Meals of Misery Part 2

The drive to the mansion was spent mostly in silence. For one thing, Annetta felt awkward having witnessed her sister or the being that looked like her sister fervently gobble a man’s cock and sigh in satisfaction. And for the other, the woman did not know whether it was her sister at all, and whether she would believe anything that was said to her.

For her own part, Audrey seemed to avoid any conversation. In part, due to embarrassment of having been forced to portray such a spectacle, which otherwise in a million years she would not have consented to do, and in part due to the fact the Misters somehow were being more favorable to Annetta; giving her concessions that they never gave her in the first place. Albeit, she might not think of them as such. Whatever, as long as they found a new toy to play with, I ain’t complaining, the woman darkly thought while taking a turn down the familiar gravel road.

*

As the SUV crunched over the gravel, approaching the guard booth, the familiar figure stepped out. The morning light caught the gleam of the guard's sunglasses, and a smug, anticipatory grin slowly spread across his face as he recognized the vehicle.

He raised a hand to flag them down, clearly expecting the car to slow to a crawl so he could indulge in his usual power play. The window on the driver’s side was already down, and he leaned in, his eyes raking over Audrey with a predatory hunger.

"Well, well," he started, his voice an oily drawl. "Back so soon? I was hoping for a repeat performance of…”

"Unfortunately, any performances will have to wait until Misters order me to do them”, the woman looked pointedly at the man, who was no scowling at her. “I’m here to drive my sister to her… workplace. I will use a taser on you, if I have to”, the woman said, and to Annetta’s surprise, her sister actually fished out a small taser from her pocket and touched the guard’s chin with it. “I’m sure your employers will understand”.

The guard’s smirk vanished instantly. He raised his hands slowly, his eyes darting from the crackling electrodes of the taser to Audrey's cold, unyielding stare. "Whoa, easy there," he stammered, taking a hasty step back, his boots scuffing the dirt. "No need for that. Go right through."

He scrambled back into the booth and slapped the button to raise the boom barrier.

“Wow”, Anne said, clearly impressed, remembering the last time when Audrey had to suck the man off to regain her clothing. With a sigh, the older sister put the taser back in to her pocket and kept slowly driving forwards.

“I’m sure, in the long run I will pay for that”, she grumbled.

The car followed the winding driveway up to the imposing facade of the mansion. The morning sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, giving the estate an almost serene appearance. Annetta sat rigidly in the passenger seat, her stomach doing flip-flops as the engine cut off.

*

As Audrey parked the car, they were greeted by Mr. A, who was standing on the porch. A small smile was playing on his lips as he waited for the women to get out of the car. He was wearing formal business attire.

“Ladies, welcome”, he greeted them as the doors of the SUV swung open. “So happy that you could make it, Mrs. Mortinson”, the man cheerfully said as if the younger blonde had any choice in the matter. “And with ample time for you to prepare for the shoot”.

“I was wondering, why the letter said to be ready at five thirty in the morning”.

“Yes, well, we thought that it will take time for you to read what little script we’ve prepared, to change clothes, have your make-up done, familiarize yourself with the set, and all that”, the man said, outstretching his arm to the doorway – an indication, that they should come in. “And, Audrey, how nice of you to drop your sister”.

“You know me, Mr. A, always trying to be accommodating”, the older blonde said warmly, a fake smile plastered on her face.

The man nodded his head, and with a smile gestured the women to follow him. Without even looking whether they are, Mr. A entered the mansion. It was of no surprise to him, when after a couple of beats two sets of footsteps followed after him. He smiled satisfied.

Mr. A led them through the grand foyer. The mansion’s interior was a dizzying display of opulence: crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, expensive looking artwork lined the walls. Annetta's eyes lingered over one huge painting. She thought it was familiar, but could not put her finger on where she’s seen it.

“You like it?”, Mr. A whispered in her ear, which made the woman jump slightly. He chuckled at her reaction. “You might have heard on the news that a couple of invaluable art pieces were stolen from the Louvre a couple of years ago – this is one of those pieces”.

