Sexual Politics Ch. 02

We went inside the building, which seemed to be a disused bar, possibly crossed with a motel or community center. Once inside, he led me down the hall and into a large open barroom where a film crew had set up, with tables shoved together and a computer on a desk with editing software running on it.

There were quite a few people, but I fairly soon realised that the person who appeared to be the one that everyone else was taking orders from was a young woman with short black hair cut in a floppy fringe that half-covered her narrow, handsome face. She was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, and her arms were tattooed. Around her neck she had a director's viewfinder on a lanyard, and she had a preoccupied expression.

The others were a burly cameraman, who clearly deferred to her; a sound recordist, various crew people; another young woman in a t-shirt and a baseball cap, pretty in a rather anonymous way, with a mop of brown hair and a small butterfly tattoo on her right arm, holding a clipboard and a mobile phone which she was frequently making calls on; and another young woman in a print dress and sandals, with long, straight dark hair, large round glasses and a rather beautiful, noble face with a long, elegant nose. She had a hippyish, vegan-coffee-shop air about her; strangely incongruous on the set of a porn movie, but she had a pleasant, interested smile on her face.

The young woman with the clipboard looked up at us and whispered something to the young woman in black, who turned and looked at us sharply, then came over, a thin smile on her face.

'So,' she said to the Big Guy, 'you've brought your starlet.'

'All ready for the time of his life,' the Big Guy said genially. The young woman nodded and looked me up and down.

'Hi,' she said. 'I'm Stevie. I'm the director. I don't know what sort of arrangement you have with Papa Bear, here, but I want to make one thing clear. Nobody appears in any of my films without signing a consent form, okay? I don't need the heat of anyone saying they were coerced into anything. If you want to play risk with him, that's up to you, I won't judge. But if you're going to be in a film I want your full consent. It's the rules.'

I looked at the Big Guy, who was twinkling.

'What would happen if I refuse to sign?' I said.

'Oh, you and me'll find another way to have fun,' he said, 'or at least, I will. I just thought you'd appreciate raisin' the stakes. But that means putting on your big boy pants and complying with what the lady says.'

I thought about it. If I was going to get humiliated further, I wanted the stakes to be higher. I couldn't imagine the Big Guy going much further than having outdoors sex with me, or handing me around some other bunch of his friends. The idea of being in a porn film was more thrilling.

'I'll sign the forms,' I said.

'Cool,' said Stevie, with the casual indifference of someone for whom it was absolutely nothing either way as to whether I was in her film or not. 'Elaine, get the form.'

The young woman with the clipboard came over and took a sheet of paper off it and handed it to me, with a pen. I scanned it: I certified that I was over 18 and agreed to have my likeness published, etc. Elaine, who I guessed was an assistant director of some sort, handed me her clipboard so I could lean on it to sign.

'All right,' Stevie said, 'so the Big Guy here told me that you have kind of an appetite for humiliation.'

'You could say so,' I admitted.

'We thought we'd recreate a classic porn Christina Carter did. She plays this stuffy society lady who's having people around for an event, and she gives all this shit to her maid for messing it up the last time, so the maid ties Christina to a table and strips her to her underwear, then teases her by pouring oil and stuff over her, then uses ice and a vibrator on her pussy, and then... aw, look, let's just watch it, and you can see for yourself.'

Stevie grinned at me. I swallowed.

We gathered around a computer and watched a video of what had clearly been caught on videotape years earlier: the porn star tied to a table in her white bra and thong, moaning and protesting as another actor teased her pussy with ice and eggs and a vibrator, and then, to the porn star's vocal protests, snipped her underwear off and systematically covered the star's nude body with pies and gunge, leaving just the face--and then, finally, covered that, too, in a thick coating of piecrust and gunge and batter until the porn star was squirming, blinded, still making muffled protests, nude, trashed and humiliated.

Stevie eyed the spectacle of the voluptuous porn star, feebly squirming under the weight of the gunge piled upon her nude body. The young woman with the glasses was standing next to her; she nodded to me, still smiling pleasantly. Her dress hung in such a way that her arms were invisible; I found myself wondering if it was some sort of South Asian garb.

'So fucking hot,' Stevie breathed, staring at the video, then turned to me and smiled brightly.

