O/D Productions Proudly Presents...

Okay, my faithful readers, we’re going to take a much needed break (for me, anyway) from Starters Only with a brand new story.

Dorothy was more than a little nervous as she climbed the gloomy stairway. She had a better than fair idea of what she might be getting into and it wouldn’t… No, it couldn’t be considered legitimate theater, anywhere… let alone back in Kansas.

But, it wasn’t like she was left with much choice in the direction she had originally wanted her acting career to take. Back in high school, she’d had the lead in every play since her freshman year, but here in The Big Apple, the closest she had come to getting a part (any part) had been a disheartening string of tersely delivered, “We’ll call you”. She had managed to duck the landlord for almost three weeks now and that kind of luck couldn’t last much longer. She hadn’t had anything close to a real meal in over a week; Mother Hubbard’s cupboard was so bare, there were only dust bunnies on the shelves and, except for something that now resembled a high school penicillin experiment, the fridge was empty of anything but frost.

Her stomach was rumbling so badly, she knew others could hear it. She desperately needed to eat and if that meant having sex with some strange man… on film …than that was what she had to do… like it, or not.

There was only one door at the top of the stairs with D/O PRODUCTIONS stenciled in black Goudy Stout block lettering on its frosted glass panel. This was the place. A decision had to be made; troop back down the stairs and give legitimate acting one more shot, or take the last (and possibly irretrievable) step across the threshold of the porn industry? A rumble in her stomach—a reminder that all she’d had for breakfast was the left-behind packet of crackers she had snitched from the dingy dinner’s counter, while spending the last dollar she had on a lousy cup of horrid coffee—answered that question in painful fashion. Taking a deep breath, Dorothy opened the door.

The office behind the frosted glass wasn’t small; it was tiny, barely larger than a walkin closet. The brassy blonde sitting behind the scared desk, desultorily checking out her garishly painted nails, looked to be somewhere in her mid to late thirties, possibly older. The bored woman barely glanced up when Dorothy closed the door. “You here for the part, honey?” she asked in a nasal voice.

“I… I guess so,” Dorothy answered unsurely. “I ah… I need the… the exposure.” Her stomach growled again and Dorothy groaned. She was so hungry. If she didn’t want to pass out, she had to eat… and soon.

The washed-out receptionist heard the growl and her watery blue eyes—which had long ago lost any real spark—took on a flicker of life. “Well, sweetie, exposure is what you’ll get here… and plenty of it. Have you done any explicit film work before?”

”No.” Dorothy hesitated; she didn’t want to admit it to this stranger, but, if it would help her get this part… “I’m not a virgin, though.”

“Just as well, honey.” The blonde attempted to smile, but Dorothy couldn’t detect any friendliness in the grimace. “We here at O/D Productions prefer to work with unknown actresses. That way, if they pan out, we don’t have to argue with agents while we mould our girls into truly accomplished adult stars.”

“No offense, but I’m not interested in becoming an accomplished adult star,” Dorothy replied. “I… I just need the money.”

“From the belly growling I’m hearing, I’d say you do.” The receptionist fished in one of her desk drawers and handed Dorothy a banana. “Here, this might help quell the stomach pains until you’re done with your audition.”

Surprisingly, the long thick banana appeared to be fresh and Dorothy took it. “Thank you,” she said as she quickly peeled it. She barely chewed and didn’t even taste the first bite. She swallowed and her stomach roiled when it hit bottom. But it was a good roil, her stomach at last had something else to feed on besides its own lining.

“How much of that can you swallow, dear? Whole, I mean.”

“I… I don’t know,” Dorothy responded, slightly puzzled. Hungry as she was, probably the whole thing in one swallow.

“Why not give it a try?” the receptionist challenged. “My guess is, you can’t take half of it… not even in three trys.”

It hit Dorothy why the woman had challenged her; she would be doing a porno, oral sex was always a part of porn movies. “Will it help me get the part?”

“It couldn’t hurt your chances.”

Dorothy appraised the banana. She had sucked a dick before… several of them, as a matter of fact. None with quite the proportions of this banana, but… She opened her mouth wide. She could do this. She would show this woman that she could swallow every last inch of a silly banana, and she wouldn’t need any three trys to accomplish it.

