Enslaved in Hollywood Pt. 01

Jeri spotted Freya on the corner, right where she had said she would be. She smiled as she turned her Jaguar to pull up beside her and leaned over to unlock the door.

The relief in Freya's face might have been comical under other circumstances. The girl looked tiny beside her outsized suitcase. Jeri watched as Freya stowed the luggage in the back seat before climbing into the passenger's seat.

"Thank you!" she gushed immediately. "It'll just be for one night, I promise."

Jeri put the car in gear. "Let's worry about that later. Right now let's get you home."

As they drove off into the LA night, heading back up toward Jeri's house in Malibu, she glanced sideways for a better look at Freya. She fought to keep the predatory smile from her face. Nineteen years old, head and shoulders shorter than Jeri herself. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes. A classic image of middle-American beauty with a generous does of wonderful naiveté, like so many others Jeri had met over the years.

Freya would make a wonderful addition to Jeri's collection of slave girls.

Jeri was a talent agent and had met Freya two days earlier. The girl was two days off the bus from some hick town in the middle of nowhere. Her headshots had caught Jeri's attention, both Freya's doe-eyed undeniable beauty combined with an innocence Jeri knew would see her be eaten alive by the Hollywood machine.

It had been a general meeting. The girl was polite, friendly, wonderfully accommodating and had no idea what she was letting herself in for. Her story was the same one Jeri had heard hundreds of times before, a girl from a small town dreaming of life as a star. They had ended the meeting on good terms, Jeri had given her business card and told her to get in contact if she needed anything.

Then Jeri had conducted her background check and discovered certain facts about Freya. No mother, absentee alcoholic father, no siblings. A circle of friends she had left behind to come to LA to seek her fortune, but no-one who would come looking for her. And just from the simple questions, Jeri knew Freya was a docile sort who could take direction well. The perfect qualities for a potential slave girl, in other words.

She had looked back over Freya's headshots and smiled again. She was a truly beautiful girl.

Jeri couldn't wait to see her naked.

#

Freya hadn't known what to expect when Jeri had collected her. In truth she had been desperate. She had been in LA four weeks now, had met plenty of agents and done a short round of auditions. None of them had got anywhere, and Jeri had been the only one to show even a passing interest. No, she corrected, it had been more than that. Jeri had asked tons of questions of her, wanting to understand her family, her background, why she had come to LA and what she wanted to achieve.

She hadn't said it aloud but Freya knew Jeri had intuited the truth. That failure here would mean the end of everything. It would mean getting on a bus to her hometown and going back, admitting to everyone — including her dad — that she'd failed.

She could already imagine the sneer on his face. "You're nothing special. What on Earth made you think you could be a star in Hollywood?"

Even thinking about it made Freya squirm. She had known that sneer her whole life. This had been her one chance to get away from it all. Now it was all that was waiting for her back home, and after stomping out of the house screaming at her father that he would never see her again, Freya didn't think she could bear to go back home and face it again.

But now what choice did she have? She had got back to the cheap motel she had been staying at for the last four weeks only to find herself evicted. The money had run out, all the meagre savings she had accumulated from a summer working a diner for tips. All she had left now was her emergency fund, the pittance necessary for a bus ticket home.

But the busses wouldn't run until the morning, and that had left Freya facing the prospect not only of a humiliating return home, but of a night on the streets of LA before that. She didn't know which prospect frightened her more. So she had called Jeri. Jeri was the only person Freya really knew in LA, which was bad considering they had spent less than an hour talking.

When Jeri had said she would come right away and that Freya could stay the night with her, Freya had almost cried with relief.

Maybe, finally, things were going her way for a change.

#

The house in Malibu was amazing. It looked like the houses Freya had seen in magazines. They had to pass through a security gate to get in, the guard recognising Jeri's car and nodding her through no questions asked.

As the Jaguar pulled into the drive, Freya tried not to gape at the sight of the house.

"You live here?"

Jeri smiled. "I've done well for myself."

"I'll say. Do you live alone?"

"I do now."

Freya grinned. "No Mr Jeri?"

A smile that looked indulgent. "Not any more."

