The Director watched as she walked across the room. She was certainly a very beautiful woman. Tall, slim, great figure, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes. She was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. He guessed she was about twenty-five. She sat in the chair opposite him, and crossed her legs, then brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"I expect your agent has told you about the film, but I'd like to go over it so there's no misunderstanding."

She nodded. "OK."

"It's about an American family who are on holiday in South America. You'll be playing the daughter, and Bruce Willis is already signed on to play your father."

She smiled. The thought of doing a film with Bruce was very exiting. Maybe this could be her big break. She was sick of doing bit parts, and waiting on tables to make ends meet. The money she'd been offered for this film alone would get her a much nicer apartment.

"During the holiday you are mistakenly arrested by the secret police. Your father does everything he can to get you released, but with all the corruption down there, he has to take matters into his own hands to free you. It's a major action film. There will be lots of running and shooting guns, so you'll have to get yourself very fit. OK?"

"Yes, of course." She could barely contain her excitement, and was trying to play it very cool.

"Probably the most intense part of the film for you will be the torture scene. We want to make this as realistic as possible, and have advisors from human rights societies who have been working with the screenwriters. I'm afraid it will require some nudity. Are you OK with that?"

She didn't really like doing nudity, but had done it when necessary. "Well, I'd rather not, but if it's essential…"

"I'm afraid it is. Anyone who was arrested was stripped as a matter of course. It wouldn't be realistic if you kept your clothes on. You're sure you're OK with that?"

She smiled and nodded. She wasn't going to lose this opportunity over this.

"Good. We're going to improvise a lot of the film, so what I'd like to do next is to practice an improvised scene. My secretary will give you some notes, and tell you where to go tomorrow. Wear smart clothes, and if it all goes Ok then we'll offer you the job."

"Great, OK, I'll see you tomorrow."

They stood up and shook hands, and he watched as she walked across the room and out of the door. What a great ass, he thought.

**************************

"Good morning, you found it OK then?"

"Yes, it is in the middle of nowhere isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. Rehearsal spaces are so difficult to find in the city, and so expensive. Take a seat."

He watched as she sat down and crossed her legs. Today she was wearing a dress, pale blue, and quite short. Her legs looked fantastic; bare, suntanned, and with well defined muscles. Her feet were enclosed in open toed sandals, her toe nails painted bright red. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, lips red to match her toes and fingers.

"You read the notes?"

"Yes."

"OK, so we're going to go down to the room. Once we're in it, the rehearsal will start. We'll be recording it. You've been arrested, but are totally innocent. The other actors will be playing policemen, and they will interrogate you. Just answer their questions as best you can, but remember you don't know anything, and you're very frightened. This scene will have nudity in it, and it may be a bit violent, both verbally and physically. OK?"

She didn't like the sound of physically violent, but assumed it would just be a bit of light slapping. "Yes," she answered, slightly hesitantly.

"Any questions?"

"How long will the scene last?"

"Just keep going until I say cut. Don't worry if something goes wrong, just carry on. Remember this is just an audition, so it doesn't have to be perfect. But I want to see how you cope with the improvising."

She nodded.

"OK, let's go."

They stood up, and she followed him out of the door. They went along a corridor, and then down some stairs. Her high heels made clacking sounds on the concrete floor which echoed off the bare walls and ceiling. At the foot of the stairs they walked along another short corridor, and then into a room. The door was closed behind her. It had a desk against one wall, a cupboard, and several chairs. Two men were sitting in the chairs, smoking. There was a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the smoke curled up towards it. A large camera on a tripod pointed to the middle of the room.

"This is her," said the Director. Man One stood up, and pulled a chair to the middle of the room.

"Sit down," he said. She walked towards it and sat, placing her hands on her legs. The Director moved to the corner of the room and also sat down. The three men said nothing, just stared at her. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. The silence seemed to last forever.

Eventually she decided to speak, playing her character. "Why have I been brought here?"

"SHUT UP, CUNT!" Man One screamed at her. The ferocity stunned her and caused her to jump. "We ask the questions, not a stupid whore like you!"

She wasn't sure what do say next. The men continued to stare at her. Although this was just an audition, she was feeling quite apprehensive. Finally one of them spoke. "Who are your contacts?"

The question made her relax a bit. She remembered the notes she'd read, outlining the story. She'd been arrested by mistake.

"There's been a mistake, I don't have any contacts."

"Stand up," he ordered. She slowly got to her feet. "Put your hands on your head." She did as he asked.

He also stood up, and walked towards her. He puffed on his cigarette, and blew the smoke in her face, making her cough, then walked slowly around her. She continued to stare forwards. When he was behind her, he stood close to her, and she felt his hand clasp her buttock. She wanted to object, but forced herself to remember this was just an audition. He squeezed gently, and she could feel him tracing the outline of her panties with his fingers. Her heart beat faster.

