Talia tossed her keys and purse on the counter when she walked in. Her apartment wasn’t much, but it was nicer than anything she ever thought she could live in.
The answering machine was blinking with a red ‘1’. Her heart began racing; no one ever called, unless it was Mike and sometimes Simone or another couple of girls, but that was it. They almost never left a message. If anyone was going to leave a message, it was Mike. He was actually the one who bought her the answering machine. It was a new model and didn’t use a cassette to record. Instead, there was some kind of microchip or something that would record instead.
Talia didn’t know how it worked, only that it did. At that moment, she didn’t care about the make of the machine, only what might be on it.
She hadn’t heard from her parents in nearly 2 months.
One night, in a drunken and possibly drugged fugue, she called home. It was nearly 3am and she’d just finished a rather odd video where groups of men wearing animal masks ejaculated on her bare feet. That was it. She was even clothed; well, she wore a bra and panties, but wasn’t nude. After her feet looked like they were dunked in mayonnaise, a woman who had a studded collar around her neck, dog-tail butt plug in and attached to a leash, was brought in on all fours. The man holding the leash was nude, only wearing a St. Bernard mask with the tongue hanging out. It reminded Talia of the movie with the family that had a St. Bernard. She couldn’t think of the name, but thought it was titled after a famous musician. The girl on the leash was a new girl, one Talia had never seen before. She looked sickly and thin. Her ribs showed and shoulder blades were pronounced. She crawled over to Talia’s feet and looked up at her. The woman’s face was not only sad, but ashamed. Mascara was smeared on dark eyes and black streaks ran down her cheeks from earlier tears. Talia had never seen a heroin junkie in her life, but this woman looked like one, at least in her mind.
“Eat, bitch,” the man in the dog mask said to the woman on the leash.
She sniffed the now cold puddles of spunk, her eyes breaking contact with Talia’s
“I said eat!” The man shouted, his voice muffled. He kicked her in the ribs. The smack of bone on flesh made Talia jump, disturbing the puddles of cum on her feet.
The leashed woman whimpered like a dog. Whether or not that was part of the act, Talia would never know. She crawled forward, her butt plug tail wagging as she did. Like the dog she was, she ate.
Talia sat frozen as the wretch licked her clean.
“Atta girl,” the masked man said, petting the woman’s head as she ate.
Once she was done, Mike, who was on the camera, called ‘cut’ ending the scene.
It was one of the tamer scenes Talia had been involved in, but something about the look in the woman’s eyes made her uneasy. She asked about her after the shoot, but no one could give her any answers. That night she’d indulged in some drinks and some kind of pill given to her by Simone. It was supposed to be aspirin, but Talia learned it was not.
Later in the evening, she’d called home in tears. Her father answered in a groggy panic, hearing the sound of his drunken daughter, hundreds of miles away. Talia told him everything. The lost apartment, the motel, the theatre…and Mike. She told her father, her protector and man she looked up to, she was doing disgusting pornography. She described the junkie licking cum from her feet, and was glad she was the one in the chair and not leashed. It made her feel guilty for being in her position. It made her feel guilty about the money she made and the people she debased. Her father never said another word and hadn’t in nearly 2 months.
Talia’s finger hovered over the play button, her heart racing. Steeling her nerves, she pressed it.
At first there was silence and then a voice spoke.
“Hello, Mr. Sandadba, this is Doctor Malik’s office, returning your call—” Talia, her eyes blurry with tears, stabbed at the ‘delete’ button.
She sighed, tears on the verge of formation, and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the hot water, letting the tub fill. She needed a deep soak, but there was something else she could use too.
Talia walked out of the bathroom and over to her small counter. She grabbed a bottle of white wine and corkscrew; there was no need for a glass.
✽✽✽
Talia arrived at the studio the next night, ready to work. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she was prepared for whatever was coming. This wasn’t a normal mood for her, but when she felt this way, her performances were the best ever.
One film, a girl-on-girl scene, she’d eaten the actress’ pussy so well Mike had given her a bonus. He told her it was the hottest cunt-lapping he’d ever seen and would sell like fire. It did, thrusting her into the spotlight in the world of underground porn.
The warehouse was empty. Her boots echoed on the concrete floor as she walked through the pools of light toward the studio.
Light crept from the bottom of the studio door and Talia could hear voices mumbling in the room. She wanted to peek in, just to see if the scene had been laid out, but decided against it. For once, she kind of wanted to be surprised.
Her dressing room was warm and she flipped on the lights. She put her purse and jacket in her locker, noticing a leather costume hanging on the rack. Talia picked it up, looking it over. It was a leather bra, with crude stitching and a leather skirt. She put the skirt up to her hips, realizing it would just barely cover her vagina, if at all.
“Whatever,” she said to herself and hung it back up.