I knew that video. That was one of my fetishes, getting messy. It's why I had been so embarrassed to be thrown in the mud: I got off on being stripped and covered in gunge and blinded and used.

'So, that's what we thought you'd do,' she said.

'You want me to do that,' I said.

'I'd say you're the man for the job,' the Big Guy drawled.

'We thought we'd make you up like her,' Stevie said, 'short skirt, blouse, padded bra, wig. Really be the society lady. And then when you're on the table we get the reveal that you're a guy.'

'So you have to pay for that,' the Big Guy said.

'You mean...?'

'There would be sexual contact,' Elaine said briskly. 'You'll be anally penetrated while on the table.'

I blushed scarlet at this young woman telling me so matter-of-factly what was going to happen to me later. The young woman with the glasses was watching us, still with that ever-present smile on her face, as if she found this whole thing ever so fascinating.

'Yeah, you'll need to be ass-fucked,' Stevie said. 'Our audience will expect that. Just stripping a guy and gunging him is no good. You're okay with that?'

'If that's the scene,' I said, feeling helpless. I reflected that last night had been different; people had filmed me on their phones being passed around and gang-fucked, so they could have put those videos online, but this was me being the star of a fully-fledged cross-dressing porn video.

I wondered how many of the people on the set had ever been in their own films. Stevie certainly had the body for a particular kind of performer, being slender and small-breasted, but she was all business as the director. None of the other guys looked like the kind of guy you wanted to see on screen. There were no other actors hanging around, as far as I could see.

'I'll get paid?' I said, eyeing the Big Guy.

'You'll get paid,' Stevie said. 'We are not a charity.'

'Fine,' I said, resigned to my fate.

'Great,' Stevie said. 'Elaine, take him to makeup.'

***

Makeup was a room off the main bar, occupied by three more young women and a young man. No sooner was I in the room than Elaine put down her clipboard, stood in front of me, opened my shirt and indicated for me to take it off, then unceremoniously and without expression, she grabbed my shorts and yanked them down, stripping me nude.

I gasped with shock, but the makeup crew seemed not surprised at all. They examined my naked body.

'Legs and crotch and junk will need shaving,' said one.

'I think a shave up top would be good, too,' said another.

'How long,' said Elaine.

'Forty minutes, tops.'

'Great. Call me when he's ready for costume.' And with that, she left.

And so I stood in the makeup room and submitted, as they lathered my naked body and shaved it carefully. There was a sink where I could wash off the remains of the lather. I grew used to being treated like an anonymous piece of meat by the makeup crew--who in fact were friendly enough, just made it clear that this was another routine day for them and that I was no-one special.

When I was at last hairless enough, they made up my face to look like an eighties society woman. Then they let me wash off, and gave me a small hand towel to attempt to dry myself. I was still damp when they hustled me out of the makeup room and, even though I was still naked, into another room full of clothing racks.

The costume woman was in her mid-thirties and jovial. She gave me a thong, tights and a black leather skirt, then a bra which she expertly padded, and a white blouse. Finally, a brown wig was placed on my head and adjusted.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a slightly more angular version of a woman porn star playing a porn version of a businesswoman.

I had to admit it: I would have fucked me.

But then Elaine came back and ushered out of the wardrobe department, through the main barroom and outside to the back of the building, where the morning sun was shining down and I was to meet my fate.

Stevie introduced me to my fellow actor, Pete, a young guy about my age or slightly younger, wearing a white shirt and black pants in an attempt to look like a waiter. Pete was very tanned and he had a friendly smile, and he was tall and good-looking, and looked like he was jacked under those clothes. I was glad. If I was going to get sexually humiliated by someone for entertainment purposes, it helped that it was a guy who was so easy on the eye.

Elaine handed me my script and I did my best to learn my lines in the few remaining minutes. I felt like it was a fool's errand because I'd probably have a chance to consult the script between shots, but I wanted to pretend to be professional, to take my mind off the fact that I was about to stripped and toyed with and masturbated and covered in gunge, and then fucked up my all-too-receptive arse, without really being given a chance to embrace the whole idea and accept my new career as a porn performer.

Pete came up next to me. He, too, was examining the script.

'I've not got as many lines as you,' he said with a grin.