He leant forward, and she could feel him sniffing her hair. She smelt clean, a light scent of perfume. Then he put his mouth close to her ear. His breath was warm. He spoke very quietly.

"I'm looking forward to having my cock inside you. Who are your contacts?"

This was all too realistic. She didn't think she could carry on. She forced herself to act the part.

"Please, there's been a mistake, I don't have any contacts, please let me go."

He appeared in front of her. He reached out, and she flinched as he put his hand to her cheek. He gently stroked it down, along her neck, and down her chest until he was cupping her left breast. Her breathing quickened. She forced herself to remain still. He squeezed a bit harder, making her grit her teeth.

"Your contacts, whore, or I'll cut your tits off bit by bit and feed them to you, and then do the same to your cunt."

She'd had enough. She took her hands off her head, and looked at the Director who was still sitting in the corner watching. "I think I want to stop……" But before she could finish the sentence Man One had slapped her across the face. It was a huge blow, knocking her to the floor. Before she could recover her senses, he grasped her hair and pulled her to her feet. She screamed at the tearing of her scalp, and then he drove his fist deep into her stomach. She doubled up and again fell to the floor. The breath had been driven from her, and she couldn't take in any more air. She thought she was going to die.

While she was incapacitated, the two men manhandled her to the middle of the room. Swiftly and efficiently her hands were tied behind her back, cuffs were fastened round her ankles, and these were attached to chains hanging from the ceiling. They hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing.

Gradually her breathing returned to normal, and she found herself hanging upside down. Her legs were spread apart, her long blonde hair dangling towards the floor. Her dress had bunched around her waist, exposing her brief white panties with small blue flowers on them, lace trimmed.

"Stop, stop!" she screamed "Please, I don't want to do this anymore, please stop now, I don't want to carry on!"

The two men were rummaging in the cupboard. She twisted around to look at the Director who was still sitting and watching. "Please make them take me down. I don't want to do this now, you didn't tell me this would happen, please."

He didn't say anything. She tried to pull her wrists free but they were bound too tight. She jerked at the chains holding her ankles, but it just caused her to swing backwards and forwards. Man Two approached her from behind, and she felt something being fastened around her elbows. It was pulled tight, forcing her elbows together painfully until they touched, putting a big strain on her shoulders.

"You bastards, let me go now, LET ME GO!"

Man One appeared in front of her. He grasped her hair and pulled her head up until her body was parallel with the floor. The pull on her scalp was agonizing. He leaned over and stared into her eyes.

"Tell us who your contacts are."

"No, no, this is pretend, there are no contacts, please, I don't want to do this anymore, please let me go!"

"You're going to be sorry you didn't tell us, bitch. We're going to make you beg for death, and then we're going to take turns fucking you in every hole you've got."

He released her hair, and her body swung from the chains holding her legs wide apart. Man Two had picked up a long flexible cane, and he brought it down hard across her buttocks. Despite the protection of her panties the pain was agonizing, and she screamed loudly, pulling against her bonds.

The cane landed again, and again, and again. She screamed and yelled, trying to get her breath to speak, but not able to make any coherent sounds. She had no idea how many times the cane had lashed into her buttocks when Man Two finally stopped.

Tears ran down her upturned face, across her forehead and matting her hair. "Please, please, stop this, please, I'm begging you!"

She twisted to look at the Director, who was still sitting watching impassively. "Please, I don't want to do this, please I can't take it, please make them stop, please!"

Man One grasped her panties and pulled them up her legs until they were tight across her thighs, and then Man Two started caning her now naked buttocks again. The pain was beyond anything she could imagine as stroke after stroke landed. She shrieked and screamed and begged.

Eventually he stopped. Her buttocks felt like they were on fire, she could feel something trickling down them, she assumed it must be blood. She couldn't stop crying. Man One crouched down so he was level with her face. He grasped her silky hair tightly.

"Please!" she sobbed "Please, stop, please!"

He smiled. "Shut your mouth, cunt. The only thing I want to hear from you is who your contacts are."

"I don't have any!" she shrieked. "Please, this is a film, ask him, please, I don't want to do this anymore!"

"I don't care what you want, whore. Who are your contacts, or he's going to start on your tits."

"NO!" she screamed. "NO, PLEASE!"

He released her hair, and she continued to scream as the chains holding her were hoisted higher so her head was now at crotch level. Man One tore her dress open, the buttons showering onto the concrete floor. He grasped her bra and with one powerful wrench pulled it until the material split and it hung down around her neck. Her breasts spilled out. He grasped them in his hands and squeezed roughly, causing her to cry out.

"Her tits are sensitive, she's going to hate this," he said to Man Two.

