Chapter 14
What I was fondling in my hands was not the outstanding bull-dong of Mr. Vellick's, but a thick hempen rope that bound my forearms. Jack had apparently spiked my drink, and I had passed out and had my dream about Vellick while he had dragged me out of the projection room and tied me up.
Any other girl would have let out an awful screech at finding herself in my position. There I was completely nude, tied with a rope around my arms and sort of dangling from a dark dungeon wall. In front of me was a long table with a gleaming array of every known surgical instrument. As extra added attractions there were tongs, long pincers, pitchforks and other evil looking things whose use I couldn't even imagine. I saw that I was on Jack's torture chamber set.
Blacksmiths' charcoal braziers were being made red hot by a bellows Jack Beauchamp was using. I shivered as I realized my luscious titties, ass and other goodies were going to be in pictures, but not quite the way I had been looking forward to.
I gave him a sickly smile. "What, uh, are you planning to do?" I asked.
He looked up and gave me a horrible, wolfishtype grin. "Shpot a movie," he said. "A realistic movie" He glared at me. "I'm sick and tired of moronic cunts such as you watching my movies and then yelling, fake, fake! It's happened once too often." He sighed. "All too often with justification. All too often >-in fact, almost invariably, up until now, my movies have depended upon special effects. Special effects good enough to fool silly twatheads like you," he snarled, "but not the critics whose opinion I really respect."
"Is that so?" I said, just to keep him talking hence not doing anything. Anything horrible. To me.
"Yes," said Jack. "The critics whose opinion I respect are those who report on movies taken on for distribution by the syndicate. Critics whose reports are delivered to me by messenger -naturally their impartial reports cannot be sent through the mails -and whose reports say, in essence, 'Jack Beauchamp has produced another pseudo-sadistic movie which, by dint of various special effects, produces a moderately satisfactory effect,' Bah! I'll make those motherfuckers eat their condescending words! I'll show them!"
"Uh, yes indeed," I said, looking around me for help or assistance. No help or assistance showed itself.
"Yes," continued Jack, "I'll produce a sadistic movie in which no special effects are used -or needed. A movie in which every sickening scene is obviously real -in which every horrible scream torn from the lips of some innocent if voluptuous girl is a real scream -evoked by real torture." He paused and cackled a bit, just like he'd cackled in his movie.
I stared at him, meanwhile struggling vainly against my bonds. He was crazy all right. Really crazy with scrambled eggs for balls! Too bad I hadn't realized as much before I'd accepted -in fact begged for -his drugged hip flask.
What to do? I sure as hell wasn't going to just dangle with my naked ass there and suffer. I wrestled, or tried to wrestle, with the knots holding the rope by which I was dangling. Nothing. Maybe I would have to just dangle there and suffer. True, I'd have the star role in a nudie movie -something I'd always dreamed about -but the thought failed to cheer me.
Meanwhile Jack, in his torturer's costume now, bustled around adjusting lights and reflectors. I looked around. No cameraman.
"How're you going to act in your new sadistic movie and work the cameras at the same time?" I asked.
"The cameras are all automatic," snapped Jack. "They're already focussed on your naked, squirming body. All I have to do is trip a switch and they start rolling." He picked up a microphone and said, "One, two three, testing," peered at some dials and nodded his head. "The sound's automatic, too."
He cleared his throat, yelled, "Quiet! Quiet on the set" -out of habit, I guess, because there was nobody but us on the set, worse luck -tripped a switch, held a blackboard in front of one of the cameras, and then strode onto the set laughing dramatically -and horribly.
"Cringe, girl cringe!" he yelled. "It will do you good. Soon your tender tits and twat will feel sadistic wrath! Cringe!"
Despite myself, I cringed. At least, I cringed as much as I could, seeing as how I was dangling just over the floor, with a draft blowing right up my naked pussy. What was he going to do to me first? Dunk me in an acid vat? Skewer me with red-hot arrows? He cackled again and picked up a wicked looking black leather whip. That figured. If he'd skewered me with red-hot arrows right off I'd have been dead very quick -and he'd only have one scene of his stupid movie completed. Even if he whipped me all to shreds, though, I'd still be alive enough when he got through to let out a horrible scream when he did the next awful thing to me. That black whip handle looked awfully thick and I hoped he wouldn't shove it up my long-suffering anus.
Maybe I should start planning, too. I wriggled my fingers up the rope I was dangling from, grabbed hold and pulled myself up just a little. Now I could just reach the knot with my other hand. In five or ten minutes I might be able to untie it. The Problem was, how could I gain five or ten minutes? Jack was already advancing on me, swinging his whip. Once he started slashing my tender flesh to ribbons I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything except writhing and screaming.
He stopped right in front of me, his eyes gleaming. "Heh, heh, heh!" he cackled. He reached out and prodded my titties in a nasty, appraising way. Then he laughed demonically and threw back his whip arm.
Now I was going to get it. Already in my imagination I could hear the horrible thwacking sound the whip could make when it landed -I could see my breasts shudder as the whip cut deep into my poor nipples -see the blood spurting out.