She sat at the vanity, turning on the many bulbs. The bright light assaulted her eyes, which were still adjusting from the darkness. She took a look at her skin, which was still youthful and tight. Some of the girls had taken to substances quickly and easily. Alcohol and drugs destroyed healthy skin faster than anything. If you didn’t look good on camera, you were wanted less and less. Usually, this led to girls whoring themselves or doing even worse videos, like the chick on the leash eating cum. These were Band-Aids on bullet holes, usually leading to worse things than some skin flicks. Simone, Talia’s normal filming partner, was one of them.
Over the last month or so, Simone had become more and more dependent on cocaine to get herself going. She called it her motivator and would usually snort a generous amount before a shoot.
Talia had used it a few times, but hated the feeling of being on the narcotic. In the beginning it had helped her prepare for a shoot, but now she didn’t mind. Some of them, even if they were gross, were quite enjoyable. Sure, she didn’t love pissing in mouths on a regular basis, but occasionally she’d get some hot sex scenes with buff guys and girls. She even had a couple of real, on camera orgasms, which was rare in porn. At least for the women. Like any job, there were good days and bad days. Either way, Talia was getting paid, and paid well.
A soft knock on the door drew her attention from the mirror.
“Come in,” she said, knowing it was probably Simone. Mike never waited.
Simone walked in wearing a robe. Her makeup was already done and she looked like a light-skinned goddess.
Talia never considered herself bi-sexual, until moving to New York. Sure she admired the female form, but never thought once about sex with another woman. That had certainly changed. She felt herself moisten thinking of Simone’s full lips on her pierced nipples, sucking, biting.
“You ok?” Simone asked.
Talia was daydreaming, wet sexual dreams. “Yeah, sorry, just kind of spaced out for a second. What’s up?”
Simone shut the door and leaned against it. “Have you seen the studio?”
Talia hadn’t, deciding to go straight to her dressing room first. “No, why? Something gross?” She scrunched up her nose, “Not a shit movie, is it?”
Simone shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She grabbed a small box from her robe and opened it. She scooped a small amount of cocaine on her fingernail and snorted it. She repeated this in her other nostril. “I saw some weird looking props when I walked by. The door was open for just a second, but it looked pretty elaborate.”
Talia was looking in the mirror, doing her makeup. She wanted to be ready when it was time.
The door flew open, smacking into Simone.
“Ow, what the fuck?” she said, moving with the door, trying to get out of the way in the small room.
“Sorry,” said a weasley looking man in round spectacles.
“Who the fuck are you?” Simone asked, her arm stinging, brain full of cocaine.
“Oh, I’m Nathan,” he said, offering a handshake, which was ignored by Simone. He put it down, rubbing the rejection on his pants. “Mr. Maione brought me in to write the scene for tonight.” In his other hand he held two packets of paper. “Here,” he gave them to Simone. “These are your lines for tonight.”
Simone took them, watching him push his drooping glasses back up on his nose.
Nathan turned on the charm, of which he had none. His last three sexual encounters had been with prostitutes and the one prior to that had been with his dog, Sandy.
“I wish I could stay and watch,” he took a gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “the performance.” He looked Simone up and down, as if he could see through her robe.
“Yeah, no fucking way, but thanks,” she said, holding the papers up and pushing him from the door. She shut it in his face.
Talia was laughing, making putting mascara on difficult. “Oh boy, you have a fan.”
Simone gave her a ‘bitch, please’ kind of look. “That’s a hard fucking pass for me, unless I can stomp his balls or something.” She opened the packets, reading the lines on the page. “Damn, there’s an actual script for this one.”
Talia puckered her lips, fresh lipstick making them bright red. “Really?” she asked, turning to Simone. Since starting in the industry there hadn’t been much in the way of scripts. Actually, she hadn’t seen a real script since leaving the theatre. The movies Mike produced weren’t exactly cinematic gold or dialogue heavy. It was along the lines of, ‘Ok, put your whole fist in her cunt, or try and look sad when he’s cumming on your face.’ Those were more along the lines of his movies.
Simone handed a copy to Talia, who fingered through the couple of pages.
“Huh, not bad.” She looked on the back to see if there was anything else or some stage notes. The only thing written was ‘ACT: 2’ but that was it. “Do you mind if I take the role of SOLDIER 1?” Talia hadn’t had a chance to really do any acting since leaving the theatre. This wasn’t much, but it was something.
Simone looked up from her copy. “Yeah, please do. I don’t fucking act. I’m here to fuck and get paid.”
Talia laughed at her friend, “Ok, girl. I’ll take the lead, just follow along. Shouldn’t be too much here. Besides, it looks like we’re going to fucking pretty fast, so I doubt anyone will be missing a bad line or two.”
“True,” Simone said, rolling up her copy of the script and putting it back in her robe. “I’m gonna go back to my room and look this over.” She grabbed the doorknob, “See you out there.”
The door clicked shut. Talia was excited. More than she should be, but she was. The porn script wasn’t anything fancy; her and Simone were two soldiers and they had a captive enemy. Their job was to make him talk at all costs, but instead of torture they were going to suck his dick and fuck him into submission. Pretty straightforward. She wasn’t sure if the ‘ACT 2’ on the back was a typo or if there was more, but she was going to find out.
