Slipsliding into porn

I never meant to become a porn actress, but there’s no way out, now. Well there probably is, but it doesn’t seem likely that I could organise it. It’s not that I like the life - and having been typecast as the punky slut who gets more-or-less raped makes for a constant rollercoaster of emotions. But at the same time, TJ, arrogant manipulative bastard though he is, knows how to look after the ‘talent’, in his way, and somehow I can never see a way out, either…

So, this is me, Fiz (well the cartoon version of me - yes I am even a cartoon porn-star!)

I suppose I knew my so-called boyfriend, Lennon, was using me right from the start - but I didn’t really care - I had always had a so-fuckin’-wat?, self-destructive streak, as well as a strong dash of exhibitionism - why I became a punk in the first place, I suppose.

So when he introduced me - aged nineteen - to a friend of his he said was a glamour photographer with an interest in punk girls, he didn’t have to work too hard to convince me to go along to TJ’s studio-come-apartment - loft, I guess he called it.

And when I got there, done up in my most outrageous stuff, of course, it was not so hard for TJ to convince me, my boyfriend jeering at me that I was chicken, to take my top off and let him take pictures of my pierced nipples - nipples was all I had done in those days (well, nose, eyebrow and ears not counted).

TJ was very complimentary about my tits, about my way with the camera, and I played up to him a bit, making some teasing and slutty poses, and letting him tell me what to do, trying to make Lennon jealous.

Eventually, Lennon made a grab for me - you’re turning me on sumthin’ rotten you dirty bitch!

He started kissing and mauling me, and I was happy to join in. I didn’t really notice that TJ was still snapping, until Lennon started telling me he wanted a blow-job. I giggled, and looked ‘round, and saw the TJ, waving his camera around, quite close.

I had forgotten I was topless, and suddenly hugged myself, hiding my tits, half laughing - you dirty sod!

You’re gonna do it, ya dirty cunt - ‘course you are!

Lennon was a foul-mouthed slob - handsome and tough and actually quite cool with it (according to me, at least), but this shocked me a little, and I took a step back, looked from one to the other. It became obvious this had been the plan.

The fuckers! I was ready to march off; except that a second later, I realised I didn’t want the session to be over, that I wanted TJ to want to take pictures of me, and I suddenly got serious;

“You - you really want to get me, like, sucking Lennon off?”

There was a silence. He just looked at me, a little smile on his face - What do you think?

I stood there for a long time, it felt like, then;

“Well .. I .. I guess you’ll want me to do a strip, first. Is -”

I turned to Lennon, suddenly seeing more clearly still;

” - and .. you .. you’re  gonna fuck me aren’t you!?”

I knew I was offering myself up. I wanted to; I wanted them to keep being interested in me; this afternoon was the most time Lennon had ever really spent with me, and the studio was so much more comfortable and relaxing than his dirty squat of a flat, with his mates coming and going.

Lennon turned my chin with one hand, took TJ’s free hand with his other, and slowly put it onto my tit;

“We’re both gonna fuck ya, girly.”

He was grinning; speaking slowly, almost hypnotically.

I felt a shiver go right through me. I desperately wanted to be cool, but my heart was hammering. The feeling of TJ’s hand on my tit was incredible - not that he was doing anything special, it was just the idea of a stranger feeling me up in front of my boyfriend, with the prospect of them both fucking me - and it being on camera - it just hit me as something so fucking wild, I couldn’t pass it up. After all, flipping off convention was why I was a punk, wasn’t it? Then TJ started tugging on my nipple ring, twisting it - his little smile challenging. And I stood there and looked him in the eye until it hurt so much that I suddenly cried out and cringed. He laughed, and let go.

The tension in me got too much, and as I so often do, I covered my confusion with fake aggression, that at the same time, gave them what they wanted;

“Well, if I don’t come, you’re both gonna have to lick me out!”

Lennon and TJ smiled a little, but they kept it cool, and I knew I was in for a wild evening. My breath was coming in little gasps, they could see exactly what was going on with me, but they knew better than to call me, to break the spell. In fact, I was getting quite turned on, feeling them both looking at me in that complacent way a guy has when he knows he’s got a willing pussy who’s into it.

Lennon spoke first;

“Get your top on again - a little strip, like you said, then come over here and take care of my dick, then it’ll be TJ’s turn while I do your asshole - TJ can have your pussy.”

I felt weak - I had only let Lennon do my ass once, and I had told him never again, but here, in front of TJ, he was daring me to make a scene, to act as if I wasn’t a tough girl, telling me how TJ was going to have me - not asking. I bit my lip, and made myself smile at him, and then decided to be cheeky;

“See if you can last longer than 15 seconds this time, then!”

He grinned at me, refusing to get angry, but then he said;

“So now you’re gonna get spanked on camera as well. TJ’s gonna be happy.”

Now I was frightened. Lennon had spanked me a few times, and I had learned the hard way that there was no fighting him - he just got more and more outrageous. The first time he did it, most of the people in the squat got asked to take a turn swatting my naked ass.

Without really thinking about it, I was on my knees next to him, still topless, not really paying attention, but aware of TJ’s camera clicking softly away.

“Oh please baby, no! Jeez, it was just a stupid joke - please?”

He just laughed, and said;

“TJ’s waiting, girl.”

