[Previous] [Next] [Current Results] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Article 7 of 134
Subject: <<REPOST>> The Reluctant Film Star by Dawson (M+/f, nc) 3/3
From: an449094@anon.penet.fi (JDawson)
Date: 1996/08/24
Message-Id: <042356Z24081996@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.spanking
[More Headers]
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
WARNING: This story contains strong themes of coercion and forced
sexual behavior. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only,
and the writer does not in any way suggest or condone similar behavior.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Reluctant Film Star
by James Dawson
=========================================================
Part Three - The Examination (Part 1)
Natasha was not at all happy about having to endure a physical
examination. Doctors and hospitals gave her the creeps. Though she
hadn't seen a doctor for some time, she had been feeling fine and
hadn't needed to. She certainly hadn't wanted to. Jack had explained,
however, that it had to be done for the producers, and that for
insurance purposes it would have to be thorough. He'd also asked her to
look nice for it, as it was important to begin concentrating on image
and to leave a good impression. He had also reminded her of the
producer's worry about being uncooperative and he told her there would
be a number of tests they would need to do, and to be su
re to do exactly as the doctor instructed her. After this, it would be
off to the exciting location.
Jack had stressed that they wanted to promote her as a fresh
face, and he wanted her to dress to suit that image. He'd asked her to
start wearing clothes that emphasized youth. At one point, she'd
mistakenly mentioned that she still had her school girl's uniform, and
had been dismayed when, though she told him she couldn't still fit into
it, he'd insisted that she wear it no matter how tight it was. Image
was everything, he'd said.
She found her old blazer and tie and Jack had told her to wear
the white high heels. Thought the skirt was tight, and now decidedly on
the short side, it was the blouse that was the real problem. Even in
school, she'd already had to get a special one to accomodate her big
breasts, but in the years since she last worn it, she grown bigger
still. She could hardly get it to fit, and the result was that gaps
were pulled taught between the bu
ttons. It looked ridiculous and she'd prayed her seedy landlord
wouldn't see her as she left her little room. He was gross, and bad
enough when she was dressed normally.
The trip to the doctor's had been very embarrassing. Men had
stared at her in this outfit, and she'd seen them talking about her. An
old man had sat opposite her on the bus had stared at her in a way that
make her feel s
ick. He'd even licked his lips, though she didn't know if it was on
purpose. After he had gotten off, two teenaged boys, one about her own
age and one a little older, had gotten on and looked at her the same
way. She had
stared down at the floor and tried to ignore them, but they had started
talking to her. They had tried to talk her into going somewhere with
them, but she had told them she was going to a doctor's appointment.
One of the
boys had smiled, and asked if they could come too, making her turn
bright red with embarrassment. They'd come over and sat on either side
of her and asked her questions. Why was she going to the doctor? What
was he going
to look at? Was she going to a hospital? She'd felt them staring at her
chest. The boys even offered to examine her themselves in the back of
the bus, and she'd been really glad that there had been so many people
on it or
she'd been afraid they might have made her go back there with them.
She found the address that Jack had given her, and saw that it
was another drab, grey, two storey building like so many in Moscow. She
was relieved at least to find that it wasn't a hospital. As she got
closer, however,
she almost started to wish it was. The building looked deserted, with
weeds growing unchecked along the front and there was a long crack in
the glass in one of the front doors. As she looked at the unkept
facade, she had
to double check the address to be sure it was the right place. It was.
She pushed the front door open and entered the building.
The front reception area looked almost as desolate as the front.
There was a worn sign listing several doctor's names near the
receptionist's desk, but it looked old, like the people whose names
were on it were long gone
. On a table were several magazines from 1986. It gave her the chills.
As she walked farther in, she noticed that there was no receptionist,
only a bell with a note, hand-written in English, "ring for service."
She tried
to quell her fluttering stomach, and took a deep breath and rang the
bell.
A few moments past before she heard footsteps. She felt her
stomach flinch as the door facing her opened and an older man wearing a
white coat walked in. He looked to be in his late fifties and was not
that much taller t
han she was, though he was considerably wider. Beneath his thinning
white hair were two blue eyes which sized her up.
