Turned Into Porn

[HumiliationInc]

The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.



“My project exists at the intersection of Baudrillard's thinking and the voyeuristic moment of the lived experience. It goes beyond a mere thought experiment to challenge the viewer about what is truly real and embrace the ambiguity of the 'scene' or the situation.”

Luis Fernando Gomez Rodriquez was relaxed, in control, and enjoyed holding court in the cool shade at the street cafe. His hair appeared slightly unkempt, but that was just a stylish choice, belied by his well-pressed light blue suit, worn casually without a tie and a shirt, the top two buttons open. His beard and mustache were perfectly groomed to give the three-day stubble look fashionable among those with the time and money to appear as if they didn't care about style. But it was his wide-rimmed sunglasses with brown tint that acted as the biggest tell that he was a creative.

“You see, I was inspired by Debord's The Society of the Spectacle. It's the biggest influence on my current work. That's why camera craft is so important. It must capture every aspect of action without being an encumbrance toward what is playing out in the scene. Each scene, each captured moment, is a meta-conservation between the people within the action and the audience. That's why we use the highest quality cameras that can be fit into the smallest packages. Our camera operators are truly artists, knowing how to hide the lens to memorialize moments at multiple angles and give our people in editing infinite amounts of possibilities.”

The interviewer, sitting on the side of the table, leaned in and spoke low enough only Luis Fernando could hear. “Some would say that what you're doing is unethical at the least. Many of the women who feature in your films never asked to be part of a pornographic movie.”

Luis Fernando winced at the word “pornographic.” Still, if not just a little pretentious, the filmmaker was affable. He wasn't going to let the interviewer's forgivable ignorance derail the conversation. And he certainly wouldn't let the question dilute his message. Besides, the Colombian filmmaker had become the toast of the adult film industry when he won an AVN earlier that year. This interview was just one in a string he had done in the past two months, and he would probably forget by that evening what small-time mag or Roku special interest channel it was for anyways.

“I prefer the term 'erotica' over 'pornography,'” Luis Fernando corrected. He made sure to keep control of the narrative. “Pornography is dead. My approach came about when I realized audiences craved professional quality with amateur realism. So why not use the most realistic amateurs available?”

Starting to become enamored, the interviewer still didn't seem completely convinced. “How do you deal with the non-consensual aspect?”

“All part of the aesthetic.” Luis Fernando stopped to take a sip of his latte. “Much erotica is animated by the perception of forced situations. It's hackneyed for me to say, but sex is power. And humans like to see that power play out on the screen. But they can sense when that power dynamic is scripted or canned. We create a real power dynamic.”

“So nothing is scripted?” The interviewer was intrigued.

“Nothing at all. It creates challenges during filming, but our philosophy is always 'If something happens, use it.' We don't refer to our men as 'actors'. They aren't in actuality. They are almost as much amateurs as the women. We prefer to refer to them as 'those who create the scene'. But they often get a little excited. We had this one woman, a redhead who thought she was there to do a marketing pitch for a client of her company. She was so attractive that the one poor guy just exploded all over her, even before we could get her clothes off. We didn't cut it from post-production. It became part of the narrative—an incidental bukkake that set the scene into motion, have you. When that happened and she was still reeling, we just had another one of our guys come in and begin the scene. Once our first gentleman got through the refractory period, we brought him in for a nice three-way situation.”

The interviewer sat back, completely impressed. “So where are you filming next?”

Luis Fernando took a sip of his drink and thought for a moment. “Oh that is a secret. We can't reveal where we'll be as any women reading this article from that area may have their wits about them.” The filmmaker smiled, impressed with his own coyness. “And that would spoil the authenticity of the scene.”

*********

"Let's avoid doing flat pack furniture for now," Jessica suggested as she held open the black steel door of the discount furniture store for Leanne to enter. "This way, when we have our own houses in the future, we'll already have good quality furniture and be ahead of the curve."