I didn’t dare test him any more, and did a mock flounce, as if I was angry, again, but really, I was just covering up my fear.

I looked around, found my little lacy top with the safety pins, and my leather, and checked my make-up. Somehow, knowing I was going to be fucked by TJ made me find it easier, and want to do better, than before. I listened better to his suggestions, and this time, instead of punk sneering and extreme posturing, I found myself aping the girls I mostly affected to despise - the pretty, sexy girls with their middle class boyfriends and their trophy wife heroes. Found myself trying to turn him on.

It was easy, really, just a different sort of pose to my punk pose, and, truth to tell, I liked it, liked the way TJ was responding as I teased the camera with the straps of the top, flashing my pierced nipples, acting the girly girl.

When I flashed my knickers at him, though, he stopped;

“They won’t do, Fiz.”

And I knew he was right. Punk girls just don’t do pretty knickers - big black old lady pants from the five’n’dime, that was me. He pointed me to a props cupboard, where there was a surprising assortment of lingerie - corsets, suspender belts, all sorts. I found a tiger print thong that looked a bit punky, but he took it off me, and handed me a black one, tiny, asymmetric, with fussy straps and diamanté; - ‘trust me’ was all he said, and I did - after all, he was the photographer, wasn’t he?

It took a while to get back in the groove, though, as I kept remembering how he had looked at me while I put the thong on. Although he was much cooler and calmer than Lennon, I had seen something in his eyes, a coldness, that made me frightened.

You can see the nervousness in my eyes, in the photos, the eagerness to please, and, as the sequence goes on, you can see me taking direction, my poses becoming ever more submissive, exposed, my eyes more needy, until I’m naked, but for my boots, the thong, and my dog collar, lying on my back, thighs open, hands behind my neck. I was surprised myself to see how good my tits looked - I had been flat-chested until relatively late, and then my boobs had just grown as if being pumped up, until they were noticeably large on my trim frame.

Then Lennon’s hands appear in a picture, fixing slinky chains to the D ring in my collar, and then looping them, one through each nipple ring, and then, snap - onto a short leather leash. A slight tug on the leash, and the pull on my nipples has me jumping up, half laughing, half protesting, hands grabbing at the chain to relieve the pressure.

Lennon pulled, harder - real pain, getting a short scream from me, frightened now - there is no fighting him when he gets like this.

“You ready to behave, Fiz?”

Me, smiling as hard as I can, acting as if it were all normal;

“Yeah, baby, aren’t I always?” - the fear almost louder in my voice than the words.

He gives me some toy sort of handcuffs - only they’re more than strong enough to hold me, I realise, after I put them on, when he lifts my wrists behind my head, and links them to the back of my dog collar. I’ve had that collar for over a year, and never really thought what it means, what it implies - now I knew.

He led me around the room, then, just to show that he could - me acting as if it’s all a great joke (shock the squares!), yelping in pain, but trying to pretend it’s a game we’re all playing; feeling more and more nervous, aware of my nakedness, of the way TJ is looking when his face isn’t behind the camera, of Lennon’s mood.

I make it clear that I am very eager to please when Lennon falls back onto the sofa and opens his flies, and I start licking his dick the way he likes, even though TJ has a camera right up close - really doing everything I can to make it good for Lennon, because he keeps tugging on the chain and jerking my tits, and it hurts.

But he just keeps on pulling, making me stay down on him longer and longer, until I start spluttering and coughing, and crying, because of the pain at my tits, and the fear - because the atmosphere in the room has become harder. I’m not Fiz any more - I’m a naked fuck toy, and they’re using me, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

Once, I splutter; “Please!” making it clear I am serious.

But I should have known better - all I get is a vicious backhand slap, and a hard tug on my nipples that has me desperately offering him my throat, taking him as deeply as I can, swallowing the retching, tears pouring from my eyes. All caught in a series of utterly devastating pictures. I look at them every now and then - the first time I was taken across the threshold between naughty girl and helpless slut.

At last, he decides it’s time to fuck my ass, and flips me ‘round, lifting me like a baby and settling me onto his rock hard cock, ignoring my moans and whimpers. and then TJ, talking to me between shots, telling me to open my legs, to relax to lean back, to close my eyes, casually touching me between the legs, telling me I don’t want to look ugly, do I? Touching me skilfully, gloriously, causing me to simultaneously gasp with pleasure and blush with shame.

The photos get more erotic, because I am listening to TJ; I’m displaying myself, and, I’m finding that I’m getting more and more aroused - partly from TJ’s occasional fingerings, partly from riding the shame, partly from realising that Lennon’s dick in my ass, painful as it is, is also stimulating. And, as well, because I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist, and the knowledge that a camera is recording this near rape is so fucking hot!

And then TJ is mounting another couple of cameras on tripods - not that I’m paying close attention, but I realise he’s setting up to start in on me, and I begin to protest;

“No! TJ, please! Please, no! Not - Oh god, no!”

Whereupon the scene switches to video - these are the new cameras - and we see TJ slap me, hard, backwards and forwards, wanting to hurt me; hear me cry hoarsely in misery, then yelp as he pulls the chain at my neck, hard, yanking my poor nipples up toward my chin - then he wraps it tightly round my neck, making me feel the threat to my breathing.