Well, fucking hell, the woman thought to herself.

“You can ogle at the paintings later, sis”, Audrey hissed, nudging the TV chef to follow Mr. A who was already a couple of paces in front of them.

They moved past the grand staircase and down a wide hallway, their footsteps muffled by a plush, crimson carpet that stretched endlessly into the depths of the house. The chef gratefully noticed that Mr. A didn’t take them toward the heavy oak door that led down to the dungeon basement. Instead, he turned sharply to the right, ushering them into the east wing, which was quite a contrast to the lavish interior behind it: here, the walls were painted white, without any decorations. Many doors laid closed. Annetta could hear a slight hum of air cooler somewhere deeper down the corridor.

“This is where we shoot our various movies”, Mr. A explained gesturing to various doors that they were passing. Annetta noticed a dark shadow passing over her sister’s face. “Your sister is quite familiar with most set pieces behind those doors”, the man chuckled. “Isn’t your sister lucky, that she will probably not experience them for quite some time?”, the man goaded.

“Very lucky, sir”, Audrey quietly whispered, sending an irritated look at her younger sister. As if I’m fucking at fault, because they don’t wanna torture me the way they torture you?

They passed a series of empty storage rooms and a technical hub filled with racks of blinking servers and monitors, until suddenly, the corridor opened up into a vast, high-ceilinged space. Anne stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. Before her lay the exact copy of "Annetta's Kitchen" set, in which she had worked in for years: the same cupboards filled with various herbs and spices, windowsill with a fake window showing a panorama of a beach, on top of the windowsill, a simple vase with fresh bouqet of flowers, kitchen table with various utensils and chairs surrounding it. At the side of the set, there was the same plush giant sofa, on which she interviewed her show’s guests while drinking coffee or tea from a giant mug with the show’s logo on it placed on the nearby black coffee table.

Behind the set, various professional studio cameras hung from the ceilings just like at the real place. There was even an expensive looking director’s camera.

“See, Mrs. Mortinson, we do go above and beyond for our customers”.

“I… don’t understand”, the younger blonde said shaking her head in confusion. She expected some seedy porn set, in which she will pretend to enjoy whatever they will want to do to her, but this just confused her. “What do you want from me”?

“Well, our customers, have a specific kind of taste and fantasies. Let’s just say for the foreseeable future, you will be playing the role of yourself with slight changes in the script”, Mr. A said wiggling his eyebrows playfully at her.

Annetta saw her sister snort. Gee, yah, laugh it up, sis.

"Changes to the script?" the chef parroted, her voice rising slightly as she gestured vaguely at the pristine replica of her kitchen.

“You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Mortinson, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Especially when you get to read the rough script we’ve prepared for you. Anyways…”, the man finished as he turned and walked past the main kitchen counter, leading them toward the back area where the heavy curtains and equipment racks were located. Two doors were set into the wall there, both painted a stark white. The one on the left had a sleek, brushed-steel handle, while the one on the right was emblazoned with a gold star sticker and bold black letters that read: DRESSING ROOM.

“Your sister will help you pick out your clothing for today’s filming, won’t you, Audrey?”

“Yes, sir”, the woman meekly replied.

“Excellent”, the man clapped his hands in mock joy, his smile never leaving. “Therein, you will find your script, it’s nothing much, mind you, I’m afraid you will have to wing most of the shoot, but we will be giving you pointers throughout”.

“Sure, whatever you say”, Annetta grumbled rolling her eyes as Mr. A left them to their own devices.

*

“Stop complaining”, the older woman grumbled as she took out a summer dress from the hanger and dangled it in front of her sister’s eyes.

“Stop, complaining? I mean, what the fuck is this script even?”, the woman bit back, eying the dress distastefully.

“You don’t even know how lucky you are, Anne”, the older woman calmly replied rummaging through the clothes rack.