The showroom floor was lit in that vaguely yellow lighting that seems to permeate every discount furniture store. Rows of drawers, dressers, and beds lined up on one side of the room—living room chairs and kitchen tables, the other side, albeit in a less methodologically arranged way. The entire store lacked pretension, but its signals were loud and clear to any veteran who could convincingly give the 10,000 yard stare after being in the trenches of budget shopping: “You will be able to find deals here!”

Jessica and Leanne were roommates. Now entering young adulthood after college, they had met in sophomore biology and, despite being in different majors, remained great friends throughout their time in university, navigating the fast and slow rhythm of fall-to-spring-to summer, fall-to-spring-to-summer. Luck would have it, they were both offered entry-level jobs in the same city. It just made sense to move in together while starting out in their respective careers. But neither came to the city with a suitable bed. Roughing it on air mattresses for the first three weeks had quickly gotten old—and hazardous to back health—leading the women to do some furniture shopping on an otherwise uneventful Saturday afternoon.

Jessica scanned the room. “Over there.” She pointed to a row of beds along the wall and made a beeline over, Leanne following in tow. Looking up and down the row, Jessica pushed her lips to the side, slightly dejected. “They're all twins.”

“Twins are alright,” Leanne said, less emotionally invested in the type of beds they'd be getting. She looked at one of the price tags. “A hundred and twenty, and comes with a mattress. They are good deals!”

“Yeah,” Jessica contemplated, “But again, we need to think a bit more in the future. I'd say we each get queen sized now. Besides, we did twin beds all throughout college. It's time to step things up.”

Letting Jessica contemplate the lack of suitable beds, Leanne looked over to the other end of the store. She saw a quiet commotion near a rear door, where a small group of men had gathered. They all had their own ways about themselves—assured, cultured, just vaguely interested in the surroundings—but all attention in the group seemed to gravitate to one, a man in his late thirties with stylishly unkempt hair and brown sunglasses. He wasn't the type of guy you'd see in that city. There was something more foreign about him—but not foreign in any sort of ethnic or geographic way. Yes, he looked Hispanic, but there were a lot of Hispanic men in the city. He had an air that Leanne didn't typically see with the men around town. She certainly never got that vibe from any guy back in college. The man looked over at the women. Even behind sunglasses, Leanne could feel his eyes staring straight at her. His smile was both somewhat charming and unsettlingly ambiguous at once.

Leanne turned away. One-half of every female friend duo is a bit more awkward than the other when it comes to guys, and Leanne was that one-half. Dirty blonde curly hair and cherub features, she never felt completely comfortable with herself. She was the bigger of the two friends. Having an understated cute chubbiness, she could have easily been mistaken for a Torrid model—if only she carried herself with a bit more confidence. Truth of the matter. Leanne caught the eye of many hipster guys. There was something about her unpretentious and undiscovered beauty that attracted them to her. But the hipster guy personality lacks in aggression, and in the world of guy-gal social dynamics with an already unassertive gal, any hope of a connection always ultimately fizzled out.

Although more confident and comfortable, Jessica wasn't the complete opposite in comparison. She was too plain for even any girl-next-door comparisons. Straight brown hair, brown eyes, and rarely any makeup, she moved in and out crowds on the city streets and in the city buses without much notice. Her quality of commonplace carried over to her shape and size—muted but with feminine curves and aligned with the size Medium at most clearance racks. Jessica was more experienced than Leanne in the world of guydom, having two boyfriends, the first in high school and the second during junior and part of senior year of college. Not that those experiences made her a siren or coquette. Her sexual proclivities were somewhere between planifolia and pompona.

“Are you ladies looking for beds today?” The women hadn't even noticed the sales associate approach.

“Oh, yeah,” Jessica stammered for a moment. “We were hoping to find queen sized but it looks like you only have twins.”