He speaks softly, calmly;

“From now on, pussy, you speak only when you’re spoke to - do you understand?”

My voice is dry, eager to show that I want to please, frightened;

“Yes, sorry! Yes!”

He slaps me again, not so hard this time, but with obvious effect - my eyes are getting rounder;

“And you call me Sir - always!”

“Yes .. yes, Sir.”

And all the time Lennon is ploughing into my poor ass, chuckling to himself.

TJ speaks again;

“Open up your legs now, pretty, smile - make sexy for the camera - you’re a pornstar now, you know!”

And he laughs, and on the video, poor abused Fiz smiles as best she can, and dutifully at first, and then, with increasing conviction, she begins to act like a pornstar.

I open my thighs, lift my feet up, and start to move with Lennon - at first mechanically, but then, with a jolt, I get into it again, just as TJ starts in on my pussy with his clever fingers again, and I start to writhe and moan, as much in shame and fear as pleasure - but they are all mixed up in a deadly cocktail, as his fingers slide deeper into my sex. When he asks me ‘do I want it’, I find myself doing what I think he wants me to, and meaning it;

“Please .. please .. fuck me .. Sir!”

And he does, plunging into me without much concern for my comfort, although I am shocked at how wet I am, and he slips deep into me at the first try.

The sensation of having two cocks thrusting into me is devastating - something instinctive in me rebels and I squeal loudly and struggle wildly for a few seconds, to no avail - my locked wrists, the chain around my neck, the tension at my nipples, the weight of TJ on top, all mean that I am at their mercy, and, terrible as the feeling of helplessness and degradation is within me, I dare not speak as I am frightened of them both, and I can only moan my despair, which serves only to make them laugh, and fuck into me with increased vigour.

The feeling of being powerless, coupled with the chains, sandwiched between and violated by these two strong men was overwhelming. My fragile self-image as a tough, streetwise girl was smashed, and I was a frightened child. I fought it for as long as I could, but couldn’t sustain my resistance.

And then, bizarrely, giving up felt good. I genuinely couldn’t fight any more even though this violation was so extreme - there was simply no corner left to hide in; all i could do was try to go with it.

I was moaning and crying softly and continuously then, and it took me by surprise when I heard the tenor of my own moaning change, as, all unexpected, my body began to respond to the powerful stimulus. It was as I had been waiting to be let off the leash of my mind - once it gave up, my body could admit its own response. The flip-side of being violated was the incredible whirlwind of sensation; the action of the two cocks, thrusting deeply into my belly, and I was suddenly awash with sexual heat, and gave out an urgent cry of pleasure.

Without planning to, I found myself thrusting purposefully against TJ’s cock, working myself up, shamelessly seeking pleasure, and when I felt Lennon spurting deep in my ass, I began to jerk like a rag doll, moaning; ‘fuck! fuck, fuck me oooh, fuck me!”, and then I was over the brink; away with the fairies - the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced, and I felt TJ jerking inside me and I knew was lost, and I didn’t care, squeaking and moaning and wrapping my legs around TJ as he emptied himself into me.

It was so blissful that I found myself meekly, happily, licking both their dicks clean, and smiling and giggling, even though my face was tearstained, as Lennon pulled at my tits with the chains while TJ filmed, my thighs splayed at his insistence, licking the cum he scooped out of my pussy off his fingers, feeling very dirty and slutty, but somehow relishing it as a similar feeling that being done up as a punkette on the high street had always given me.

They kept me naked for an hour or so, making me get drinks for them, making me call them both Sir - and I played up to it. I wondered if they’d fuck me again. Lennon didn’t usually have the stamina, but TJ looked as if he might be interested - and I was certainly interested in him.

Then, abruptly, Lennon’s mood changed, and he slapped me; ‘Get dressed, we’re goin’.

Needless to say, my relationship with Lennon was somewhat changed by this experience - he became even more casual with me than before, and more violent too. He also became less sexually possessive about me, seemingly keen to tell everyone the story of how I got double teamed by him and TJ, and kept encouraging me to kiss and fondle other guys, even to fuck them.

I did my best to resist these, but often ended up trying to turn some grapple into a joke, in the process having no option but to accept that some junked up semi stranger was groping my pussy in front of Lennon and his mates.

My view of Lennon had changed too - he had been my top alpha male - top dog in our little clique - handsome and funny and powerful. But TJ seemed to offer more - he moved in a wider circle, had more money, a wider range of interests. And he had fucked me to the best orgasm I had ever had.

I began to daydream about how it would be to be with TJ. Some of it girly, slushy stuff about living in his plush apartment, partying in expensive bars, having holidays abroad, all with him at my side. But some of it was more earthy - me being chained and fucked - him making me do things while he took pictures. I suddenly thought he might get me on the cover of Playboy!

And I began dressing differently - still punky, but more and more girly, with an eye to looking sexy. I went to a lingerie shop, and bought a little black thong - something like the one TJ had made me wear - I gave up on the biker boots, too - bought some very high heeled ankle boots instead - it took the last of my money, mostly.

But I didn’t really do anything much about it - until the day I happened to see TJ, sitting in a swanky bar - one I’d never been in - too smart for a punk like me. My heart did a little flip. He was sitting with another guy of a similarly confident and cool appearance, hispanic, cold eyes. They hadn’t noticed me. I turned and hurried back, out of sight - but I knew something had to happen; I couldn’t pass up this chance meeting - only .. only what?