"Lucky?" she spat, waving the flimsy stack of papers in her hand. "Lucky would be if I were at home right now, making actual lunch for my actual kids instead of reading this... nonsense!" She slapped the papers down onto the makeup counter. "Listen to this drivel. It literally says, and I quote, ‘you will have to prepare the meal with sensual intensity. Your body movements should convey how turned on you are. You have to eye-fuck the camera and the audience at home watching you: flirt with them, make the meals as if making love. Do your best so that your would be audience would be sporting huge boners or have soaking wet pussies just by looking at you”.

Annetta looked up at her sister, her eyes wide with incredulity and outrage. "Seriously, did they have a teenage boy write this? What the fuck is “making meals as if making love”? Am I supposed to fuck a zucchini, is that it?” She threw her hands up, pacing the small confines of the dressing room. "I’m a fucking cook, I have literally zero idea how to act as a porn star in C grade fetish video!"

"Will you just shut the hell up?" Audrey snapped, her patience snapping. "Do you think you're the first woman they've asked to do something degrading? Do you think your dignity is worth more than mine was six months ago?"

Annetta opened her mouth to retort, but the raw exhaustion in her sister's eyes stopped her. Audrey threw the dress onto a chair and marched over to her, grabbing the script from the counter and shoving it back into Annetta chest.

"By the way, this script, dear sister? Is nothing compared to what I was subjected to the first time around and many times after that. I have fuck all clue as to why they chose to play this game with you, even giving you money for it, but you should feel damn lucky that for your first time here, all you have to do is strut around like a bimbo, who caresses ingredients or some such fucking shit”, the woman shouted at her.

“Aud...”

“Do you want to know what was the first thing they did with me?”, and despite her younger sister shaking her head in the negative, she angrily continued on. "They didn't give me a kitchen set and a set of clothing to choose from," the older blonde hissed, her voice trembling. "I was stripped naked in a fucking cellar with hands tied above my head so tightly that I was wound up like a fucking bow string.”

Annetta stood frozen, the summer dress slipping from her fingers as she stared at her sister.

"I had to look into that lens and plead for them to whip me and flog me until they themselves deemed that I had enough," the older woman continued, her eyes glazing over as the memory washed over her. "Oh, and they did exactly what I “begged” them to. After what seemed an eternity of unending pain, they stopped – all flush and breathing heavily as if having run a fucking marathon. I remember most of my front and backside was red as a lobster with many welts and cuts criss-crossing each other. My body was thrumming with pain".

"Then," she spat, taking a step closer, her finger stabbing into the air between them, "once I was a broken, sobbing mess, I had to beg for the next part. I had to look at the camera and ask them to gangbang me all at once."

“Aud, please stop”, the younger sister whispered, her hands touching the woman’s shoulders for comfort, but Audrey shook them away.

"No, no, no, you will listen to the fucking end of it!" Audrey shrieked, shoving her sister backward a bit.

She took a ragged breath, her chest heaving as the words tumbled out. "They did not give me the luxury of lube. Oh, no, they decided to “raw dog it”, as they called it, telling for the camera’s that a pain slut like me is soaking wet from her whipping and flogging. Of course, that was a load of crap, I was dry as a fucking desert… They just... they just pistoned into me with no regards to me or my wellbeing: one in my throat, one tearing at my ass - which, by the way, I thought that it really fucking tore apart, because afterwards I was bleeding for hours until they decided to plunge me in that fucking healing tank - another ramming my pussy raw. All at the same time. Since my airwaves were constricted and no one had actually had the gall to shove their dick that far in to my throat, I was puking everywhere, and gasping for air, which came sporadically, so I had to do my very best to breath as much of it in as I could."

"At that moment in time, pain was all I knew, it surrounded me whole," the woman seethed, her voice cracking. "Every time they thrust into me, their hands and belts would slap against my already inflamed skin. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, starved of oxygen, my mind fraying at the edges just wishing for it to end."

