Casting Julia: Book One (BDSM)

by Sable Collins

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  - Casting Julia - Book One

  CASTING JULIA - BOOK ONE

  S A B L E C O L L I N S

  Copyright © 2017 Sable Collins

  All rights reserved.

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  Casting Julia - Book One

  Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve known that I was going to be an actress. In nearly all of the pictures my mother has framed of me in our little ranch house, I’m in the middle of delivering my lines. Looking at the pictures, I don’t really remember myself as a child; I remember the characters I played and think about what I would do differently if I were to be cast as them now.

  There’s me as the Good Witch of the South in sixth grade when we did The Wizard of Oz, standing on a platform that had shuddered and shook every time I’d stepped onto it. Me as the Fairy Godmother in third grade when we put on Cinderella. My first lead, as Snow White freshman year, when I beat out all the upperclassmen. That was a weird one; there had been problems with the legalities of putting on the play and instead they’d modernized the storyline and changed the plot. I got to throw an apple at my arch nemesis every day for weeks during rehearsal, so I was really okay with it.

  “Julia?”

  My mother walks into the room and takes in the scene, me hanging upside down off the edge of our faded green couch, long legs hooked over the top, short denim summer skirt riding up around my waist, hair glowing fiery red in the sunlight filtering through the front window.

  “Yeah?”

  She eyes my wanton position on the couch for a moment before speaking. I roll my eyes at her.

  “I’m just running to the store for a few things, do you need anything?”

  “No, thanks, I’m good,” I say, sitting up and feeling the blood rush from my face.

  “What are you going to do today?”

  “I don’t know, Mom,” I sigh, sinking back onto the couch in a pile of long, pale limbs. “There’s an audition in the city for a new crime T.V. series, I was thinking of maybe checking that out.”

  “Do you want me to take you?”

  “No, I don’t think I’ll get it,” I say, carefully avoiding her eye. “And it’s just a small part, so I can go when you get back.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  The front door opens and closes and then I’m alone in the house. Well, mostly. Our fluffy gray cat, Minnie, jumps up on my lap and rubs her face against my hand. I stroke her soft fur absentmindedly, watching Mom drive away in the minivan leftover from her marriage and dreams of a big family.

  I get up from the couch and place Minnie on the warm impression left by my firm, little butt. She curls up happily and doesn’t think twice as I pad upstairs and begin to get my bag together for this audition that I’ve lied about so carefully to my mother.

  First of all, I’ve already auditioned, and they’ve chosen me. Second, it’s not a small part. I’ll be playing the romantic interest to the boss of a big-time crime organization. The only caveat is the role itself—I’ve played shy girls before, and identify as an introvert, so that’s not a problem. The problem is that my romantic interest is into BDSM and I’m his “sub.” There’s no reason to feel guilty, I tell myself sternly as I go upstairs. You’re eighteen, and this is what comes with adult roles. Time to do your research. In my room, painted a soft lavender and covered with proof that I did indeed have a happy childhood despite also having a dad who ran out on me, I gather up the materials that I’ve been told I’ll need to become familiar with. A whip, harsh metal handcuffs. Fluffy pink handcuffs. Fluffy navy-blue handcuffs. A rather frightening-looking chain. A fake-wooden plastic stick. Black lingerie. All of this goes into my backpack and is carefully covered by a sweatshirt and script from another audition, in case Mom sees the inside of the bag for any reason. I’m dressed unassumingly in simple jean shorts and a black T-shirt, both of which emphasize the pearly paleness of my skin and blaze of red that is my hair. My disproportionately-large tits strain against the soft fabric of my T-shirt, brushing together softly as I pace impatiently, waiting for Mom to get back.

  I check the address I’m looking for one more time on my phone. The message is from someone named Jacqueline who is a practicing female-dom. I found her on Craigslist, offering classes in exchange for a fee and the promise of mentioning her to other aspiring doms. I told her I need someone to teach me to be a “Sub” and she laughed, her rough voice crackling over the phone.

  “Good, that seems like it will be naturally easier for you.”

  I’m still not sure if I should feel offended.

  The front door opens, and I take a deep breath, gathering up my backpack carefully before heading downstairs.

  “Heading out?” Mom gives me a quick kiss on the cheek as I nod. “All right, drive safe.”

  In the car, I put my hair back into a simple ponytail and put on my black sunglasses. It’s a beautiful summer day and feels really strange to be following an unknown route to an unknown house, and as I get closer I get more and more nervous.