✽✽✽
“So, this is the scum who thought he could sneak behind our lines and kill our General?” Talia said, walking in front of the bound man. She wore her costume and was right, the skirt left the bottom of her pussy lips in the breeze. Her tits felt like they were in her throat thanks to the bra being too small by at least two sizes. It didn’t matter, it would come off sooner than later.
Simone looked at her, her drug-addled mind trying to remember her line.
“Yes,” Simone croaked, pointing at the shirtless man. “That’s him,” her voice came out monotone and flat, something that made Talia cringe.
Sure, this wasn’t a big production, but Simone couldn’t read lines for shit. She could blow lines, that was for sure as evidence of the white powder inside of her nose.
The guy, who looked like Kurt Cobain, was shackled up. His arms were extended overhead and bound to the ceiling, his legs shackled to a heavy ring in the floor. His feet were flat on the ground, but he couldn’t move save for a little writhing. He was shirtless with a thin strip of chest hair. He wasn’t a dead ringer for the popular musician, but was close enough.
“Has he talked yet?” Talia stopped in front of the man, staring at him as if she were truly mad. He was having a hard time maintaining his composure, his eyes wandering to her heaving breasts.
Simone thought hard, trying to recall the script. “No,” she blurted, walking up next to Talia.
Talia ran a fingernail down his chest, hard. She left behind a red mark and he breathed deep as she reached the top of his pants.
“I think we can get him to talk,” she said, grabbing at his erect cock through the denim.
The man smiled, but pulled at his restraints. For a small gig, the chains and cuffs were pretty legit.
“I’ll never talk,” he said, a semi-smile on his face, pulling at the chains again.
“We’ll see about that,” Talia said, stepping back. She finally was able to undo her bra and release her throbbing breasts. They fell out heavy and sweaty. She reached up with both hands and rubbed them. This wasn’t so much for the camera as it was for her. It felt good after being cooped up for so long.
Simone followed suit; her perky, tan breasts didn’t move when she dropped her bra. Now that the talking was over, she was more comfortable. She grabbed Talia’s arm, pulling her into a deep kiss. Pink tongues darted in and out of mouths, both seemingly one. Simone took charge, descending on Talia’s tits, sucking her pierced nipple into her mouth. She took the barbell in her teeth and pulled the cherry-colored flesh taught.
Talia looked at the ‘prisoner’, whose erection was fully engorged. The look of desire on his face was nearly comical.
“Will this get you to talk?” she moaned as Simone switched to her other breast, leaving the first slick with saliva.
He looked like he was ready to do whatever she wanted, but that wasn’t part of the scene. He shook his head, shaggy blond hair whipping around.
“Oh, a tough guy,” Talia said, pushing Simone down to her knees. She picked up her skirt, sliding it up over her hips, her pussy on full display. The strip of black hair led his eyes right to her moist slit.
Simone, being a pro, teased Talia’s labia with her tongue, seeking the saltiness deeper inside.
Talia ran her fingers through Simone’s hair, quivering at the roughness of her tongue. “How about this? Will you talk now?”
Again, a hard head shake. The front of the man’s pants were wet with pre-cum and he was practically begging to be let free.
Talia grabbed Simone, lifted her up.
“What are we going to do with this scum?” Talia asked, her hands grabbing Simone’s small, firm breasts. She always thought her nipples resembled little drops of caramel.
“Oh, we have our ways,” she said, walking to the man, grabbing his cock through his pants. He was so slick she was able to stroke him over his pants, causing him to gasp. Simone lowered herself to her knees in the front of him, finally releasing his member. It sprung out like a jack-in-the-box and was bigger than she expected.
Talia came up and knelt next to Simone. “Be careful,” she said, stroking him, “that thing looks dangerous.”
Simone was cradling his heavy balls in one hand and kneading her breast in the other. “Oh, I think I can handle it.” Her hand rode up over the root of his cock and onto Talia’s.
They both began working the man, kissing in front of his slick penis. On cue, they started licking and sucking either side of his shaft.
“Holy shit!” he said, writhing with pleasure.
Talia ran her tongue over the tip of his cock, looking Simone in the eyes as she did. Without warning, Talia took him fully in her mouth.
Simone, having done this once or twice, immediately began tonguing and sucking at his testicles. With a gentle suck, she pulled one into her mouth, eliciting another groan from him.
Talia stopped sucking and stroked him, looking up to meet his gaze. “Are you ready to talk, traitor scum?”
The man wiggled, trying to guide his dick back into her sultry mouth. He wanted to be back in there, wanted to feel her suck and lick him until he filled her mouth with his seed.
He gulped, “No, I’ll never talk.” He looked away in defiance, playing his role decently.
Talia thought he may have had theatre experience, but that could be discussed later.
“I thought so,” she said, standing up.