'No,' I said, 'but you've got the action.'

'That I do. This your first time?'

'Making a movie? Uh, yeah.'

'Don't worry. Just say your lines, and then when you're on the table, just lie there and take it. You won't have to act, I promise.'

'That's what I'm scared of,' I admitted.

'Just try not to cum,' he said. 'It can be hard sometimes.'

At that moment, the thought of me having an orgasm while naked and spread-eagled on a table before the camera and being liberally covered in gunge was about the unsexiest and the most embarrassing thing I could imagine. But I just nodded.

'Okay,' Stevie said, 'let's go.'

***

The first part was easy enough, seeing as I'd seen Christina Carter do it only an hour earlier.

I stood there in my drag and rather stagily told Pete what a useless dick he was, and how people were coming to see me at my party, and how I was to be the centre of attention, got it? He just nodded solemnly. I stuck out my chest in front, and stuck out my ass behind, and did my best to play the busty sexpot.

All the while, I couldn't help thinking that Christina Carter had actually done this before me, allowed herself to be tied to a table and stripped and masturbated and gunged, purely for entertainment purposes; had she found it a turn-on? Had her indignation been fake, or was she genuinely humiliated?

There was no time to wonder, because then it was show time. I took off my blouse and skirt and got up on the table, and Elaine lashed me to it by my wrists and ankles.

My padded bra wouldn't fool anyone, and sure enough, the first thing Pete did once the camera was rolling was walk up to me and snip the bra at the front, and then pull my wig off.

'My my,' he said. 'Someone's been playing dress up.'

'How dare you!' I fumed. 'Those are my clothes!'

'And you're not even trans,' he said. 'It's super disrespectful.'

He went over to the table and came back with a tray of eggs. I was aware that the only particle of clothing I had left was my thong, which barely contained my genitals.

He broke an egg on my forehead while I spluttered and protested, then broke more on my sternum and hips. He massaged the runny egg inside my thong, stroking my cock. I told him to stop.

Then he got the ice.

The next ten minutes were pure torture, as far as I was concerned, as he ran the ice cubes down into my crotch, making me gasp and convulse. The cold on my genitals was followed by his warm hand stroking my cock, and bringing the feeling back into them. As far as I was concerned, it was just a steady reduction of me to a whimpering, craven slave on the table.

I hardly noticed when he snipped the fabric of my thong and I became fully naked.

He jerked me off, and ran first a finger and then two fingers into my ass, while I squirmed and moaned in protest. Now it was actually happening, there was something oddly arousing about being naked and manipulated while under the scrutiny of the film crew: Stevie, watching intently, the other guys operating equipment, Elaine standing behind the camera with the same impassive expression on her youthful, freckled face; the young woman with the glasses, whose presence was a complete mystery, observing intently, still with that faint smile.

They were all watching me, naked, squirming and helpless, and being masturbated and finger-fucked by another guy.

'Oh god,' I gasped, 'you'll pay for this. You can't do this to me.'

'I think I can,' Pete said, and sauntered over to the table. He returned with a pie.

'What are you going to do with that,' I said with dread.

'You want to be the centre of attention,' he said, 'you will be.'

And he inverted it and dumped it on my crotch.

The cool cream and sponge and goo oozed between the tops of my thighs. He massaged it in. The feel of the gunge on my cock was working, as it always did: I was getting hard.

'This is scandalous,' I whimpered. 'You can't treat me like this.'

'Oh,' he said, 'you want more treats?'

He went to the table and came back with more pies, one of which he dumped on top of the first one, the other of which went on my chest.

Over the next few minutes he continued to dump the pies on my naked torso, rubbing them into my cock while I squirmed and ordered him to stop.

But the truth was that I was now where the female protagonists of many of my favourite pornos had been: naked and messy and on a table, helpless to stop myself from being gunged.

'You can't do this,' I gasped as he placed another one on my neck. My whole torso was now covered. He went to the pie table, and came back with two.

The camera had come around for a close-up of my face and chest.

'I think you need to be quiet for a bit,' he said.

'What,' I said, 'no...'

And he dumped each pie on either side of my face.

Everything went dark, and I made muffled moans of protest. I felt my wrists being untied and then my ankles, and then they were tied again, my wrists behind my back and my ankles together, and I was put on my side.

