This story is meant for adult readers only. It contains imaginary depictions of violence and ideas that may be physically impossible or absurd. It is not intended to convey or condone the idea of violence or sexual activities involving anyone under the legal age of consent, nor is it meant to contain representations of actual people or institutions. If you qualify to read this and like bizarre fantasies, I hope you enjoy it.

The Breast Test, Chapter 1

© Aiken 2005, all rights reserved

***

Elaine's day off was turning out to be even more boring than the usual. Oprah and Cosmopolitan offered little help. She tossed both magazines aside and picked up the newspaper, already broken apart from an earlier reading with her morning's coffee.

"I didn't read all of the arts section yet," she mused, "And it's only 9. Maybe there's a book signing or art show I can still make." On impulse she began looking from the back of the section this time, her eyes scanning the creative classifieds, theatre auditions and various want ads. Other than a brief job as a prop assistant years earlier, Elaine never worked in show business, but it always intrigued her. Then she saw the line ad, listed under Actress, Help Wanted Part Time:

"Woman needed for short screen tests. B-cup bra size or larger.
Acting experience is helpful but not required. No sex involved."

"What in the world?" she smiled. "That cuts right to the chase doesn't it?"

She finished looking at the other ads, then read up on the latest doings in Soho, Tribeca and Greenwich Village. It appeared the mini-arts festival was her best bet. It was going on today and tomorrow, and might be lovely at sundown when the summer streets cooled off. An outdoor concert would follow, then a classical film festival both nights.

Elaine noted she could continue being utterly lazy, take a leisurely bath and still have time to dress and leave by 2 o'clock. She could grab a bowl of soup at the deli and take the C train to the arts district, ready to have fun by 4:00.

Suddenly she found herself staring at the ad again, studying the spare businesslike request. It said everything yet nothing. A murky tingle began to form in her spine.

"Woman needed for short screen tests. B-cup bra size or larger.
Acting experience is helpful but not required. No sex involved."

"What am I doing with this silly ad again?" she thought, "Do I qualify for the job? Yes of course. And so does every other medium attractive 25-year-old blondie in the city."

It wasn't like she needed work. Elaine had a good job, almost too good. Thirty hours a week at an executive office lease agency paid all her bills and more. Her three-day weekends offered her plenty of time to indulge her idle interests, stoking her love of literature and the arts, plus an occasional dalliance with boyfriends.

"God only knows what this job is, what it pays or what they expect from the girl," She wondered.

That's when Elaine's tingle got the best of her. Here on a Friday morning whoever it was behind this bleak advertisement should be a mere phone call away.

"Bearden Films. Where can I direct your call?" a woman's voice answered pleasantly.

"Ah, I'm calling about a classified ad in today's weekend section..." Elaine began.

"The film tests, yes," the voice interrupted, "You have a B-cup or bigger?"

"Yes, that was in the ad. I'm just wondering what kind of acting it..."

"The job hasn't been filled yet," the woman injected sweetly. "It's part time. You set your own hours. Do you consider yourself a durable, active kind of woman, ma'am?"

"What? Sure, I'm healthy and strong, but what does the..."

"You don't bruise easily do you, ma'am?"

"What do you mean by that?" This was getting odder by the second.

"These short movies can be strenuous at times," replied the woman, "Sort of like stunt work, only not dangerous at all. Women who don't bruise easily can often do better. Would you say that you bruise very easily, ma'am?"

"Um, no, I don't guess so," Elaine answered, more puzzled than ever.

"That's all I need to know," the woman said, sounding quite satisfied, but no more informative, "Should we schedule an interview for you?"

"I'd like to know more about the job first if I could..." Elaine said.

"That's all I can give out by phone," the woman replied, "other than to say it pays well. You'll get all the details during a personal interview. We had a postponement, so Miss Pearle can see you at 12:45 today. Or we have 2:45 on Tuesday. We're in the flatiron district of Manhattan. Shall I put you down for one of those two times?"

Elaine knew it was bizarre to pretend she needed another job right now. But money wasn't the object. She needed to know what they were being secretive about. She had the time and the curiosity. So what could happen? Either she exposed their scam or she made a bundle of cash on her time off, and wasn't it time she was having trouble filling anyway?

"Yes, put me down for 12:45," Elaine said, doing the math in her head. She would skip her decadent bath hour, take a shower and be on the downtown train by 11:15. The receptionist took Elaine's name, gave her good directions, and closed with some helpful advice.

"I recommend business attire for your interview, Miss Travis," she said, "And don't worry about the acting skills. I bet you'll be great. Good luck and we'll see you at 12:45."

People had been telling Elaine to consider show business for years, always teasing her about her good looks going to waste. Even though she didn't need a new job, maybe she should give it a shot, she thought. Careers had started on larks before. It didn't always have to be about obsessive artists, burning desires or schools of hard knocks. It could sometimes be about a cute girl stuck in a rut and catching a break.

After her shower Elaine blew her hair dry, flossed her teeth and applied makeup. But she kept turning the ad around in her brain. It didn't make sense. Short films requiring a certain breast size? And why bring up sex? Certainly a concern about girls' breasts might beg the question. But something about saying 'no sex' in the ad made the ad, well, sexual. It was nearly the same as when the lady on the phone said, "not dangerous at all."

The warning about bruising made no sense either. So now we've got breasts, no sex and girls possibly being bruised. Non-sexual friendly bruises to be sure. Meanwhile the pay was good enough to brag about. Another alarm bell! Everything about the ad seemed illicit somehow or mildly carnal. But it was an established film company in prosperous Manhattan offices, with businesslike women seeing their applicants by the numbers. Where did all that leave Elaine? Nowhere.

Strangest thing of all was the damnable itch she felt in her crotch. Why should this be turning her on so? Pulling on her beige pantyhose and pumps she couldn't avoid thinking about the situation, nor her impulse to go out on the mystery interview. She felt an urgent wetness forming in her vagina and decided to tuck a pad in her panty gusset. Dabbing on a bit more perfume than usual she told herself to think about something different. Buttoning up her white silk blouse her fingers trembled slightly.

"Damn it, just relax," she told herself, zipping up a green silk skirt in back and adjusting her slip, "It would be embarrassing to blow an interview, even when the job is irrelevant. No, especially then. If this is acting, it's time for me to act... cool and confident." She slipped on the jacket that matched her skirt and took a deep cleansing breath.