  The house doesn’t look anything like I was expecting; it looks normal. Blue with white trim. Trees in the yard, lawn recently mown. I park and walk up to the door, knock hesitantly. A completely-normal looking woman answers the door. She’s in her thirties, with long, dirty-blonde hair, and sharp green eyes that appraise me casually as she invites me in.

  “Nice to meet you, Heather.”

  We sit in her living room, she in a simple red summer dress and me in my girl’s summer uniform. She pours me tea and hands me a cup before settling back herself.

  “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Ex-excuse me?” Nothing about this is beginning the way I expected. I’m not sure what, exactly, I expected, but it wasn’t drinking tea in a random woman’s home with a backpack full of miscellaneous sex items sitting quietly at my feet. Jacqueline smiles patiently.

  “Darling, I knew right when you walked in that you’re the type of girl who needs a lot of lead up to the main event. You’re an actress, right? Probably takes you absolutely forever to memorize lines, but man, when you’ve got them, you’ve got them?”

  My mouth falls open. How did she know, just from meeting me two minutes ago, that that’s exactly the type of actress I am? I’ve been told over and over that it will be the making or breaking of me, but never have I had anyone assess that side of me so quickly and so casually.

  She smiles at my response. “First lesson: part of being a good partner in BDSM, whether it’s as a dom or a sub, is being able to read your partner, and quickly. For the record,” she added, casting her eyes over my body, “I think this director was right to cast you. You have all the equipment to be a great sub. Crime show, big bad boss side story, right?”

  I nod, and finally find my voice. “I’ve played roles alongside men before, I just don’t know, exactly…” I break off and rummage in my backpack abruptly, pulling out the real script from the bottom and handing it to her so she can see a section I’ve highlighted. “How do I act this out, the right way?”

  She scans the lines, brow furrowed. “You’ve had sex, righ
t?”

  “Yeah…”

  She looks up at me, sharply. “But not much?”

  I drop my gaze, unable to meet her tawny eyes.

  “Ooookay. Well.” She rises and go to a bookshelf, but instead of books, I now see there’s tons and tons of DVDs. She withdraws six or seven and turns back to me.

  “Homework for tonight.”

  “We haven’t even had a lesson today!” The words spring out of my mouth before I can stop them, and she laughs outright.

  “Careful dear, that’s a dom attitude right there.”

  She rearranges herself back on the chair with her tea and sips contentedly.

  “Before you’ll understand anything I have to teach you, you need to understand the different angles of sex. Or at least be exposed to them. Come back here tomorrow night, at eleven. Your first day shooting isn’t until Monday, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Perfect. See you later, then.”

  Somehow, she’s dismissed me without moving an inch. I rise uncertainly, pull out my wallet. She waves it away. “I’m more interested in you as a project at the moment. Don’t worry about that for now.”

  ***

  I’m out of sorts for the rest of the day, waving Mom off and shutting myself in my room with the door carefully locked. As it grows darker outside, I start putting in the DVDs, slipping them into my laptop cautiously, like they’ll bite. I watch a new world unfold, one where either a man or a woman can be in charge, but there is a definite, arranged hierarchy that is nonnegotiable. I mentally try to categorize the shrieks, cries, whimpers, whispers, and sounds of the subs, but it’s difficult—they’re not noises I’ve ever made, and it’s not like I can practice now, with Mom in her room fifteen feet away. I watch punishments for perceived slights, scenes of bondage and begging and apologies, which are sometimes accepted, usually not. The women who play subs are a range of beautiful I’ve never been exposed to before, and by the time it’s quarter to eleven, my body is tingling and I feel very warm. I poke my head into Mom’s room and tell her I’m going to Laura’s house.

  On the drive to Jacqueline’s, I feel different. Not changed, but like something has been stripped off me and I’m raw and ready to be formed.

  Jacqueline is a completely different woman when she answers the door. Her hair is pulled back in a half-up do, her tresses teased into huge curls that frame her face like a lion’s mane. She’s wearing a black silk robe that’s open at the front, and the soft curves of her body are playing with the various stripes of black lingerie that encircle her thighs, hips, waist. She’s not wearing a bra and I try not to notice, but in not noticing that, I can’t help but notice the man who’s sitting in the same room we had tea in just a few hours earlier. He’s tall and even sitting, there’s a deliberate, dangerous energy about him. He too is dressed in a black silk robe, and when he stands to turn and shake my hand, I can’t help but notice the flat planes of his olive-skinned stomach taper into a slim waist. His eyes are a disconcerting blue-gray, though his handshake is neutral.

  “Did you watch the videos?” Jacqueline murmurs to me. I nod.