"Hello, Natasha, I'm Dr. Jackson," he said in a clear American
accent. He offered his hand.
"Hello," she replied nervously. She reached out and shook his
hand. It was sweaty and she felt queasy at the thought that that hand
would be touching her.
"I'm glad to see you're on time," he said, "we've got a lot to do
today. You know, these producers want to cover everything. I hope we
can finish in one day." He smiled at her. "Or we might have to have
you come back."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Follow me," he said turning towards the door. Natasha followed
him as he went down a desolate looking hallway. It looked deserted,
like it hadn't been used for years. She followed him into a room on the
right and entere
d a big office, with a large desk with a client chair in front of it.
To the left was a big, plush couch, on which she suddenly noticed two
other men. A bank of windows above them with sun streaming through the
slats in t
he blinds made it a bit hard to see them. They were also older and
were dressed in suits and did not look like doctors.
The room looked like a doctor's office from an old movie. There
were several anatomy posters and charts on the wall which were yellowed
from age and a full human skeleton hung from a metal stand. There were
several other
stands behind the desk which held up old fashioned, odd shaped
instruments. In the midst of the multitude of devices, though, were two
video cameras.
Jackson walked around the desk and sat down and offered Natasha
the seat opposite. She sat down, aware of the silent men sitting to her
left, and clasped her hands nervously in her lap. She wondered if they
were waiting
too.
"Thailand, eh?" said Jackson, opening a file, without introducing
the other two men. "Every had any major illnesses?" She shook her head
no. He looked up at her, his eyes traveled down to her full breasts and
the gaps p
ulled between the buttons on her blouse. "You certainly look healthy,"
he said with a smile. He went down the list of major diseases and asked
her a few other questions about her medical history.
"How old were you when you reached puberty?" he asked, suddenly
looking back up at her.
Taken aback, Natasha thought for a second. The question confused
her. She tried to remember.
"I mean," said Jackson leaning forward as though it were a
difficult question, "how old were you when hair started to grow around
your crotch?"
Her face burned with embarrassment at this crude and explicit
question. The thought of the two older men sitting to her left made her
squirm.
"Ah...ah...around twelve or thirteen...I think..." she finally
answered. She suddenly felt ridiculous in the outfit she was wearing.
"I see," he said, writing in the open file.
"Are you sexually active?" he asked.
Her face burned bright red. She stole a glance at the two men
sitting to the side of her, but could only see dim shadows.
"Y...yes..." she stammered. She watched him write something into the
file. She saw movement on the
couch and noticed suddenly that one of the men on the couch had a
camera with a large flash attachment sitting next to him. Her hand went
up to her mouth in trepidation. Jackson, noticed her stare.
"We have to have photographic documentation," he said, "for this
kind of thing, the producers and the insurance people insist on it."
She gasped, and her big blue eyes looked up at him in alarm.
"It's standard," he said. He looked back down at the file. "How
long have you been sexually active?" he asked, continuing with his
questions.
Natasha sat stunned at what he'd just said. Her mind raced.
"T...two...about two years..." she said finally. She looked down
at the desk.
"Has it been vaginal sex?" he asked.
She looked up in shock at this question. "W..what?"
"Have you been engaging in any oral or anal sex?"
She almost gagged with humiliation at being asked this. She sat
dumbfounded for a moment. Her innocent young face registered her shame.
"Let me put it more clearly," said Jackson, leaning forward in
his chair as though she were stupid. "Do you take men's penises in your
mouth? Or let them use your bottom?"
Natasha's hand flew up to her mouth in shock. "NOOooooo," she
replied. Her eyes briefly, nervously, scanned the two other men. She
felt sick.
"Never?" asked Jackson. "Never let a man use your ass?" She
flinched visibly at the word "ass."
"NOOOOO." She was horrified.
He looked at her skeptically, "And you've never put a man's penis
in your mouth?"
She squirmed in her seat.