By the time she brushed her hair and left the apartment Elaine was composed again, plotting the rest of her afternoon. After the interview she could stop for a proper lunch, perhaps at the Comfort Diner, one of her favorite haunts near the flatiron building. They employed some of New York's cutest waiters. After that she would be back on schedule for the arts festival. She thought of calling her friend Wendy. But today seemed a good time to go it alone, keeping all her options open. If she got in the mood to meet someone new she'd be a little overdressed for the boys, but not for men. Who knows, if she nailed the job she might feel like celebrating a little.

***

Elaine stepped off the elevator onto the 24th floor. It seemed to be divided into two office areas, Coates Industries to the right and Bearden Films on the left. Just inside the glass doors sat a young brunette who turned out to be the woman she'd spoken to, "Miss Travis?" the woman asked, "Hi, I'm Reeba, and you're just the way I pictured you."

Taken aback slightly by an all too friendly greeting, Elaine returned the smile warmly and glanced around the entry area. Polished wooden walls, designer chairs and a host of exotic plants gave it a pricey, professional look. This was the kind of lease that would make her a nice bonus for renewing. But one couldn't see beyond the entry area; no hallways or other employees were evident. Two doorways were set almost seamlessly into the wood-sheathed expanse behind the bulwark of Reeba's desk.

"You're a little early which is great," Reeba said brightly, "Take these and fill them out please. Don't worry if you don't have all the info. We can add more to it later."

The receptionist handed her a clipboard with several sheets of questions on it. The first page asked all of the usual job application things - personal contact info, previous schooling, employment history, medical concerns if any. The next two pages were surprising. They asked Elaine to break down her current schedule for a typical two-week period, hour by hour. What her usual bed times were, when she reported to work, took meals, read, exercised, saw movies, hung out with friends. Everything.

At the end of her two-week itinerary was a 24-hour slot all by itself, and that day was today. The form asked her to include as much detail as possible for the full two weeks and especially today.

A little key was provided with lots of tiny symbols for her to select and scribble into each hourly slot. Thankfully the form didn't ask about her sexual routine directly, but it included a symbol for "intimate time" which could stand for sex, and "bathing and personal needs" which she supposed would include things like masturbation. It was a surprisingly invasive questionnaire she thought, but its use of euphemisms was very helpful, like “fun with friends” instead of drunken parties, or “reading periodicals” in place of ogling gossip mags. Plus the fact that she didn't have to write down anything but little symbols made it terribly easy. So she wasn't really offended by the process. In fact, when finished she glanced over the resulting time map and was intrigued with the informative results. This was her life all right.

She came to the final two pages and both were contracts. One was a standard model release. It stated she was not supposed to sign it until she contracted with the film company pending her interview. It was provided to disclose that Bearden would be sole owner of all film rights in the event of her contracting to appear in their films, and that payment for her acting services would be a one-time affair.

The other form was to be signed immediately however. It was a confidentiality agreement, stating that Bearden Films produced documentaries and research films, often of a sensitive or sometimes proprietary nature. Thus none of the information discussed during her interview or indeed during any employment as their actress could be spoken of outside of Bearden staff and management without written permission.

"OK," Elaine thought, "We're finally getting somewhere now. Documentaries and research films."

Elaine had heard of confidentiality forms before. They were common with firms preparing to launch new product lines and wanting to keep them secret. She had never signed one until today. As she scribbled her name at the bottom of it she felt slightly honored to be trusted with a company's special secrets, albeit by a secret pact.

"Thank you, Miss Travis," Reeba said, taking the forms. "Make yourself comfortable for a few minutes, okay? I'll call you the minute it's time to see Miss Pearle." Reeba's enthusiasm seemed as steady as it was sincere.

Elaine flipped through magazines for several minutes. They were all film trades, but seemed to feature the industrial side of movie making, like camera dolly systems or lighting innovations. Not a lot to interest her there, but things were at least looking a little less sleazy now. Judging by the form she just signed Bearden made movies according to their industrial clients' or researchers' needs. Logically their vendors would be reading magazines like these. It was beginning to make sense to her, well, except for all that boob-size business.

"Ok, maybe they have a client making hell's own push up bra," Elaine guessed, which brought a smile to her lips. The smile was still fresh when Reeba caught her eye.

"She's ready to see you now, Miss Travis," the girl said excitedly.

To Elaine, Miss Pearle's office actually seemed to belong to someone in the film business. Stacks of folders were arrayed across her desk and down two long tables, submissions of projects or rewrites perhaps. Pearle's walls held certificates of film industry awards, mostly from organizations Elaine didn't recognize. Everywhere she looked Elaine saw bookshelves with bound reports or large calendars with names and schedules written out in colored pens. This looked to be the office of a very busy and highly organized woman, an attractive woman at that.

"Hello Miss Pearle," Elaine said, extending her slim hand. Pearle came around her desk to greet her applicant. The woman seemed tall, a willowy brunette with red highlights. She wore a cream color blouse and dark pants cut narrow at the ankles to show off some rather tall black pumps. She had light freckles across most of her face and nose. She was proud of them and made no attempt to cover them with powder or base despite a penchant for lots of eye makeup and cheek toner.

"Call me Trina," Pearle replied with an engaging smile, and shook the proffered hand with warmth. "Sit down please. It says here you've never acted on film before. But you carry yourself well and you are quite attractive. Is acting something you've thought of doing?"

"Many times," Elaine smiled, "I am employed currently and doing fine. But people keep telling me I should act. So... I suppose I should give it a try sometime or other."

"Good. From your application it appears you have a good job. If you contract with Bearden we can supplement your income and give you experience at the same time. Our goal is to jeopardize nothing, allow you to do all the things you do now, or as many of them as possible. Typically our actresses log about ten film-hours a week, and those times are structured into all of their current life and work schedules."

Elaine blinked. "I suppose that's why you needed those time logs I filled out."

"Quite right," the woman replied. "In case you don't know yet Bearden specializes in product test films, re-enactments and documentaries. Our test clients are often just as interested in the performances of our actresses as they are in improving the products they design or sell. It makes our job complicated but they pay us well so we in turn pay well. We start actresses out at seven film hours per week, usually documented in 30 to 45-minute increments. We pay by film minutes, not by hours."

