THE LIBRARY: The Audition Part 10

{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}

The dildo was vibrating!

Just as she reared back, her hands streaking down, they fell on her again.

Madge grabbed her head, stilling her cries. Sweatpants grabbed one arm and shoved her hand into one of the dress' nearly invisible pockets. Her agent did the honors on the other.

The dress' pockets were slit open at the bottom. Her palms were flat against her thighs. The men taped them there. Coveralls taped her thighs together, just a few inches above her knees. And Joyce took her own sweet time slapping two squares of tape against the dirty van floor before yanking down Lydia 's dress and cruelly adhering the grit-patches directly over Lydia 's aureoles and nipples.

She snapped the dress' bodice back with a flourish, then gripped the girl's jaw, and spoke directly in her ear.

"Get your friend over here. Scream, and you both die. Run, and you both die. Even fall over, and you both die." Then she shrugged. "Your choice."

Faster than she ever thought possible, Lydia was standing outside the van...

She blinked. For a nanosecond she thought it had all been a terrible dream. But then she realized that her hands were in a dress' pockets and she couldn't pull them out. Her thighs were together and she couldn't separate them. And there was a terrible, wonderful buzzing inside her, between her legs, that she couldn't force out.

Lydia tried to cringe, but she couldn't even do that. The merry widow was still on, forcing her erect. She almost started crying then, until a brunette vision swam into her vision.

"Rebecca," she breathed.

Rebecca. Sultry, luscious, shapely, ample Rebecca. Her friend. The friend that was now pausing by her car, looking at Lydia with a quizzical expression.

"Oh my god," Lydia whispered. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

" Lydia ?" Rebecca said, beginning to step forward. " Lydia , is that you?"

Lydia jerked forward, tottering on the severe high heels.

" Lydia , are you okay?" Rebecca was coming forward, faster now.

Suddenly all Lydia could think about was the van behind her. She jerked forward again. "Rebecca," she choked out. Then the more statuesque of these two young women was holding the shivering blond by the shoulders.

" Lydia , what are you doing here? You look ... so flushed, so ...!" Rebecca's deep brown eyes searched Lydia 's face, her neck, her cleavage. "...I don't know, dreamy. Have you been south? Are you using a new skin cream? You must give me the secret." Lydia 's eyes searched her friend's tanned face, but Rebecca was looking down at her outfit.  "That dress really becomes you. Have you lost weight? You look spectacular."

Suddenly their eyes locked. Rebecca stopped talking and her expression became confused.

"Run," Lydia croaked, her legs giving way. "Don't ask anything, don't do anything else, just run!"

" Lys ...?"


The blonde's expression did it. Rebecca looked as if she had just stared into the face of a mad dog. She backed away, her creamy high heel pumps carefully seeking balance. Then she turned to run.

Lydia fell back, an incredible rush of relief and dread filling her. No matter what happened to her, at least they wouldn't get Rebecca. At least Rebecca wouldn't be assaulted, invaded, and despoiled. At least they wouldn't have their way with Rebecca....

That's when Lydia heard the cough. It came from behind her, from the window of the van. It was a small, polite sound, which seemed to move from the back of Lydia 's head to the back of Rebecca's neck.

Then, as if she were no further than an inch from Rebecca's smooth, elegant neck, she saw the dart.

It was tiny, it ended in a little pale tuft of cut feathers, and it was sticking in Rebecca's skin, its' drug already sapping her strength, already closing off her senses....

Lydia closed her eyes. That was all she could do. Her world was no longer the real world. It was the world between her legs, sealed in with polymer rubber, vibrating with insistent regularity. There was no other meaning. Her hands were locked, her legs were locked, and her body was locked.

Mercifully she finally lost consciousness.

Unmercifully, it was all too brief.