Part 1 – Lights, Camera
The strap-on dildo was nearly the size of a fire extinguisher. Simone had the rubber appendage fastened over her pubic mound; it rubbed against her tight bush. She sauntered over, her caramel-colored breasts bobbed in sync with the head of the black phallus.
“Now, you know you’ve been a bad boy,” she said to the man tied up on the table in front of her. The table was similar to the ones a gynecologist would use, equipped with stirrups, in which the man’s legs were placed. In this case, unlike her trips to the OB, the man was tied down.
His legs were bound and spread, and a wedge of dense foam was placed under his lower back, lifting his crotch into the air.
When Simone would peg a guy’s ass she preferred him to be bent over. It made things much easier on everyone, but this guy had another thing coming.
She stopped in front of him and grabbed a giant bottle of lube off the table. She upended it, spraying a stream onto the head and shaft of the sex toy. With a petite hand, she stroked it, making sure it was fully coated.
The man looked up at her with fear and desire in his eyes. The rest of his face was covered with a leather mask, specially fitted for this scene in particular. He tried to talk, but the funnel pressed down his throat only allowed him indecipherable grunts.
Simone laughed, her short, brown hair falling back as she did.
“Shut up, slave,” she smacked the man in his exposed genitals, which were turning a shade of purple from the rubber bands wrapped around them.
The man let out a howl of pain, yet his penis, which was semi-erect, twitched with delight.
‘Where did Mike find this sick fuck?’ Thought Simone as she prepared to enter the winking anus in front of her. She almost wanted to look over at the camera to make a face of question at Mike, but knew that was against the rules. Once the shoot started, Mike was the only one to call ‘cut’.
Simone pressed the mushroom tip of the dildo against the man’s ass, stretching him slightly.
“Is this what you want?” she asked, putting pressure forward.
He grunted, his cock twitching more.
Simone smiled as her co-star, Talia, came sauntering over from another door, entering the studio.
“Oh, you want more?” Simone asked.
The man howled as she slammed forward and furiously nodded his head, the funnel bobbing as it dangled from his throat.
Talia, like Simone, was nude. Long black hair lay on her shoulders, framing her face. Her large, perky tits swung as she walked. Twin barbells pierced her nipples and shone in the bright lights around the small studio. A thin strip of black pubic hair led to her otherwise bald vagina, which unlike her breasts, was devoid of piercings.
She stopped at the table, watching and listening to Simone violently fuck the man.
“Hey, slut, what do we have here?” Talia asked as she scratched her nails into the man’s hairy chest.
This, along with the violent sodomy, elicited more bestial sounds. He knew more was coming and looked forward to it.
“Oh, just some fucking slave looking to get his ass destroyed,” Simone said. A thin sheen of sweat made her coffee-colored skin shine.
The last shoot they did, the studio was freezing. This time Mike cranked the heat, but it was better to sweat than shiver.
Talia reached over and pinched one of Simone’s nipples, pulling it taught.
Simone pushed as deep as possible, letting Talia draw her forward with flesh.
Talia’s tongue snaked out, licking Simone’s mouth.
Simone’s flicked out, meeting the waiting tongue. They kissed fast, but deep, breathing each other in, tasting.
Talia released Simone’s nipple, which was slightly tented from the tension.
Simone began to thrust again, the kiss reigniting her vigor. The dildo pistoned into the man, each stroke going deeper into his bowels.
“Oh, poor baby,” Talia said, turning her attention back to the masked man on the table.
His eyes followed her, taking her in.
She looked him over; pale, overweight, small cock and cheap wedding band. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was average or ugly, she’d been in the game long enough. His cock and balls were now an angry shade of purple, the rubber bands may have been too much. She reached down and flicked his swollen scrotum.
The funnel moved as he bit down in dull pain. His eyes never left hers.
“Oh, poor baby, did that hurt?” she asked. He didn’t answer or nod, just stared. Without warning she punched his discolored genitals, eliciting the response she wanted.