Elaine grappled with this for a moment, a hundred questions forming in her head, but she waited for Pearle to continue.

"You'll begin at $11 a minute," said Pearle. "That translates to $330 per half hour, or a little over $4500 a week, not counting bonuses." The woman paused for a moment to let her words sink in.

Elaine was flabbergasted. It was nearly $20,000 a month for a seven hour a week gig. It was at least $3,000 more a month than the money she currently earned fulltime. And ten hour a week actresses earned even more!

"Um," she said, somehow containing her excitement balloon, "So... what's the catch."

"I had a feeling I'd like you," Pearle smiled, "It's always important to know the down side of things. There are indeed a few of them here. Number one, you can't quit your current job for this one. In fact your work here is conditional on keeping at least 85 percent of your current schedule intact. That time report you filled out is indeed the way you enjoy living your life. So we're serious about not wanting to restructure it. Obviously some of our actresses take this harder than others. It can be a little like winning a lottery and yet not being able to stop their job at the saw mill."

"I see," Elaine said, trying to feel the scope of the woman's demand. "It does seem odd, but I think I could deal with that. I guess the better things are going at the time the easier it would be to keep the film and life schedules intact. I have to admit I am blessed with an awfully good work situation right now."

"Good point. Yes, you do seem very fortunate," Pearle said a bit darkly, "But we are talking only in time lines here, rough outlines, not in the actual difficulty factors of being an actress for Bearden Films. This brings me to the next part of the decision facing you. Did Reeba mention the strenuousness of filming sometimes?"

"Yes, she did," Elaine answered, "Is that why you stick to such brief films?"

"Yes, not only to fit the scenes into each week, but to recover from any problems you may have. As the saying goes, if it were so darn easy everyone would be doing it. In a few minutes I will show you a short film, samples of the kind of work we would have you do. As our ad says there is no sex involved. But the situations are dramatic, stressful, and our actresses, though challenged are not physically harmed. If you decide not to pursue a part-time career with Bearden, I would understand. Or if on the other hand you have more questions, we can go over them. And if you are sure you can handle what you see and want to develop your acting ability with us, I'll offer you a 60-day-trial agreement that would start from today. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, very fair," Elaine said, breathlessly trying to grasp the big picture. Sixty days. That would put almost $40,000 extra cash in her pocket. What was there to quibble over? She couldn't believe she had arrived here 30 minutes before, assuming the ad was a hoax or a lowlife con job of some kind. But here she was, ready to sign on Trina Pearle's dotted line, eager to get started on a high-paid auxiliary acting career.

"There is another requirement too," Pearle said, "Actresses must be independent. Because our guidelines are unusual and privacy agreements are needed we contract only with them and never an agent or agency. That's why we'll seek new talent and try to give promising hopefuls like you a start. When you signed the agreement in our front office it meant more to me than your being bound to confidentiality about what we discuss. It also meant you didn't have an agent either. Because no one would sign such a waiver without consulting their agent first if they had one."

"I see. So is this why you advertise in some unorthodox ways?"

"Yes, Elaine," Pearle replied, "There are reasons for everything we do. Now, are you ready to view our film samples?"

Elaine nodded her head. It was time to see what her new job required of her.

Trina Pearle adjusted the video monitor mounted on her desktop, turning it around until Elaine could view it easily from her chair.

"The first two segments are re-enactments," Pearle explained, "similar to black and white videos a very famous movie director once made for his personal enjoyment. He used mostly b-list women from his casting couch, or an occasional prostitute. We striated them for period effect to look 50 years old, but we actually filmed them several months ago. The rest of the segments are self-explanatory. The entire sample reel is 15 minutes long. I'll leave you to view it in privacy." Pearle turned off the overhead lights and left the room, closing her door just as the movie began.

A thirtyish brunette woman stood in black underwear looking pensive and small. She removed her black brassiere and stood topless, waiting for something. She wasn't particularly pretty, but didn't look bad either. Her hairstyle and makeup were decidedly '50s. Her breasts were average but nicely shaped. Another woman with a similar hairstyle appeared from the right side. She wore a dress. You could see her from behind but not her face.

She approached the topless woman, placed her right hand lightly over the lady's left breast and rested it there. The camera zoomed in until just the woman's hand over the breast and most of the topless girl's face filled the frame. The hand was nicely manicured with dark fingernails, possibly red, but in black and white who could tell? Slowly the woman's hand moved around in circles, remaining nearly flat. She wasn't squeezing the woman's boob, just rolling it around easily. The topless woman's face began to flinch with displeasure. As the hand started to exert more and more force against her breast, it was clearly becoming painful to her.

Elaine shifted uneasily in her chair. This film was designed to look like an old fetish reel. It felt creepy, foreboding and very authentic. Too authentic.

Slowly the woman's fingertips curved around until she was clenching the lady's boob at the same time as the mashing and rolling effort intensified. The lady's expression changed from discomfort to immediate and obvious distress.

Abruptly the scene cut to what appeared to be much later in the movie. The hand no longer gyrated in circles. Instead it was delivering steady slaps to both breasts using the same stylized fingertips, not hard blows at all. But both breasts looked bruised and tender. It appeared the spankings had been going on for some time, and had certainly become painful from a cumulative point of view. The topless woman squinted her eyes, trying to endure the cruel swats. She seemed to fight back tears as the uncaring hand delivered more punishment to her breasts.

Suddenly the hand stopped its blows and began lightly stroking five long fingertips down each darkened breast. Drawn from the wide base of each teat out to the nipple tips, again and again, each stroke left narrowly welted trails in the woman's tenderized flesh, not damaging the skin but distressing the poor woman greatly. She was biting her lips and panting, appeared ready to cry out in pain. Next those nails delivered pinches into the woman's nipples. They pinched from one side, then the other, leaving neat little semi-circles. Finally they seized the entire nipple area, mashing it hard, then harder. The effect this had was immediate -the woman's eyes and mouth flew open in a combination of pain and astonishment.

