Going Around to Cum Around Pt. 06

Ms. Williams resumed control. "The idea, girls, is that we make a movie that bears some vague resemblance to what really happened, so that reviewers can't dismissed it as just pornography—even though at some level that's what it will be. And for the same reason, the bank can't be associated officially with such a film, right? In reality, however, the bank will use Russell & Sullivan, Inc., as the contractors and "casting agents" for the movie. That includes renting the former pony mistress and Cindy's ex-boyfriend from their owner, Donald Trevelyan. Donald is no fool—he's asking for $20,000 to borrow each of them, which we'll have to put up front along with paying for the crew and McAdoo's expenses. So, it's only fair that you girls get some compensation as well. We CAN NOT guarantee how much we'll credit to each of you, but assuming that the film is a success, it should go a long way towards redeeming the debts for Elena and Cindy. Unfortunately, Clarice is stuck with a fixed sentence thanks to the douchebag judge, but that should be sufficient motivation for her to ream him thoroughly on camera, right? We'll still give her a fair settlement when her sentence is up, so she gets some compensation."

We all agreed; Clarice couldn't wait to extract revenge from her tormentor, of course, and I had stars in my eyes at the thought of finally sodomizing Mason in the same way he had used me when we had lived together. After almost five years of playing a submissive under Texas' slavery laws, I wouldn't mind topping a male authority figure like the judge, either.

Ms. Williams paused, then sighed. "The downside, of course, is that you'll all be immortalized as porn stars, but that can't be helped. That's a particular issue for Clarice, of course—we don't want your Dad to have a heart attack. If you want, we'll give you all fake screen names for the film. I've already talked to the director, Bob McAdoo, and the only time he intends to focus on faces is when Angela, Mason, and Roy Bean each gets shafted. There will have to be fleeting facial glimpses of the rest of you, but he intends to focus on other parts of your bodies, if you know what I mean. They also have some kind of special makeup that conceals brands, tattoos, and distinguishing marks, except when we want to show the judge's circle star brand after he gets convicted. With any luck, therefore, you should go unrecognized in the film. That's the best deal I can do for you."

*****

That's roughly what happened. Of course, plot is rarely a strong point in X-rated movies, and in any event I only witnessed certain scenes, because Clarice, Elena, and I had to provide our usual services for the bank in between our budding "acting careers." Let me just describe a few of the highlights that I witnessed and/or appeared in.

First, as I said, was the scene in which Angela the ex-pony mistress, whose only interest in males had been to torture and peg them, played an undercover cop, posing as a soccer mom who had several shoplifting convictions which the judge used to threaten her with enslavement. (Lily told Angela that, if she failed to cooperate in this one long scene, she would be turned over to a chain-gang of male convicts who had been wearing chastity cages for the past three years. There's a new form of motivation for method actors!) The ex-dominatrix made a convincing and terrified actress who, at the judge's demand, dutifully did a strip-tease and then swallowed his dick. Her distaste was unfeigned, of course, because she had no use for heterosexual sex. The judge, whose pecker hadn't been permitted to function normally in years, blew his load in less than two minutes, all of which was caught in a close-up of her-face-to-his-groin action, including when he pulled out to paint her face. In the blink of an eye, the supposed-detective, now butt naked, had her wrists and ankles secured to the same spreader bar, holding her face into the carpet of the "judge's office" with her butt high in the air while first the "admin assistant," played by my ex-boyfriend, fucked her silly, and then his boss, the judge, reamed her well-padded and shapely rear, all while her genuine cries of outrage escaped around a bit gag (how appropriate—she finally got gagged the same way as her ponies.)

As the director had promised, there were loving scenes of her face (contorted by pain, humiliation, and rage) as well as prolonged sequences of the judge's and Mason's cocks plundering her nether regions, all while the two men spanked her butt scarlet. I absolutely loved Angela's cum-uppance (pun intended), and the opportunity to screw the woman who had tormented and pegged him brought a smile of genuine pleasure to Mason's face. The judge also seemed overjoyed to exercise his long-neglected prick. I felt no sympathy for Angela. Still, the sight of Bean, clad only in judicial robes, ramming that prodigious probe into her butt made me understand why Lily, Beth, and Clarice couldn't wait to have the judge on the receiving end of the largest strap-ons they could find!