As soon as I asked myself the question the answer was obvious - I didn’t have to think; I quickly checked myself in the mirror of a shop window, ran fingers through my hair, and on impulse ripped the front of my tee shirt down more, making even more of my cleavage than before. Then I turned back, took a deep breath and walked right into the bar, straight over to his table. His friend noticed me first, a quizzical look, then a more appreciative one. I gave him an inviting smile, complicit in his survey of my body, welcoming it, showing him I was grateful, then, suddenly shy as TJ looked up, said; “Hi”, in a softer, smaller voice than I normally used.

TJ didn’t immediately recognise me - I could see it in his eyes. I flushed, felt nervous, wished I had never come in, but heard myself saying;

“I .. I’m Lennon’s .. friend.”

I didn’t want to say girlfriend, I realised - I wanted him to think of me as available, not taken.

His face cleared;

“Yeah - Fip - no, Fiz. I remember.”

His grin was suddenly wolfish;

“Still feeling grateful?”

He turned to his companion;

“We double teamed Fiz for the first time - me and her bloke, on camera - she REALLY liked it - din’t ya?”

I went bright red, looked down, heart hammering - how could he SAY that? How could it be TRUE? But it was, wasn’t it, and the silence was lengthening, and I had to look up - had to see what was in his eyes - his friend’s eyes.

I raised my head again, making myself smile - such a weak, vulnerable little smile…

And I had to speak; had to brazen it out; found that I had to be truthful - didn’t want to lie to TJ, to disrespect him;

“Yes. Yes - I did .. like it.”

Making myself meet the stranger’s eyes, feeling my cheeks hot, but liking the way he looked at me, liking the feeling of being interesting, feeling the power that being a slut gave me - sex as the ultimate social draw.

“You’d probably like it again, then. Today, with him and me. Both of us fucking you at the same time. Wouldn’t you? We’ll film it, of course.”

My heart was instantly  hammering, blood was rushing in my ears, and I felt faint; god, but he was so arrogant, so reckless - even better than I had remembered him. It was glorious, but at the same time, what he had said was terrifying, and in front of his handsome friend, terribly humiliating.

I couldn’t speak, but my face must have been a picture, because they both laughed - relaxed, genuine laughter - they thought it was funny, but they also weren’t joking. And TJ’s friend clearly wasn’t shocked at the thought of taking a girl he had never met before off to be fucked for a porn shoot. In fact, he looked calmly confident about it.

God! They were really going to do it! They were going to take me away from here and fuck me like that again! My legs were all wobbly - I still hadn’t spoken. Somehow I had to close my eyes, biting my lip to stop myself making some sort of silly moan that was threatening to be the only sound I could make. I was trembling. Pathetic! was this all I could do?

“Don’ worry, girly, I don’t need an answer - we’ll do as we please with a slut like you - I think it’ll be cool to make it look like a full-on rape anyway - slap you around, pull a knife on you; slash at your clothes a little, tie you up, then really hammer into you, make you squeal; what do you say, Vin?”

Vin was grinning widely now, looking me directly in the eye.

“Sounds cool, bro”, his voice was low and gravelly, and it sent ripples down my spine. They weren’t joking. I knew I should just turn and leave - that this was too much for me - far too much - this wasn’t what I wanted!

But my legs wouldn’t work, and when Vin got up and pushed a chair behind me, I sort of collapsed into it. After a few grins, they called for more drinks, ordering me some sort of fruity sounding drink - I wasn’t really listening - and then started talking to each other, pretty much ignoring me - apparently continuing where they had left off when I arrived.

After a minute or two, I realised I was sitting like a sack of potatoes, and found it desperately necessary to straighten myself up, to sit well, to look pretty. The thought kept whirling round in my head; “I’m going to be raped; threatened with a knife. I’m going to be raped for a porn film.” I was breathless, scared. But it wouldn’t be rape, would it? Because I could just leave if I didn’t want it. Leave; right now.

Except that I didn’t.

Somehow I felt certain that I could not get away - however simple it seemed, it was certain to me that they had me, just as securely as if they had me handcuffed and chained up.

I was frightened, but I was also fascinated by TJ; after a few minutes I began to be more in control of myself, and began to think that I really needed to look as sexy as possible - if they had me captive, the only way to improve things was to try to have them pleased with me. I put even more effort into sitting prettily, shoulders back, leaning a little forward to emphasise my cleavage in the torn tee. When Vin looked at me, I tried to smile at him - so weak, so vulnerable, pathetically trying to curry favour, dropping my eyes from his when he stared at me, arrogant, mouth impassive, ignoring my smile.

Tears gathered at my eyes. I was frightened, very frightened. At the same time, I was aware that there was something exalted about the experience - something glorious - to sit there, showing myself in such a sexually obvious manner to these two powerful, arrogant, handsome men who had promised more or less to rape me, to know that it was very likely that I would end up having a wrenching, screaming orgasm and grovelling to them in gratitude, just like I had the last time - it was all an incredible feeling, and I was getting quite strung out, more and more twitchy; giggling in a pathetic way whenever either of them said anything remotely funny, blushing desperately when they looked at me.

