O D Productions Proudly Presents Ch 02

Author’s Comments: Before I go any further, I want take this opportunity to thank the Lit members who voted to award Ch 2 Of Bigger Bites of Taboo Apples Interracial Story of The Year. Even more, I want to thank all of the readers who voted and made it Story of The Month for December, which put it in the running for the year-end award. Thank you all so much. Without you readers, I (along with all the writers here at Literotica) would simply be another hack writer looking for approval. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Now, concerning this new serial story: Very few people in this world are exactly who or what they seem to be; scratch the micro-thin surface of their outer veneer and you discover they are not who you believe them to be, and generally prove that there is a lot more to them then you ever expected to find. Those you expect to be strong-willed, usually aren’t; and those you suspected of being weak and subservient, more often than not, are far stronger in character than anyone can possibly imagine.

I’ve been taken to task for the amount of exposition I provide in my opening chapters; showing you at least the main character and what might, or might not, motivate them to do the things they do. I, therefore, decided to turn things around with this new story… just a little. So, having gotten your attention with some raunchy cocksucking and blackcock fucking in the first chapter, I am going to temper that hot sex with a chapter that’s almost all storyline and character development; show you that the preconceptions you now have about the characters are either all wrong, or at least not entirely what you think they should be.

And don’t go gettin’ your whitey-tighties or skimpy panties all in a bunch: I said almost all exposition, not entirely. Skip this chapter and there’s no telling what you’ll miss.

With all of this in mind, let’s continue on and find which of my characters are really as strong as they’ve initially appeared to be… and which ones are going to prove to be far more complex than you think they are.

*****

Finally leaving the congestive sprawl of New York City behind, Quentin lowered the driver’s side window a couple of inches and lit a cigar. “I’m telling you, Linc,” he said, offering the younger man in the passenger seat a cigar, “this new girl is going to be our ticket to the big time.”

Lincoln Log ran the fat cigar under his nose, deeply inhaling its pungent fragrance, then he rolled it between his thumb and fingers to test its freshness. It wasn’t Cuban, but it was the best that could be purchased in the Sates…legally. He dug his gold Dunhill lighter—a Christmas gift from Madge—out of his red-on-blue warm-up jacket and took his time getting the stogie going. This was one of the perks of being O/D’s reining male star, being able to relax with one of Quentin’s expensive cigars.

“Our ticket to the big time, huh?” was this privately quiet man’s half-hearted reply to Quentin’s remark about the new girl. He needn’t have made that much of a reply; Quentin would continue to drone on without any response. Quentin liked the sound of his own voice, Lincoln could live without it. Hell, Quent probably talked to himself whenever he was forced to make this trip alone.

“Straight to the top, Linc,” Quentin continued. It was one of his biggest perks being O/D’s senior partner, the one he actually enjoyed the most; employees were forced to listen to him. “Way she handled herself during her audition… never gagged one time… never flinched once… and I laid it to her good and hard. I watched her audition tape after the two of them left and I’m tellin’ you, the camera loves this little white slut. Wide angle or close up, doesn’t matter; your eyes are drawn to her and to whatever she’s doing.” Quentin blew a long plume of bluish smoke out the corner of his mouth. “If Dorothy comes off half as good with more than one dick havin’ at her little white body, she’s gonna knock Star right off her precious porn pedestal.”

Star Brite was O/D’s staring female attraction; a big-titted, milky-skinned, platinum blonde who, admittedly, could take on a dozen hard pounding black dicks—one right after the other, in all three holes—and make it seem effortless. She was a voracious cocksucker, who could swallow three fat loads at a time and never spill a drop, or let the overflow of slimy spunk run out of her mouth until her face was a cum-slathered mess if the scene called for it. A vocal slut who could make you truly believe she was having the time of her life being black gangbanged; the only one of O/D’s girls to have successfully taken every last ebony inch of what Lincoln Log had between his legs in her white ass—without whimpering, O/D’s queen porn bee was, without question, a born porn starlet/cumslut if there ever was one.

Born Sally Jones—somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, Star Brite only had one drawback; she was a bitch, both on and off the set. Not a righteous, “I’ve got the right to brag” bitch, but a foul-mouthed, high-and-mighty, “My shit don’t stink”, royal-pain-in-the-ass bitch… with a capitol fucking B.