Simone stayed on her knees, but slid over, knowing what was to come.
“Let me see if this can loosen that tongue,” Talia said, bending over in front of him. Her cunt and asshole were both glistening with moisture. She looked forward, for the first time since the scene began, noticing the camera.
Mike was tucked behind it, his eye buried in the viewfinder. In the shadows behind him, Sally stood watching. That was it. He didn’t blink, move or smile. Just stared with his black, shark eyes.
Talia felt hands on her ass. Two small fingers probed her pussy, rubbing the wetness from her slit to her anus. Talia moaned at Simone’s touch, thankful for her taking over the scene while she was lost in the depths of Sally’s eyes.
“You want this, don’t you?” Simone asked, spreading Talia, exposing the inner pinkness to the shackled man.
“Yes, give it to me and I’ll tell you anything.”
Talia giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “My, you are weak willed, aren’t you?” She reached back and grabbed his shaft. Gently, she began backing up. She felt the slickness of his helmet touch her, willing her to plunge it deep.
Simone reached up and helped, guiding the pulsing cock into Talia.
Talia shook as she took him to the base. He was bigger than she’d anticipated and if he could hold out a little, she’d cum too. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
“Holy fuck,” the man said, humping Talia as hard and deep as possible. “I’m cumming. Oh fuck, get off, get off!”
Talia reluctantly pulled away, her cunt lonely.
Simone jumped in, taking the cumshot on her face and mouth, the milky white a perfect contrast on her olive skin. She stood, facing Talia.
Talia kissed her, the taste of cum and her own pussy juice tart on her tongue. She broke her lips from Simone and looked at the man.
“Now, tell me everything.”
“Cut,” Mike said from behind the camera. He took his eye from the viewfinder and walked toward the girls. “Goddamn, girls, that was one of the best performances I’ve ever seen.” He turned back to Sally, who was still lurking in the shadows. “Sally, bring them some robes.”
Sally grabbed the robes from the hook and walked them over, handing them to his boss, who in turn gave them to Talia and Simone.
Simone used the sleeve to wipe the remaining cum from her face.
Mike clapped his hands together. “Amazing work, but we’re not done.” He held up 2 fingers. “Act 2 will be starting soon, so go to your rooms, relax. Powder your nose,” he looked at Simone, “and be ready in about 20 minutes.”
Talia tied the robe at her waist. “Any way you’ll let us in on what the scene might be?” She batted her lashes, hoping it would work, but it never did.
Mike smiled, “Not a fucking chance. When I come back for you, I’ll give you a hint, but that’s it.” He checked his watch. “20 minutes, girls, go get ready.”
Talia and Simone left the studio, leaving only Mike, Sally and the restrained man.
“Damn, those two,” the man said, watching the door shut. His cock was softening, a drip of leftover semen hanging like a loogie. “They know what they’re doing,” he said, the chains rattling. “Hey, do you think you could let me down for a few? My fucking arms are killing me. Besides, after dumping a nut, I like to have a smoke.”
Mike stood, staring at the man. He almost felt bad. Almost.
“Not going to happen, friend. At least not yet.” He sucked something out of his teeth, a fennel seed from dinner, and spit it on the floor.
“Awe, come on,” he rattled the chains. “Let me down for a smoke.” He smiled at Mike, turning on the charm. “I’ll be a good boy for the next scene. Besides, it’ll relax me enough to get it up again.” He shook his head as if tired. “Those whores drained my sack dry.”
Mike smiled, stepping up the naked, strung up man. “Don’t worry, you won’t be getting off in the next scene. Stay as soft as you want.” He patted his face, just hard enough to be audible. “Gag ’em,” he said, walking away.
Sally pulled a red ball gag from his pocket and began approaching.
“Hey, what the fuck?” the man said, pulling in earnest at his restraints. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. No fucking gags!” He pulled on the chains, the cuffs causing angry welts to ring his wrists.
Sally tried getting the ball in the man’s mouth, but he kept moving his head.
“Hold still or I can promise you won’t like the outcome,” Sally said in a tone like he was ordering food rather than trying to gag a man.
“Fuck you,” the man said, moving his head as the rubber ball hit his mouth. His lip split, a trickle of blood running down his chin.
Sally swung, hitting the man with a quick jab in the solar plexus.
He gasped, his pained lungs seeking air. Quivering muscles screamed from the blow, but his resolve hadn’t wavered. The man continued to move, making the ball slick with blood and spit as Sally tried to get it in his mouth.
Sally stopped and took a step back. He held the ball out to Mike.
Mike took it, pinching a strap in his fingers, careful to avoid the actual ball.
Sally’s hand snapped out serpent quick and grabbed the man’s genitals. They had a thin crust of vaginal fluid on them.
“Ow, what the fuck?” he said, watching the man pull his cock and balls. “Fuck, stop!” He yelled as Sally squeezed, pulling the skin taught.