The receptionist smiled to herself as she watched Dorothy take half the banana into her mouth, then begin swallowing the rest of it. The trusty ol’ banana test never failed to show how much potential a newbie had. And this newbie was showing some real promise. Quentin was going to just love this sweet piece of young white meat.

Dorothy almost gagged when the tip of the banana entered the back of her throat, but through sheer will power, she managed to take all but an inch of it. That meant she had successfully swallowed almost nine inches of firm banana. She slowly extracted the banana from her throat and mouth, then as nasty as she could think how to, she licked up the slippery surface of it. “Well, do I get the part?”

“That remains to be seen,” the receptionist replied. “First, there are a few formalities we have to take care of.” She pulled out a pad and propped in on her crossed legs where the girl wouldn’t be able to see what she was writing. “First, I guess we should start with your name, your age, and where you’re from.”

“Dorothy. I’m nineteen and I’m from Kansas.”

“Dorothy… 19, from Kansas.” Oh, this was just too rich; Quentin and the rest of the guys would have their very own Innocent Dorothy from Oz to play with, who was of legal of age but looked much younger; this one fair-skinned, blue-eyed and redheaded. And, if they decided to insert a Toto into one of their films, it wouldn’t be a scrawny little mutt with a little red dick. “Okay, that takes care of the legal and background stuff… for now.” She slid her eyes to the newbie across the desk from her. “Do you have any idea of just what sort of films we make here, Dorothy?”

“Pornos.”

“Yes, but here at O/D, Othello and Desdemona Productions, we specialized in a particular genre of porn.”

The full name of the production company should have tipped Dorothy off, but the churning in her stomach distracted her. “You… specialize?”

“Yes, in interracial pornography; black men with white girls… generally in the extreme.”

Interracial pornography? White girls and Black men! Dorothy swallowed hard on her mouth full of banana as it finally hit her; Othello and Desdemona; the Black Prince of Venice and his White Princess. With Shakespearian irony the name of the company made perfect sense; a part in explicit interracial pornography was what she was going up for. She’d had sex with several guys—twelve she could clearly recall, no telling how many others when she had been drunk, but she was almost sure that she had never been with a black guy. No, she was certain she had never had sex with any black guy. From what she had heard, and had seen in grainy, poorly filmed pornos, she was absolutely positive she would clearly remember taking a black guy’s… intimidating equipment.

The half a banana now laying heavy in Dorothy’s tummy reminded her how good it felt to have something beside imagination in her stomach. Could she do a black guy? Yes. She had always been curious about what it would be like to be with a black guy (consciously) and if doing just one interracial loop meant having a full belly for the first time in so long she couldn’t remember what it felt like, she would do a black guy.

There was just one, tiny (potentially, not so insignificant) question she wanted to ask. “What do you mean by ‘In the extreme’?”

“Two, three, four black men and you.”

Dorothy couldn’t even swallow now. “At the same time!”

The receptionist nodded. “Maybe more, if the scene demands it. And also you with other white girls and numerous black men. If you’re chosen to do a feature film, that is. Ever been with another girl?”

“Ah… no.” She didn’t know if admitting that girl/girl scenes in a porno always made her panties wet, so she hedged her bet. “Not in the flesh, anyway.” She had several explicit lesbian magazines back in her crummy flat that she masturbated to on a regular basis.

“That’s where the big money is in this game, honey,” the receptionist said in a conspiratorial tone. “Lesbianism is chic these days, and you combine some hot carpet munching with a lot of hot and sweaty, cum spurting black dick pounding of two or three accomplished pussy lappers and… Well, let’s just say that vids in this genre generate some serious change in the adult film market.”

In her just-between-us-girls tone of voice, the receptionist was actually being very business-like about this; she was laying it out graphically, no holds barred, no punches pulled, no stone left unturned to be questioned about later. And, despite her nagging hunger, Dorothy felt her panties becoming moist. “I can do it with another girl, but… but she might have to show what to do, and how to do it.”

“Around here, that’s a real easy one to handle, honey.” The receptionist nodded again. The girl was at least very curious, if not actually hooked on this whole thing. She put away her empty pad and stood up. “Well, you ready for your audition, Dorothy?”

“Here? Now?” This caught Dorothy completely off guard. “Don’t I need to see a script first? Learn my lines so they can be delivered convincingly?”

The receptionist laughed. “Action! That’s what counts most at auditions. Learning lines is saved if you show you’ve got what it takes to emote convincingly without words.” She came around the desk and held out her hand to Dorothy. “So, you goin’ in for your audition, or you gonna bolt right out the door?”