"Ah...ah...a couple of times..." she finally managed to say.
"A couple? You mean two times?"
Her face became so red that it spread to her delicate ears.
"M...more..."
"I see," said Jackson. "Was it the same penis each time? Or
several different ones?"
She choked. She felt nauseous with shame.
"D...d...different...some...sometimes..."
He looked at her blankly for a moment and then began to write in
the file. She sat in humiliated silence, feeling the eyes of the other
two men on her. She was sickened to imagine what they were thinking.
After another few moments, Jackson asked a few more questions,
about her diet and exercise. He then opened one of his desk drawers and
pulled something out.
"This is your examination outfit," he said. He held up a tiny
pair of white cotton athletic style shorts so that everyone in the room
could see them. He then held up an equally small light pink top, like
half a tank top.
He set them on the edge of his desk and sat back in his chair.
Natasha just stared at the two skimpy clothing items. She could
feel the riveting eyes of the men.
The room went quiet, and became thick with tension.
"But since we need documentation," said Jackson, "you look so
nice in that outfit let's get a few pictures of you before you change.
Why don't you stand up."
Natasha looked to her left and saw one of the men pick up the
camera. He began making adjustments to it. Her nerves jumped as she him
stand up.
Slowly she got to her feet and stood in front of the chair she
was sitting in. She folded her hands together in front of her. Her mind
swirled with fear and shame as she tried to take all of this in. She
wondered where t
his all was going, what was going to happen.
"Okay," said the man with the camera, also with an American
accent. "Now tilt your head to one side and give me a smile."
She looked at him blankly for a moment and then managed a weak
smile.
FLASH!
Green dots danced before her eyes as she saw the man move to her
left. "Okay, put your hand up on your hip and turn to face me."
FLASH!
He posed her again and took a few more pictures. He stopped and
looked at her for a moment. Her skin crawled as he looked her up and
down.
"Let's have your blazer off," he said.
Natasha felt a lump in her throat as she felt them all staring.
She was powerless. She had to cooperate. She slowly pulled her
blazer open and let it slide down her shoulders. She turned and set it
on the chair.
The old man took a few more pictures. He had her turn around and
look back at him over her shoulder. He then had her turn back to face
him.
"Now put your hands behind your back," he said.
She looked perplexed for a moment and then slowly pulled her
hands back.
"Stand up straight...shoulders back," he said.
She pulled herself up straight, feeling her blouse strain as her
chest stuck out. He took a few more shots and then looked over to
Jackson, who nodded at him. He lowered the camera.
"Alright," said Jackson, looking up at her with his hands folded
on his desk, "why don't you go ahead and put the outfit on." He leaned
forward and took the shorts and top and handed them up to her.
"Just the outfit and your shoes." He looked her in the eye. "Take
everything else off."
Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. She fought back the tears
as she felt her heart pounding..
"Wh...where..." she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a moment of tense silence.
"Go ahead and do it right here," said Jackson, his voice suddenly
thick. "No need to be shy."
She turned and looked at the man with the camera. His face was
red and he was staring wolfishly.
"Pl...please...I..." she stuttered.
Suddenly the telephone on the desk rang, jarring them all.
Jackson picked it up and began speaking into it. Natasha stood in front
of his desk nervously holding the skimpy examination outfit in front of
her. Her hands gr
ipped it anxiously. She could feel the heat from the stares of the
other older two men. She looked to the floor unable to hear or
understand Jackson's voice in her distress. Her mind became a swirl.
Finally, after several
agonizing moments, she heard him hang up the phone. She looked up at
him, her big blue eyes brimming with tears.
"Pl...please...can I change somewhere..."
He looked back at her, causing her to look down at the desk in
front of her. His eyes almost burned her.
"Just go ahead right here, we've got a lot to do." he said,
sounding slightly irritated.
She fought back sudden tears.
"I hope we're not going to have any trouble with you," said
Jackson.
The words hit the teenager like a slap.
"Nooo..." she said, her big blue eyes popping open, sending two
tears down either cheek. She reached a finger up and wiped her cheek.
