by Matt Shaw
***WARNING***
The following book contains scenes and descriptions which some people may find upsetting. Please be aware this is an extreme novel intended for a mature audience.
***
Copyright©2014 by Matt Shaw
Matt Shaw Publications
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters in this book are purely fictitious.
Any likeness to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
PORN
MATT SHAW
OUR LAST SHOOT
I slipped the tight latex hood over my head and secured the ball-gag in place; ball in mouth - held there by leather strap round the head - and fastened at the back. I checked my reflection out in the broken mirror hanging on the wall. I felt sick. Memories came flooding back to me. Memories which I’d sooner forget. I walked from the back room where I’d gotten changed into my latex catsuit. It felt weird putting it on. I hadn’t worn it since that shoot. Lucky I still had it. Part of me had wanted to burn it after that night, and I nearly did, but I’m glad I hadn’t. Had I done so - I wouldn’t have been able to wear it now. I wouldn’t have been able to see the look on his face when he finally sees me dressed up. I wonder if he’ll remember the relevance of the outfit. I do hope so. I don’t want to have to explain it.
The sound of my high-heeled thigh high’s hitting the cold concrete of the warehouse floor alerted him to my presence as I approached him from behind. He was bound, naked, to one of the large concrete supports holding the high roof up and couldn’t see me from this angle.
“Who’s there?” he asked. Do I detect a quiver in his tone? I do hope so. I want him to feel everything I had felt and - of all the emotions I experienced that night - fear was definitely up there. Second only to pain. “Hello?” he called out. “Who’s there?” I didn’t reply. I just walked up until I was close behind him. “Come on, enough is enough. Very funny. You got me. Come on, who is it?” He tried to change his tact; tried pretending he wasn’t afraid and that he knew this was nothing but a prank. I have news for him: This isn’t a prank. His name is Harry. If you ask anyone in the industry who Harry is today, they’d tell you he is an adult film director. If you ask anyone tomorrow they’ll tell you he was a film director.
Still out of his line of sight, I walked across the warehouse to where I’d dropped my bag of play-things. I grabbed it by the leather handles and walked back across the room - back towards him. I walked round the pillar and revealed myself. He looked at me. I could see him, straining to try and see who I was. I can see that, deep down, he knows exactly who I am. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
“Do I know you?” he asked. “Come on, take the hood off. Let me see your face…”
I took the gag off and moved closer to him. I held the ball up to his mouth and pushed it in, despite his best efforts to spit it back out. A quick knee to his testicles ensured he behaved himself and - more importantly - opened his mouth wide enough for the ball to fit in easier. I secured it in place with the buckle. He tried to say something but his words were mumbled. I don’t mind. I don’t want to hear what he says. I don’t want to hear him try and talk his way out of this. I don’t want to hear anything but his screams. And his screams I want to hear all night long. I took a few steps away from him and unzipped my hood, at the back. I hesitated for a moment before I pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. His eyes went wide more or less immediately. Whether he knew who I was before I revealed my face or not - he definitely knows me now and that’s despite my gaunt appearance. And - within the next ten minutes or so - he’ll regret meeting me and he’ll regret employing me.
“I see from your face you remember me,” I said. “How have you been doing? Made any more films recently?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. People like you, you don’t stop. You just keep on going, keep pushing - anything to make money. And it doesn’t matter who you hurt.” He tried to say something but couldn’t get his mouth around the gag. I wasn’t disappointed. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t want him trying to get in my head. I don’t want him trying to put me off from what I want to do. “Well I have to be honest - I haven’t acted for a while. In fact, your film was one of the last films I made. I won’t lie, times are hard. Money is starting to dry up, you know?” He tried to say something again. Something else to ignore. “I was thinking about branching out, you know? I was thinking about doing what you do. I have a good eye.” He went to say something but - again - couldn’t get his words out. No loss, I’m sure. “I reckon I could make some good films. In fact…I have a camera with me now. Maybe - as we’re old friends - you’d like to help me?” I reached down into the large bag and pulled out a small camcorder. “I know it’s not as impressive as the ones your team use but I still think it will do the job.” I switched it on and opened the small view-finder screen. “Cool thing is, it has loads of different recording functions. You know, things like Night Vision for if you want to make a naughty film with someone during the night…I don’t know - maybe someone unsuspecting. You could just stash the camera out of sight, in the corner of the room and let it film away. Look!” I flipped the screen around with a quick twist and moved closer so he could take a look at what I was seeing. “Night vision. What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?” I flipped the screen back the other way around and stepped back again, aiming the camera at my future star.
He was straining against the restraints I had used to bind him to the pillar. He can strain all he wants but he’s going nowhere. Thick, heavy-duty chains - all looped around his bare legs and naked chest - secured at the back with heavier duty padlocks.