He flailed on the table, nearly causing Simone’s strap-on to pop out. It didn’t; she was a professional.
Talia walked toward the corner of the room and grabbed a small step-stool. She came back to the table and opened it near the man’s head.
“Hey, slut,” she said, getting Simone’s attention.
Simone was dripping sweat, a bead clung to her upturned nose. She didn’t stop though, no, the squelching sound of the dildo continued, just slower.
“Yeah, you whore,” Simone was thankful for the break. She hoped the scene would end soon; she was getting tired.
“Doesn’t this slave look thirsty?”
Simone smiled, her bone-white teeth shone against her tan skin. “Oh, yeah,” she pouted. “Poor baby needs a drink.”
The man looked over at Talia in anticipation, watching her climb the step-stool.
“Well, it’s the least I can do for him.” Talia stood on the table, over the man’s face.
He knew what was coming and was amazed he was actually getting paid for this. Usually, he was the one paying. He tried to line the funnel up under her.
Talia was a pro. She squatted over his face, her asshole and pussy only inches from the funnel. It would’ve been better if the funnel was against her skin, but she knew the perverts who would buy this movie wanted to see the waterworks, not just her squatting.
“Drink up, slave,” she said, unleashing her bladder. A torrent of piss sprayed from her, most landing in the funnel, but some didn’t.
The man’s chest and neck were soaked with hot urine as his throat filled with it. He drank greedily, trying to keep up with the steady stream. Talia was too much for him and he gagged, trumpeting a geyser of piss back up on her. It didn’t matter, gravity pulled it off as it continued to fill his mouth.
Finally, Talia’s purge ended. She couldn’t have been happier considering she’d drunk nearly a half-gallon of water just for this shoot. Her bladder was on the verge of bursting before she even walked in.
“And…cut,” Mike said from behind the camera.
“Ah, finally,” Simone said, pulling out of the man’s ass. He let out a wet fart when she did. She reached behind her and unstrapped the wet, shit-streaked sex toy. It fell to the floor, leaving brown stains where it landed.
Talia climbed off the table, leaving the piss-soaked man strapped down. He wasn’t her responsibility anymore. She walked toward Mike, who was still playing with the camera, and grabbed a towel.
“I was on the verge of pissing myself,” she said, drying her vagina. She’d shower when she got home, but for the time being, just wanted to be dry. She tossed the towel on the floor and grabbed a robe.
Mike was looking through the small viewfinder. The big camera whirled as the VHS played back parts of the scene.
VHS, the god of modern pornography. When perverts wanted to view porn before the advent of the almighty ‘tape’ they needed to visit a seedy movie theater, of which New York City had plenty of. Most didn’t care, usually their nights ended in some kind of sexual encounter, mainly homosexual in nature. But, for the casual porn viewer, your average joe who just wanted to see a skin-flick and not sit in a puddle of cum, the VHS was the way to go. And then you had the real fucking deviants. The guys and gals who couldn’t get their rocks off with normal porn. No, they needed something more, something special, something vile. That’s where Mike came in.
Simone grabbed the other robe and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. She lit one, looking over Mike’s shoulder at the tiny viewfinder. There wasn’t much to see, not that she needed to anyway.
“I’m gonna get dressed,” she said to Mike, who waved her off with a dismissive hand.
Simone walked past the man on the table, who was still strapped down. His eyes followed and for some reason it bothered her. When the camera was rolling, she was in character, but when it wasn’t, she was just normal. The people Mike found for these movies were far from normal on and off film. She walked around the puddle of urine and out the door, Talia right behind her.
✽✽✽
Mike had his suit jacket off. It really was hot in the studio, but the girls complained last time, so he had to make do. He heard a door open to the side, but he didn’t even look.
Salvatore “Sally” Testa walked into the small, warm studio. The smell of urine, lube and shit didn’t bother him; he had a nose for much worse.
“How’d it go?” Sally asked, standing near his boss. He didn’t even look at the guy still strapped to the table, who mumbled incoherently.