Sally’s other hand disappeared into his suit jacket. It came out with 6 inches of death and dismemberment: a straight razor. The razor had an ebony handle contrasting the shimmering steel. The fine edge shone in the stage lights overhead.
“Whoa, whoa, what the fuck?” The man cried, trying to pull away. The blade shaved a few stray pubic hairs and thin layer of skin from his cock-root.
“You don’t need your dick for the next scene,” Sally said, putting just a touch of pressure on the blade. The honed edge parted flesh, making a small angry line in the man’s pubes. “I suggest if you’d like to keep this thing,” Sally shook the man’s cock and balls, “I’d put the fucking gag in.”
The man was sweating, his eyes focused on the razor. “Ok, ok,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His racing heart was visible through his chest, fluttering away in fear of losing its most valued organ.
Sally folded the razor up and put it back in his pocket. He grabbed the gag from Mike. “Open wide,” he said, holding the ball gag up.
The man did as he was told, opening his mouth wide enough to make his jaw creek.
Sally wedged the ball-gag in the man’s mouth, and cinched it tight.
Mike watched, satisfied the gag was good. “Ok, get everything else set. I’ll go get the girls.”
✽✽✽
Talia freshened up her makeup. She still looked pretty good even though the lights had her sweating a little. She pulled her robe down, leaving her breasts bare, but cooling them off. The sex had her hot and she knew there was more to go. What she had to do, she didn’t know, but there was more filming to do. She gave her armpits a sniff. They weren’t terrible, but had just a hint of BO. She sprayed some deodorant on, the aerosol cooling her.
A loud knock rattled her door, which was promptly followed by Mike barging in.
She didn’t cover up, even though she wanted to. He just watched her suck and fuck, but it was different in her dressing room. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of covering up, rather she sat there, tits exposed.
“Show time,” he said. “I want to meet with you and Simone outside the studio before you go in, so wait for me.”
Talia stood, shrugging the robe over her shoulders covering her nudity. “Ok,” she looked in the mirror and rubbed an errant smudge from her eye. “We’ll meet you out there.”
She finished up and left, seeing Simone and Mike standing outside one of the doors to the studio.
“Ok, now that I have you both here, let’s go over a few things.” He stepped forward and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now, this is a one-take scene, ok.” He looked at each of them. “Remember, he signed up for this, is getting paid well and will be taken care of.” He looked at them, waiting for nods.
Talia nodded, less than enthusiastically, but she did.
Simone had her brow furrowed. Mike had never given a speech like this. Sure, they’d done some fucked up stuff, but this felt different, heavier.
“Simone? Got it?” Mike asked, his eyes searched hers.
She looked up at him, “Got it.”
Mike smiled, “Great. So, this is a one take shot and a very specifically ordered video. The first part,” he pinched his fingers together and kissed the tips, “magnificent, but it’s not over. This last act has to be nailed.” He patted them on the shoulders, squeezing. “Everything on the table has to be used.”
The girls nodded. This was normal for some kink videos. Usually the table was laid out with dildos, small whips, nipple clamps, vibrators, you name it. The client wanted them all used during the shoot.
“Oh, before I forget,” he pulled out a piece of paper. “These aren’t ‘lines’ per se, but more of a guideline.” He handed the paper to Talia. “Simone, just follow her lead.”
Simone laughed, “Yeah, I’ll take a load on the face any day, as long as I don’t have to speak.”
Mike smiled, patted them both and walked to the door. “Give me five minutes and then I’ll yell ‘action’. Oh, and leave the robes out here, Sally will bring them in.” He walked in, closing the door behind him.
“I guess we’re picking up where we left off; butt-ass naked,” Simone said, looking over to read the lines on the paper.
Talia looked them over; they were nothing special. Their ‘prisoner’ didn’t talk after all and they were going to ‘beat’ it out of him. She figured they’d playfully whip him, suck and fuck him again and call it a night.
She was wrong. Very wrong.
✽✽✽
Mike walked in.
The man was still chained up. The ball gag was slick with snot, spit and blood from his split lip. In front of him sat a table.
The man thought everything was still part of the act, until Sally brought in the table. Sure, he’d done some kinky shit and been whipped by a slutty ex before, but this was new. He tried begging, but the ball gag made that impossible. It was also impossible because Sally didn’t give a fuck. It could’ve been his mother chained up and he’d still be sitting in the corner trimming a nail with his razor.
Mike looked at the assortment of whips on the table, starting from left to right, the order they’d be used.
The first one was tame, a long stick with a leather tab on the end. This was similar to what jockey’s would use to spur their beasts along. The next wasn’t a whip in the traditional sense, but was going to be used like one. It was a three-foot piece of ordinary garden hose. This mundane looking piece of yard equipment, when wielded properly, could sting you. After that was a cat o’ nine tails. A classic whip with long handle and nine leather ends used to flail a victim. The last one, oh the last one, that one took Mike’s breath away and made his balls shrivel. It looked like a cat o’ nine, but one hard glance and you knew it was different. Some people liked a good whipping with a cat; the sting, the burn and maybe small cuts. It wasn’t for everyone, but the other whip was for no one. This one had a metal handle. The ends weren’t soft leather, they were barbed, metal wire. The regular barbed wire was rigid, but this torture device was created for a purpose. The wire was like a string, with a misshapen metal barb every couple of inches.