Dorothy was at an impossible crossroads, good sense said she should bolt… right this fucking instant, but intense curiosity was pulling her in the exact opposite direction. “Where does my ah… this audition take place?”

The receptionist nodded at the other door in the office. “In there.” Then she tossed out the hook that generally snagged the unwary first timer. “And no is, at all times, the operative word here at O/D Productions,” the receptionist coaxed. “If you find that you can’t handle something, you’re free to get up and walk out. We make porn films here; we don’t run a white slavery ring.”

That made up Dorothy’s mind. She could go in for an audition, to at least see if the stories she had heard about black men were indeed true, and, if she didn’t like what was going on or found she couldn’t handle what was going to be expected of her, she was free to get up and run out. She took the woman’s hand and stood up. “Well,” she said bravely, “let’s see if I have what it takes.”

“My name is Madge, by the way,” the receptionist said as she led Dorothy through the other door. “I’ll be your ah… your sort of coach during the audition.”

That would help, Dorothy reasoned, following behind Madge. Having another woman in the room with her, while she was having sex with a black guy, would help out a whole lot.

Inside the door, Madge pushed aside a dark canvas curtain. “Quent!” she called out loudly. “Get your sweet black ass out here. I’ve got O/D’s newest star in tow and she ain’t gonna waste time waitin’ to show her stuff when there are a hundred other film companies that’ll snatch her up at first look.”

Dorothy looked around the room. It was cavernous and draped all the way around with the same black canvas she had come through. There was an unmade bed—roughly queen-size—like an elevated stage in the middle of the room. Six cameras ringed the bed at varying heights to catch the salacious action on it from every angle. A dozen klieg lights, perched on tall stands, starkly highlighted the porn bed tableau. Except for a large screen TV against one wall, the room was otherwise empty.

Dorothy eyed the rumpled bed nervously. She was, most likely, going to be having sex on it… with a black guy. And, she was going to be filmed doing it. Back home in rural Kansas, porn might be viewed… in private, but if anyone she knew saw her having sex with a black guy, she wouldn’t be allowed back into the state. She should leave; she should cut and run right now. She should really get the fuck out of here… NOW!

Then, the blackout tarps at the far end of the room parted and Dorothy couldn’t move, because through them came a large black man; six foot six, maybe six-eight, probably half way between two hundred and three hundred pounds, clad only in a leopard skin loincloth; his rippling, well defined, muscular body glistening like his inky black skin had been oiled.

The imposing black man stopped in his tracks and appraised the girl on the other side of the room. For once Madge was not only right; she was dead on the fucking money. “That is one sweet piece of white meat,” he commented under his breath as he approached the two of them with an openly friendly smile on his face. “My name is Quentin,” he said, holding out his hand. “And you are…?”

“Do… Doro… thy,” she sputtered. This close, she could smell his undeniable masculinity. It was a heady scent. “Dorothy,” she said more firmly.

Quentin reached down and took her hand in his. Her smaller white hand all but disappeared in his black paw. “Glad to meet you, Dorothy.” He shook her hand firmly, but politely, then released it. “So, you want to be in the movies?”

Unable, almost afraid to speak, Dorothy nodded.

“Well then, since you’ve come this far, I’m going to assume you’re already aware of what sort of movies we make here. Has Madge told you that you are free to leave at any time? Sometimes she forgets to mention that.”

Dorothy nodded, then found her voice. “Yes, she’s told me.” Just as she had suspected, it had come out as a nervous squeak. Luckily, this imposing black man, Quentin, didn’t seem to notice it.

Quentin had noticed it all right and was already plotting how he was going to use this little girl voice in conjunction with her innocent small town looks to make a lot of money. “Very good. Ah, has she also told you that the sex in our films is always unprotected sex?”

Dorothy glared at the woman standing beside her. “No, she seems to have failed to mention that little fact.”

Quentin glowered at Madge. “We’ve had this discussion before, Madge. Must we have another protracted lesson about informing a prospective client of all the ins and outs around here before she accepts a trial audition?’

“No, Quentin,” Madge answered meekly, but the heated look Dorothy detected in the woman’s eyes screamed, “Yes! Please!”

Quentin turned his attention back to Dorothy. “Do you have a problem with unprotected sex, young lady? I’m sorry, Dorothy.”