“So this new girl took all you could throw at her,” Lincoln pointed out. This was nothing earth shattering, or even unexpected. Madge had been like that and Star Brite had taken to serious black dicking like a baby instinctively takes to its mother’s nipple. “How’s she going to do when it’s more than just her and one guy, when she knows that the cameras are rolling on what she’s doing?”

“Oh, Dorothy knew the cameras were rolling, all right. She said she saw the red lights flashing and either it didn’t bother her one little bit, or she was too far gone on black dick to give a shit.”

Lincoln slowly exhaled. “So, you don’t know if her performance was just good acting,” he questioned, watching the thick smoke get sucked out the window, “or whether it was a completely understandable reaction on her part?” In real life, but even more so in the porn industry, a newbie white chic going apeshit for a hard black dick was commonplace.

“Who the fuck cares if she was acting, or getting off on it? This girl’s an instinctive blackcock slut.” Quentin was at least 99.99% certain this would hold true for Dorothy off, as well as on screen. “I’ve got a gut feeling, before she’s finished, our innocent little white Dorothy is going to be the premier blackcock queen of the industry.”

“Now wouldn’t that be just too fucking sweet,” Lincoln laughed.

He, and most of O/D Production’s exclusive ensemble, too—cast and crew, would like nothing better than to see Star Brite not simply knocked from her self-righteous perch, but get her bitchy white slut ass kicked clean off it. Absolute perfection would be for the bitch to get her ass kicked all the way down to a common fluffer. And, if everything Quentin had been spouting off about this new girl was even close to being half accurate, O/D could have a heroine in their midst.

Lincoln Log pushed the passenger seat back, stretched out his long legs, laid his head back and closed his eyes. He would reserve his judgment of this new girl until he saw her in action for himself. Whatever this Dorothy chic had going for her, what this newbie could be capable of, what this innocent-faced white slut would be willing to do, how much she could take before she finally cried “Enough!”… Well, all of this remained to be seen …first hand… before he’d be ready to jump on her bandwagon to porn stardom.

*

About this same time, Dorothy was sitting alone at the estate’s butcher’s block kitchen table, sipping a cup of too strong coffee while questioning everything that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours.

It was already after noon and Madge, apparently, hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Of course, there had been a party last night, that had still been going strong when Dorothy had staggered off to her own room somewhere around 4:00, so Madge did have a viable excuse… sort of.

Madge had introduced her to everyone at the party, but only as Dorothy, not as a new member of O/D Productions, so that had set her apart—right from the get-go—from the “In” crowd of porn stars, starlets, and crew. She had been hit on more than a few times during the party (by maybe half a dozen of the Othellos and three of the Desdemonas, as the black male actors and the white female actresses laughingly referred to themselves), but she hadn’t sensed that any of these indecent proposals had been made in earnest.

Dorothy had overheard a couple times that she could be someone’s “niece” for all they knew. “Niece” being the euphemism for an important man’s (or woman’s) young girlfriend… “Nephew” being synonymous with boy-toy …no one wanted to chance damaging his or her career by seriously hitting on possibly an influential figure’s private piece of young fluff. No one at the party, except for Madge, knowing who she was, or if she might belong exclusively to someone important; only that she wasn’t one of them, making her questionable goods… This was enough reason for the party revelers to be friendly toward her, but still keep their distance.

But that still puzzled her. According to Quentin, engaging in sex outside of the company being grounds for immediate dismissal was one of the tenants of O/D Production’s. It had been on the exclusive contract she had signed in the office before she and Madge had gone back to her place… and it hadn’t been in small type. And the lewd sex had been running rampant almost from the start of the clothing-optional party: open displays of cock sucking and fucking, multiple fuckings, anal fuckings, girls with girls, two or three girls with multiple black guys. Dorothy (standing off to the side and totally amazed) had watched Madge and another girl engage in a blackcock suckoff; Madge winning both sides of the salacious bet by not only getting her impressively black-cocked partner off first, but also catching more of his spurting cum in her mouth than the other girl.