"...no...I won't be any trouble."
"That's good," replied Jackson, sounding almost angry, "because
I've had it with prima donna actresses. I just toss ‘em out."
Natasha's eyes went wide with fear. She desperately didn't want
to get thrown out. She swallowed hard and wiped her cheeks again with
the back of her hand. She sniffled.
"I...I'm...sorry..." she said quietly.
He just stared at her. His eyes traveled up and down her body.
"Okay," he said. "Now go ahead and take your things off."
The room went silent and thick with tension.
She took a deep breath. She set the outfit back on the desk. Her
fingers slowly went up to the knot in her school tie. She began to
loosen it.
"That's more like it," said Jackson. He leaned back in his chair.
She pulled the tie down and then up over her head. She set it
down on the chair and turned back to face them. She raised her hands to
the top of her blouse and began to unbutton it. She opened the first
button, and then
the second.
FLASH!
She looked up and saw the man with the camera. He was looking at
her through the lens. She looked over in horror to Jackson.
He looked back at her blankly. "All part of the documentation,"
he said calmly.
She felt degraded. Fresh tears welled up as she fought the urge
to plead.
She looked down at her exposed heavy cleavage. She closed her
eyes again, sending new tears down her cheeks. She could hardly breath
she was so ashamed. She popped the third button loose, the fourth, and
continued down t
o the bottom. She pulled the two halves free from her skirt
FLASH!
She pulled them apart exposing her big bra covered breasts. She
pulled the blouse down off of her shoulders and slipped it off. She put
in on the chair.
FLASH!
"My, my," said Jackson. "You ARE a big girl."
Natasha blushed again and fought the instinct to bring her arms
up to cover herself.
FLASH!
She reached over to the desk and picked up the pink top and the
shorts. After a second's deliberation, she turned so that her back was
to the men. Still holding the outfit, she reached up behind her and
grasped her bra s
trap. She popped it loose and slid the bra down the front of her arms,
giving the men the exquisite sight of her slim nude back with its
gentle ripple of ribs and delicate spine disappearing into her plaid
pleated skirt.
They could see the sides of her bobbing breasts.
FLASH!
She quickly pulled the little top on over her head and pulled it
down as far as it would go, which was not very, just about half way
down to her waist. It was very tight and the men could tell by the way
the thin little
top hugged her back, that they were in for a treat when she turned
around.
Natasha then reached up underneath her skirt for her panties. She
pulled them down her slender legs and set them on the chair. She
stepped into the shorts and quickly pulled them up. She had to wrestle
to get them all th
e way up. She then reached around and undid her skirt. She slowly
pulled the zipper down and tugged the tight skirt over her hips and let
it slid down her legs.
The sight of the white shorts was breathtaking. They fit like a
second skin around a tight, yet full and round ass. The cleft between
the cheeks was clearly visible through the white cotton.
FLASH!
She stood still for a moment.
"Turn around, Natasha," said Jackson.
Slowly the stricken girl began to turn her body around. She
instinctively crossed her arms in front of the chest as she turned to
face the leering men.
"Take your hands down, Natasha," said Jackson.
She gritted her teeth and slowly lowered her arms, revealing her
astounding breasts, perfectly outlined through the thin top. Her
extreme nervousness, made her nipples protrud through the material. Her
hands made little
fists at her sides.
FLASH!
The photographer began walking around her.
FLASH!
FLASH!
"Put your hands up on top of your head," he said.
Natasha closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly reached her
hands up. She felt her big breasts rise up on her chest.
FLASH!
FLASH!
He walked all around her again, taking pictures. He bent down and
got close-ups of her thrusting bottom.
Finally, he stopped.
"Okay," said Jackson, getting up from behind the desk. "Let's go
to the examination room." he walked towards a side door to the left of
the big couch. Natasha lowered her arms and followed him.
The adjoining room was painted white and the walls were bare.
There was a couch and several chairs along the wall to the right, along
with two examination tables set on wheels. One of the tables had
stirrups mounted on i
t. Next to them was what looked like a saw horse. The wall to the far
left was covered with a full length mirror that ran almost from one
side of the room to the other. The wall facing them was filled with
white cabinets.