The associate paused for a moment and then smiled. “This is what we have out on the main floor. You know, I think we have two or three queens and even maybe a king in the back room.” Jessica looked at him with a hint of skepticism. He chuckled. “I know what you're thinking. We just don't tell customers that there's a backroom when we don't have what they're looking for. Our backroom is kind of like a second sales floor but with some more classic offerings.”

Jessica's eyes started to light up. She looked at Leanne. “Well, we might as well give it a look.”

“Great, you can find the backroom just down the aisle past the coffee tables. If you need anything, I'm Tom.”

“Thanks, Tom! I'm Jessica and this is Leanne.”

“Well, like I said, Jessica, if you need anything, just let me know!”

The women made their way past the coffee tables and slipped into the narrow doorway toward the back of the main sales floor. After a minute or so past, Tom closed the door to the backroom. He did so slowly and silently in furtive care. But he couldn't dampen the clicking of the lock turning. Hopefully the women wouldn't have noticed—at least not yet—that they were now trapped.

After completing the setup of the cinematic trap, Tom strode towards the other door at the rear of the sales floor. There, he found the group of men who had gathered a few minutes ago, all of whom were intently focused on the television monitors while wearing headsets for the production.

“Tom, we love this place!” Luis Fernando stopped the sales associate as soon as he walked through the door. The producer put a friendly hand on the front of Tom's shoulder. “This store is perfect. I love the juxtaposition of the main sales floor and the backroom. It plays on the familiar trope of the safe benign space with the unconscious tension that comes from mystery of what lies behind The Door. There is a psychodynamic element rooted in Freudian ... no, wait … Jungian theory. It very much reminds me of how Frenchy crossed the event horizon into the 6th Dimension by walking through the door in her house.”

Tom didn't know much about early psychological theory or Richard Elfman films, but he couldn't help but like Luis Fernando. There was something magnetic about the producer and his crew.

“And that was some incredible work out there on the floor,” Luis Fernando continued, “We got a lot of really good footage and the set up was perfect. Set up is integral to the execution of a scene.” He waved a finger at Tom. “And you just may have what it takes to start in this business. I know that you probably make a very good commission selling furniture, but if you ever want to work in the adult film industry, we need to talk. I know talent when I see it, and you're a natural.”

“Well, I'm just glad we could provide the store for the film.” Tom was flattered. It was true he made a respectable living as a sales associate, but he didn't outright dismiss Luis Fernando's offer. What red-blooded guy could quickly discard the idea of bedding beautiful women over and over again for money? But any career transition had to wait. Even though in that moment he was but volunteer help in the adult entertainment world, Tom was professionally aware there was a production they first had to run. His instincts were already attuned to the industry.

“Tom, let me introduce you to those who will create the scene. We're working with Alexander and Dante today.” The sales associate had seen the two men standing stoically in the corner when he first entered the room.

Good to meet you, Tom,” Dante said. Tom didn't know the protocol of shaking hands with someone who did sex scenes on camera. Maybe his instincts were not that attuned to the industry. Those hands were often used for purposes that introduced bodily fluids into the mix. Was it considered indecorous to shake hands, like not touching a biker's motorcycle club patch on their vest? Dante put Tom at ease, extending his hand first.

“Yeah Tom, this place is great!” Alexander followed with this hand. Alexander and Dante were both tall—at least 6' 1”. They weren't built like meatheads but even under their fitted t-shirts, they were obviously in shape. Alexander had a face reminiscent of a classic statue. Dante looked more like a frat boy who had graduated to some junior executive role with abstract job duties.

Luis Fernando motioned to the array of screens. “Tom, what were the names of the women again?”

“The one with the brown hair is Jessica. The one with the blonde hair is named Leanne.”

“Jessica and Leanne,” the producer savored saying the names, as if he were commenting on the first bite of a fine meal, “Those are very sexy names.” He wasn't being ironic or sarcastic. Luis Fernando adored the mundane as a matter of aesthetic and found everyday names incredibly intoxicating. In an industry where actresses had silly made-up names, Jessica and Leanne were quite alluring names. And Jessica and Leanne were so sexy in how average they were, the crew immediately picked them out the moment they walked through the store door and determined they would be the unsuspecting stars in the scene.