I opened my mouth wide to scream -but I didn't. Because all at once it occurred to me that that was just what he wanted me to do -so my agonized scream would be picked up by his damn sound track. Saving him the trouble of dubbing in screams later. So I didn't scream.
Instead I yelled, "No, Jack, No! Don't hit me with that phony sponge rubber whip dipped in red dye -the one you use in all your faked movies please don't! It's just too ludicrous."
His face turned bright red and he dropped the whip and yelled at me, "You stupid cunt! This is a take! You've ruined a take!"
I laughed in his faceHe stormed off, muttering to himself. "A gag," he muttered, "I'll have to gag the cocksucker." I waited dangling. And while I waited, I turned and smiled at the nearest camera. "Hi, folks," I said forcing myself to grin. "Folks, the pseudo-sadistic movie you are about to see is packed with crude, faked-up special effects. But we hope you suckers enjoy it anyway, phony though it is"
Jack let out a bellow of rage. Of course I knew he would cut out my little speech later -but I figured I would bug his ass good. I did. He came storming back across the set with his face twitching with rage. "I'm going to gag you" he yelled, brandishing a soiled-looking handkerchief. "Then T\l teach you to louse up a take!"
And with that he shoved the soiled handkerchief into my mouth.
Crunch! Honestly, it made me feel happy all over to see his eyes roll with pain and surprise as I sank my teeth deep into his stupid fingers. He let out a yell. But that was nothing to the yell he let out when I brought my right knee up just as hard as I could in his crotch and caught him in the balls.
I let go of his fingers, then, so he could double over and grab his nuts ttiat I'd kneed. Naturally, in bending over, he lowered his head. Thunk! I brought my knee up so hard I felt a flash of pain shoot through my whole leg. But I guess I hurt his stupid chin more than I hurt my knee -judging by the way he flipped over backward and landed on his ass with a thud, out cold.
I didn't waste any time gloating, though. I just began working at the knots around my wrists, holding my weight with one hand while I tugged at the knots with the other. I just about ruined all the fingernails on my right hand, but five minutes later I got the last knot loose and fell with a thud to the floor.
I was free.
Well, you can guess what I did first. What I did first was stagger as fast as I could over to one of the charcoal braziers and grab -by its insulated handle -one of Jack's nastiest looking torture gadgets: a sort of jagged pitchfork, with all its prongs white-hot.
I went over to Jack's unconscious body and raised it high in the air. Should I or shouldn't I? Reluctantly I lowered and then laid aside the whitehot pitchfork. Tempting and satisfying though it would be to skewer his cock and balls until they sizzled, it just didn't seem too sensible to kill him, slowly or otherwise. Like, the cops would come and investigate. And most likely find my fingerprints here and there -even if I tried to rub them all out. And even if they didn't find my fingerprints, they'd most likely get in touch with the prick-pushing agent who'd sent me to see Jack and -no, I just didn't need the publicity.
So far as I knew, the cops in New York had no interest in me -and I wanted things to stay that way. So, for practical reasons, I decided not to fry Jack's balls or cock.
What I'd do instead, I decided as I walked away, would be to ransack his house and studio, carry off all the cash and valuable objects I could find, and At that moment I heard Jack let out a yell. I turned and sure enough the louse was lurching to his feet. I'd have sworn I'd kneed that cuntlapper hard enough to keep him out for hours. The louse. The ungrateful louse. Instead of thanking me for being so kindhearted as to let him live, the rat grabbed the handle of the hot-pronged torture instrument and charged right at me.
I started running like hell. With Jack right on my heels. Considering how hard I'd kneed him smashing his nuts together-it was amazing how fast he could run.
"You little whore!" he screamed, "I'll fix you I'll fix you good!"
I ran faster. In and out of various goofy sets and cameras and junk, all the time expecting to feel those white-hot prongs sink into my quivering buttocks. For a starter.
Then I turned a corner and came -to a blank wall. Trapped! No -there was a door in the wall. I tugged at the handle, it opened, and I dashed through.
Now I was outside -in a field or a garden or something, it was hard to tell which, it was so dark. But anyhow, outside. I ran like crazy. I turned once to look over my shoulder -and right behind me was Jack. I could see the white-hot prongs of his fork shining in the darkness. I ran even faster.
Now I was running across a lawn, now a gravelled driveway -and then all at once a car swung down the driveway, its headlights all but blinding
I was yelling things like, "Help, I'm being chased by a lunatic. Save me! Save me!
Braking sharply, the car skidded to a halt. I guess the driver wasn't used to having sprinting blondes show up in his headlights, stark naked. The car door opened and I dived into it, still yowling hysterically. I felt restraining hands on my quivering naked buttocks, and hoped I hadn't jumped from the fying pan into the fire.
I heard a cultured drawling voice saying, "My, you really are stacked with a bunch of goodies!"
Thank heaven it was a woman.
"Don't worry, my man Sardar is restraining Jack's enthusiasm. What's this nude sprint bit all about?"
I took one peek out the window, saw Jack practically frothing at the mouth, helplessly squirming in the grip of my saviour's giant chauffeur -and passed out.