The Sindustry: Fallen Angel

People think that pornstars are raking in the money (especially the outspoken guys who take a weird sort of pride in declaring online, under their real names, that they never pay for porn). The fact is that the money from videos is harder and harder to come by, hence why more sex workers turn to OnlyFans and other camming and customs sites.

However, there is an even older form of making money, even if it goes under new names. The common word now is sugar daddy, and I had one.

Being a porn star does get you access to better sugar daddies. Some like attaching themselves to another famous person and to grow their brand alongside them. This I didn't want to do, because it would mean I, Gwen Morgan, needed another man to make a name for myself (this excludes my producing partner, director, and occasional fuck-buddy David, but that's different, it was organic).

Some, like my occasional co-star Cherry Red, will take the Middle East oil sheik money. They fly you in, you spend a few weeks there, and leave with more money than you'll make in five-years on videos. It's risky, though, and the wrong client can get you in trouble. The State Department doesn't look too kindly on those kinds of arrangements.

But for myself, I wanted the middle ground in terms of pay and exposure. I wanted the type of man of means who pays for my company, but doesn't feel the need to show me off.

(Okay, so technically he did bring his best friend over one night and shared me, but there is a difference between a three-way with your close friends, and bragging on social media that you're nailing porn star Gwen Morgan.)

I got into the arrangement because, while we were churning out some good and popular videos, we weren't making too much money yet. It's still paycheck to paycheck, and doing the stripping tours was difficult while trying to also run a studio. So I spoke to a middleman who did these sort of arrangements so I could stock up on money to live off of while David and Annette worked on scripts and edits.

Luckily, my Sugar Daddy wasn't too demanding of time. He liked working long hours, and he liked to have companionship when he got home. Most of the time he just wanted me to bounce ideas off of, or to unload some of the stress of the day. There was sex, of course, and I sometimes had to remind him that was part of the arrangement when he got so into his head about his projects.

But what was great was that it left me with a lot of free time to myself. I sometimes did stuff related to the porn industry, but as I hung around his mansion I started to take advantage of the pool, hot tub, exercise room, and home theater.

I usually didn't think much about what was happening with the neighbors. This arrangement was quiet, and the less the neighbors and I knew about each other, the better.

But there was one that caught my attention.

His name was Howard, though he didn't look like Howard. His parents should have given him a strong name. He was late 30s, and bald, but in a sexy way. I first noticed him jogging in the neighborhood, though I didn't think much of it.

I noticed again when I kept seeing drones go up in the neighborhood. I wondered if this was a paparazzi thing. This was not a celebrity heavy neighborhood, (then again a few might be in the area because of the reputation for not being a celebrity neighborhood). I figured out which house they were coming from and walked to find the owner. Low and behold, it was Howard.

I looked him up and found out he was actually a well known inventor, at least in the tech circles. He'd been at Google, Lockhead Martin, and Apple, among others. He was always described as shy, but brilliant, and a bit of a loner. He had made billions from stock and patents, and had moved to Los Angeles to create new drones for the entertainment and sports industries.

One other time I was jogging by and I happened to notice his garage door open. He had a home gym in there, and was lifting weights. He was ripped. I knew he was fit from the jogging, but the overly large shirt hid the definition. He must only work and workout.

To quote Jane Austen, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Though replace wife with sugar baby or fuck buddy. Hell, I might not even need the money, though I won't complain if he offered it.

I had one problem: How to make my approach. In my research I found a video from his website showing the capabilities of his drones, including some shots over the neighborhood. I even saw my Sugar Daddy's house, with the pool.

I got an idea.

I laid out by the pool in my skimpiest bikini. It was also might brightest, to assure it would be seen even from great heights. I waited about an hour until I heard the familiar buzzing of the drone as it took off.

I quickly rolled over on my front and undid my top. Using a compact mirror, I scanned the sky for the drone. When it came over, I saw it pause a bit. No doubt he was checking out my ass. I had him in my trap, now it was time to strike.

I rolled over, baring my breasts. I looked straight at the drone, then waved. Immediately it shook in the air, as if the drone itself knew it had been caught. I playfully blew it a kiss. It flew off. Then I knew it was only a matter of time.

A short time later the doorbell rang. I casually approached, wearing a robe. I waited for the second ring before answering. I opened the door to find Howard.