The next scene was my personal favorite, as Elena and I got to torment a chained Mason, supposedly exercising our right to "victim atonement"—that is, taking retribution on him for tormenting us. Elena, who had already acted as his victim for the film, couldn't resist discharging a shock baton onto his cock! I enjoyed even more making him first suck my strap-on (his face was beet red) and then accept that shaft, which was considerably larger than his actual endowment, up his butt. (In the film, we always used lots of lube and moved slowly when first penetrating someone's crinkled portal, unlike what our victims had done when THEY were in charge.)

Here was the guy who had regularly insisted that I suck him off and allow him to ass-fuck me when we lived together, then fucked me figuratively by leaving me in the lurch about the mortgage. If that weren't bad enough, he had tried to purchase me at auction so he could use the same two orifices with me as his fulltime slut! Sorry, I didn't feel any remorse about reaming him over and over.

I got some nice friction from the back of the strap-on rubbing my clit, but the main sensation was psychological rather than physical. For the first time I understood why men were so fixated on fucking cunts and assholes—the sensation of penetrating, occupying, and dominating another human being, especially when that human was helpless and exposed, was an INCREDIBLE power trip. I even made a minor error so that the perfectionist director, Bob McAdoo, would have us re-do the entire scene! Once we were finished, I got Lily to make me a copy of all the out-takes from that scene; it was my most treasured possession for a few months, until I realized that Mason was still dominating my life and mind indirectly, so I stopped watching those scenes over and over and over. Just once a month will suffice.

Of course, the signature scene of the entire film was the victim atonement by the douchebag judge. I willingly yielded the starring role to Clarice, whom the judge had actually raped in his chambers while she was still technically a free woman, in return for giving her a limited sentence that still included being branded with the circle star of a criminal slave. Again, scenes of his suffering and enraged face and even of his involuntary ejaculation as the dildo milked his prostrate figured prominently in the film.

In another scene, I wore the slave wrangler uniform that Lily had me save all those years ago. She finally told me that she had imagined having me appear in a Russell & Sullivan commercial to rent the judge out. Now, however, the camera recorded me in living color while I treated the judge AND Mason far more roughly than I had ever acted towards a real slave.

If I haven't been clear—acting in that film helped restore a little balance in my mind; after almost five years of being the fuckee I could finally be the fucker. Beth told me that Dr. Nikki had said I needed an opportunity to be the sexual aggressor, although even she couldn't have foreseen the starring role I had just enacted. No, it didn't suddenly change my attitudes about sex and men; in my book, it was still all about humans exploiting other humans in the most shameful of ways. Pegging those two against their will made me just as much of a bastard as all the men who had plowed me. At least, though, I was no longer solely the victim in those exchanges.

Lily and Beth were also determined to get their pound of flesh—or should I say, pounding the flesh? After Clarice and I had filmed the main sequence with the judge (me with a strap-on in his mouth and her at his back door), Lily and Beth each got the chance to peg him. Even Ms. Williams, who had apparently serviced the judge herself as a young bank official, strapped one on over her jeans and was filmed (without showing her face) plundering the asshole judge's asshole. My three owners were obviously Caucasian rather than Black, and (except for the boss) their hair wasn't blonde like mine, so there was no way to pretend they were part of the same scene. So, Bob McAdoo simply added these and similar scenes of retribution as background for the credits at the end of the film. By some accounts, very few women wanted to leave the theater during those credits!

Many of you have probably viewed these scenes—Here Cums the Judge has become a classic that sold not only thousands of tickets in art theaters but also innumerable views on cable and internet. Now you know who the unknown "extras" were in the film, and why they acted with such "authenticity."