The crew may have been privy from the beginning, but this was the first time Alexander and Dante had seen the women. Along with Luis Fernando and Tom, the two men looked at the screens displaying Jessica and Leanne in all manner of angles and shots. Wide perspectives showed the women languidly walking through the aisles of forgotten chairs and couches. Close angles caught their faces, showing their eyes, lips, hair all in detail. Other shots got their legs. And yes, other cameras provided the opportunity to catch closeups of the women's tits and asses.

Alexander and Dante examined the women. This voyeuristic part of a production never failed to get them excited. Watching an unaware woman, knowing she soon will be restrained, stripped, and ravished for the vicarious fulfillment of millions of people was erotic in itself.

Getting the chance to savor a woman's feminine details was a thrill. Alexander watched the monitors displaying Jessica. She wore an ochre colored pull-over shirt, tucked in. Not squeezingly tight, it unassumingly clung to her body. Jessica's breasts were firm but not sultry and they complimented her hips in an almost perfect invisible line running downwards. Her green khaki pants and basic brown canvass shoes without socks topped off the outfit.

Alexander gave Dante a knowing look. The two had worked together before and neither was greedy with what woman to take. If one of the men had a preference, that other always graciously provided the opportunity. The implied arrangement for this scene was quite alright for Dante anyways as he was already drinking in Leanne. He'd never taken a thick girl before, and Leanne would be a very steamy introduction. Watching her on screen, his cock already began to stir. She was wearing a pink button-up top. It didn't quite fit in the way a top should. It narrowed a bit more around the chest, bunching up a bit, which caused her already heavy boobs to seem ever bigger. It wasn't an intentional aesthetic decision on Leanne's part, but instead the result of her not really knowing how to properly clothes shop. Her wide hips were packed into a blue denim skirt that made her stout thighs take the visual center.

“Could you zoom in on Camera 7?” Dante asked one of the crew. What Dante really wanted to see came into focus: Leanne's plump, round ass. It bulged out, giving a pleasing symmetry to her significant bust. Everything about her thick, sexy body made it look like she was ready to pop. Her pussy had to be heaven, Dante reasoned. The men watched on.

Jessica and Leanne floated between the furniture. The backroom had an airy quality, like a forgotten cellar from a recently passed great uncle, its treasures now being rediscovered after all of these years. Instead of the yellow glow of the main floor, the backroom was lit by natural sunlight that poured in from windows high up along the ways. Vaulted ceilings gave the space an open feeling. The various couches, tables, and chairs all had their own stylistic designs that somehow seemed to aesthetically integrate in the room that provided freedom for possibilities.

Along the center of the room, the women paused at a row of small subrooms situated on an inner wall. Leanne pushed open one of the doors and peered inside. She found a light switch around the corner. “Looks like a model bedroom. Twin bed, of course.”

“Kind of like one of our old dorms,” Jessica observed.

The women left the room, walking further down the aisles. Jessica's eyes lit up. “There we go!” A queen sized bed sat at the end of the row. White blended sheets were spread across and covered big, fluffy pillows. It had a dark, Oak headboard and matching footboard, each with unpretentious decorative workings across.

Jessica walked up to the bed with a brisk pace. “This should fit, but I wonder if we can get delivery service,” she thought aloud, inspecting the covers and woodwork to look for a model and price tag.

Leanne didn't need much time to conclude the bed would be suitable. Looking around to see if there was a similar model, her attention was pulled toward a giant artificial Philodendron along the inner wall. Was that a camera hidden behind its plastic leaves? She cautiously walked toward the faux plant.

Approaching the area, Leanne's suspicion was confirmed. She could clearly make out a small black plastic housing with a lens behind the plant. "Jessica, there's a camera hidden here," she called out, feeling somewhat unnerved.