Without warning it was over. The camera pulled back as the woman with the tormenting hand left the room. The topless woman examined her breasts with a look of remorse and gingerly donned her brassiere. It was not an easy thing to do. She pulled her blouse up around her with care and slowly buttoned it, her face still darkened by the discomfort she felt beneath two layers of fabric. She looked at the camera for an uneasy moment and left the room, no doubt in search of some aspirins.

Elaine was stunned. She didn't know what to think. Was this the acting job? Stand there and let a woman deliver a half hour's spanking to your breasts? And why on earth did she have the wetness in her loins again? It was bewildering.

A different clip began. It employed the same two women, perhaps a few days later because the topless lady's breasts looked fine. She took off her bra again. This time she wore dark appliances of some kind clamped around her breasts. Each was a crude form of stocks made from what appeared to be thin squares of plywood painted black. Two halves seemed to fit together forming a rectangle with a round opening to capture the boob with. Removing the bra seemed to be unpleasant for the lady, as whatever weight the wooden squares exerted was no longer supported by her brassiere. She turned to look at the camera and waited momentarily as she did in the previous scenario.

After a few seconds she opened her purse and withdrew a spool of course thread. She nibbled off a piece of it and knotted it through a tiny hole at the corner of one of her breast squares. As the camera closed in more it was revealed that the corners of both squares had small holes in them. Working quickly the lady soon had a piece of thread tied to all eight corners with a couple of feet of thread trailing from each one.

Then, just as before, the second woman arrived to deliver a series of unkind acts to unlucky breasts. She played with the strings, tying them around her victim's back, then over her shoulders, then from one corner to the next, experimenting with the pressure of thread and squares and toying with the emotions of the actress who wore them. She took turns squeezing each breast while tugging the black devices around in all directions, much to the poor woman's chagrin.

In a series of quick edits the woman was next seen thumping the lady's nipples, tormenting her again with those dangerous talons, and spanking both breasts with several items, including a narrow leather belt, a plastic shoehorn and a miniature school ruler. All the while the lady with the imprisoned tits did her best to endure the abuse without weeping openly.

This segment ended more quickly than the first one did. After five minutes or so it dissolved into a series of clips from what appeared to be a recent product test film in modern-day color. The first clip began with a short title: "RP Breast Frame Model 407, Test #18-G."

A petite blonde actress with a sultry face and short haircut stood in front of a pleated curtain and removed her white sweater and lacy bra. Underneath those ordinary garments was an odd-looking device that appeared to be made entirely from clear plastic or Lucite.

It wasn't a crude stocks-like affair as in the '50s re-enactment. This consisted of several curved pieces of thick plastic, hinged together to form a circular component girdling the woman's ribcage, like the tight lower cuff of a long-line bra, only instead of being elastic and lace it was made of hard half inch thick plastic. The woman opened her purse and withdrew several more thick plastic items that snapped onto the girdling frame using tiny built-in latches. She appeared to have done this several times before. Her movements looked practiced, almost routine. Her face was passive and emotionless.

Two of the added attachments fit directly in front of her breasts, and jutted a round plastic knob several inches into the front of each breast just under the nipples. Two more clear components looped over each breast, bracketing them from the tops and more or less mashing the breast tops down at their base. Next a pair of wide plastic beams latched to the midpoint of each bracket, and went vertically down the breasts past the nipples. Those shaped beams linked up to the girdling frame, right on top of the pieces that angled the two plastic knuckles into the woman's breasts.

The actress didn't seem bothered at all until this point, but began to show real discomfort on her face while pressing the vertical beams down. Apparently the device was form fitted to her breasts, and that fit was very tight, if not painful, when it snapped shut. Pursing her generously painted lips as if to say "ouch," she put on her bra again, and her sweater too. She walked out of the small area she had stood in. She had been in a dressing booth of an upscale ladies wear store all along. She walked to the counter, paid for several garments and watched the clerk put them into a bag. She then walked out of the store carrying her purse and purchases.

Several more edits showed her walking through the mall, trying on chic dresses and shoes and talking to several salespeople. At one point she got something to eat at a food kiosk and sipped on some tea. Each of the film edits included close-ups of her face and breasts. It was obvious she grew more uncomfortable as the day wore on. She kept moving her shoulders around as if to relieve some pressure or pinching sensation she felt. Despite the wiggling efforts it only seemed to get worse. After numerous scenes of shopping activity the sample film ended and the screen went black.

Miss Pearle soon walked into the office and turned the lights back on. "Are you ready to ask me some questions?" Pearle remarked as she swiveled the desk screen back to its normal position and sat down.

Elaine took a deep breath and glanced down thoughtfully, ""Well, it doesn't strike me so much as acting. These movies seem more like performance art."

"You are quite right. It is much like performance art, of a slightly uncomfortable variety."

"Slightly uncomfortable?" Elaine thought, "There's an understatement."

"Why are all the woman in your films being hurt, Miss Pearle?" she asked, "Is there really a market for that?"

"I suppose there is a demand for that in the porno industry," Pearle replied dryly, "but we have no part of that business. Our customers have scientific or historical questions to examine. Some may be studying how women adapt to certain orthopedic devices, such as breast-molds designed to reshape the silhouette after partial mastectomy. Another might be interested in the degree of discomfort ladies would tolerate on a daily basis from a girdle. In some cases clients need to review what women have had to put up with in previous eras, even by studying bizarre fetish reels like the ones you saw. It was recreated from recently discovered written accounts. Such things can be seen as prurient, possibly even sadistic, but to us they are not. They are simply film assignments. There are valid questions being sought on each of our job tickets, even if they don't make a lick of sense to us. Some of our clients are so secretive about what they are researching they include tests that have nothing to do with their study at all, simply to throw off spies from competing corporations."

Elaine tried to digest all the aspects of this work. So it wasn't just acting. It wasn't just performance art either. It was a foray into a world of kinky corporate counter espionage. Betty Page, meet Nancy Drew? Incredible... and weird!

"The pay you offer is terrific," Elaine said. "And I have to be tempted by that. But I wonder how your girls put up with punishments like those every week. Is it always so harsh? Don't they get fed up with the abuse and quit you?"

Pearle nodded thoughtfully and pushed a button on her desk phone. "Reeba, send Eva and Jennifer in please."

