop, a very old model, already had a new Word document open. I began to type the minutes of a recent committee meeting from memory. I had just got beyond those present and apologies for absence when Deb flipped her rolled apron over my head and into my mouth. She pulled me backwards. My hands flew up and were grabbed by Sandy and Amanda.
They dragged me off the chair. Amanda’s apron tied my hands behind my back. Deb pushed me on to the bed. Sandy tied her apron around my ankles. The three of them covered me with their bodies as I pretended to struggle. They turned me onto my back. Deb straddled my upper chest.
One fixed video camera and two hand-held ones were recording this. One of the cameras closed in on my face close to Deb’s legs. Deb moved forward towards my chin. I looked up at her. She had a stern expression on her face. She lifted the hem of her uniform’s skirt to hold it tight across my mouth. My eyes opened wide in surprise.
I felt one of the others sitting down across my hips. Deb slid the dress up my face until I was concealed under it and inches from her panties. The white cotton panties moved to brush against my mouth and nose before I disappeared underneath her pantied pussy.
Another body straddled my legs. All three started pounding up and down on me. The bed creaked and groaned as they moved. I gasped for breath as Deb lifted herself.
“Faster!” Deb shouted. They were beginning to hurt me as their weight thumped down. My breath was forced from my lungs. I could only take short breaths in between.
“Cut!” I heard Valerie faintly. Deb lifted herself to her knees. I looked up at her stomach poised above me as I gasped for breath. The others climbed off. Deb moved down to rest gently across my hips.
“You all right, Harry?” she asked.
I looked up her body, past her heaving breasts, to her face. She looked genuinely concerned. I nodded. I didn’t have enough breath to speak.
“Thank you,” said Valerie. “That looked good. Now for the next scene. Are you ready Margaret?”
“Yes, Valerie.”
“OK. Back in position, girls.”
They swamped me again. Deb’s panties lowered over my face gently.
“Action!”
I didn’t know exactly what happened next because all I could see was Deb’s panties. Suddenly she and the others climbed off. I blinked in the sudden light.
Margaret was standing a few feet from the bed with a large gun in her hand. She waved it at the women.
“Move!” she ordered. “Take off your stockings and panties.”
The three started to object but complied as Margaret pointed the gun.
“You!” Margaret addressed Deb. “Tie their hands behind their backs with a stocking.”
Deb did. I goggled helplessly. I wriggled on the bed to pretend to struggle with my bonds.
“Simon, my delightful husband,” Margaret said to me, “Keep still until I am ready for you.”
Deb finished tying Amanda’s and Sandy’s hands.
“You two! Lie down on the floor. Face down!”
Amanda and Sandy obeyed.
“You!” To Deb. “Tie their ankles together and bend their legs. Tie the ankles to their hands.”
Deb complied as Amanda and Sandy faked despair.
Margaret motioned to Deb to stand aside as she checked the bonds. Then she tied Deb’s hands, pushed her to the floor beside the others, and hog-tied her to match. Finally she stuffed panties in each woman’s mouth. They weren’t their panties but perfectly clean ones that had been lying beside the bed out of camera view. Amanda, Deb and Sandy acted disgust and reluctance.
Margaret put the gun down on the table beside the laptop. She came towards the bed carrying a large plastic bag.
“Well, husband,” she said, “You have got yourself into a predicament, haven’t you? I knew you had a fetish for uniforms but being tied up with chambermaids’ aprons is a bit weak even for you. I brought a uniform dress just to arouse you. When our divorce is heard next week you won’t be able to claim that we haven’t consummated our marriage recently. What a shame. That admission might cost you dearly.”
I shook my head angrily. Margaret slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a white half-cup bra. My eyes were drawn to her exposed breasts as she eased herself out of her blouse. I didn’t have to act my excitement when she unzipped her skirt and let it drop. A short white half-slip hinted at what was underneath.
Margaret took a dark blue dress from the carrier bag. She pulled it down over her head and fastened it up to her breasts. A wide, dark elastic belt with a silver buckle held it around her waist. A white nurse’s cap on her head completed the outfit.
She climbed on the bed and gradually moved up my body, displaying her breasts through the open top of the dress. She lifted her hands to the bed-head and lowered her cleavage towards my face. I liked Margaret. I had appreciated her breasts but never this close. I could feel my erection pressing against my trousers.
Just as Margaret’s breasts were so close that I couldn’t focus my eyes there was a shout beside us.
“Hold it!”
Margaret and I turned our heads. One of the women photographers had come into the set, grabbed the gun from the table and had advanced towards us. Keeping the gun back she reached for Margaret’s wrist and slapped a handcuff on it. The other cuff went round the bed-head’s rail. She moved around the bed and repeated the cuffing on Margaret’s other wrist.
Hidden behind Margaret’s body I couldn’t see as she tied Margaret’s ankles together. I felt the effect of her next action. She pulled violently on the bonds so that Margaret thumped down across my face pressing her breasts either side of my head. My lungs emptied as I took her weight.
