Chapter 27

Over the last few days, Lydia Smythe had been growing more and more suspicious for, despite being held inside a chastity belt for some considerable time during which he'd not been granted any 'releases' by her, her husband had still failed to shoot his load into the belt, either during the scenarios they'd been acting out or while he was asleep. Knowing full well just how sexually active he was, Lydia was beginning to suspect that he was managing to free himself from his entrapment and to sate his lusts elsewhere, other than in the family home. This being the case, Lydia waited for her husband's expected return from work with growing impatience...

The airport terminal was both busy and crowded as Samantha cleared Customs and headed into the bustling throng. As she pushed her way through the crowd, she looked about for the man who, she had been told, would be meeting her. After a good five minute searching, she finally found him, a skinny youth with greasy back hair who was holding a sign that read 'Sumuntha Janes'. As she strolled towards the lad, he spotted her approach and his face broke into a grin. "Fraulein Jones?" he asked, courteously enough.

"That's me," Samantha replied with an answering smile, deciding that it would be not polite to mention the error on his sign.

"My name is Hans and I think I am what you call the gopher."

"Gopher?" echoed a slightly puzzled Samantha. "Isn't that a small rodent of some sort?"

"You English... such a sense of humour!" Hans giggled. "No - it's 'Hans, go for this, Hans, go for that'..."

"Ahh... a film term, eh? I've not done any acting before... I don't know this stuff."

"You will learn, Fraulein. Please to follow me. I will take you to car."

Samantha rather enjoyed the drive through the pretty German countryside once they had left the built up area of Munich itself which was as dirty and uniform as any other modern city. But all to soon, the Audi saloon turned off the main road before travelling a few miles down a side road that ended at an isolated farm house complete with various outbuildings. Scattered around the farmyard were several caravans, accommodation for the film crew. Hans halted the car and requested that Samantha follow him... which she did, into the farmhouse itself where she was introduced both to the farmer and to Klaus Horst, the film director. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Jones," said the director in impeccable English.

The farmer stood, muttered something in German and departed. Spotting Samantha's puzzled look, Klaus explained that the man had to go to look after his animals. "This is still a working farm... we are simply paying a fee for the use of the place as a location."

Samantha indicated that she understood, then explained that she'd never acted before. "Don't worry, Miss Jones," Klaus replied, "in this sort outfit, that hardy matters... and what little acting skills you need, we can teach. Far more important is your appearance... and you look just fine. Now, please disrobe - I need to see what you look like nude."

Understanding that Klaus was only being professional, Samantha had few qualms about stripping off before him and, once she was done, the man cast a discerning eye over her body. "Very nice," he muttered just as the door opened and another man, holding a clipboard, entered and moved to Klaus' side with hardly a glance at the naked woman not a few feet away from him. The two men spoke in German for a few moments then, satisfied, the man left, again without so much as a leer at Samantha. "That's your first lesson, Miss Jones... on a project like this, everyone is used to seeing naked flesh - it's no big deal, so don't worry and don't get embarrassed. Now, I suggest that you dress again and I'll take you to meet the other actors."

As Klaus and Samantha walked along, the director explained that the film, while 'blue', was going to have a comedy slant to it. "Many people say that we Germans do not have a sense of humour, but this is not true... and one of the things we enjoy most is watching some upper crust Englishman - or, in your case, woman - getting brought down a peg or two. Don't take this personally, it's just a fact. On this shoot, the humour will be mostly slapstick... I do hope you don't mind getting a little dirty or wet?"

"As long as there's a hot bath waiting afterwards, no. But how are you going to get round the language problem?"

"For the German version, you'll be subtitled and for the English world version, your German colleagues will dub over their own voices... ah, and here's Bridget now. Samantha Jones, meet Bridget von Bismark."

Samantha found herself shaking hands with a tall, buxom woman of her own age with long blonde hair and blue eyes, the atypical German Fraulein. "Pleased to meet you," the newcomer said with just a trace of accent.

"And me you," Samantha replied.