But, Dorothy’s questionable status wasn’t the only reason she had spent most of the party pretty much by herself. She had accepted the beers that had come her way and even a couple of stiff drinks (doubles, at least, by the way they had effected her), but she had politely shied away from the drugs offered to her. Getting tipsy, or even drunk, was one thing; she had been there before and it did loosen her libido to the readily acceptable level, but doing drugs was just plain stupid. And drugs had been plentiful at the party. The air had been filled with the acrid smoke of marijuana. There had been a large candy dish on the long dinning table filled with brightly colored pills and on a sideboard there had been two smaller bowls containing a white powder. She had been around the entertainment industry long enough to know cocaine when she saw it.

Thinking about the contract she had signed, locking her into working exclusively for O/D Productions for the next two years, Dorothy wondered just how long this common sense determination (considered repressively puritanical by so many) to resist the “supposed” heightened sexual euphoria she could get from drugs would last. Continuous exposure to any vice had a way of breaking down even the strongest resolve, and two years was an awfully long time to resist anything.

And, along the lines of resisting taboo vices, the way in which she had succumbed so quickly to not only willingly, but wantonly engaging in interracial sex was a little mind-boggling. Had it been the eroticism of the moment—the black on white taboo of the situation—that had compelled her to carry on the way she had with Quentin? There was no denying that black on white sex was an irresistible lure to many white chics, but the sex—mind-blowing as it had been—had still been just sex. Sure, Quentin’s penis had been larger than any she had taken to date, but, white or black, a penis was a penis was a penis, nothing more.

Although, she did have to admit that there had been a lot more to Quentin’s big black dick then she had ever experienced with a white guy and also that a black dick certainly seemed to have far more staying power than she had thought possible. But, that could just be Quentin, the sexual staying power of the man himself; the same didn’t necessarily have to apply to all black men.

Or, could her overly enthusiastic response to hard black sexing have been caused by something else entirely? Like say, discovering that the cameras were rolling, capturing the salacious interracial sex for others to see… with her as the starkly contrasting centerpiece of their nasty little film. Had knowing that she was, for all intents and purposes, the star attraction in a porn flick been her motivation for carrying on like a blackcock-obsessed white slut? It had been a euphoric turnon, no question there… both being filmed and the hard black sexing. Did that make her a blackcock slut, or a well-motivated actress?

The answer to this perplexing question, along with so many others… Only time, and exposure, would provide any sort of answers to what she was embarking on. And also, why in God’s name she was doing it of her own free will. Why she was actually looking forward to becoming a mega-superstar in the sleazy world of interracial pornography.

*

Only two people could be seen out by the pool when Quentin pulled around the back of the main house late in the afternoon; Madge stretched out naked on a chase lounge, with a big floppy straw hat shading her eyes and Dorothy sitting on the edge of the pool in a white and yellow checked bikini.

“Must have been a party last night,” Lincoln said as he checked out the pool’s new accoutrements. “Are you sure your precious Snow White’s of legal age?”

“Dead certain,” Quentin answered, stopping the pearl-gray Mercedes at the entrance to the underground garage. “Her date of birth is on her contract, 4/1/1985. But I still had the Taylor Agency check her out, anyway.” The Taylor Agency was a private investigation firm that contracted almost solely to the porn industry to check out potential clients and also to keep an eye on suspicious behavior of their existing players and crew members. The porn industry was a cutthroat game. “Dorothy turned nineteen two months and twelve days ago, and that makes her legal in the eyes of the law. The last thing we need is a fucking Traci Lords fiasco.”

This, Lincoln had to verify for himself. He unfolded himself from the passenger seat and stretched. “Well, do I get an introduction to our new star, or do I have to wait till we meet on the set to get a good look at her?”

Quentin smiled as he came around the car. “Come on, I’ll introduce you personally.” He glanced at his companion as they walked toward the pool and smirked. “Good thing you’re wearing that loose-fitting warm-up suit. I don’t want my new star running out the front gate screaming assault with a deadly weapon.”