When TJ reminded me of my drink, I gulped at it greedily, to realise that despite its sweet, fruity taste, it was a strong cocktail, which helped to calm me down a little.

They chatted a little more, and then TJ reached into his bag;

“Good job I carry these around with me..” he said - I flinched - what was he going to produce? But it was only papers.

“Model release forms”, he said.

If I’m going to make you into a porno star, pretty, sure as hell I’m gonna keep all the money. This form says you’re doing this for a flat fee of ..” he hummed a little; “Fifty dollars. No, wait! I’ve bought you a drink, haven’t I? So let’s just say, Consideration in kind as already received”.

He filled in the blank part of the form, grinning while Vin chuckled.

“Now all you have to do is to sign here, and date it, and then we’re all set to start making the film. I’ll call it ‘Double date-raped Fiz’.”

He looked at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. I was shaking, trying not to cry, but still forcing myself to sit well, to hold my shoulders back, acutely aware of them both watching me, knowing that a girl who did not leave now was doomed, and knowing that, sooner or later, I was going to sign that paper - just to get out of this terrible limbo - even if it led to a worse situation. The pressure was becoming intolerable - for they had gone back to their conversation;

“Take as long as you want, pussy, we ain’t going anywhere.”

It was appalling, unbearable, being under this strain; how could I sign that paper - signing was to agree to whatever they wanted to do to me, to accept that TJ would sell the film of me being fucked, abused, degraded, hurt - that any dirty old man with a few dollars would be able to see me used like that, and to see me helplessly coming, shouting my pleasure.

It kept coming back to that - to the knowledge that I was going to come, and come hard, come helplessly, come gloriously, and my breathing quickened, and my pulse throbbed, and my nipples were stiffening as I felt my pussy getting warm, and my mouth fell open and I bit my lip, flushing pink, as I leant forward and signed my name with a trembling hand, feeling tears come to my eyes at the same time as a sudden rush of heat came between my legs, and I felt a sudden, velvet wave of submission pass over me. It would be OK now, I thought (of course, it wasn’t).

I looked up to see TJ filming me signing with his ‘phone, and recoiled with a little gasp of shock, feeling yet another binding fall into place;.

He leaned over and grabbed the paper, grinning, checked it with a cursory, casual glance, and grinned some more;

“You’re ours to do what we want with now, cunt.”

I looked into his eyes, then, looking for any sign of tenderness underneath the crudeness, but he gave me nothing, only a leer, and at the same time as I flinched in hurt, I flet myself give way inside; letting myself be overborne by his harshness, his relentlessness, letting it strip me back to nothing; nothing but a stupid slutty punk girly, who could be used for sex at will, without bothering to ask for consent. He made it feel inevitable - like fate. After all, it was me who had come in here and announced myself, wasn’t it?

He fiddled with his phone a little, then pointed it at me again - he was filming already. As it had on the first encounter, the understanding that I was being filmed did something to me - made it absolutely necessary that I make every effort to look pretty - even though I knew, objectively, that all of this was abuse.

“So, pussy, you want it now?”

I felt Vin’s eyes on me too, and I knew I had to say it, had to offer myself up to them; my voice was almost steady as I heard it say; “Yes. Yes ..Please.”

In the film my tiny smile is heartbreaking - so weak, so much pleading, so little confidence; the would-be tough punk girl humbled.

I dropped my gaze  - I couldn’t bear their eyes any more. But I looked up again at his next remark;

“I think I remember asking you to address me correctly - isn’t that right?”

I was confused for a few seconds, then blushed again as I remember him telling me I had to call him ‘Sir’; how could I accept this in front of this stranger? But that was ridiculous - I had just accepted that this stranger was going to be fucking me in a short while (god, but I wanted him to touch me - now!);

“Yes, yes, Sir. That .. that’s right.”

“So a spanking for a naughty, disobedient little girl before she gets the double dicking she wants. That’s right, isn’t it? A spanking after we rough you up and rip your clothes off, so we can see your pretty tits jiggle when the spank lands. After that, on your hands and knees, you suck us both hard and deep until we’re ready to fuck you - OK?”

I was suddenly so turned on it wasn’t funny;

“Yes, yes, Sir”

He looked at me for a few seconds, then;

“Oh, one more thing - you still wearing ugly knickers?”

I giggled, blushed - stupid.

“Um, no! No! uh .. sir! I .. I bought some .. some pretty ones.”

“Show us. Now.”

I was wearing laddered black hold-up stockings, with a short punky kilt skirt. It was easy to hook one of my high heeled black leather ankle boots on one rung of the tall chair and flash my crotch for them. Easy in a practical way. Hard in a female way - I almost died of shame; my fingers were like wood, I felt cold all over. But once it was done, once they were both looking at my sex, only nominally protected by the tiny thong, I experienced a rush of renewed heat that turned my limbs to jelly.

I was being filmed flashing my knickers in a public bar, as a prelude to a porn filming which was going to be a pretend rape. And I was going along with it - co-operating - trying to look sexy!

It was self-fulfilling, that was the trouble - the more I thought about it, the more turned on I got, the more I wanted it, the easier it was for them to abuse me. I could see it all so clearly. But I didn’t care. No, that’s wrong - I did care - I cared greatly - I was devastated at the thought that this was going to happen to me - I just didn’t have the will-power to override my helpless desire.