To the left of the cabinets, towards the mirror, sat a large wooden
"X" with leather straps on it. It too was mounted on wheels. To the
right of the cabinets, an assortment of odd looking items were mounted
on the wall a
bove a long countertop that held numerous containers holding assorted
swabs and ointments.
Natasha's throat tightened with fear as she looked around. She
looked up and noticed video cameras mounted in each of the room's
corners. She turned bright red with embarrassment when she saw her
reflection in the mirror
. The skimpy outfit hugged her body obscenely.
Jackson walked up to her and took her by the arm. He led her up
to the mirror and stopped just a few feet short. He stared at her
reflection, his eyes moving up and down. Natasha stared down at a spot
on the floor.
Jackson moved around behind her and put his hands up on her
shoulders. He began to rub them up and down her bare upper arms in a
carressing motion. The old man leaned forward towards her ear.
"This will go much faster, and much smoother, if you cooperate
with us," he said in a hoarse whisper.
Natasha stared at the floor. Her nerves were becoming jittery and
her stomach was flushed with adreniline.
"You're not going to give us any trouble are you?"
She closed her eyes. "N...n..no."
She felt his hands on her arms and wanted to be sick. A tear
popped out and rolled down her cheek.
"Good," he replied. He began to push her upper arms together,
squeezing her big tits together. "You're a very lucky girl," he
continued, "take a look at yourself."
Natasha opened her eyes to the sordid picture. The old man was
looking at her body in the mirror from over her shoulder. He was
staring at her breasts which were bulging forward as her arms were
pushed together.
"You have great tits."
Natasha closed her eyes again in shame, and then opened them
again.
"Put your hands up on your head." He released her arms.
Natasha slowly raised her arms and put her hands on her head.
"Do you ever have any problems with your tits?" he asked.
"N...no," she whispered.
"Look at them," he commanded.
She looked at her big breasts sticking out in the reflection.
"Never noticed any bumps or lumps?" he asked.
She gasped as he reached around in front of her and began to
slide his hands up underneath her top.
"No..." She closed her eyes as his fingers reached the big
mounds.
"Keep watching," he said.
She opened her eyes again and watched as his hands moved around
underneath her shirt. He squeezed and kneaded her breasts.
She gasped again as her rolled her big nipples in his fingers.
She could hear his labored breathing in her ear.
Finally, after a few moments of groping, he pulled his hands out
and stepped back. "Okay," he said, "I want you to stay just like that
for a few moments while I get ready for the examination."
She watched in the mirror as he walked back to the counter along
the wall and began to move things around. On the other side of the
room, the photographer just stood staring at her- waiting. She closed
her eyes again to
block out the scene.
Natasha hadn't noticed that the third man had not come in with
them. She didn't know that instead he had gone through another door
into a dark room filled with cigarette smoke.
"Anybody want their money back?" he asked with a smile. He
turned to look at the fourteen seated men. Three others paced nervously
behind them. "Now is your last chance." He laughed and looked up at the
large window, in
front of which, standing just a few feet away, was Natasha. The eyes
of the assembled group were riveted through the one-way mirror on the
distraught young buxom girl. To either side were the large television
screens fro
m which the group had watched the scene in the office.
"Come OOOOONNNNN" said one of them. "Let's get on with it..."
--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--***ATTENTION***
Your e-mail reply to this message WILL be *automatically* ANONYMIZED.
Please, report inappropriate use to abuse@anon.penet.fi
For information (incl. non-anon reply) write to help@anon.penet.fi
If you have any problems, address them to admin@anon.penet.fi
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Previous] [Next] [Current Results] [Get Thread] [Author Profile]
[Post] [Post] [Reply]
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Home Power Search Post to Usenet Ask DN Wizard Help
Give us feedback! | Advertising Info | Press Releases | Jobs
| Policy Stuff
Copyright © 1995-97 Deja News, Inc. All rights reserved.