"You girls will have to get on well together as you'll be sharing a caravan as well as working side by side."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," smiled Samantha, glancing up to see two men approaching from down the lane, both well built and handsome. "Oh, my..." she muttered.

"Gerbert and Willy... low on intelligence, high on ego and with cocks the size that you won't have seen before," whispered Bridget into Samantha's ear.

"Your male co-stars," introduced Klaus.

"Ach, she is not a co-star," stated Willy forcibly. "Ja... she is but a bit part player," added Gerbert. "It is clear that she hasn't as much talent in her entire body as I have in my little finger. Pretty enough, though."

"Ja, ja... pretty - but not as pretty as you, Gerbert." Willy asserted.

"And as... how you say? Gay as nine bob notes?" Bridget whispered again. "But they are right about one thing - they can act good in bed with a woman, despite it not being their... persuasion."

"What you say to the new girl?" asked Willy suspiciously.

"I was just telling Samantha how good your technique in bed is and that she'll enjoy working with you both."

"As long as she remembers that it's only acting!" Gerbert sniggered, his arm snaking round Willy's waist as the pair turned and left, there lips pursing towards each other.

"Well... now that you've met everyone, I'll let you settle in for awhile. Bridget will show you which is your caravan. You'll be needing to get your make-up and costume on and be ready to shoot in two hours. Bridget will show you what to do and wear."

"Isn't there a make-up lady?"

Klaus smiled and Bridget snorted. "This isn't Hollywood," he explained. "Low budget. You do your own make-up and dress yourself too. But Bridget will help you to start with since stage make-up isn't the same as you would normally apply. And before you ask, there's no lines to learn. I'll tell you what to say before each bit of film is shot. Right, off you two go. I'll see you on set later."

"Ah... just one more thing..."

"Oh, ja, I almost forgot." Reaching into his pocket, Klaus pulled out a syringe, needle and a small vial. "Make sure you use this wisely. We can't afford any hold ups. Please me and there's more to be had. Annoy me and... well, you get the picture."

"Yeah... I get the picture," responded Samantha as she carefully took the offered implements before turning and following Bridget.

After a long day's work and in the gathering darkness of the early autumn evening, Ian Smythe walked briskly down the road towards his home, whistling as he went, a smile on his face and a rather constrained erection in his pants. For the first time in years, he actually looked forward to returning to his wife these days and, as he strolled along, he wondered just what delightful torments Lydia had dreamed up for him this evening. As he approached the door to his house, he knew that he wouldn't have long to wait to find out. Inserting his key into the lock, he twisted his wrist and pushed only to find that the door didn't open. Concluding that it was either jammed (highly unlikely) or bolted on the inside, he rang the doorbell before lifting the letter box and calling out through the slit, "Mistress? Mistress, I'm home..."

"I can see that, slug!" replied his wife's voice from inside the house. "Before I let you in, you are to remove all your clothing."

"What?!?" exclaimed Ian. "You can't be serious! Whatever will the neighbours think?"

"I'm not at all sure that I care what the neighbours think anymore... or anyone else for that matter. Now, strip... if you don't want to spent the night out there."

Embarrassed but secretly excited by the prospect of being observed, Ian began by removing his tie and, only a short time later he was standing before his own front door dressed only in his chastity belt.

"Very good," praised his wife who was now looking through the open bay window of the lounge. "Now hand me your clothing. There, that's a good slug." And, so saying, Lydia took in all of Ian clothes and shut the window behind her before vanishing back into the recess of the house leaving her husband standing in the garden.

A noise behind Ian alerted him to the fact that somebody was walking down the avenue so, automatically cupping his hands over his already hidden balls, Ian glanced over his left shoulder. "Oh... Good evening, Mister Clarke," he called out cheerfully enough to the man who lived just three houses down the road and who was out walking his dog. Mister Clarke didn't replied, he simply scowled at Ian for a few seconds before 'humphing' loudly and, sticking his nose in the air, proceeding on apace.