“I think I like the fact it films in High Definition best of all, though. Picks up all the little details. Little beads of sweat and,” I pointed the camera towards his flaccid cock. I couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s okay,” I told him, “it’s cold in here. I’m sure the viewers will understand when they see the tape. And I’m positive that - when we start - we’ll both start feeling a little hot under the collar.” I pressed the record button on the back of the camcorder and - keeping it aimed at his penis - I reached down with my other hand and gently fondled his balls.” I heard him sigh. I aimed the camera up to his face as I continued to grope him. He closed his eyes as though he was getting into it. Mind you, I didn’t need to see his face to know he was enjoying my (so far) gentle touch. Slowly his penis started to stiffen. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he believed this was the reason I had brought him here; I wanted to get him all to myself so I could give him a hand-job? Silly man.
Keeping the camera aimed at his face - to capture his soon-to-be-changing expression - I squeezed his testicles hard and couldn’t help but laugh when I noticed how wide his eyes went. For a split second, I thought they were going to pop right out of his head. I released the pressure and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. Little does he know - the relief he feels now - it’s to be short-lived. The fun will really start when I utilise the special toys I’ve brought with me. But first - before I can do anything fun - I need to set up the shot.
I reached down into my bag and fished out a small tripod, being extra careful not to accidentally reveal anything else I have in the bag. I don’t want him to see what’s coming. I don’t want him to see the toys. Not until I am ready to use them. I walked backwards a bit and put the tripod on the hard floor, ensuring the legs were splayed out properly to stop it from top
pling over. Once it was secure, I extended the neck to its full height. I put the camera on the top and attached it to the plate, with the little screw provided. A quick look in the view-finder showed that he’s perfectly framed. Not bad for a first attempt. Not bad at all.
I walked back to where he was bound and gently ran my hand against his testicles again, “I’m sorry, baby, did that hurt?” I whispered. He tried to say something - no doubt begging for his release. Wasted words. “Let me kiss it better,” I purred. I dropped to my knees and moved my mouth close enough for him to be able to feel my breath against his manhood. I looked up at his face. He was looking down at me. A hopeful look on his face. Did he really think I’d kiss it? Was he really that fucking stupid? With no warning, I slapped his penis hard and laughed at his pained groan. “You’re a maggot!” I shouted at him. I stood up tall again so we were more or less face to face. I looked him right in the eye, “Did you know? I never meant to end up in this industry. I wanted to be a real actress…”
A FRESH YOUNG FACE
The casting agent looked at my passport to ensure I was over the legal age for his film. I squirmed in the seat across from his desk - not because I had anything to hide but because the passport picture was less than flattering; it was taken when I was just sixteen years old. It was my nineteenth birthday yesterday and I think it’s fair to say, I grew into my looks. The man looked over at the picture and made a funny snort through his nose when he spotted the photograph. How to make a girl feel pretty. Without saying anything he stood up and walked across the room to where a photocopier was sitting. He lifted the lid and placed my passport down on the glass before closing the lid again. A quick press of the ‘copy’ button with his finger and two copies of my passport printed out into the paper tray. He lifted the lid and returned to the table where he handed me the passport back.
“Everything seems to be in order,” he said.
“Thank you,” I took the passport from him and slid it back into my handbag.
“My only concern is your age.”
“I’m old enough.”
He smiled. “Let me rephrase that: My only concern is your experience.”
I shifted nervously in my seat. I’d tried to be brave when I went into the office. Tried to work my nerves out of my system as I patiently sat in the waiting area next door. Thought I had managed it too but clearly I hadn’t.
“Do you have any experience on film?” he asked.
“I starred in a commercial when I was just six years old.”
“Probably not the experience we’re talking about.”
He was referring to my sexual experience. I’d had a couple of long term partners since I was seventeen but - to answer his question - I hadn’t any experience on film to speak of.
“So what do you like to do?” he asked.
“I play netball…”
“That’s great. What do you like to do sexually? What do you like to do when you’re in bed?”
I felt my face redden. I had known they’d be asking pointed questions when I agreed to come to the interview - having phoned the office after spotting the advert in the back of a casting paper ‘Adult Actresses Sought’ - but that didn’t make me any less nervous, or shy about it. He picked a pen up from his table and started scribbling something down on a notepad which rested next to a particularly grubby looking keyboard. I felt myself shift in the seat again.
“I like to give a man pleasure,” I said.
“Specifics?”
“Blow jobs?”
“Was that a question?”
“I like to give blow-jobs,” I said with an air of authority in my voice, having taken a deep breath. “I’ve been told I have a good technique.”
“Who told you that?”
“My boyfriend.”
The man made another note on the pad. I tried to see what he was writing, by craning my head towards the paper whilst he was looking down, but couldn’t make it out. I sat upright again when he looked back up from what he was doing.
“Ever had a man cum in your mouth?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Like it?”
“Yes.” I laughed. So much nervous energy.