"Hello," I said cheerily.

"Hello. We haven't met, but I'm Howard. I live in the neighborhood," he said.

"The inventor. The one with the prototype drones," I said.

He cleared his throat nervously.

"Yes. I notice you, ugh, notice one of my drones today," he said.

"I noticed that it noticed me noticing it," I said.

"Well, I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy. I know this is you and your, uh, partner's home," he said.

"Sugar daddy," I said.

"Huh?"

"He's my sugar daddy. It's an arrangement. And not an exclusive one," I said.

"Well, I didn't want you to think I was peeping or anything," Howard said.

"I wouldn't want that. Not unless you were paying on my cam site," I said.

"Uh..."

He was socially awkward, but infatuated. Were I a lesser woman, I could have blackmailed him, or given him blue balls and made him pay for my company. But I don't want to do that. Nor for a genius, anyway. Plenty of people try to exploit porn stars for free sex with nothing to offer.

I was going to get something from Howard. But I certainly could offer him something.

"Could those drones be used for live streaming?" I asked.

"Yes. Right now it's just to stream to a production camp or broadcast studio, not the Internet," he said,

"But that could be done?"

"Sure, though you'd need a decent setup. This is UltraHD stuff, not the los-res webcams," Howard said.

"My webcams are not low-res," I said.

"Oh, of course not, but these are super high-res. You can see the pores up close from a hundred yards," Howard said.

"How did mine look?" I asked.

"Uh..."

"Not a man of many words? Fine, show me," I said.

Before he could figure out what to say, I was walking upstairs.

"Hold on a second while I change."

Fifteen minutes later we were in his home office. There were several large monitors and he re-ran the footage he was recording that morning. I smiled as I watched my plan play out against Howard. I also loved how good my ass looked.

"It's so cute how this shakes when you get caught," I said.

"Well, I was nervous," Howard said.

"This is great, though," I said, "I'd love to be able to shoot a video with it. It's like God's checking me out from the heavens."

"Any God would smile on that creation," Howard said.

"Look at you, Mr. Introvert, you can be smooth," I said.

He blushed, but smiled. I looked at the footage again and got an idea.

"How about this idea: You shoot the video for me," I said.

"I'm not really a director," Howard said, "I invent. I consult directors and find out what they want and need."

"I direct, and I need you to get me a video," I said, putting some edge to my voice in case he had a dominatrix kink.

"Okay. But what do I get?" he asked.

There it was. I was now getting more than I ever expected, and I wanted to make sure Howard did as well.

"Anything you want," I told him, "Anything you've seen me do in porn, you can have. Anything I haven't, ask. I might say yes. I probably will."

His eyes lit up.

"But you gotta satisfy me with this video," I said.

"What's the video idea?" he asked.

Fallen Angel was the first porn video I had shot without David for a while, and it is one of my best. It's technically a solo video, but the smooth handling and advanced stabilizers of Howard's drone make it feel like a true POV from an angel.

The video starts with a scene at dawn, with the camera floating in the misty morning, slowly panning around. A biblical quote comes on the screen.

"Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work."

Then a new line.

"But on the eighth day, the first angel fell."

When that line fades the camera slowly descends. It rides gracefully down, toward the pool. I emerge from the back of the house just as it reaches the top of the roof. I am wearing a tasteful white full swimsuit and a sheer robe and look almost angelic walking out.

Almost.

Because I look up and spot the camera, and I beckon to it. The camera pauses and looks at me curiously. Undeterred, I beckon it more, as I walk backward around the pool. The camera follows now, entranced. I begin to dance for it. The drone, ever so slowly, begins to dance with me.

I do a long, slow, elegant striptease. First the robe comes off, and after a round of teasing, so does the swimming top. I play with my breasts gently, caressing them and the outside of my nipples, like a newly made woman exploring just what God has wrought. I do the same with my arms, my face, my sides.

I work my swim bottoms down. I am only wearing a G-string, one with a fig leaf to cover my vagina. Little else is left to the imagination. I caress my loins, my thighs, my calves, and my feet, Then I turn around and expose and flex my shoulders, my back, and down to my ass. I clench and unclench my glutes, then rub my hands down them.

I take some time in the pool, swimming and using the newly found body. After a few minutes of that, I walk the steps out of the pool and let the water drip off of me. I take my time to lovingly wipe my body dry.