"Retention of actresses is a big part of our business model." Pearle said, turning in her chair to withdraw a file folder from a drawer, "So we recruit and screen them carefully for the right traits. We never know where we'll find them. Some of our ladies are married with families and jobs. Others are single and successful just as you are. But most have the same basic ingredients. Curiosity, ambition, a twist of kinkiness, a touch of boredom and a thirst for adventure or at least new horizons. If they are young and beautiful as you are, that's always a bonus. But women who answer blind ads for actress positions often turn out to be rather pretty."

The door opened and two stylishly dressed women entered the room. The first was a small brown-haired woman with a beautiful tan. She wore a white dress, turquoise bracelets and an infectiously cute smile.

"Hi, I'm Jenn," she said, and shook the applicant's hand in a nice but businesslike way.

The second woman was a medium blonde with a trim athletic build. She wore a brown silk pantsuit with matching heels. She smiled in a friendly way, "Hello, Miss Travis, you can call me Evie." Both women stood back slightly. Miss Pearle, with folder in hand, rose to stand alongside the two employees. She smiled briefly at her girls, then looked into the folder.

"Elaine, these two are the ladies you saw in the re-enactment film, outtakes from a twelve-part series commissioned last fall by a university film school. They took two months to complete I believe, counting all the additional takes needed. Since it was a special assignment they both got substantial bonuses for their excellent work. Do Jennifer and Eva seem disgruntled or ready to quit to you?"

"Well..." Elaine said, looking at the two healthy faces. Jenn was glancing at her boss and trying to stifle a giggle. Eva was smiling at Elaine and giving her a wink.

"No, I guess they don't." Elaine sighed in a resigned but relieved kind of way. "You two don't look unhappy at all. You sure don't look like the women I saw in that blue movie."

"Just hair and makeup ya know," Jenn said, plumping her curls exaggeratedly. Eva reached over to take Jenn's arm and flashed a huge smile at her. Then they both laughed.

"Our ladies do tend to stay with us and that's not by accident," said Pearle, "We try hard to keep them happy, secure and well paid. Our actresses give each other moral support and advice too, and that helps them through some of their tougher assignments. Jennifer and Eva have been with us several years and they're both active in our new actress welcome association. I'm sure you'll have more questions for them when you contract with us, and they'll be happy to answer them for you. Thank you very much, ladies."

The two women smiled again and took their cue to leave. Elaine sat, amazed.

"Our clients see the advantages," Pearle resumed, "of keeping girls in our employ. It adds context to their data when they know the actress involved or anticipate her response from one film test to the text. From our standpoint when staff members know each other better and develop good friendships over time we are much more efficient in everything we do, and we have a lot more fun doing it."

"Believe it or not," said Pearle, sitting down at the corner of her desk, "once a woman enters our doors we already know if she is a good prospect. All that remains is to see if she has the personal courage or dedication to do the work."

Pearle laid the folder on her desk, picked up the clipboard with Elaine's application information on it. "Now I have some questions for you, Elaine. They may be difficult to answer, but I promise whatever response you had to those movies I've seen it before. There is nothing to defend or explain away, nothing to apologize for. A simple yes or no should do."

"Ok," Elaine said, taking a small bite of air, "What do you want to know?"

"Elaine, were you excited at all by the situations our actresses were in?"

"Yes."

"From what you saw are you a little apprehensive about working for Bearden Films?"

"Yes."

"From what I've shown you do you think you'll be safe and cared for in spite of the fears?"

"Yes."

"From what you've seen would you like to begin a 60-day trial contract with Bearden Films?"

"Yes," Elaine replied, hoping her face wasn't too flushed.

Miss Pearle smiled at Elaine sweetly and handed her the clipboard with the model release on top of it. "Sign this release for me please while I fetch you a contract and startup schedule."

**

End of chapter 1

The Breast Test

© 2005, Aiken, all rights reserved

The Breast Test Chapter 2
(c) Aiken, 2005, all rights reserved

---

Elaine sat, breathlessly waiting to complete Miss Pearle's hiring process. Pearle had left the room briefly, time enough for Elaine to sign her model's release and take another gulp of anticipation. It was hard to believe she would soon begin a new career as an actress, much less with a company specializing in such unusual projects.

And try as she might Elaine couldn't suppress her feelings of sexual arousal. She had no clue why a job depicting harsh spankings and fetish garments would excite her so much. And yet those bizarre actions seemed to have little to do with it. She was in fact frightened of them. Something deeper was pulling her in though, the underlying principle perhaps that such things as breast whippings or vice-like corsets would be required on anyone's screen test, or on any client's work order for that matter.

"Maybe I'm more bored than I supposed," she thought, brushing away her doubts, "But oh! The money they're going to pay me!"

Smiling, Pearle re-entered the office with several papers in her hand and seated herself elegantly at her desk.

Elaine handed Pearle the clipboard with her freshly signed model agreement on top of it.

"Thank you," Pearle said, looking at the contract. Then she passed the clipboard back to Elaine, "I'm adding two items to this stack for you to read. Your signature goes at the bottom of each page."

The top sheet was labeled "Test Contract." Elaine looked it over, reading that she was to begin 60-days of part-time work at Bearden Films. The contract stated Travis would supply a minimum of 7 hours of screen minutes per week, determined by her schedule and paid at the rate Miss Pearle promised. It was understood her work would involve physical and emotional stress, and that extra prep time might be required. Due efforts would be made to assure Travis' safety. She could end her employment any time by dissolving the agreement, with the only stipulation that her bonus monies be repaid to Bearden Films.

"Bonus money?" Elaine asked.

"Yes. Bonuses are paid to each applicant when she signs her test contract. We base it on the complexity of her schedule and the difficulty of film assignments currently in our job hopper. Your check is a little higher than average, $17,800."

Pearle held up the narrow slip of paper with Elaine's name already printed on it.

Elaine nodded, hoping her expression would not betray her surprise. She hadn't even gone to work yet and they had already cut her a check for 17 thousand! She read over the rest of the contract quickly, noting that it renewed itself automatically for 12-months unless she declined it in writing. It stated that any renewal would likely include a new bonus, higher per-minute wage, more film-minutes per month and immediate eligibility to Bearden's group insurance.