Margaret’s arms were cruelly stretched to the cuffs. She felt this was beyond acting and her mouth opened to object. A ball gag was forced in and strapped tight. I started to struggle. This didn’t seem like fun any more. Margaret was in real pain as she hung from her cuffed wrists.
Valerie’s voice cut through the noise of my struggles.
“Sorry, folks. That’s it. We’re done. You should be able to free yourself in a while. If not… I’ll leave the handcuff keys on the office desk.”
I could hear them packing away the cameras and equipment. I couldn’t see anything because I was buried deep in Margaret’s cleavage. As I rolled my eyes from side to side all I could see was creamy breast and the extreme edge of her dark blue dress. She was grunting into the ball gag. I could faintly hear muffled grunts from the three women writhing on the floor.
Margaret slumped down on me. She had been trying to hold herself up but the sustained effort had been impossible. Now I was gagged, blinded by her breasts and in real danger of being smothered to death. I wrenched my head violently sideways and snatched a breath through my nose.
The door slammed shut. We all kept quiet as we heard their footsteps retreating down the passage. We even heard their car driving away.
Then Amanda spoke.
“OK. I’m free. Hang on a minute and I’ll sort everyone out.”
She must have freed Sandy next. Sandy untied me and pulled me out from under Margaret. As I emerged I could see Deb working at her ankle bonds and Amanda untying Margaret’s feet. Deb removed Margaret’s ball gag.
“My hands!” Margaret squealed. “Please someone, free my hands!”
“Sandy’s gone for the keys,” Deb replied. “Should only be a few seconds now.”
Deb and I pushed Margaret up the bed so that the pressure was off her wrists. Sandy came rushing back into the room waving the keys. She threw them at Deb.
“They’re coming back!”
Deb removed the cuffs from Margaret’s wrists.
“Follow me!” I ordered. They did without a hint of argument. That was a surprise.
Out of the large room I turned away from the office and into a small room. I lifted a trapdoor in the floor, pressed a light switch to reveal a flight of stairs leading down. The stairs were far wider than the trapdoor.
We ran down the stairs. I dropped the trapdoor and bolted it on the underside.
At the bottom of the stairs was a tiled passage leading towards another set of stairs going upwards.
“This used to be the crossing point from station platform to platform,” I said quietly.
“But there isn’t a station!” Margaret objected.
“Not now there isn’t, but there used to be one here until it was moved nearer the town in the 1890s. Even the railway line was re-routed. That doesn’t matter. They won’t find us down here. They haven’t got time to look far…”
“Why not?” Deb asked.
“Because their route out was blocked by an inconvenient harvester and when it is moved it will be replaced by a police car.”
“How?” She asked.
“Remember that I had to cancel an appointment, Amanda?”
“Yes,” Amanda said doubtfully.
“I rang one of my friends and asked him to block the track and call the police if I wasn’t on the phone to him by three o’clock. It is now half past. The police should be here any minute.”
On cue we heard a police siren. I went back to the trap door and listened carefully. Nothing. Then I heard women’s voices shouting in the distance. I gathered that the police had found them.
I opened the trap door and emerged slowly. The others followed. Once we were in the office we could see that the three women were backed up against a wall arguing with two policemen and a policewoman.
We went over to them.
“We’ve got them, Harry,” one of the policemen said. “What have they done?”
“False imprisonment for one,” I said. “Conspiracy to defraud perhaps for another; use of firearms…”
“Oh, good,” said the policewoman. “That will make a nice tick on my report sheet. Where’s the firearm?”
“Probably in the car or in a handbag.”
“Why are you dressed like that, Margaret?” the policewoman asked.
Margaret was still wearing her nurse’s uniform and her breasts were still partly uncovered. She pulled the bodice together and began to fasten it.
“It’s a long story…”
“Then perhaps all of you ought to accompany us to the station.”
We did. The firearm was a plastic replica. Valerie and associates agreed to pay Margaret, Amanda, Deb and Sandy the one hundred pounds each in exchange for them withdrawing the complaint of false imprisonment. I declined the money.
Valerie and the others were released with a Police caution and told emphatically not to come back to our district. I don’t think they will.
I drove Amanda, Deb and Sandy back to the railway station once they had changed back into their normal clothes. They each kissed me goodbye. Margaret watched with a smile on her face. After their train had left I asked why she was smiling.
“Now I know what turns you on, Harry,” she said. “I kept the nurse’s uniform and the three chambermaid uniforms. There are some more lying about at the factory. Would you run me out there before someone else takes them?”
I did. That is why I am back on that bed, bound and gagged with three aprons while Margaret, dressed as a nurse, rides me into submission, her breasts bouncing merrily. She wanted to finish me off properly. I don’t think she intends to let me get away even when she unties me…
Jayla
- 07.02.2021
- 36
- 0