“Probably a security camera.” Jessica didn't seem jilted by the camera's presence. Leanne was less assured.

“Well, well, well. What-da we got here, Dante?” A male's voice boomed through the room, its timbre on the edge of haughty. Jessica's attention was pulled from the bed, Leanne's from the camera. Their hearts jumped in the way every woman's heart instinctively jumps from a jolt of survival adrenaline pumps when a male presence, ambiguous in its intent, appears.

Alexander answered his own question: “Looks like we have two fine young women, left here in the back room. And they're all ALONE.” The emphasis on the last word cleared up any uncertainty as to what the two sauntering men had in mind.

The women looked down the aisle and realized they were boxed in—a wall to the right, and stacks of furniture leading into an internal wall on the left.

“Looks like there's even a bed to use, too,” Alexander teased.

“'cuse me!” Jessica tried to stammer out with intention to be indignant but her delivery clearly showing fear.

The men reached Leanne, who had completely forgotten about the not-so-hidden camera. Dante stopped, using his physical presence to shut off any attempt of escape. She shivered, lost for words—just a plus-sized woman in peril. Dante finally got to see Leanne with his own eyes, and she was every bit as hot as she had appeared on the backroom monitors. Dante could smell the faint scent of her natural aroma; he could admire her bulging curves. She wasn't the type of woman you just had sex with. No, she was the type of woman you mounted. Finally this close to the capture, Dante released the tension he had been holding back and let his cock stiffen. Inch by straining inch, it grew in his pants, ready to plunge into Leanne's southerly lips, whether she wanted it to or not.

Alexander kept walking, his eyes set on Jessica, who tried her damnedest to look tough. Her plainness and her vulnerability was intermixed into a potential of alluring fantasy. Alexander knew he had stumbled upon an unimagined wonder, and she was going to be all of his for this scene. If Leanne were the type of woman you mounted, Jessica were the type of woman you just completely filled with every throbbing inch. She was built with tightness in all of the right places, teasing to the imagination, constructed for lustful ravishing.

Jessica felt her heart thump and tension pulse through her legs. Alexander closed in, never taking his eyes from the woman inching back toward the wall. “I'm going to make you a star.” Jessica had no idea what the man meant, figuring it was just some menacing line before attempting to take her.

Knowing the danger of the situation if the men gained control, Jessica attempted to make an end run past Alexander. Momentum gave Jessica a few extra inches past Alexander before his arms secured themselves around her waist. She was ensnared.

Dante used the commotion to mask the opportunity to grab Leanne. She attempted to break free, but the struggle only seemed to turn her captor on. Leanne's weight made her a bit harder to handle than the smaller women Dante had ravished in the past, but he enjoyed the feel of her big, curvy body jostling against him. He pushed his own weight into the captive, forcefully guiding Leanne down the aisle. When the two got a few feet away, Dante smacked Leanne's ass. By the way Leanne jumped, the spanking had made her feel like a little tart. something Dante noticed—and relished. He was slightly dejected that it didn't jiggle as he expected—no doubt because it was packed tightly into her skirt. But Dante knew that troublesome garment would soon be coming off, one way or another.

“Leanne!” Jessica cried out, watching her friend get pushed toward one of the model bedrooms on the inner wall.

“Oh don't you worry. She's gonna get fucked nice 'n hard,” Alexander hissed toward Jessica, tightening his grip. “As for you, you need to learn how to behave.” He pulled Jessica into him and looked down over her shoulder. He could see Jessica's exposed neck, her firm tits, her soft tummy. He let his arousal become known. Jessica felt Alexander harden right into her ass. He growled, loud enough for Jessica—and the microphones—to hear: “That's right. That's how fuckin' hard you make me.” Jessica knew there was no way she was going to be able to stop a man so hard and determined.

There was no first base, no second base. Alexander released one of his hand from Jessica's waist and plowed it straight between her legs. She buckled, a hand grabbing her dainty sex over her pants. “Okay girl, here's how it's going to be. You're going to say what I want you to say. And anytime you address me, it's going to be with 'sir'.”