Mike looked up from the viewfinder. The tape had successfully rewound and appeared intact. He and Sally would be delivering it later.
Mike smiled at his man, “Great. These fucking broads, especially Talia.” He loosened his tie. He was starting to sweat and didn’t want his shirt staining. A muffled sound got his attention and he looked around Sally at the man still strapped to the table. “Let him up,” he said, opening the cassette door on the camera and pulling the tape out.
Sally turned as if he noticed the man with the blue genitals and piss-soaked mask for the first time. He walked over, avoiding the puddles and untied the man.
He sat up and unzipped the mask, revealing a less-than-handsome face. He slid off the table and began pulling rubber bands from around the base of his cock and balls. They remained an angry shade, but began to regain a normal hue.
“Oh boy, that was a fucking great time,” the man said, walking toward Mike, who had his jacket draped over his arm.
Mike watched in disgust as the man got even closer. The reddish chest hair was wet with urine and a dribble of liquid shit ran down his inner thigh. “That’s close enough, friend.” Mike put up his hand like a traffic guard.
Sally, the faithful beast he was, stood near his boss, watching the man with nothingness in his eyes.
The man stopped, as if offended. “I just wanted to say thank you.” He looked to Sally too. “You boys put on a hell of a show.” He took a step closer, and another, looking around. “So, any chance I could say goodbye to the girls?” He grinned, exposing stained teeth that were recessed nearly to the root.
“Not a fucking chance,” Mike said, pulling out an envelope of cash. “Here,” he handed it the to the man, “now step the fuck back.”
The man had stepped forward to grab the money, but liked the closeness he felt with his ‘business partner’. He was close, but he needed to just be a little closer.
“Let me know when th—”
Sally moved like a serpent, his right hand snapping straight into the man’s nose. Knuckles, gnarled with use, shattered the bone and twisted the cartilage.
The man’s hands flew up and grabbed his gushing nose just as he collapsed. He landed hard on his ass; blood dripped from his fingers.
“OOO bok ry nos,” he mumbled through his hands. Tears ran down his face, mixing with blood.
Mike smiled, “You’re lucky he didn’t fucking kill you.” He held up the tape. “We have more pressing matters than disposing of your fucking perverted body, so consider yourself lucky.” He looked at his man, “Sally, show our guest out, please.”
Sally took a step closer to the man, who was still bleeding on the ground. He didn’t speak; he didn’t have to speak. Sally wasn’t physically imposing. Sure, he was tall, but thin, only weighing 170lbs if he was lucky. He wasn’t even ugly, a scattering of acne scars his only facial blemish. No, it was his eyes. Black, soulless and not giving a fuck.
The man recoiled as Sally looked down at him. He looked away, the inherent fear of prey as it tried to avoid the predator.
“Time to go,” Sally said.
The man used one bloodied hand to steady himself as he stood. Suddenly, he’d lost the desire to meet the girls who’d debased him in the converted warehouse.
“Sure thing,” he said, blood still running down his face into his chest hair. He walked out the door with Sally and was gone.
Mike followed shortly after, leaving the warm, piss-smelling room. He’d have Sally call the cleaners to come handle the mess. They’d cleaned worse than a little piss anyway, so it would be an easy night for them.
Mike heard the main door to the warehouse close and footsteps walking back toward him. Dim, overhead lights kept most of the old building bathed in shadows, only illuminated small pools here and there. There was no need for the rest of the place to be lit like the studio. That’s where the magic happened anyway.
Sally came walking back. The red glow of his cigarette bobbing in the shadows.
“Did our boy give you any more problems?” Mike asked, walking toward the girls’ dressing rooms.
Sally looked at his boss, smoke curling up over his nose. “No.” That was it with Sally, right to the fucking point.
Mike smiled, showing off his perfect, straight and expensive teeth. “Great. Let’s go see the girls and then,” he held up the tape, “go see the boss.”
Sally didn’t speak, rather dropped his cigarette on the concrete floor and ground it out with his toe.