“Very nice, pussy! Open your legs wider; thrust your hips for us - show us what a slut you are. Touch her Vin, see if she’s wet. Don’t you drop that skirt, pussy, or it’ll be painful for you ! You know I like to hurt pretty bitches. You had a black eye after last time, didn’t you?”

I was ready to die, sitting there in the cafe, skirt lifted, thighs spread, being revealed as a slut both visually and verbally, and with Vin’s fingers pressing increasingly intimately at my sex through the tiny gusset of the thong.

My face was one huge blush as Vin coolly pushed the thong aside and pushed two fingers into me - it must have been easy, I was so wet. I couldn’t restrain a soft gasp of astonishment, and, yes, pleasure, at the feeling - I felt, rather than saw heads turn toward us, but TJ kept on filming as Vin leaned in to kiss me, fingers still working themselves deeper into my sex. I was on fire, and, helpless, I leaned in to kiss him, opening my lips for this stranger who smelt of strong cigars, unable to forget TJ’s camera and acting as hard as I could, making myself open my thighs to give the camera better access to my public shame - mainly to keep myself busy - if I let myself think I’d break into strong hysterics.

Once we’re kissing - his fat tongue crudely pushing into my mouth, his free hand coming up to maul my breasts, my eyes close, involuntarily, and on the film you can see me giving my body to him, obscenely, without restraint, hungry, and you know, watching, that the girl is a nympho slut.

That’s right; me, Fiz. I’m a nympho slut. I long ago stopped trying to tell myself I’m not. Doesn’t mean I’m not shocked and humiliated by my own complicity in this stuff - yes, still. It just makes it easy for TJ to manipulate me into doing it again. And again.

For the camera to show how helplessly caught-up in it I get. He broke the kiss abruptly and sat back, grinning, leaving me gasping, exposed.

“Tell Vin you love him and you want him to fuck any way he likes. Don’t forget to call him Sir, pussy!”

This was, suddenly, hard.  But there was no way I could resist him, I knew. Again, it is incredible to me to watch this segment of the film; the pretty punkette, chest heaving (I remember being surprised at how obvious my tits were in the tight layers of ripped teeshirt), quivering, saying, in a small, girly voice;

“I .. I love you, sir , .. and .. and I..  I want you to .. to fuck me any way you like.”

My heart was thumping, hard, but I was caught, now, no space in my brain for anything but the moment, the next moment, the horrifying, delicious, all-encompassing fascination at the idea that they are really going to do this to me. They’re my rulers. They have captured me.

Looking back, I wail at how easy I made myself for them, how simply I was taken. I love that innocent, stupid little girl, feel sad for what I know is going to happen to her, but at the same time, if truth be told, I find the filmed evidence of her being taken down a turn-on, every time.

If TJ brings a stranger round who he has offered me to, and if I’m not in the mood, all he has to do is get this video up and make me watch it, tell the story, have the stranger come behind me and start in on me, pulling at my clothes, groping at me, until I submit, cave in, lean forward, split my thighs, offer myself..

It was time to go, then, and Vin grabbed my arm, gripped it tight, just below the shoulder (I had bruises for days), took me outside while TJ paid, made me kiss him some more while he put his hands on my bum under my skirt, making me almost hysterical; then TJ came out and it was into a taxi.

In the back of the car, me in the middle, I was being felt up, invasively groped, from both sides, first one, then the other insisting on kissing me, alternately complimenting my body and then harshly shaming me, not caring when they hurt me, made me squeal, pulling me onto one lap, sideways, so that the other could put a hand between my legs, then bending me forward, so my arse could be slapped - hard, then pulled up onto the other lap, facing whichever of them it was, rough, invasive kissing, legs split by theirs, pussy grinding into a stiff cock in tight jeans while the other one worked a finger into my ass, then pulled forcibly backward, shirt ripped open, tits spilling out, laughter, biting - playful and not so playful.

“Don’t worry driver - she’ll be wanting to kiss you too when we get there - feel her hot little pussy, too. She’s totally a dirty whore, this one.”

And all through it, I was inside my head, seeing it happen, hearing it all, aware of the feeling of it all, in awe of it all, that this was really happening; the shameful but glorious reaction of my body, of the humiliation of allowing myself to be treated so, of the fear at how vulnerable I was, at the strength of them, their willingness to use it on me.

When they told me to, I did lean in to the driver’s window, lifted my skirt above my arse, let him kiss me, tits still out, opened my legs for the guy’s hand, for him to finger my cunt. I was crying, a little, but no-one took any notice - not even me. He wasn’t a brute; his fingers were slim, delicate, clever; he made me moan out loud with them, to my deep horror and TJ and Vin’s laughter.

Vin suggested he should fuck me in the ass, right then, with the guy bringing me off, but that frightened the driver, and he left, not even waiting to be paid.

In the lift, Vin stood behind me and simply scooped me up, an arm under each thigh, bending me double so that my feet hit the ceiling, and I shrieked with laughter, almost hysterical, looking back at him, trying to guess what he was going to do with me, trapped by his strong arms, powerless, frightened and excited by my fear.

