Zara: Pierced and Branded Slave

Part One Zara had no idea what she was getting into. She had agreed to go out with Bret only because her agent had asked her. Zara was your typical straving actress desperate to get ahead in Hollywood, and desperately in need of that elusive first break. She had to literally wrestle with Bret, just to get him to stop kissing her. Another casting couch affair, Zara muttered to herself. At least Bret was a different producer than most: he called her a cab and gave her fare to get home. But that was six hours ago. The cabbie never had any intention of driving Zara home; he was another lackey on the payroll of the producer Bret. And he had been instructed to drive into a dark alley and incapacitate poor Zara. Having worked these jobs for Bret before, the "cabbie" was more than a match for the pretty young thing. When Zara regained consciousness, she immediately felt a tremendous throbbing in her head where the cabbie had landed the handle of a gun. She meekly opened her eyes to find that she was in the center of some meticulously adorned prison cell. It was basically four gray walls with a wide range of assortment torture devices. Zara recognized only a handful, and of the others she would have prefered to have been ignorant. "Well, I see, my proud little plaything has opened her eyes again," Bret said as he opened the steel door; the only way in and the only way out as far as Zara could tell. Bret was still wearing the suit and tie combo he [...]