“How’s our boy?” Mike asked Sally, who was standing near the camera.
“Ok…for now,” he cut too deeply on his nail, slicing into his finger. He didn’t wince. “I expect that’s going to change shortly,” Sally said, putting his razor away. He needed his full attention for the show that was about to start.
Mike looked at the weeping man strung up and let out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He took a fresh video cassette from the chair, unwrapping it. He checked the camera and popped in the tape. The lighting was good through the viewfinder and extra microphones had been turned on above the man. “All set,” he said, getting his zoom right. “Action!” he yelled.
✽✽✽
The studio was nearly soundproof, but that close to the door, Talia and Simone heard Mike.
“Ready?” Talia asked, untying her robe.
Simone grabbed her little cocaine box and took a generous toot. She closed it up and put it away before taking her robe off. “Yeah, let’s get fucking paid,” she said, the drug hitting her bloodstream.
The chill air caused Talia’s nipples to shrivel, the flesh hugging the barbells through her sensitive skin. She opened the door, Simone at her heels.
The man was still hung up, but now he had a ball gag in his mouth. Pretty standard so far. Although he appeared to have been crying, which could happen if you weren’t used to being gagged. Talia noticed the man’s cock was soft. Not only soft, but it looked like it was trying to burrow into his pubic mound. His balls were shriveled too. This was normal for new guys who were scared of being on camera. They called it ‘fear crotch’ but could usually be overcome with a warm mouth and soft hands. She thought it was odd, considering he’d just fucked her and shot a load on Simone’s face less than a half hour ago. Then she saw the table.
A normal BDSM scene would have a couple of tame whips, whips designed for pain, but the pleasurable side of the spectrum. These were different, especially the one on the end.
Talia looked at Simone.
Simone’s normal caramel complexion paled to the shade of sour milk. She wavered like she was going to pass out, her eyes locked on the metal whip.
Talia stared at her, trying to get her attention.
Simone, in a trance-like state, looked at Talia.
“It’s ok,” Talia mouthed, hopefully low enough to not be picked up by the mic. She swallowed her gorge, steeled her nerves and began her role. She had no choice; this wasn’t some bullshit production of a play. These were dangerous men with even more dangerous men above them. This movie was being made one way or another.
“So, even after the torture we gave you earlier, you still defy us?” Talia said to the hanging man, a look of pleading in his eyes. Snot and tears ran over the red gag. “I see,” she said pacing in front of him. “Well, we have other measures.” She held her hand out to Simone, gesturing for the first whip.
Simone was still in a fugue, but knew what needed to be done. If Talia took the reins on this one, she’d take every cumshot for eternity. She grabbed the first whip; the one with the leather tab and gave it to Talia.
Talia bent the stick, testing its durability. She had done a few whipping scenes and knew what was expected. Especially if the subject was facing her.
Her first strike was light, striking the man in the chest. A small red mark appeared, but nothing more. She back-hand swung, this one catching the opposite rib.
The man shuddered, but that was all he could do.
Talia gave him a couple more, each one harder than the last. She could feel the eyes of the camera on her, watching her. It had to look good. She placed the leather tab under his scrotum, lifting his pathetic cock and balls.
“Oh, not so big and mighty now, are we?” she said, uppercut-slapping his flesh balloon.
That elicited a response. The man screamed, trying to cross his legs from the pain radiating into his gut.
Talia smiled.
“Next one,” she said, handing the whip back to Simone. She took the garden hose and wound up. The slap of rubber on skin was loud, bringing out an angry welt as it wrapped around the man’s hip. “Oh, that was a loud one,” Talia said, a smirk on her face. She was playing a role, but part of her liked the feel of rubber on flesh. It was almost erotic.
The garden hose got old fast and she tossed it, gesturing for the leather cat o’ nine.
Simone looked at Talia, the grin still on her face.
Talia was looking at the man and the host of red, weeping marks on his body. Her hand was extended like a surgeon to a nurse. When she didn’t get the whip, she looked back at Simone.
“Next,” she said, shaking her hand in frustration.
Simone knew Talia was an actress, but this seemed more than an act. She swallowed hard, the taste of cocaine still in the back of her throat and handed the whip to Talia.
Talia walked around the man. Everything so far had been to his front, in view of the camera. She wanted to mix it up, let the buyer see the man’s face.
The nine tails hissed just before it cracked into virgin flesh. Thin lines of blood began dripping from his back. Talia almost recoiled at the sight.
The man screamed again, trying to avoid the unseen whip at his back. The pain was a shotgun blast to his senses, lighting up his nervous system.