✽✽✽
Talia sat in her small dressing room. It wasn’t much, but it was hers for the time being. It was a little bigger than a closet, but well lit. There was a typical vanity, a crude mirror lined with fat bulbs. A clothes rack that was full of lingerie and odd-looking costumes lined one side. Tucked in the corner was an old gym locker, battered, gray and covered in shitty stickers. She kept her personal stuff in there; street clothes, shoes, purse and anything else she came in with. There was no lock, but one wasn’t needed at Mike’s studio. No one would mess with her stuff and honestly, if it was Mike, Sally or one of the countless goons who would make an appearance, there wasn’t much she could do.
Talia squeezed into her pair of jeans and put her t-shirt back on. She looked at herself in the mirror, pulling her black hair into a tight pony-tail. She usually kept it down, but something landed in it during the shoot. Her makeup wasn’t much, but it was noticeable. She didn’t mind, but normally she wore very little or none at all. Her skin was pale-white and clear to begin with and the powders and blush made her look like a doll. Mike insisted it helped reduce the shine of her skin on camera. He was paying, so she put on what he wanted. She would clean herself when she got back home anyway, so the makeup could stay for the time being.
There was a hard knock on the door.
“Come in,” Talia said, but the door was already opening.
Mike and Sally stood in the doorway.
Mike smiled, exposing the most alluring part of him. The rest wasn’t much to look at. He was nearing 45 years old, had a round belly pushing against his silk shirt, slicked back, thin hair and sallow face.
“Talia, baby, great performance,” he said stepping into the small dressing room. Sally stayed out, but kept his eyes on her. Mike had his arms open, as if looking for a hug.
Hugging him was the last thing Talia wanted and fumbled with her purse to avoid the embrace.
Mike, sensing the hug was not coming, put his arms down.
“Thanks, that was an easy one,” she said, looking again in the mirror. She plucked an errant eyelash from her face. “Gross,” she looked at Mike, “but easy.” She crossed her arms under her full breasts, a gesture that was both protective and seductive.
Mike smiled again. “Yeah, that guy was a fucking weirdo, but these sick fucks pay the bills, right?” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope of cash.
Talia’s eyes flicked down to the money, just for a second. As gross or odd as the movies were, they paid extremely well. For just pissing on a guy’s face, she’d make what she could in two months of work at a menial job.
Mike tapped the envelope on his palm. “That was an easy one. Tomorrow, now tomorrow is going to be art. A little more involved, but you’re a star, so I’m sure there will be no issues.”
Talia’s eyes widened. “Oh, there’s another tomorrow?” This was news to her. She wondered if Simone knew.
“Yup,” Mike said, still holding her money. “And the request for this one is a little out there, but hey, money’s money. I just do what the boss asks and he keeps the cash moving. Simple as that.”
Talia had been working for Mike’s little outfit for just about 6 months. There had been some weird movies, but nothing too crazy. She felt like whatever he had set up might change. Her heart-rate was picking up, anticipating what was to come. She knew it was a longshot, but asked anyway.
“Care to tell me what it’s about?” she asked.
Mike would never tell them about the movies until the absolute last moment. He wanted genuine reactions from his actors. For the last scene, he only told Talia to arrive with a full bladder, but didn’t say she’d be pissing in someone’s mouth until just before he began the scene.
“Oh, Talia, you know that’s against the rules,” he chuckled and handed her the envelope. “Here,” she took it from his hand and slipped it into her purse without counting. He never shorted her and if he did, she’d never speak up. “Be back tomorrow at 10 and we’ll shoot the next one.” He turned and gestured to Sally. “Sally will take you home tonight.”
Talia suppressed a groan. She couldn’t stand Sally. He was a fucking creep, almost like a zombie, but he was Mike’s right-hand-man and always around.
She flashed a fake smile, hoping it looked sincere. “Great, I’m pretty much ready to go,” she said, grabbing her sweater from her locker. She turned off the vanity lights and followed Mike and Sally out into the warehouse.