You still may wonder why the director agreed to allow these scenes. The truth is that Beth began spending so much time on the set, even taking time off from work, that it was obvious to all of us that she had a crush on Bob McAdoo. He asked her out, and they found they had a lot in common such as politics, recreation interests, and so on. Equally important was the fact that Bob saw nothing wrong with Beth's lifestyle. He was naturally dominant, so he enjoyed her submission in the bedroom to the point where they were returning late from the "lunch break" several times each week. Moreover, unlike most guys, Bob was not disturbed by the idea that his lover might occasionally engage in sex, not just with a third party, but sometimes in groups bordering on orgies. Of course, he was concerned about her safety as well as about disease control, but as a veteran of Hollywood parties and director of X-rated scenes he could hardly object to such activities. Like a lot of guys, he actually enjoyed the idea of Beth and Lily playing together, and eventually they let him watch.

*****

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. Once we finished filming this sex epic, all of us went back to our previous booty duties. I hadn't forgotten about the film, but I accepted the explanation that such things took time for post-production and marketing before finally going public.

For me, my previous duties meant debt counselling at the bank punctuated by periodic oral sex for officials and frantic weekends being used by rich investors and high-performing employees. On the whole, I preferred the employees, most of whom didn't have the sense of entitlement that the rich and powerful often assume. Some of my co-workers, as I've said before, were rather sweet to me, so that sex was more pleasure than duty. I still hated periodically serving as the naked slave walking on the end of a leash to satisfy judicial and agricultural officials, especially when I knew that I was helping to expedite the bank's slavery dealings. I had long since learned to shut off my brain and just do it, pretending an enthusiasm solely to get them to cum more quickly.

One Thursday morning, soon after I have finished my fifth year of servitude, things took a surprising (to me—you've probably guessed by now) turn. Having used me to suck off Mr. Shively for what seemed like the five hundredth time, Lily led me back to elevator but then, when we reached the first floor, walked me into a ladies' room instead of out the front door. She removed my cuffs, handed me a bag full of my bank clothing, and then—astonishingly—also removed my collar, something that happened only rarely for medical examinations.

"Get dressed, Mizz Jackson—we have a lunch meeting with the boss." That distracted me for a moment from the collar issue, because, as I've mentioned before, I usually had to strip off my clothes before meeting Ms. Williams, not dress up. I used a ladies' stall to scramble into my clothes, after which Lily handed me a comb and a bottle of mouthwash, the latter a welcome chance to wash out the taste of Shively's semen.

"In case you haven't figured it out, Sweetie, that's the last time you have to blow Shively, or anyone else." Right there in the restroom, she handed me the certificate of manumission!

"Umm, Mistress," I began, still unwilling to believe it.

"Not mistress, Lily—don't you get it?" She replied.

"Well, yeah," I replied. "But, the last time I looked, I still owed you about $37,000 on my debt. I mean, I know you guys freed Beth a little ahead of schedule, but how can you afford to take that much of a loss?"

"We didn't," She smirked. "Yesterday, we sold the initial distribution rights to Here Cums the Judge for seven figures. Given your starring role, we decided that it was only fair to give you $50,000 out of that initial payment, and you MIGHT—no guarantee, of course, depends on residuals—get a little more in the future. So, instead of you owing us $37,000, we owe YOU $13,000. Here's a printout of your bank statement." I had almost forgotten that, five years earlier, I had authorized her to take care of the checking account with $390, all the money I still possessed when I surrendered myself for indenture. Now, Lily showed me a piece of paper that said I had a balance of $13,437.65. She'd also written down the username and password she'd used, which she urged me to change that day so she would no longer have access to my funds.

Driving to the Ms. Williams' club for lunch, she filled me in on a few details. As the shadow backer of the whole deal, the bank president got a nice share of the profits, but she also ensured that Russell & Sullivan were suddenly very wealthy (In fact, they figured out how to spread their share of the proceeds over several years to reduce the tax implications). Elena's portion of the proceeds meant that she would be released at the earliest date permitted in her indenture, some seven months hence. As promised, Clarice would get $50,000 held in escrow for her until her slavery expired in another two years. To keep Donald Trevelyan happy, Ms. Williams had also doubled the rent he had originally charged for "lending" Mason and Angela to the film, just to keep him happy. I can't say I thought that either of them, or the judge, deserved much more than a nice meal of slave kibble, but I guess I'm still a little vindictive. (Ya think?)