She pleaded with them, as she watched Man Two walk round in front of her holding the long cane. She couldn't believe this was happening. How could anyone do this? Her buttocks were in so much pain from the vicious cane, how could she stand her breasts being treated the same way? She watched in growing horror as Man Two positioned himself, standing with his feet apart and raised his arm. She screamed as the cane whipped down, before it slashed into her sensitive breasts.

God, the pain, she could hardly scream, the breath driven from her body. It landed again, and again, and again. Sometimes it lashed across her nipples, which felt like they were being torn off. Why were they doing this? After an eternity it stopped, she hardly realized as her breasts were on fire. Man One grabbed them again and she screamed as his fingers dug into the painful welts left by the cane.

"Do her cunt," he said, and she'd hardly had time to work out what he was talking about before they'd torn her panties off, and Man Two had brought the cane down hard into the vee of her legs. Once again the pain exceeded anything she could have expected and she screamed at the top of her voice. He gave her three strokes, and then she felt Man One pull her labia apart and drive pins through them into the insides of her thighs so she was held spread open. She tried begging again, but it was useless.

Her vagina gaped, and the cane could now slash into the sensitive exposed flesh of her genitals. Surely nothing could ever hurt more than this? She could feel blood trickling down her stomach, as the cane hit her over and over. Why hadn't she died? How could any woman survive such brutal treatment of her most sensitive flesh?

She only realized they'd stopped beating her when she felt hands in her hair. A gag was forced into her mouth, one that fitted behind her teeth and held her mouth wide open. It was tightened behind her head. Drool ran down her face, and without saying anything Man One unzipped his trousers, took his cock out, and thrust it deep into her throat. He wrapped his hands in her hair to hold her head. She couldn't breathe, she struggled but it was impossible to move.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled out and she gasped and choked, bile from her stomach cascading down her face. She managed just a couple of breaths before he thrust into her throat again, and then started fucking her face in a brutal rhythm. She could only gasp breaths when he pulled out, and her face was soon covered in snot, drool and bile. It didn't take long before he pulled her head tight against his stomach and held it as he spurted into her throat. When he released her she coughed and sperm spewed from her nose and mouth and ran down her forehead and into her hair before dripping to the floor.

Man Two approached her "Fuck, she looks disgusting," he said.

"Just look at her cunt – it's nicely swollen."

Man Two laughed, and then grasped her hair with one hand and thrust into her throat. He used his other hand to slap and pinch her between her legs, causing her to scream around his dick as the welted flesh was abused. It didn't take him as long to come, and he pulled out so he could shoot sperm all over her face. Man One threw a bucket of freezing water into her face to clean the muck off her. She coughed, and spluttered and tried to get her breath. She tried to beg with the men, but the gag made it impossible to say anything understandable.

Man One appeared in front of her holding a small black box. He held it in front of her face, and she watched as he pressed a button and sparks jumped between the two metal prongs. She started screaming and jerking. They were going to give her electric shocks! No, she couldn't stand it, she made whining noises through her gag. Please don't, please don't.

Man One spoke. "I see you've worked out what this is. Who are your fucking contacts, you piece of shit?"

She shook her head, please, no this can't be happening, I don't know anything. He pressed the button again, and she was mesmerized by the sparks jumping between the electrodes and the buzzing sound. Man Two threw another bucket of ice cold water over her body; it ran down into her nose, and soaked her clothes. She could hear it dripping to the floor from her hair.

"This is going on your cunt if you don't tell me. Maybe you're enjoying this. You've probably dreamt of being used like a whore by real men. Well, if you are enjoying it, then this is going to be the best few days of your life. If you're not, then you're the unluckiest girl in the world."

Days? What did he mean? They couldn't keep her for all that time. He reached between her legs and shoved three fingers into her dry vagina. She yelled as the swollen flesh, red and aching from the cane, sent out waves of pain. She could feel the pins that were still holding her labia open pull at the muscles in her thighs.

"She's pretty tight," commented Man One. "It's going to tear her open when we use the baseball bat."

"Better make sure we fuck her first, or we won't feel anything," replied Man Two.

He pulled his fingers out of her. "Last chance cunt, who are your contacts?" While talking he placed the electrodes of the zapper between her legs, making sure they were either side of her clitoris. She tried to jerk and pull away, but could hardly move now. Blood trickled from her ankles where the skin had been rubbed by the shackles as she hung from them.

She babbled through her gag "Please, God, please, don't, please no more, please don't hurt me, I'll do anything!"

But he pressed the button. The electricity speared into her genitals, it felt as if they'd been set on fire. She screamed through the gag and jerked on the chains holding her. He held it against her for several seconds before removing it.