I lay there, naked, blinded and moaning, as Pete dumped more gunge on my body. Now I was really acting out some of my favourite porn scenes. Pete poured some kind of thick gunge over my face and then down my body, and he made sure to massage it into my crotch and pull on my cock. I squirmed in his hands. I could only imagine what I looked like: a vaguely humanoid blob of thick goo on a table.

He cleared a space for me to breathe.

'Please, stop,' I mumbled thickly.

'Oh no,' I dimly heard him say. 'We're going on. You haven't been fully paid back yet.'

And then he rolled me onto my belly.

My back and shoulders and ass were mostly fairly clean, because all the gunge had been dumped on my front, but I felt the table shake as he got up on it, and then I felt his cock pushing between my bare buttocks.

I raised my head to protest, but Pete pushed my face down in the thick pool of gunk on the table and then he slid his cock into my loosened, slippery asshole. I made a muffled squeal, but I could do nothing as he began to fuck my arse.

This was the only point where I began to get worried, because the mound of gunge under my face was so deep and thick that when my face was buried in it, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't raise my face high enough to clear it on my own.

But Pete was a considerate adult film performer, and he kept regularly pulling my face out of the gunge so I could heave in breaths, and then shoving it back in again so that I was humiliated once more.

I squirmed and slithered on the table as his cock filled my ass, and I yielded to it. There was nothing else to do. It was all being recorded, anyway. I moaned and whimpered as he pumped his cock between my buttocks and deep inside me, and then as he grew faster I sensed what was coming. Sure enough, I dimly heard him gasping and then he pulled out of me and shoved my face deep in the gunge before cumming over my ass and the base of my spine.

After that, he paused, then got off me and turned me on one side again, so I could breathe more easily. I lay there, blinded and naked and fucked, whimpering softly, knowing that the camera was taking this all in.

Then, after a long moment in which I guessed that the camera was getting a good all-round view of me, I heard Stevie cry 'Cut!'

I lay there, patiently, then fingers wiped the gunge from my eyes and I blinked and saw Pete, smiling at me.

'Hey, man,' he said. 'Good job. Well done.'

I nodded weakly and let him uncuff me, then I saw up and wiped more gunge off myself.

'That was great,' Stevie called. 'That's a wrap on the snooty mistress shoot. Okay, shower for our actors, then we're gonna go straight into the bi guy and the straight couple.'

There's more? I thought. I was beyond being embarrassed at my own nakedness, at this point. I undid the cuffs on my ankles and slid off the table, and Elaine led me to a bathroom where I spent a pleasant ten minutes showering off the thick gunge that had covered my body.

When I came out, there was a costume waiting for me, anonymous men's clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. I put it on and went back into the bar area.

It was immediately apparent that all was not well. Elaine was making worried phone calls and Stevie had a preoccupied frown.

The young woman with glasses was standing by herself. She was no longer smiling, exactly, but had a rather preoccupied look, as if she felt she ought to be mirroring the mood of everyone else.

I walked up and stood a few feet away from her. She turned her head and smiled at me affably. She looked rather like a very attractive owl in human form.

'Hello,' she said, 'I'm Tzivia.' She held out her hand and I shook it and introduced myself.

'Do you work with the film crew?' I asked.

'Oh no,' she said, 'I'm an anthropologist. I'm doing a study of the adult movie industry.'

'Ah.'

'They tell me you're not a professional actor,' she said.

'That's right,' I said.

'So... how did you get into this?' she said with that warm smile.

'I sort of got involved with that guy,' I said, indicating the Big Guy, who was leaning nonchalantly against a wall. 'I accepted a challenge, and now he's making me go through with it.'

'A challenge that involves being in a messy porno?' Tzivia said.

'I'm a man of my word,' I said, blushing at the memory of lying on the table, coated in gunge, moaning as Pete fucked my arse before the eyes of this immaculate young woman.

'Do you mind if I ask you about your sexuality?' she said.

'Not at all,' I said. 'I'm bi. Identify as queer.'

'Okay,' she said, and I could see her mentally ticking a box on a form in her head.

'Am I a part of your study, now?' I said.

'I won't quote you without your permission,' she said.