Everything looked fine. Elaine signed and dated the form and went to the next sheet. It was a schedule like the one she filled out earlier, but with several refinements. This one had all of her activities printed in neat black letters instead of symbols. Somebody had gone to the trouble of transcribing everything she submitted an hour earlier. Her two weeks were shown, each represented as seven blue columns starting with Friday and ending with Thursday. Stapled to each week's grid was another grid labeled "enhanced schedule." They were almost identical but included a dozen or so red ovals and rectangles in place of certain times. Each day except for Wednesday had red symbols on it in week one. Each day on week two except for Monday contained the symbols as well.

"That's your first two-weeks," Pearle explained. "Your week begins with Friday, since that's the day you're starting with us. You get paid every second Thursday as your new schedules are signed. Our computer places all your film times into the optimum spots based on the factors I mentioned to you earlier."

"So, are these little red things when you'll be filming me?"

"Yes," said Pearle, "Red rectangles are 45-minute takes. The rounded ones are 30-minutes. It won't take you long to get used to it. Everything fits together. For instance, on your form you said you planned to take a late lunch after finishing up today. Then you're going to an art festival for the balance of the evening, where you'll meet a friend. You estimated a return home at around midnight tonight. Does all that sound correct?"

"I guess so," Elaine said, unsure why it would matter to Pearle. Suddenly the idea of calling a friend to join her had become an obligation instead of a whim. It was OK of course, but still...

"There is no room for guesswork now," said Pearle, "Precious little room anyway. Notice there is a 45-minute shoot set for 6:15 tonight, while you are actually at the festival. See? All your whereabouts and times have become highly relevant."

"But how will it take place at the art festival?" Elaine asked, "Won't I need to come back here for filming?"

"No, not necessarily. Remember the woman you saw shopping in our film samples? What you didn't know is that we filmed her during a regular mall visit the actress already planned to go on. Shooting you at a festival will be no trouble either, once we get our scene instructions from the project directors. We also have a thirty-minute shoot to do of you just before you leave here today. Rather a mundane thing - we film new hires during orientation with our costume chief. Easy minutes we call them. She briefs you and sends you on your way. Well, after you get around to signed your work schedule that is."

"Oh! Okay," Elaine felt a sudden flush hearing Pearle's pointed remark. She reviewed her schedule once more. Nothing looked troubling except that so many pieces were nibbled out of her workdays and some pretty early mornings too. She assumed Bearden would film her primarily on her free days, for simplicity's sake.

"Must have their reasons," Elaine thought, "Anyway it's only seven hours." She signed the bottom of the schedule, noticing that Trina Pearle's signature was already there, just above hers.

"Well then," Pearle said cheerfully, standing up and taking the clipboard and its contents from Elaine's lap, "Welcome aboard. I'm betting you have a safe place to keep this?"

"Oh! Thank you very much, Miss Pearle."

Elaine stood and took the bonus check from her new boss. She trembled a moment trying to locate the pocketbook of her purse; she suddenly felt jumpy and awkward.

"Call me Trina, remember? Now take a deep breath and relax, I know what you're feeling, and there's simply nothing to worry about."

"I guess I'm a little excited about starting so fast. Maybe I'm a little afraid too."

"Fear did not make the decision you just made. Ambition did. Focus on the tasks we give you and you'll be perfect." Pearl took Elaine's arm gently, turning her to the doorway. "Now let's get you to wardrobe. It's where everything fits, and the fit is everything!"

***

Past two turns of the hallway and a half dozen closed doors Pearle ushered Elaine through a doorway marked "Scene Prep A." Elaine blinked at the depths of a big room fitted with long tables, sewing machines, clothing racks and boxes of equipment. A small platoon of dressmaker forms was arrayed at the far end of the room beneath the combined illumination of large windows topped by even larger skylights. The windows, together with the room's abundant fluorescent lights, made this an intensely lit, utterly shadowless place. Three women stood nearby. Two of them were very familiar, smiling at Elaine. They were Jennifer and Eva.

"Hey, sweetie!" Jennifer waved.

The third woman, a dark-haired lady in her mid-thirties, wasn't quite smiling. Her eyes studied Elaine in a pleasant way as Pearle and Elaine approached.

"Cora," Pearle called out, "Elaine Travis, she's the new actress I told you about. Elaine, this is Corine Bailey, Bearden's Chief of Wardrobe."

"No experience you say!" Corine said to Pearle, neglecting to take Elaine's hand of greeting. Instead she turned the girl slightly by one shoulder to study her in profile. Her hand rapidly brushed the small of Elaine's back, checking for a waistline beneath the trim jacket. Corine's other hand lifted Elaine's chin briefly, then rubbed a small lock of her hair with thumb and forefinger, judging its texture. "Very good shape here, and poise too. And a steemer besides? Remarkable! I'm sure she'll do nicely." By this time Corine was directly behind Elaine, scrutinizing hip and shoulder angles.

Elaine stood like an astonished statue as the woman took inventory, carefully noting this and freely touching that.

"Forgive Cora's manners, Elaine," Pearle said dryly, "She's obsessed, loves getting new bodies to hang her creations on. This is Christmas for her. She'll say hello in a minute or two."

"Humm? Oh yes, sorry!" Corine said, having now walked all the way around Elaine, "Hello dear. I'm pleased to know you. You have a lovely figure for this work. We must measure you right away."

Elaine smiled, shook the eccentric woman's hand and glanced at Pearle with a sense of relief.

"I leave her to your devices, ladies." Pearle said grandly as she walked to the door, "Remember, she must be measured, briefed and on her way in one hour to be on time for her luncheon."

"Yes, yes," Corine grumbled, producing a key ring and walking to a row of cabinets, "We know the drill. Go back and bring me two more darlings exactly like Elaine here."

Jennifer smiled in the wardrobe chief's direction before turning back to Elaine, "I think you deserve a hug for all that."

With a clatter of southwestern jewelry the petite woman gave Elaine her promised hug. Eva leaned in too, greeted her with a perfumed cheek. Elaine never expected such reassuring kindness.

"Welcome to Cora's little shop of horrors," said Eva grinning, "Now get undressed. I've got hangers to put your clothes on till she finishes the measurements. Hope you're not shy about being completely naked."

"Don't have any problem with it," Elaine said, slipping off her shoes and unbuttoning her jacket and blouse, "You two have made me feel at home already."