Talia wound up again. More welts, these crisscrossing the previous ones, sprung up. She let the man writhe and looked over his shoulder at Mike.
Mike was behind the camera, but had a huge grin on his face.
Sally didn’t smile.
Talia moved to the front of the man, running the leather straps over his face like a feather duster. She wound up and stopped.
He flinched, waiting for the strike, but it didn’t come.
“No, this is too tame for a traitor,” her heart pounded behind her bare breasts. She knew what was next. They all knew what was next.
The man went into full panic mode. He was hyperventilating, snot bubbles flying from his nose. Beads of drool found their ways around the gag, running down his chin. If his eyes widened any more, they might have popped out.
Talia, not wanting to put Simone in any more distress, walked over to the table. She set the leather nine tails down and picked up the metal one. She began stroking the handle as if it were a cock. This wasn’t meant to add eroticism to the shoot, no, she was on the verge of passing out and needed a breather.
She stepped forward, the metal monster at her side. The tips of the flails touched the ground, hissing as she walked forward. The weight was drastic too. The leather one was a feather compared to the metal one. Talia hefted it, knowing it would lay flesh wide open. She swung, just inches from the man. The swoosh of the barbs and metal cutting the air was satisfying, but how would it sound hitting flesh? She’d soon find out.
“Sorry,” she said earnestly, “but if you won’t talk, it needs to come to this.”
The man was screaming, vowing to tell her everything and anything.
Talia swung.
The tips of metal hit yielding flesh like lightning bolts, passing clean through. At first, Talia thought she’d missed; then the blood came.
Nine lacerations lay wide open on the man’s chest. Blood did not weep from these wounds, it poured.
The screams somehow intensified and then stopped. He began gagging as he vomited into his ball gag. Viscous streams of puke, chunky and sour, poured from his nose. Small amounts escaped his mouth around the ball gag, but not enough.
Talia knew he was choking, but Mike wouldn’t stop the scene until she’d hit him more. She knew it and wound up again.
The barbs wrapped around his waist, taking dime-size chunks of skin when she pulled back. Blood flew, speckling her nude body with crimson dots.
Simone retched, putting a hand over her mouth as vomit shot between her fingers. She ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Talia looked back to Mike, who gave her the signal to ‘keep going’.
She did.
✽✽✽
“Cut,” Mike said. He clicked the ‘stop’ button on the camera and walked over to Talia.
She stood in front of the mangled man, her arm drooping at her side, chest heaving. She was spattered with drops of gore, making her look like she had some kind of pox. For the first time she saw the man. Really saw him.
He was still alive, but only half-conscious. The whips had done a number on him, leaving tender flesh flayed open. Quivering muscle was exposed to light and air for the first time ever. One of the whips had flown errant, striking him in the cheek. A flap was open, exposing his molars.
Talia shivered, stifling her gorge and turned around, facing Mike.
“Talia, baby, that was amazing!” Mike said, his arms extended for a hug. He stopped when he saw how bloody she was. He wasn’t going to ruin a suit over a hug. “That was a masterpiece, kid. A fucking masterpiece.”
Talia didn’t feel like an artist. She felt like shit. The entire time she was focused on doing such a job that would please Mike, she hardly thought of the man in front of her she was beating.
“Listen, go take a shower and I’ll come talk with you in a little while.” He looked over her shoulder at the hanging man. “Let me take care of him first.”
Talia could feel tears welling up. She looked away. The blood-slick sweat on her body was starting to cool. She shivered.
“Sally,” Mike said without looking, “grab her a clean robe.”
Within seconds, Talia was wrapped in fresh linen.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked.
“Him?” Mike said, pointing at the bleeding man. “Well, he’s going to be a rich man, that’s what’s going to happen. We have a van waiting to take him to the doctor and get him stitched up. After that, he’s getting more money than he’s made in his entire life. Trust me, he’ll be just fine. And this isn’t no bullshit ER doctor, no, this is our doctor. He’s kept on retainer by my boss for occasions such as this. This guy,” he pointed again, as if Talia didn’t know who he was referring to, “will be living in a resort for the next week or so, healing up. Trust me, the scars will be minimal and bank account huge.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Now, go take a shower, get cleaned up and we’ll talk.”
Talia nodded; the tears didn’t betray her. She turned to leave, averting her eyes from the groaning man.
“What about Simone?” she turned and asked.
Mike was talking with Sally. He stopped and looked back at his actress. “What about her? She didn’t like the blood. No biggie. The girl can still fuck like no other, so she’ll stick to those flicks instead.”
Talia nodded, happy with the response. She didn’t have many friends since moving to New York and Simone was the closest one she had. Without another word, she left the studio.
Mike and Sally walked over to the hanging guy, expensive shoes sliding in blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Mike said, getting a close look at the man’s body, “she did a fucking number on him.” He looked at the lacerations on the man’s chest, stomach and face.
The man, realizing his torment was over, began to come to. His nerves were on fire, screaming for help.