“Spit or swallow?” he asked. I didn’t know how to answer. I had swallowed but, truth be told, it wasn’t really for me. If I was going to be honest, I wasn’t actually a fan of having it in my mouth - the end product that is. Everything up to that point was fine but the salty taste turned my stomach. “We don’t actually get a lot of call for girls swallowing to be fair. Most of the time the directors like to see it dribble down from the mouth and chin. Sometimes he’d rather the money shot was even aimed at the breasts. Still best to put as much information down as possible though.”
“Either,” I told him.
He made a note. “What’s your favourite position?”
I had a feeling he wasn’t looking for the answer ‘missionary’. Again, I felt my face redden. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was picturing me doing all of what we spoke about as though I were some dirty tramp out for a good time. I realised he needed an answer, “I like them all.” It seemed like the safest option.
“You must have a favourite?”
“Doggy.” It was the only other one I knew the proper technical name for. I think you also had cowgirl and reverse cowgirl but I felt they weren’t ‘dirty’ enough for what he was looking for. He nodded and made another note. “But,” I continued, “I do like them all.”
“Anal?” he asked, ignoring what I said. When I didn’t answer him immediately he continued, “Not everyone is looking for that but we need to ensure we put as much down on your profile as possible. The moment you start getting fussy about what you do, and won’t do, well that’s the moment people turn away from your profile. The more boxes ticked, the more calls received.”
“I’ve never tried it,” I said.
“Would you be willing?” he asked.
“I guess.”
“Then we’ll tick it.”
I guess, if it’s ticked and they ask, they’ll all be professional about it so they’d be able to start me off gentle.
“What’s your sexual orientation?”
“Bi-sexual.” I didn’t hesitate. I was heterosexual but the thought of going with another woman didn’t repulse me so - if required - I’d venture there. I believe they called it ‘gay for pay’. The man nodded and made another note.
“And what about D.P?” he looked me in the eye. I felt my face redden again and just stared back at him blankly; no idea what it meant. “Double penetration?” he asked.
“I’ve never tried it,” I told him, feeling foolish for not know what he meant in the first place.
“Which links us back to - would you be willing?” he asked.
I shrugged, “I guess.”
“Finally - how do you feel about bareback?”
I looked at him blankly.
“Sex without a condom.”
“I’d rather not.”
“The pay can be better,” he said. I felt as though he was pressurising me into saying ‘yes’ but this was one thing I was adamant on; I didn’t want to have unprotected sex. I didn’t do it in my private life and I wasn’t about to do it in film. Not for any amount of money.
I shook my head once more.
He smiled. “Okay, I think that’s that bit sorted…” he scribbled a final note.
“I also act,” I butted in. Acting was the sole reason I had moved to the city. I foolishly believed I’d find the work I was seeking by moving to the centre of the city, close to where the majority of the auditions seemed to be. I’d had some luck, with small roles, but nothing which offered steady work and - sometimes - I found myself working just for the ‘experience’. It wasn’t long before my cards were maxed out and I was getting final demands for various utilities (gas, water etc) and - soon after that - I found myself answering the seedier of the adverts. Anything to pay the bills.
“Okay, I’ll be sure to make
a note of it.” He set his pen to one side. “Right, we just need to take some photographs,” he stood up and pointed me towards the back of the office. A white drape was hanging in front of the dirty looking wall. In front of that - a camera was set up on a tripod. “If you’d just like to go and stand in front of the drape we can get started.”
“What? Now?” He nodded as I nervously stood up and made my way to the drape. I turned and faced the camera. Standard pose? One hand on my hip, slightly turned to the camera, smile on my face? I adopted the pose.
“Just stand face on, please. Hands by your side.”
I changed my position as per his request, “Do I smile?”
He clicked the camera’s button to take the shot after shaking his head. I felt exposed, standing here, without even a smile on my face. It didn’t feel natural. I tried my best to hide it. If he saw I wasn’t comfortable with this - he’d probably realise I’d be the same on set despite my best intentions not to be.
“Okay, that’s good.” He looked up at me, “If you could please remove your clothes, we’ll do a couple of naked shots.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t expected this. Stupid really. Just shows how naive I am to this business - this world even. I waited a moment to see if he was going to leave the room. He was fiddling with the camera, whilst waiting for me. Clearly he was going nowhere. I undid the belt around my waist and unbuttoned my jeans. I lowered them to my ankles and kicked them off until I was standing in front of the man in nothing but my top and white lacy panties. I pulled my top off and threw it onto the jeans. Black silky bra and white lacy panties. Class act.
“Okay. Ready.” I told him.
He looked up and pointed to the bra and knickers, “Need to come off too, please. They need to see your body. Scars and all.”
He watched as I removed both bra and panties. I blushed again. Don’t think I’ve ever blushed so much in all my life. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.
“You need to relax. Your nerves will show up on camera. If you look nervous - you won’t get the bookings. Directors will be looking for professionals they can work with. They don’t want someone they’ll have to babysit through the process.”