Seeing I was overwhelmed by my change in circumstances, Lily told me that I didn't have to make any major decisions that day—for the foreseeable future, I could still live with them and continue my work in debt counselling at the bank, only this time get paid the modest salary ($10,000 more than a slave wrangler made) such a job ordinarily carried.

At her club, Ms. Williams praised my loyal service—now there's an interesting double-entendre—and repeated Lily's promise that I could keep my job with pay and room in her home. "I also understand," she said very quietly, "that you have no interest in entertaining at my parties or elsewhere. I would never insist you do that, so don't worry. If you change your mind, let Beth now, because I don't know how much longer she'll be willing to remain my assistant now that's she's a rich woman." I think they all knew that hell would freeze before I would serve as either a sex hostess or a slave merchant.

After lunch, Lily took me back to the bank just long enough to sign a new contract and get a different ID photo (one that did NOT show my boobs, nor identify me as "contractor-furnished equipment.") Then, Beth took off from work early to help me renew my driver's license and find a used car. I spent about $6,000 buying it, plus another $2,000 to fix tires and other issues, going back the next day to pick it up. Monday, I returned to work as an independent human being, although I was always respectful and friendly when I met poor Elena in the hall. I noticed that she started under-studying with Beth to work in the front office.

To nobody's surprise but Beth's, Bob proposed marriage to her a month later. Being very careful people, each of them signed a pre-nup agreement exempting the other's property and future earnings—then Beth also signed a five-year personal services contract to make herself his Free-In-Name-Only slave one day a week, so that she didn't accidentally enslave herself for real by calling him Master when she pretended to be his slave girl. Not going to catch ME doing either thing, but at least they were being cautious and having fun.

At the wedding, since Beth was an orphan, Ms. Williams walked her down the aisle. Lily was the maid of honor (who seemed very taken with Bob's best man and agent, Harry), and Ginny Harlow and I were bridesmaids. It was the first time I'd dressed up in almost a decade, and the reception was fun, especially when Beth threw the bouquet right into Lily's arms.

Donald Trevelyan came to the wedding; I had to introduce myself since he didn't recognize me wearing clothes. He told me that he still owned Mason and Angela, and he enjoyed taking the ex-pony mistress out to pull his sulky around his country home, encouraging her with taps of the whip on her firm butt. Whenever she misbehaved, Donald let Mason give her a three-way while she was bound over a mating frame in her stall.

As for the judge? His cock is back in permanent lock-down. Beth, as usual, found one more way to make money on him. When Here Cums the Judge premiered at the Magnolia Theatre in Dallas, Russell & Sullivan rented him to the theater as an usher, wearing nothing but his collar, chastity belt, and unzipped black robe. I understand he was very popular for selfies the first few nights that the film was shown, but then he had to sweep the popcorn and candy-wrappers out of the aisles.

*****

All of that was 15 months ago. I've been taking night courses to finish a degree and become a CPA, so that I can help debtors more effectively. Last month, I finally moved out of Ms. Williams' home, although Lily (who keeps dating Harry) and the newly-freed Elena still live there. I took a tiny efficiency apartment that I can afford with my new salary, working for a non-profit on debt counselling. After I turned in my notice at the bank, my colleague Hank, who had been so sweet when he won a weekend with me, asked me out to lunch. I had to tell him that I still wasn't ready to have any relationships with men, however kind they might be.

This weekend is Beth's shower for the twins she's expecting. It'll be fun to see the entire gang, including Nikki, whom I need to thank again. Other than that, though, I can't yet face the idea of dating again, let alone any kind of sex partner other than my vibrator. And I only need that about once a month to relieve stress—the rest of the time, I feel as if I've had enough sex to last ten lifetimes.

Right now, I've got to stop writing—I'm late to make a pitch to new clients for debt counselling. My story of what happens when you fall into debt servitude and get sold at auction usually has them shredding their credit cards in five minutes flat . . . except that there are always two or three women in the crowd who get starry-eyed about becoming slave sluts. I REALLY worry about those girls—along with the incurable spenders, they'll keep the HCI Market and XYZ Bank in business forever, damn it.