Annetta's face was ashen listening to her older sister recount her first ordeal. She felt her knees going weak as she steadied herself with her arms on the table and willing to hear the end of the story.

“Finally, each of them came inside me, as I swallowed the fucking cum so not to choke, I fell my bowels getting warm like during a fucking enema. You’d think this would be the end and they would have let me rest, huh? Well, no, dear sis. There was little teeny weenie thing I was supposed to do at the end”, the older woman chuckled darkly shaking her head. “The director yelled 'Cut' and then pointed to the floor - to the puddle of my own vomit and the mess dripping from my pussy and ass. He told me to smile at the camera and act like I wanted to lap it all up like a fucking kitten. Else, they would keep flogging and whipping me until I started bleeding.”

“So, I did it”, Audrey finished, her smile all teeth. “Like a fucking champ”.

The older blonde stared at Annetta. Audrey saw how shook up her sister is, but at this point she could not muster a single ounce of pity for the younger blonde.

"So," Audrey hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You will pick out a fucking outfit like a big fucking girl, put it on, go out there and pretend to be a porn version of Martha fucking Stuart for all I fucking care, because, this? What they are making you do and expecting of you? Is really nothing in comparison to what they can make you do and subject you to”.

With a sigh, Audrey plopped on a couch with her hand draped over her forehead massaging it as if combating a head-ache.

Shit, Annetta thought as she willed herself not to cry. She’s fucking right. Poor Aud, this is a fucking picnic in comparison.

While Annetta was rummaging through the available clothes options, Audrey was lost in her own thoughts. Finally, after maybe five or ten minutes she was shook out of them.

“Well, what do you think?”, the younger blonde asked. Audrey stood up from the couch, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she took in her sister’s appearance. She walked a slow circle around Anne, humming in approval. The younger sister had chosen as her outfit tight blue denim jeans, which accentuated her ass, a white linen button-up shirt, which she has stuffed in to her jeans so as to accentuate her curves and deliberately choosing to leave as many buttons undone as to accentuate her cleavage. The ensemble was completed with simple white sneakers.

"Not bad at all," Audrey murmured, reaching out to tug the fabric of the shirt slightly lower at the neckline. “If you’re going to sell a fantasy of a hot housewife who is inviting people to fuck her while stirring a pot, this is a good start, I suppose."

The chef flushed, looking down at her cleavage. "I still feel ridiculous. Like I'm playing dress-up for a perverted husband."

Audrey moved behind her, steering her toward the vanity mirror. "Newsflash, Anne. That is exactly what you're doing. Except the husband is a camera lens and the audience is thousands of degenerates with unlimited credit limits. Now sit."

The chair was plush and high-backed, forcing Annetta to look up slightly as Audrey began bustling around the counter, opening jars and tubes with practiced efficiency. Under the harsh, bright vanity lights, the chef saw the dark circles under her own eyes and the tightness of her mouth - a far cry from the polished TV hostess she was supposed to emulate.

“Chin up,” Audrey commanded, gently tapping Annetta's jaw with two fingers. “We have to do something with your face, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks”.

As Audrey began applying foundation, working the cosmetic sponge over her sister's skin with a rhythmic dabbing motion, Annetta stared at her reflection. “Did you feel like that when you started?” she asked quietly. “Did you have to pretend to be someone else?”

“Pretend?” Audrey repeated, her voice muffled slightly as she concentrated on blending the concealer under Annetta's eyes. She paused, meeting her sister's gaze in the mirror. “I don’t have that luxury. The best I can do now is disassociate from the experience”.

She reached for a palette of eyeshadows, selecting a sultry, smoky hue. “You, on the other hand, have the luxury to become someone else, at least, until they get tired of this game. And I’m not saying this to be mean to you, Anne, I really wish we would not be in this situation. So, milk it for what its worth, because, as I’ve said, it could be whole lot worse for you”.

Annetta swallowed, pondering her sisters words…