What he did was to spin me - turn me upside down, as easily as if I was a baby, then twist me around, until I was upside-down, my face in his crotch and his mouth on my pussy, tearing the silly panties away with his teeth. Then he pressed me into the corner of the steel walls, and began to dry hump my face, soft and powerful, while he nibbled at my pussy, alternating between teeth and tongue, intense pleasure as I bucked against him, then frightened, quivering as he let me know that his teeth were sharp, tugging at my labia, nipping at my clit hood.

I was still laughing, amazed, my whole body alive with vulnerability, with anticipation. I was theirs, and unable to think about anything other than what they were going to do to me, what I was going to let them do to me, how I was going to please them so that they didn’t hurt me too much, wondering if I was going to get to come - hoping, hoping so much that I would - already needing it, yearning for it, body arching for him,

I knew in the back of my mind that TJ was filming this, that strangers would get to see me being this wanton, see me letting myself be used, abused, manhandled, see how slutty my reaction was. It wasn’t that this didn’t appall me - just that I could think of nothing that could be done about any of it - other than to survive it. So I tried not to think about it.

When the lift slowed, TJ said;

“I want you to drag her to the door by her hair, man - hold her up so she can’t crawl, but low so she can’t walk - make her scramble. And you, pussy, if you squeal now, keep it quiet - the neighbour don’t like noise in the hallway.”

All Vin said was;

“Mean bastard! I like it.”

He made the most of it too - demonstrating his strength again, his ability to control and position me just as he wished, as I scrambled and squeaked, face down, breasts swinging wildly, scalp on fire, hands flapping uselessly, conscious that my skirt is still wrapped around my waist, the little thong pulled sideways. I’d be lying if I denied that being so casually thrown about wasn’t a turn on, despite the pain.

He pulled me up and kissed me again while TJ opened the door, pushing his fat tongue into my mouth, tasting of my pussy, which was now the plaything of his other hand, making me jerk, he was being so rough, two fingers jabbing into me; Christ it hurt - but I was also sopping wet down there, and when his thumb cught my clit I almost swooned with the wildness of the sensation.

“I want her face down in the middle of the floor. No, head facing that way - pull her round by the hair. Hah! You made her squeak that time alright!”

“Hands behind your back now, little Fizzicunt, and open your legs very fucking wide. Lift your bum up for us, display yourself for all the lovely viewers, show us your holes. The holes we’re going to be fucking into, just as soon as I get the cameras rolling. You grabbing some beers’ Vin? Cool. Yeah I think we should pour some vodka or something into the slut - see what you can find.”

TJ got busy with the shelves at the far end of the room, and some loud rock started blasting out. Vin disappeared into the kitchen.

On the floor, legs splayed, breasts pressed into the scratchy carpet which is not at all clean, hands clasped meekly behind me, mouth full of fluff, ignored, the intensity ebbs away, fast, and I begin to feel how sore, dirty, frightened, humiliated I am, and to feel very sorry for myself indeed.

This is not a glamorous porn shoot, this is not - not any more - not even a little bit sexy; this is not me earning money, even. If I stay here, it’s not going to get better, either.

When Vin clumped back into the room in his big biker boots and pulled my head up by the hair, waving the neck of a vodka bottle in my face, I found from somewhere a little access to some punk energy, and without planning anything, I twisted away, sudden, escaping him, jumped up, backing away to the wall, clasping one arm across my breasts, tugging my skirt down with the other hand.

“Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck you both. I’m not doing this. Fuck off. I’m .. I’m fucking gone, you rotten bastards.. “

I made a lunge to the right, aiming to get around Vin and make a run for the door. He didn’t move, but simply shoved at the big ratty old sofa so that it slid across to block my way, and I faltered, back against the wall, trapped, trembling, feeling my anger and energy leaking out of me, my little bubble of resistance popped.

Vin grinned, cold and hard, and TJ laughed out loud;

“Fucking excellent - all in the script, darlin’; excellent. This is just what we said in the bar - you remember, don’t you? You’re going to resist a bit now, say ‘No! No, please don’t! This is rape! Stop it!’ in your cute girly tryin’a be tough little voice, and we’re gonna laugh in your face and slap you around a bit - or maybe a lot, if we feel like it - before we get into you, and then we’re going to do you real hard - split you open, little Fiz, and have you coming like a fucking express train and saying ‘Thank you thank you kind sirs, for such a lovely rape’.”

I couldn’t breathe, panicking. Because, of course, that was exactly what he had said in the bar, just before I signed the contract. And .. and I wasn’t going to be able to escape. I had signed the fucking contract - what had I been thinking? Vin was so big, so strong, so fast, standing there grinning at me, his dick making a huge bulge in his jeans that drew my eyes in fascination, wondering at the inevitability that what was in there was going to be in me, in me everywhere, probably; and a little flare of resistance came again and I tried to clamber over the sofa.

Vin caught my flailing arm before I got anywhere at all, really, and dragged me back; and I did yell, just as TJ wanted me to;

“Stop, let go, leave me, don’t .. don’t oh don’t..”

Helplessness overtaking me even as I yelled, he backhanded me hard across the face and I fell back onto the carpet, only to be yanked up again, the held arm now yanked up high behind my back - so high that I jumped up into the air to relieve the pressure at my shoulder, only to bitterly regret this as gravity slammed me down again, wrenching as if it was going to jump from its socket.