A couple of men walked into the room. Each of them wore odd-looking leather backpacks, which turned out to be custom-made vests with equipment pouches covering their backs. Elaine had just shrugged off her brassiere and handed it to Eva. As she reached for the waistband of her hose and panties Elaine noticed the two men and froze in her tracks.

"Pay no attention to them," Jennifer said, "One of the camera crews. They're harmless."

"Completely harmless unfortunately," Eva echoed with a frown, "Finish stripping dear. Consider the men invisible at all times unless you hear a funny chirp; it sounds like a cricket on steroids. When you hear that noise, look directly at the nearest camera until you hear the chirp again. Then go on about your business. It's easy. The rest of the time, keep being you - acting completely natural."

"Ah... okay," Elaine ventured uneasily as she pulled off her pantyhose, followed by her panties, leaving her naked and nervous. Handing them over, Elaine noted the pad was moist. When aroused her pussy always seemed to lubricate excessively.

"Don't worry," Jennifer said softly, pulling a ponytail band around Elaine's hair, "We'll get you a new one when Cora is done."

Elaine felt the urge to talk to the girls; anything to take her mind off the humiliation of standing around nude in front of these people, and whoever else it might be to watch the films they were making.

Somewhere in her head that idea was turning her on, but for the moment all she felt in her bare skin was foolishness, the estrangement of a naked woman among clothed strangers.

"Um, how many girls work here, actresses I mean?" Elaine asked.

"Bearden usually keeps 25 actresses in the ready pool." Jennifer replied, "Right now there are 29 counting you. The scuttlebutt is we have a new client signing with us and we need a dozen new girls to start filming in a few weeks, or some of us will have to work 15-hour schedules. Anyway, that's just a rumor."

"Well, we do know they're hiring a new girl every day or two," added Eva.

"What about these camera crews? Are there lots of those?"

"Eight or nine I think." said Eva, "Hard to tell because they sub some of them out and they pair up different guys. On locations they sometimes use three cameramen, and sometimes only one. They train the girls to film themselves too. You'll find out about that."

"Are you two actors anymore, or do you work here in wardrobe?"

"Right now we're preceptors," Jennifer replied, "It means we kind of do it all. Wherever they need us. We started as actresses two years ago. I came in a few months before Evie did. Funny thing, we knew each other in high school. Grew up in Ann Arbor Michigan."

"Yeah. We couldn't stand each other even then," Eva chimed in, "Jen is a brat."

Jennifer squinted her eyes at her friend like she meant it, "No, Evie's the brat."

Cora returned, pushing a metal cart with computer equipment and a box full of silvery metallic ribbons. She found one ribbon that was wider and darker than the others and wrapped it around Elaine's waist. The rest of the ribbons were about one inch wide, the size of measuring tapes, except there were no numbers on them. Elaine soon realized many of the ribbons were interconnected in a kind of elaborate net.

"Digital sizing tape," Cora said matter-of-factly, "It feeds a three-dimensional model directly into our CAD system. It gets precise measurements all over. Stand up straight now, legs slightly apart, arms angled away from your hips. This won't take too long."

The two men now held cameras to their faces, training them on the image of the naked slightly flustered woman before them. They wore unusual-looking headsets and moved around smoothly as cats.

The ends of the measuring ribbons didn't employ buckles or snaps. Instead the material simply stuck to itself. Ribbons weren't sticky to Elaine's skin but to other ribbons they behaved like glue, could be lifted and repositioned for as loose or tight a fit as needed. As soon as the wide tape was snug around Elaine's waist another tape was wrapped a few inches lower, then another one a bit higher.

Jennifer and Eva joined forces with Corine now. Three sets of hands worked swiftly to coil the complex web around Elaine's body. Soon her torso and hips were surrounded with seven shining horizontal ribbons. Two more bands ran under those, encircling Elaine vertically over her shoulders, down to her crotch. Those two formed an upright V as they ran outside the swell of Elaine's breasts toward her shoulders, before rejoining at Elaine's behind, disappearing thong-like into the crevasse of her bottom.

Two rows of ribbons ensnared Elaine's graceful neck, two more looped her head, one above and one below her ears. Yet more ribbons crosshatched her shoulders, breasts, ran the length of her limbs and encircled her at nearly every joint.

The process was tedious and irritating for Elaine. It was like being tied up in a way, only much more difficult because she didn't dare move or risk upsetting the accuracy of the measurements. Corine was absorbed in taking all the available slack out of the ribbons.

"Does this one feel tight?" she asked Elaine, "Is it too tight, or just... tight?" Both choices being offered felt bad, and whichever one wasn't worse became moot as soon as Corine repeated the process, plucking more ribbons and crushing more body parts, and asking essentially if Elaine preferred bowstring tension or tourniquet.

Elaine answered Corine with words at first. After several minutes of steadily increasing pressure she resorted to noises instead, first with "uh-huhs" and eventually just "uunhh!"

"That's it!" Corine said, swatting Elaine on her tightly latticed buttocks, "Just the sound I was looking for. Ladies, do you see any more loose ends?"

"No, Miss Bailey," Eva replied, "Looks pretty smooth. I think we'll have a good fit."

"OK then," Corine announced, "I'll send her package to the mainframe." The woman plugged a small harness of wires into a socket at the back of Elaine's waist band, making sure the cables ran to the correct sockets on her computer. She typed some commands into a keyboard and watched the monitor carefully.

Elaine's body shivered with the demands of standing still, her body sectioned and compressed in ways she couldn't comprehend. As the computer came to life she felt a mild jolt of electricity in her back. Not a severe charge, but radiating to all the other bands on her body it carried a mild stinging sensation, like hundreds of anemic ants nibbling away at her.

A digitally rendered female form appeared on Corine's computer screen, modeled in exact relationship to Elaine's tightly trussed body, glowing green and pirouetting slowly in virtual space.

"Looks pretty good, Miss B!" Jennifer said, "Do you need her filled coordinates too?"

"Yes," said Corine, tapping a tooth with her enameled fingernail, "Better now than repeat the process later. Grab a pair of inserts, Jenn. I'll get the next batch of readings."