For a second they thought he’d choked to death on his puke, but he must’ve swallowed enough and shot enough from his nose to breathe.
“Is the van here?” Mike asked Sally.
“They’ve been outside the whole time. They’re ready.”
“Ok,” Mike said, “take care of him.” He stepped back, letting his man work.
Sally pulled out his razor with a deft hand.
“No,” Mike put his hand on Sally’s shoulder. “That’s too much blood. Do it…” he looked up, thinking, “neater.”
Sally reluctantly closed the blade. It was his favorite. Instead he pulled out a pair of leather gloves. They were snug, but had enough play for him to flex his fingers. He stepped forward and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat.
The man’s eyes, which had been partially closed, drifting on consciousness, flew open. His windpipe crushed, cutting off precious air. His eyes scrambled, looking for help, but found none. Instead, they found the cold, calculating blackness in front of them. His abused body couldn’t take any more and within minutes, slipped into death.
Mike watched and waited until the man was dead. He trusted Sally, especially with killing, but liked to be sure. “Take care of this,” he waved his hand. “I’ll be in my office and then we’ll check on the girls.”
Sally nodded, taking his gloves off. “No problem.” He walked out of the studio, going to summon the cleaning crew.
✽✽✽
Talia got clean and dressed. She didn’t feel brand new, but much better than before.
When she was alone in the shower, she finally was able to break down. She cried, but not hard and not long. Just enough to relieve her of guilt, to let out some of the bad shit she kept inside.
There was a light knock at the door.
‘Simone,’ she thought. “Come in,” Talia said.
Simone walked in. She was a wreck. Her face was still wet with tears, eyes puffy and red. Her nose was running and rimmed with cocaine residue. Even the potent narcotic couldn’t bring her out of the fugue she was in.
Talia stood and hugged her, the warmth of their bodies combining.
Simone let out a shudder and started crying anew.
“Shh,” Talia said, stroking her hair. “Shh, it’s over now. The movie is done, he’s being taken to the doctor as we speak to get patched up.”
Simone backed up, keeping her hands on Talia’s waist. “Oh, Talia. You naive bitch.” The shadow of a smile played on Simone’s lips. “Do you believe that? Think about these fucking men and tell me you believe that.”
Talia didn’t. Deep down she knew better, but still she wanted to think so. She wanted to believe this was all a game. A fantasy world where people could fuck and maim and a magical doctor would come fix everything. She knew, but hated herself for trying to believe otherwise. Talia didn’t answer; there was no need. She leaned in and kissed Simone on the forehead, hugging her again.
“I’m out, Talia.” Simone said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m fucking done with them, with this,” she looked around the small dressing room. “I’ve been done for a while, but then you came along.” She smiled. “Sweet, innocent Midwest dumbass, looking to make a quick buck. I couldn’t let them eat you up, like they’ve done to so many other girls.” She huffed, “Myself included.” Her memory lapsed back to the years of vile movies, random cocks and cunts in her face and now the icing on the cake, the whipping scene. “I’ve been thinking about shutting it down.”
Talia stared at her. “Shutting it down? What do you mean?”
Simone looked behind her, as if Mike was in the small room with them. “The cops, Talia. The fucking Feds, city cops, I don’t fucking care!” she yelled.
“Lower your voice,” Talia said. “Do you fucking want them to hear you? Huh? You just said how fucking dangerous they were and you’re here yelling about the cops?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Listen, you don’t have to go anywhere, ok. I talked with Mike, he said you don’t have to do anymore movies like—” the man’s mangled body flashed before her eyes— “that one.”
Simone stepped back and cocked her head. “Oh, you talked to Mike for me? As if I’m not a fucking adult and can’t handle myself. Thanks for the fucking help,” she spat. “I’ve been in this game for years, not months, little girl.” She reached for the doorknob. “I’m out, and I recommend you do the same.” She opened the door and left.
✽✽✽
Sally knocked on Mike’s door.
“Come,” Mike said.
Sally walked in, his boss behind his desk watching TV. “Come here a sec,” Mike said.
Sally walked around the desk, looking at the small, black-and-white TV. It was split into 4 screens: the main warehouse door, the studio, and dressing rooms. Mike pressed a few buttons and turned some dials, making the screen with Talia’s dressing room filled all 4 monitors.
“Listen to this shit,” Mike hit ‘play’. The video began, along with clear audio.
Sally listened and seethed. His hand went into his pocket, feeling the smoothness of his razor’s handle.
Mike paused the video just after Simone left the room. “Are your boys still around?”
“They’re taking out the trash, but they’ll be back soon.”
Mike turned off the TV setup and leaned forward, resting his chin on tented fingers. “Ok, tell them they have more work tonight.”
“Got it,” Sally began walking out of the office to see if his men were back.
“Oh, Sally.”
He stopped, looking back at Mike.
“Put a fresh tape and battery in the camera. We’re going to need it.”
Sally did something that felt foreign, something unnatural; he smiled.