Dorothy shook her head. “No. I’m on the pill.”

“A sensible precaution for such a ravishing young woman.” Quentin ran his luminous dark eyes up and down Dorothy’s body, making her feel positively undressed… but for some unexplainable reason, not uncomfortably naked. “However,” Quentin continued, his eyes coming back level with hers, “pregnancy aside, unprotected sex does have other dangers, but these are not any for you to worry yourself about. O/D Productions is what I term a closed company; all the actors and actress in our films, as well as the filming crew, are contracted solely to us. If it is discovered, or even hinted at, that they have done work for another film maker, their contract with us is terminated on the spot; no apologies or excuses accepted.”

Quentin took Dorothy’s hand again and led her over to the bed. “If any of our actors and actress feel the need for sex, they are free to have it with one another, or with members of the crew. We have a fairly ah… diverse company, so any sort of sexual proclivity one might be in the mood for is readily available.” Quentin sat down, but Dorothy remained standing. “Also, everyone who works for me undergoes a weekly physical exam to further prevent any unwanted STDs, including AIDS.”

Feeling a little dumb standing there, Dorothy sat down beside Quentin. He was still an imposing specimen of hunky man flesh, but he was no long quite as intimidating to her. “All of what you say makes me feel a little better, Mister…”

“Quentin. We’re all on a first name basis around here, so please, call me Quentin, Dorothy.” Repeatedly using a prospective actress’s first name, just as soon as you learned it, reinforcing the fact that you hadn’t already forgotten who they were was something he had learned early on. It made a budding ingénue feel as if she were already a member of the team. And that was a huge step toward signing her to a contract should she pan out.

“All right… Quentin.” Under this black man’s easy manner and his friendly tone of voice, the tension she had entered with was leaving Dorothy. “But, I might not be around long enough for any of your people to learn my name. I… I may not be any good at what will be expected of me in your ah… your films.”

Quentin smiled. “I am the producer here at D/O, as well as the director and occasional actor, so I, and I alone, will be the judge of that, Dorothy.” His hand went to the hem of his loincloth. “Would you like to at least see what you’ll be expected to handle if you chose to sign with Othello and Desdemona Productions?”

Dorothy wanted to see, badly. Badly enough that she pushed Quentin’s hand aside and lifted the loincloth herself. “Oh… MY… GOD!” There was easily six thick inches of black meat lurking beneath the fux leopard skin… and it was still limp.

“Does it scare you, Dorothy?”

“N… No. Not at all.” Without thinking, Dorothy took the flaccid black dick in her hand. Quickly beginning to thicken and grow, it felt alive; undeniably powerful, without being truly threatening. “Well, maybe just a little.”

“There is one way of overcoming that,” Quentin said.

Dorothy started stroking the hardening black dick. “Like this?”

Quentin chuckled. “I was thinking of another, even surer, way. Madge, would come over here and show Dorothy what that surer method is.”

In seconds, the washed-out brassy blonde was kneeling between Quentin’s parted thighs. “You just keep up your fine stroking, honey,” she said before greedily taking the smooth black head of Quentin’s semi-erect dick in her mouth.

Immediately, drool was running out of the woman’s mouth, down the length of the black dick, making it slippery in Dorothy’s stroking fist. The next time her fist came up, Madge’s pursed lips followed it back down. Dorothy’s fist and Madge’s mouth fucked in unison up and down Quentin’s dick, faster and faster, until it was fully hard, feeling like a hot bar of inflexible black steel just barely captured inside in Dorothy’s pistoning white fist.

“Remove your hand, Dorothy,” Quentin instructed.

No sooner had Dorothy’s hand unwillingly left Quentin’s dick, then Madge went down on all of it. She had sucked a dick or two herself, easily a dozen, probably more when she was a little drunk. But Madge could really suck a dick. She was taking nine, maybe even ten full inches of hard black dick down her throat, all the way down to Quentin’s big black balls… and she wasn’t gagging, not even a little.

“Would you care to overcome your fear the same way Madge did, Dorothy?”

Watching Madge fuck Quentin’s big black dick with her mouth, Dorothy’s own mouth was watering badly. She wanted that black dick for herself; to show… to prove that she had what it took to mouth-fuck D/O’s producer/director, too. And, she wanted that magnificent black dick right FUCKING now!