Jessica knew she was no match. Her pussy was his, and she had no agency in the matter. Ahead, she watched the other man bounce Leanne into a bedroom and close the door. Her friend was as good as screwed, quite literally. Jessica realized that she had no other option but to comply. She managed to eek out a “Yes.”

Alexander grabbed Jessica by the hair, pulling her head back. “What's that?!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good.”

Alexander let go of Jessica's sex and looked down at her breasts. A woman as unassuming as Jessica probably didn't realize what a nice pair she really had—Alexander figured she hadn't really thought about how sexy they would look underneath that particular shirt when picking out the day's wardrobe. He decided it was time to make her aware just how much her chest turned him on.

“You have such a hot pair of tits,” he barked. “Say, 'Sir, please grope my throbbing, vulnerable tits.'”

Jessica hesitated. How could she say such a self-degrading thing? Noticing the hesitation, Alexander jerked her head back by the hair again. She didn't need to be told twice. “Sir, please...please grope my throbbing, vulnerable tits.” Her voice shook as the words fell from her lips.

“Don't mind if I do,” Alexander growled. He grabbed a breast. Jessica wiggled, which only drove her butt further against her captor's hardened cock. He ran his hand across the woman's chest with attention that existed somewhere between sensual and lewd. Alexander leaned in. “Do you like this?”

Jessica knew only one “correct” answer existed: “Yes, sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

Jessica swallowed, inwardly cringing. “Yes sir, I like you groping me.”

“Where do you want me to grope you next?”

What a bastard, Jessica thought. He was creating the illusion of agency—as if Jessica actually had a say in the matter. She knew she couldn't simply tell the man to grope her knee or forearm, so she decided on what would be the least humiliatingly sensual place to grope: “Sir, please grope my ass.”

Alexander let go of Jessica's hair and breast and spun her around. The move left her dazed—and her ass open for the various cameras. Alexander gave an heavy, affected breath and squeezed a cheek. Jessica made every effort to prevent herself from grimacing.

“Mmmm, this is really nice.” His hand kneaded Jessica's loose little ass through her pants; the feeling of her round bum mixed with khaki drove Alexander's libido up. He quickened his pace, running a hand over each cheek and her crack—harder, faster. His cock tensed, frustrated by its confines and desiring to be plunged straight into the woman who was struggling against its shaft. Any orifice that was tight and wet enough would more than work for Alexander.

In a fit of lust, Alexander twirled Jessica back around, holding her tight with one hand, furiously groping her with the other. Across her breasts, over her sex, and into her inner thigh, then back again, he ran his hand without any permission. Jessica bent forward, which only pushed her butt further into Alexander. It was the final catalyst that pushed his desire to the brink. In most plain terms, he just had to have Jessica.

Alexander glided both of his palms up to Jessica's vulnerable breasts, grabbing a handful, working them over—reminding Jessica that she was in fact a woman, not just a woman, a woman in a dire situation in which her sexual agency was most at risk. Moving from her chest, Alexander reached up to the collar of Jessica's brown shirt.

“Wha...what are you doing, sir?” she gasped.

“You're way overdressed,” the man said, beginning to pull at the collar. Jessica had gotten Alexander so hot, it sparked a need within him that could only be satiated by ripping her clothes straight off. Removing Jessica's clothes was always the plan for the scene, but whereas she could have merely endured having her shirt slid off, her defenseless actions up until that point triggered something deep within Alexander, leading to the situation that her top had to be torn off.

Jessica's mouth gaped open. Alexander pulled the collar in either direction, stretching it over her shoulders. It groaned and strained, giving up its elasticity until it finally snapped. Alexander spun her around once more, leaving Jessica shivering in fearful anticipation. Now with the collar broken, he'd have no problem tearing her shirt the rest of the way off—exposing her, leaving her top half open to whatever manhandling mechanizations that crossed his mind.

