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Stacy Burke
Stacy In Blue

"Miss Burke, please come this way. The producer and director will see you now. Take off your shoes before you go in please." Peculiar about the shoes she thought, but they'd asked the girl before her to do the same. Maybe they had some expensive Persian carpets or something. The other girl had dashed out after only a few minutes, clutching her shoes and sobbing, but that just made Stacy more optimistic that the part wasn't already gone.

Another day, another audition. "Under the Whip", some sort of film about horse racing she supposed. She didn't quite know what they wanted so she'd gone for elegant and minimalist, a slinky blue dress. It sounded like it was quite a big part though... maybe a real break! The secretary closed the door behind her. The two men in the room were power-dressed and looked cool and calculating even though the air was very warm.

"Sit." She sat. "We want someone sexy for the role. Show us sexy, but if it looks trashy you're out." Not a problem, Stacy thought to herself. She pulled the dress down to a more demure ankle-hugging height and pouted and posed a little.

"Sultry."

"Surprised."

"Moody."

The two men looked at each other. The taller one nodded almost imperceptibly.

"We need a screen test. The part calls for a lot of damsel-in-distress scenes. You will be kidnapped, tied up, that sort of thing. " He opened a drawer and pulled out some kinky leather bondage gear and a load of white rope. This'll be fun, thought Stacy as they tied her wrists and ankles together. "I can do that." she said as they cinched the knots tighter. She squirmed around and muttered "Oh help!" a couple of times.

"Mmmm." said the taller man, who Stacy guessed was probably the director because he'd just pulled out a small camera and was filming her. "It's not giving me zing, Ed. I need zing, Ed, you know that. And she keeps smiling. Ed, do something about the smiles. "

Ed must be the producer, thought Stacy. Shorter but very powerfully built, he pulled a long multi-bladed whip from the drawer and stepped over to Stacy. "What're you going to do with that?" she teased. Ed flicked the whip out at her rump, not hard, but hard enough to sting. A few more swats, but nothing too hot to handle. "Better, Ed, better..." said the director. Stacy smiled, knowing this one was probably in the bag. That silly tramp before her must have gone apeshit at about this point and run out crying. Stupid girl.

"... but she's still got than damn smile. Lay it into her will you?" For the first time, Ed smiled. It was a thin smile, a psycho's smile. A scream split the air at the next blow of the whip. Stacy felt like someone had just dragged red-hot wires across her backside. The thin dress provided no protection at all against the whip that producer Ed was really laying into her. She howled as the next blow drove in, gave Ed such a look of hatred.

"God DAMN!" said the director. "We got our star, Ed. You can send the others away. Ed... ED! You can stop whipping her now Ed! ED!"





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