  “Good, go upstairs with Chase, then.”

  I can’t help it, I stiffen. Chase laughs a low, guttural laugh and holds out his hand. “I know it’s just a lesson, little girl. Don’t worry.”

  Hesitantly, I place my small white hand in his much larger bronze one, and he leads me upstairs. Jacqueline follows us.

  Upstairs looks just as unassuming as downstairs, until we turn into the first side room. It’s entirely black, with a little bit of moonlight stretching through the one window in the corner of the room, and lit only by faded string bulbs that wreath the ceiling and give the room the strange feeling of a nest. There’s a table in the middle of the room that reminds me strangely of the one at the doctor’s, except the one at the doctors isn’t covered in red velvet. I see things attached to the wall out of the corner of my eye and let out a small gasp of recognition—surely he won’t tie me up on the first night?

  “Okay,” Jacqueline withdraws to the doorway, leaving me well over the threshold with Chase. “Let’s begin.”

  Suddenly, Chase grabs me roughly by the arm and wheels me around, holding me so that it’s too painful to move and all I can do is gasp in pain while my thoughts reel in panic.

  “Wait!”

  “Good, Julia.” Jacqueline’s voice is quite calm. “Chase?”

  He releases me and I turn to face him, blinking away my tears of surprise and fear and, now, a little uncertainty.

  “A good relationship between a dom and a sub always has a safety word,” Jacqueline explains to me. “As a sub, you’re entitled to declare yours before the session begins, and the dom must agree to adhere to it.” A strange look flickers across her face. “If they don’t, you shouldn’t take them on as a client.”

  I nod, and turn to Chase. “Cream.”

  He raises his eyebrows, and nods.

  “Okay,” Jacqueline says again. “Let’s begin.”

  Again, I’m unceremoniously grabbed, but this time, the pain is expected and his grip is familiar. He rips my backpack off my shoulders and flings it into the corner with a thud.

  “You’re late, you stupid little whore,” he growls in my ear. The words cue something inside me, and I don’t know if it’s all the porn I watched or because I feel safe knowing I can stop at any time, but something makes me respond, in a breathy, meek voice that I almost don’t recognize.

  “I’m sorry, I really tried to make it on time…please don’t be angry with me.”

  I can feel Chase’s surprise at my return volley by the way his grip loosens for a split second, but then the pressure is back, with a renewed energy, and he’s pressing me onto the table with a very real, very hard erection right behind me.

  “I’ll decide if I’m angry with you or not, bitch.”

  He gives my ponytail a sharp yank and cups my face roughly as it comes off the velvety softness. “Take off your clothes.”

  I can feel myself sliding into the role, and I’m surprised by how natural it feels. I comply with his demand, looking demurely at his feet at first, anticipating his snarl to look him in the eye when I’m doing something. There’s a genuine electricity between us, part physical attraction, but part something else, and as I set my clothes aside and face him in my pink panties and lace bra, he licks his lips in genuine appreciation.

  “Lie down on the table.”

  The velvet is soft on my body and smells faintly of something floral. I hear the sound of something being taken down from the wall, and then a cool, plastic riding crop is passed over me from the back of my neck to my toes. I shiver and feel myself getting wet, truly wet, for the first time in my life.

  “You bad little girl, did you like that?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before smacking me one, smartly on the ass. I feel my ass cheek tremble and goosebumps erupt on my skin.

  “Stretch your hands up and hold onto the top of the table,” his voice in my ear startles me and I twitch instinctively, only to receive a harsh blow on the shoulder.

  “You don’t move unless I tell you to,” his voice croons silkily.

  He passes a hand possessively over my body as I meekly comply, drawing it down to the swells of my enormous tits that spill out from their position pressed onto the table. Again, my body trembles in response, and again, I receive a blow, this time to the other side of my ass.

  “I’m sorry…. master.”

  The word feels unnatural in my mouth but I know it’s what I need to say, and when Chase grabs at my ass with both hands and squeezes experimentally, I know it was the right thing to do. Slowly, steadily, he teases me into someone I don’t recognize, someone who moans with pleasure at the feel of a whip, and someone who clenches her hands and curls her toes in response to someone whispering in her ear about what a disgusting, nasty little girl she’s been. I respond in the same breathy, silken voice I struck upon when I first opened my mouth, asking what I ca
n do to be better, asking him to please, please, not again, please don’t punish me. I don’t feel real fear again for ages, when suddenly he jerks me up from the table by my hair and drags me, literally on my hands and knees because I’ve lost my balance, to the terrifying wall with the bondage straps for hands, arms, and feet.