Alexander grabbed Jessica's top in either hand and began pulling. With a rough tearing sound, it pulled apart, severing at the collar with a big, gaping v-shaped tear traveling down her breasts and stopping at the bottom hem. The man peeled the ruined garment down her shoulders, past her arms, until it was just a ruined band across her stomach.

Jessica was reduced to a basic white bra with wavy stitching across the cups and thin straps. It was the type of bra in every plain girl's underwear wardrobe—a mundane artifact of her utilitarian shapeware that she likely discovered on a clearance rack and purchased for a few dollars. Her boobs bulged ever so slight in the undergarment, which revealed a tasteful valley of cleavage.

“Now how did that make you feel?” Alexander growled.

Jessica felt a flood of internal states—scared, defenseless, mortified—but she mustered out the one feeling that took precedent above all others: “Humiliated, sir.”

Alexander was satisfied with the response. He grabbed one of Jessica's hands and pushed it right into bulge of his pants. “That's how much I want you, girl.” It was less a statement of subjective feeling and more a threat of intent. The words, coupled with the throbbing hardness against her palm, made Jessica all too aware of her fate since the beginning of the scene. Yes, it was drama played for the benefit of hidden cameras, but it also served as a fait accompli to the woman. She was to be taken, like the central character in a romance novel gone wrong. The man's prick—bigger than any Jessica had experienced from previous boyfriends—was going to be used to completely dominate her.

Jessica heard a faint wail. Existing somewhere between a moan and a scream, it was the type of wail a woman made when first penetrated. Leanne!

“Sounds like our friends have already gotten started,” Alexander observed. “Now I need to get you nice 'n ready.” He let go of the hand pressed into his cock and reached over to the top of Jessica's pants.

She let out an audible gasp: “Please, sir!” Her protests went unacknowledged. The sound of the pant's zipper cut through the room. Alexander grabbed the waistband and with an affected heave, yanked Jessica's pants down. They slid easily past her hips, the rest of their descent effortless.

Alexander took a moment to admire Jessica's white bikini briefs before spinning her around, green khakis still crumbled around her angles, and buried a hand between her legs. She lurched forward, held fast by the man's strong arm. The other hand sensually—but firmly—rubbed Jessica's crotch. He moved up and down, then in a circle, being careful not to remain in a pattern for too long and risk making her numb. Her juices started flowing. “You're really wet,” he mocked. He leaned in toward her ear. “Say it. Say, 'I'm sopping wet sir.'”

Jessica inwardly cringed. She hesitated for a moment. Alexander, sensing her reluctance, stopped rubbing her and grabbed her pussy in his strong hand, causing Jessica to moan out in sensitive humiliation. The only choice was to comply: “I'm sopping wet sir!”

“Yes you are,” he responded. Alexander returned to rubbing his captive, this time in more furious abandon. Jessica's vaginal secretions began to soak through the gusset of her panties. She took shelter in the thought that at least her captor would be able to easily slide himself in. If she were going to be raped, at least it wouldn't be a painful affair.

All it took was Jessica's womanly fragrance waifing up through the air to finally cause a crescendo to the building scene. Something further snapped in Alexander. In a lustful fit, he grabbed her by the waist, and lifting her out of her crumbled pants, tossed Jessica onto the bed.

Curled up in submission, Jessica saw, out of the corner of her eye, Alexander ready himself. He quickly slid his shirt off, his chest stout and resolute. His entire trunk was built for dominance, especially toward trembling young women like Jessica. He tore open his pants. It was unlike the deliberately humiliating way he opened Jessica's pants; this action was akin to unsheathing. He slid off his jeans and red boxers in one confident motion.

Alexander sulked toward the bed, his cock standing thick and tall. Both symbolic and tangible in authority, it angled ever slightly out. Jessica felt nervous energy race through her stomach, coalescing downward into her sex. Her boyfriends were nowhere near as big. The very thought of the man putting such a thick, hard rod inside her made Jessica wince. A dim survival instinct caused her to slowly inch back in the bed.