“No, no nono, no NO!” - no other word would come.

”“Punch her in the belly, man. Hard..”

That was Vin, holding me in front of TJ, who had a hand-held camera at waist height, pointing at my face, my naked breasts jouncing as I struggled - and he did just that, knocking the breath from me, and the last of my resistance, too.

Limp, Vin allowed me to sink to my knees. I wasn’t crying, wasn’t raging - I was weirdly calm, even as I struggled to get my breath back; the realisation upon me, very clear and emotionless - they were going to do this; there was no way out; I had even signed a contract after being told that this was what they were going to do - this was it. This was what I had signed up for.

And a strange feeling came over me, then, that I have experienced many times now, without once being able to accept it - the strong feeling that my crotch - the hole between my legs, that whole zone of my body, was no longer mine. That it was theirs, that my whole body was theirs, really, that it was important that I let them see that I understood this - very important.

Some sort of dissociation - I read something about that, once, perhaps - but that’s how it was, and when Vin reached out and took a handful of my hair and pulled me forwards, I undid the buttons at his crotch and leaned in to nuzzle his (frankly gorgeous) cock, as if I was his lover, as if I was worshipping it, and took him softly between my lips, making the moment, the movement, as long and slow and continuous as possible, until he was at the back of my mouth and my throat bucked and still I carried on, doing all I could to control myself until at last his strong hand forced me and I could let my body convulse, knowing that I was in his control now - that all I had to do was to stay open for him.

They fucked me then, both slow and hard, one at a time, then two in me at once, swapping ends, and I gave myself, offered them my breasts, opened my mouth, opened my thighs. I gave myself to them, helplessly, completely; I just had no fight left in me, and the fucking was really getting to me.

I rode them when they wanted me to, surging against them, let myself be hammered, jerking about like a rag doll, too, when they wanted that, breasts jouncing wildly, Vin holding my wrists, clamped at the small of my back, hurting me, letting the hurt be part of it, crying out desperately when he decided he wanted to do my ass, only my sticky pussy juices for lube, TJ filling my throat.

I did, I did come for them, helplessly rutting myself against Vin’s hand as his dick filled my ass so astonishingly, so impossibly, TJ standing with the camera, held my own thighs open for him - obscenely wide, as I’d been told to do, my legs twitching and jerking as I orgasmed, shrieking short, harsh cries, hating myself, the hatred feeding the unbearable intensity of the moment, letting my body go wild for the camera; if I’m to be debased and degraded like this, shown to be such a helpless slut that I’ll come for these two assholes even in such circumstances - if I’m going to do this, then I’m going to do it to the fucking max…

The rest of the evening became bizarrely domestic. We were all fucked out, loose, almost gentle with each other. TJ ran me a bath, and I soaked for an hour, crying a little, soothing my many pains, but with no trace of anger in me - even though I looked for it.

Vin had cooked, some delicious curry thing, and I was ravenous, eating two platefuls, making them laugh, wondering where it was all going. I was naked but for a big tee shirt of TJ’s, careless of the fact that it rode up so easily, that my breasts were clearly visible as they swayed, accepting their hands on me - they were gentle now but not at all restrained, pulling me onto their laps occasionally, kissing me lazily.

We watched a film, smoked some grass, drank a little, and then they fucked me again; no cameras, no consent asked for either, just TJ lifting the tee-shirt off me, pulling his dick out and lifting my thigh - but I opened myself for him, helped him inside me, kissed him, let him bite my nipples - not hard, but hard enough to make me moan.

My whole body was tingling, hot with pain points from earlier, but it all flowed into the feeling as TJ flipped me over, took my hands in that clamp position and pushed himself, slow but relentless, into my sore, sore ass.

I was crying as he came, soft, not fighting, not angry, pleased to have pleased him, and I was sweetly, weakly, helpfully willing immediately to take Vin’s stiffening cock into my mouth, into my throat, working him for the longest time until he began to push himself so deeply into me that my whole being became nothing, nothing except the knowledge that I wanted to hold him, let him take his pleasure in me, watching the spasms, the wracking surges of my chest as if they were in a film, interesting, beautiful almost in their wildness, but a sideshow, really, in comparison with this jerking, hot invader that is the meaning of my existence, the only other point of awareness the feeling of TJ’s two fingers in my pussy. I became a creature comprised of occupied holes, and I let that be enough for me for some while.

Afterwards, they cleaned me up with hot towels, laughing at me, with me, kissed my tears away - for I was softly weeping as the events of the day replayed themselves in my stoned head, weeping for poor silly Fiz, whose life was over, whose new life had begun.

Vin got the sofa, TJ the bed, and I? I was collared, cuffed and chained, placed on the rug at the side of the bed, naked.

I didn’t complain. I’ve been there ever since.

I’m Fiz, the nympho punkette pornstar. All sorts gets done to me. I hate it, and I love it.

You can do me too, any way you like, if you have enough money. TJ has rates for private sessions as well as ones for shoots. You’ll find me pathetically eager to please, no matter what you want to do to me, or me to do to you. Being appreciated for giving sexual service is my most urgent need, and I will work very hard for you, and smile, or cry, or come, or accept cruelty or humiliation, or beg, just the way you like it. Because that’s the only way I know how to like it, any more.