I move over to the table, where there is a bowl of fresh fruit. I pick up an apple and take a bite. With that bite my expression changes from innocent and naive. My eyes open, as if for the first time. I look down and realize my nakedness. I look back to the drone.

But I am no Eve, because unlike her, I feel no shame. I beckon the camera to come closer, and pull it in for a kiss.

Fade to black.

When it reopens, it's no longer morning, but midday. Instead of the all-white outfit and innocence, my outfit is a mix of earth tones and floral accents. I wear a crown of flowers.

Instead of naive innocence and body exploration, I am more knowledgeable and free. I do the strip tease, but instead of exploration, it's pushing my limits. I climb a tree in the yard, I run around, I leap. I hang upside down, do cartwheels and flips. The world and my body are full of possibilities, and I celebrate the freedom to find them.

But I am still wearing the fig leaf g-string, but as I run my hands down my body I "accidentally" slip underneath and touch my vagina. Suddenly my eyes are newly opened again at this new sensation.

I pull my g-string down, take one last look at the fig leaf, and toss it aside. I move to a pool chair and begin masturbating. The camera slowly begins to turn away, as if embarrassed, but I reach forward and bring it back to me. I give it a look as if to beg it to stay with me, to not leave me alone as I figure out this new sensation. It complies, and watches and learns along with me.

After I cum, I pull the camera in for a sensuous, loving kiss.

Fade to black.

The next scene opens in the evening.

I wear snakeskin boots, white daisy dukes, a black-and white polka dot bikini top. My lipstick is dark, as is my eyeliner. There is no more innocence or naivety in my expression. Nor in my movements. I am someone who knows my body, and with that confidence, I want to share it with my observing Angel.

My moves are now sexy and stripper-like. I pose, I straddle, I tease. I dance in and out of the shadows cast by the setting sun. Every move and look is to seduce the camera, to maintain its attention. I play with my nipples, I give my ass some smacks. I spread my pussy and ass cheeks. I want the Angel to see it all, to want it all.

I want to give it all.

At the end of the segment there is no simple kiss. I grab another piece of fruit, this time and orange. I strip it of its peel, split it open, licking the inside. I peel off the segments and eat them, letting the juice run down my chin.

I reach for an apple, then take a bite. I then offer it to the camera. It shakes its head in resistance. I shoot it a look. I raise my finger, as if to say "Just one bite."

The camera relents, it moves in for a bite.

Fade to black.

Fade up and it's night. The camera's eye opens, and it looks lost. He looks around the yard, unsure of where to go. In the side yard it spots me. I am wearing a black-and-red wig, dark gothic makeup, a leather dominatrix outfit and am shackled and chained to a rack. I strain against the restraints.

Grimacing, resisting.

The camera nervously looks about, unsure of what to do. It looks away for a split second, and when it turns back I have, Houdini-like, escaped my bondage and approach. The camera backs away in fear. With one of my restraints I lasso the camera. It turns to fly away, but suddenly it's tugged by a chain connecting it to my hand. I drag it along into the yard and get ready to make a show. I make a show of binding it to the arm of a chair, and then begin my stripping routine.

Unlike its fluid following and motions before, the camera is limited in its motion. It can only look at me, or up and down to the side. But when it does look away I move it back in short order.

My performance involves stripping, spanking myself, some hot wax play from a candle, a butt plug with a skull and bones shape at the end, and the use of a large, black dildo to ride and fellate. The camera is made to watch as the demonic display of debauchery happens.

Satiated with my lustful display, I approach the camera. I give a slight smile, which slowly widens to display a pair of vampire fangs. The camera shakes in nervousness as I move in. I move off to the side as if to bite its neck. When I pull back the fangs have been bloodied. I give a wicked grin and stand back.

I have taken the chain off the chair and pull the camera along a bit, then turn it to face me. I reach forward to lower it down to crotch level, then pull the chain so the Angel observer goes face-first toward my vagina. The downfall is complete as the camera zooms and dollies in.

Fade to black.

I'd love to tell you about the sex that Howard and I had, but he asked that I not. He is private about his own life, and would never appear on camera. That is fine, because there is no way he could have successfully directed that video without some wild desires he wished to fulfill. And while not a literal story, I made sure the video in broad strokes was the autobiography of his newly awakened sex life.