They got out of the car. As Freya removed her suitcase from the back seat she took another look at Jeri. Freya guessed her for late forties. She was tall and blonde, with the kind of statuesque figure Freya had always envied in other women. There was an authority about her, present in her cool demeanour and the way she carried herself. Freya had no trouble imagining she could give the men of Hollywood a run for their money.

"It'll just be for one night," Freya said as Jeri unlocked the door and they entered the house. "I'll get a bus in the morning and—"

Strong arms grabbed her from behind and a rag was clamped over her nose and mouth. Freya had time to register a sickly sweet odour before the darkness claimed her.

#

Jeri held Freya until she had stopped struggling. The chloroform had done its job. Now she had to move fast.

This was always her favourite part of the process, she thought to herself as she picked Freya up in her arms — it was shocking how little the girl weighed — and carried her down to the basement. This was like Christmas morning — except now she got to unwrap a very different kind of present!

In the basement, Jeri laid Freya on her workbench. This wasn't the first time she had done this with a girl and she knew she had about half an hour before Freya would start to wake up, but she still couldn't take any risks, not yet. Fortunately she had planned for this and left her tools out and ready before leaving to pick up Freya.

She felt her heart pound with excitement as she regarded the drugged girl on the workbench. She was going to enjoy this.

Freya had asked if there was a Mr Jeri. There had been, once — until Jeri had found the bastard in their bed with another woman. Her wrath had been frankly terrifying and by the time the divorce was finalised, Jeri had all the money. After a couple of bad experiences with other men she had turned to women, first as lovers and then, eventually, as her slaves.

Jeri took out her phone to take some pictures of Freya. The girl looked a real sight on the workbench. Her blonde hair was held back in a ponytail. She wore an old threadbare sweater and jeans, pristine white sneakers on her feet. Jeri liked to take photographs at this point. Sort of a before-and-after thing. Then she got to work.

First was the perforated ball-gag, important so the slave never stopped breathing. Once the red ball was secured behind Freya's teeth, Jeri tightened it behind her head and turned the girl on her side. Safety fist, always.

Then the handcuffs. Freya's arms were pulled behind her back and the wrists cuffed together. Then a second pair of cuffs around her ankles. This was essential. If Freya was made of stronger stuff than she looked and came around early, Jeri didn't want her in a position to run.

Once Freya was secured and the keys to her cuffs were safely out of the way, Jeri found the girl's phone in her back pocket and grinned. She had remembered rightly, it was a fingerprint ID. Taking hold of Freya's cuffed hands, she pressed the girl's thumb to the phone and it opened. Jeri quickly amended the security to change the thumbprint to her own phone and did a cursory scan. Nothing to be worried about. Freya didn't seem to be in regular contact with anyone, and a scan through her messages revealed she hadn't told anyone she would be attempting to go home the following day.

A smile curled Jeri's lips. Perfect.

She looked back at Freya and her smile doubled. Now let's have some fun.

She started with Freya's feet. The sneakers were unlaced and removed, along with her ankle socks. Freya's toenails were clipped and painted opal white, a look that Jeri decided she liked. Then she took a pair of scissors and proceeded to slice up the legs of Freya's jeans. As the denim came away Jeri smiled in delight at Freya's lacy red panties. Not such an innocent girl after all. Excellent.

Jeri removed Freya's sweater in short order, revealing a matching lacy bra. This needed documenting, she decided, and she used her phone to take a few more pictures before going back to work. Before removing Freya's underwear she gave her a quick examination, removing two plain ear studs, two rings and a necklace. Then, satisfied with her work, Jeri picked the scissors up again and deftly removed first Freya's bra, and finally her panties.

Jeri's heart was beating faster in anticipation. Now Freya was fully naked, she stepped back to admire her handiwork and decided it had been well worth the wait. She was a delicious specimen. A flat stomach, long shapely legs, small but perfectly formed breasts. Her pussy was shaved clean and the rest of her body nicely denuded of hair. Fantastic. Her skin was blemish free with no tattoos. She was perfect.

Jeri reached out and brushed a lock of blonde hair away from the unconscious girl's face. Even with her mouth distended by the gag, she was beautiful, and Jeri leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Freya moaned slightly and Jeri saw her hands twist behind her back in her cuffs. She would be waking up soon. Time to get her ready for her training.

#