The day before, he had referred to O/D Production’s private estate as a compound, but it was hardly a lock-down facility. Yes, a portion of the wooded grounds was walled in, but there weren’t any glass shards embedded in the top of the high rock wall, no rolls of razor wire were strung around the perimeter. And, yes, there were locked gates with a gatehouse manned around the clock. But, all of this was to keep prying eyes and unwelcome visitors out, not to prevent those inside from leaving. Anyone who wanted out, and didn’t have a car of their own, only had to walk down to the gatehouse and the guard would call them a taxi. The porn industry had a bad enough rep as it was, having allegations of kidnapping being bandied about, with claims of forcible rape thrown in as irresistible icing on the cake to excuse a slut’s sordid actions, no one needed, or wanted. Even if these wild allegations eventually proved to be entirely unfounded, the damage would already be done.

Only a complete fool would chance having everything he had worked to build ruined by some lying bimbo, who had come into the game with her eyes wide open and now wanted out—for whatever reason—claiming she had been held and repeatedly abused against her will. Not when there were hundreds of other white chics just like her who were willing to put out on film if it meant seeing their names up in lights… even if they were being openly displayed on the marquees of porn houses.

The head of Othello and Desdemona Productions was many things, to many people, but one thing he definitely he wasn’t, and that was a damned fool.

Dorothy looked up when she saw the two men approaching. She smiled and waved when she realized who one of them was. “Hello, Quentin.” She hadn’t recognized him clothed. “This is really a beautiful place O/D Productions has up here… so green and secluded, and so well appointed, too.”

“We like it,” Quentin replied proudly. What wasn’t to like about it? Hell, two rooms of the main house were three times what he had known growing up in Harlem. “I see Madge got you up here safe and sound.”

“There was a little hassle, but nothing Madge couldn’t handle,” Dorothy responded blithely. She shaded her eyes and looked up at Quentin’s companion. Jeeze, he was tall, like a pro basketball player, but not as muscular. And he was very handsome. “Who’s your friend?” Such captivating dark eyes this striking man had and an open and friendly smile, full of sparkling, perfectly even white teeth. Did finding this dark stranger more than mildly attractive mean she was becoming hooked on black men? She didn’t care. She had to meet this disquieting black man.

Lincoln shook his head in wonder. Even up close, this pretty white girl, playfully splashing her feet in the pool, didn’t look to be more than sixteen, seventeen at the oldest. And the retro bikini she was wearing… It would have been considered very daring in the 50s, but by today’s standards she might as well have been wearing one of those blousy, cover-everything-from-neck-to-ankles swimming outfits from the Roaring 20s. But, it suited her… perfectly.

With a friendly smile, he extended his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Lincoln, and I’m very glad to finally make your acquaintance, Dorothy. Quent talked about nothing else but you all the way up.”

Dorothy took the offered hand and almost, but not quite, scowled at Quentin. “I’ll just bet he did.”

Lincoln could see in the girl’s eyes that she was concerned about what Quentin had revealed about the salacious details of her audition. “He kept saying how you were bringing a breath of fresh air to O/D.” He gave Dorothy his most charming and disarming grin. “And, I can see where he didn’t praise you near enough, Dorothy.”

Dorothy maintained her grip on the large ebony hand and let the man draw her to her feet. Standing, she was still only barely eye level with his chest. She could smell his cologne and knew it would be expensive. She could smell Lincoln, too; the heady musky scent of a man. He was devastatingly good looking, his body lathe—almost sculptured, and his manner was so polite and cordial…

“What do you mean, nothing Madge couldn’t handle?” Quentin demanded, rudely breaking Dorothy’s train of thought.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Dorothy answered and continued her appraisal of the man still holding her hand. There hadn’t been the least hint of derisiveness in his flattering complements, nothing to indicate that he knew how she had carried on like a cheap slut during her audition. She smiled up at him. She could almost feel her blue eyes twinkling. Perhaps this Lincoln didn’t have anything to do with the porn industry, except for maybe the money end of it.

“Dorothy was a little behind in her rent is all,” Madge said. She could see that the girl was quickly becoming captivated by Lincoln, and she couldn’t blame her one bit. Lincoln Log was a handsome son of a bitch and with his sweet manner, he could charm a girl right out of her panties… without her even knowing it. She wondered if the same innocent captivation would still apply when Dorothy got a look at him on the set.