"Contacts, cunt," and then he pressed it between her legs again. The pain was beyond belief, her whole world was consumed by it. This time when he pulled it away, she felt Man Two part her buttocks and shove a long metal rod into her anus. Man One touched the prod to the exposed end and her bowels felt like they were melting. Again and again the shocks tore into her body until eventually the world disappeared into blackness.

********

The Director got up from his chair, and walked to the centre of the room. He stopped in front of her, and studied her carefully. She was hanging by her thumbs, which were purple and swollen. A spreader bar tied to her ankles held her legs apart, and weights were hanging from her toes – also purple and swollen. Her perfectly manicured and red painted toe and fingernails were scattered across the floor of the room. They had removed them in the most hideous way possible – it had taken hours. Several of her fingers were broken.

The handle of a baseball bat protruded between her legs. It had been rammed up her vagina, and then driven even deeper with a hammer until it had penetrated through her cervix. Blood ran down it, and the insides of her thighs, and dripped onto the floor. Although not visible, he knew her bowels contained a bottle that had been pushed through her anus, and smashed into small chunks of razor sharp glass.

Her breasts were tightly bound with barbed wire – they were bulging and swollen. Serrated clamps had been screwed onto her nipples until the teeth had completely pierced them. These were linked by wire to another clamp that had been similarly fastened onto her clitoris. The wire had been tightened so that the three sensitive nubbins of flesh were obscenely stretched.

Several needles pierced her nipples, and numerous skewers had been pushed completely through her breasts, as well as other parts of her body – between her toes and fingers, her thighs, armpits, nose and cheeks. The area between her legs was festooned with them – in her labia, clitoris, the ring of her anus, buttocks. The Director knew they'd all been red hot when inserted.

Her whole body was covered in welts, burns and bruises, from the canes, cigarettes, pliers, soldering irons and other implements they'd used on her. She was unconscious, her head lolling forward, her blonde hair matted against her head. He nodded at Man Two, who filled a bucket with ice cold water from a tap and threw it into her face. She woke coughing and spluttering, and spat blood from her swollen lips. Man Two grasped her hair and forced her to look at the Director. Her eyes were red and swollen, blood trickled from her nose. Although she was now completely naked, her small diamond earrings were still dangling from her earlobes.

Consciousness brought back the agonizing pain. Every part of her body screamed out. She had no idea how long she had been here, but the whole time had been spent with her screaming and begging, apart from the numerous breaks when they raped her. They had fulfilled their promise to use all of her holes. She had long ago become a willing participant in the rapes, eagerly doing anything they wanted her to, and trying to make it as pleasurable as possible for them. Partly this was in the vain hope that they would show some mercy, but mainly was because nothing they could do to her during the rapes compared with the horror of the tortures they subjected her to.

When they finished and tied her in the next agonizing position to hold her exposed to whatever torment they wanted, she would beg and plead, promising anything if only they would stop. But the only thing they wanted was to hear her screaming. They still asked about her contacts, but all she did now was beg.

She looked at the Director. This was the first time he'd moved. He'd just sat in the corner watching the torture. He hadn't raped her.

"Please," she whispered. Her throat was so sore from screaming she could hardly talk. "Please make them stop."

He stepped forward, and put his hand to her cheek. She tried to flinch, but Man Two's hand in her hair held her head steady. He stroked her cheek, brushed away a tear, and pushed her sopping hair clear of her face.

"I'm very impressed with your acting," he said. "You're really convincing me you're being tortured."

What was he talking about? "Please, no more, please I beg you, I'll do anything, please make them stop!"

"In fact I'm so impressed we're going to get you to do the second audition." "Please, I'll fuck you like the others, you can do anything to me, please make them stop!"

"This one is, in fact, much the same as the first. You're still being tortured by mistake."

He turned and walked back to the chair and sat down. "PLEASE!" she screamed after him. "PLEASE HELP ME!"

Man Two let go of her hair, and walked to the side. Man One was doing something on the table with his back to her. She was crying, there was nothing she could do to stop all this. Her body was already screaming out in pain, and she knew they were going to make things even worse.

Man Two returned carrying a large hook with a rope attached. He moved behind her, and with one brutal shove rammed the end of the hook into her anus. She screamed loudly as it ground against the broken glass in her rectum. He grasped her hair and pulled her head back, then tied the rope around her hair. He pulled it tight until her head was forced right back and she was staring up at the ceiling. The pull on her hair was intense, and any movement caused the hook to shift and press into the glass shards inside her.

Man Two approached, and she heard a click followed by a steady hiss. She couldn't see what he was doing, but she was breathing fast, her whole being consumed with fear.

He spoke. "Who are your contacts, you filthy whore. Tell me or this blowtorch is going on your cunt."

"NO!" she screamed, "PLEASE NO, I BEG YOU, PLEASE!"

"OK, cunt, just give me your contacts when you've had enough."