The director pressed another F-key and watched columns of fresh numbers flow down her screen. Temperatures, linear and volume measurements, PH and moisture levels, PSI readings, all lined up next to each tortured axis of Elaine's wireframe image.

"Almost done?" Elaine asked through clenched teeth. She'd broken into a sweat and desperately wanted to be released.

"Not quite, dear," Eva said, "There's one more procedure."

Jennifer opened a compartment on the back of Cora's cart, withdrawing two plastic bags that seemed to contain a pound or more of pink putty. She tore open one bag and pulled out the contents, weighing them lovingly in her hand.

"I never get used to the feel of this stuff!" she said excitedly, "It's so much like skin. And I like the way it smells, kinda medicinal."

"That's just cause you're anal," smiled Eva, taking a couple of dark ribbons from Corine's box, dark wide ribbons like Elaine's waistband.

"Of course I'm anal," Jennifer laughed, "But this stuff is neat. These are for measuring your private places, Elaine. One is for your monkey, and the other one goes over your mouth. It's like those latex molds actors use for special effects masks. I will make some room in your straps to plant the lower one. Keep still a little longer. This will feel weird but it's completely harmless."

Jennifer released the two bands that ran through Elaine's crotch and pressed the pink blob right up against her privates. It was cool but warmed up quickly as Jennifer packed it into the recesses of Elaine's pussy and ass. Eva placed the darker tape vertically along the putty as Jennifer pulled the bands back into position, covering everything up.

Elaine groaned as her crotch tapes were tugged even tighter than before. Corine plugged a separate set of wires into the new tape now running from Elaine's naval to the small of her back. Elaine yelped. This voltage was more intense by far than her body-web. It seemed to go right inside her. These ants didn't feel weak or anemic either; they were chewing Elaine's asshole and twat with a vengeance.

"Now for the face, dear," Eva said, opening the second package and handing the putty to Jennifer. "This part shouldn't last more than a minute or two."

"Hang in there," Jennifer said holding up the second blob, "Open your mouth really wide for me and keep breathing through your nose."

Elaine threw open her mouth, determined to be brave. Her mouth filled up quickly as Jennifer mashed the strange-smelling goop into her lower face. Instantly the darker tape was wound around her mouth, packing the stuff in even further, until Elaine could feel it pressing up to her cheeks, her palate and the back of her throat.

Closing her eyes for a minute Elaine wished she could simply faint and wake up somewhere peaceful and ordinary. Then she felt it, the electricity surging into her mouth, and she screamed into the muffling mass. The same stinging sensation tormenting her crotch was attacking her lips and tongue with a greater ferocity than ever.

"Feels sort of like a battery doesn't it?" Jennifer said benignly, "Don't worry. It stings a little but it won't hurt you, promise. Just keep breathing."

A little? Elaine couldn't believe how much combined pain she was feeling, or how normal everyone was considering her plight! How could something like this be business as usual for these girls?

Her legs were quaking so violently Elaine needed help to remain on her feet. One girl took hold of each arm, bracing them firmly. She felt someone's hand patting her gently on her shoulder. Elaine struggled mightily to stand still but it was more dancing than it was standing.

"A bit longer is all... try to be calm." she heard someone say, just as her orgasm seized her. Her hips lifted into the air; her toes curled; her body twisted and churned like a manic marionette.

"Oh!! Ow, Ohh.... oohhhhh..." Elaine wailed into the pink stuff.

"Nice readings!" Corine exclaimed as she typed on her terminal, "I'm printing and saving them now."

"That's beautiful," whispered Jennifer into the woman's barely-conscious ears, "Your measurements are taken from head to toe! You can finally relax."

Elaine was nowhere close to relaxing. She was transported somewhere else, her nerves caught up in a seemingly endless feminine spasm. Whatever wasn't tingling or burning was aching, suffocating, crying out. In her mind's eye she saw herself, a bound up doll-like thing hanging in the green recesses of Corine's computer screen, writhing in pain and ecstasy as lights exploded all around her. She gradually realized those were strobe lights; high-speed burst cameras were greedily capturing her unexpected moment of eroticism.

Corine shut her computer down and unhooked the cables while Elaine's body still strained. Even with the freakish electricity turned off Elaine's back arched and her loins contracted like they had minds of their own. When her climax finally subsided, Elaine found herself grateful that most of her shouts had been muffled.

The girls peeled away all of the ribbons, freeing Elaine quickly.

Eva gently pulled the insert gels away from Elaine's mouth and pussy. "You had a pretty good time there at the end, didn't you?" she asked Elaine with a sly sweetness.

Elaine's face was reddened with exertion and embarrassment. She had no words to answer Eva; she just kept breathing hard. Elaine heard a couple of chirruping sounds, then Jennifer spoke into her ear, "Remember what we told you about the cameras, sweetheart? Now is when you look directly at them."

Elaine turned to the man on her right, the one leaning in a little closer. The dark lens of his movie camera stared vacantly at her. She tried her best to return the gesture. A moment later she heard the chirping noise once more and the cameraman moved away. She turned her eyes back to her two friends, who were taking fresh towels to pat away her perspiration and the moisture now running freely between her legs.

"You did it just right, dear!" Eva said proudly, "You are a pro now."

Elaine couldn't fathom it. Those two men had just filmed her climaxing. And these women had driven her to it with their infernal electrical bits and bridles. It was undoubtedly the most intense cum she'd felt in her lifetime, and also the most humiliating. Yet to the other five people in this room nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"God only knows why I loved it so much," Elaine confessed silently, "But I did." She was grateful to be feeling the inexplicable afterglow of sex, the gentle strokes of the girls' towels, their fingers rubbing away the cruel ribbon-marks left on Elaine's body. It seemed to balance out her shame and confusion.

"OK girls, no time to lose," Corine barked, "Get her location makeup on, while I order up her breast moorings."

Corine seemed annoyed somehow, as if the easiest part of her day was over. She wheeled the equipment cart back to its niche along the far wall and hurried out of the room with the sheet of specifications she'd printed out.

Jennifer opened a small valise of cosmetics and pulled out a hand mirror for Elaine to hold. "Time for your Bearden makeup lesson, dear. You're going to love the new you."

**

End of Chapter 2
The Breast Test
(c) Aiken, 2005, all rights reserved