Alexander looked down at the quivering woman. He reached out and yanked down one of Jessica's bra straps. She gasped in indignity. He pulled down the other strap to another gasp. Alexander then reached up under the front of Jessica's bra. She was sure he could feel her heart pound in fear. With a violent tug, he pulled the bra down off of her chest, letting it join the remnants of the torn shirt around her half-bare stomach. Jessica's breasts sprung out, their supple pink nipples standing at attention for the hidden cameras to see.

Alexander let Jessica stew in humiliation for a moment before reaching down to the waistband of her panties. In a single motion, he pulled them down from her hips and legs and tossed them to the side. Her sex was left wet and defenseless, barely hidden by a dark patch of pubic hair.

He crawled, knees-first onto the bed, sliding open her leg while moving into position. “Say, 'Put your cock in me, sir.'”

Jessica bit her lips, hesitating, which was met by her hair being grabbed and pulled. Jessica tensed up and arched her back, bringing her pussy even closer to the man's readied cock. She knew compliance was the only viable response. She was going to be taken, regardless, so she dared not anger her captor. Jessica submitted: “Put your cock in me, sir.”

Alexander eased the circumcised head of his penis into Jessica, slowly splitting her pussy lips open. This was it: the moment Jessica was taken against her will. She wailed out. Further and further, Alexander pushed himself inside, filling Jessica up. “That's right. Take every inch,” he growled. Jessica wiggled underneath her captor. It was an automatic reaction to get free. But feeling her naked body against his only served to further drive Alexander's need. His dick pushed continuously up into Jessica, impaling her with stiff, spongey flesh.

Once he was balls deep inside, Alexander pulled back, giving Jessica some reprieve. But it was short-lived. A deliberate thrust sent the back of the woman's head into the pillows and her body down into the mattress. Another thrust came, then another. Each time, Alexander seemed to burrow his manhood deeper into Jessica's sex. His eyes pierced hers. “That's right, I own your little pussy,” he growled. Those words buried into Jessica and in that moment, her sex locked around her captor's shaft. It was the penultimate act to her defeat. She had been captured, manhandled, stripped, and penetrated. The last thing now was to be filled with her captor's seed. If only Jessica knew that he wasn't going to be the only man cumming for her; he was just the one who had the opportunity to do so inside of her.

Alexander's hips moved faster, settling on a hard and intentional pace. Jessica began to moan. In the past, she had experienced sex. She had made awkward love. But she had never simply just been taken. Her mind, her soul: None of that mattered to Alexander. He had only wanted Jessica's tight little body. And when he saw it, he took it with no hesitation.

Five minutes went by. Then ten minutes. Alexander didn't tire. He just continued to pound her pussy, enjoying its submissive hold and shameful wetness. His hands reaching underneath Jessica, Alexander squeezed her ass, cradling the helpless woman, giving himself leverage to pull her into each thrust.

It sparked something inside Jessica that had been building since first being tossed onto the bed. It grew in her lower abdomen. She shook her head, trying to take refuge in denial.

Alexander grinned, knowing full well what was about to happen. “You're about ready to cum, aren't you,” he mocked, loud enough for the microphones.

“No, no, sir!” Jessica pleaded.

“Oh don't lie to me. I can feel your lil' snatch ready to burst.” Knowing he had Jessica right where he wanted, he began to pound her harder, faster. He released her ass cheeks and moved his hands to her front, groping her naked breasts and lightly pinching her nipples. “I need to cum too, and I believe in 'ladies first'. So you better cum or we're going to be here for a LONG time.”

The bastard, Jessica thought again to herself. Every step of the way, he's used her mind against her. Her body wanted to give in. Her mind had no choice but to submit as well. More wetness flowed, lubricating her inner walls. She felt the gusher build. She concentrated on the only thing realistically possible: Alexander's hard, unyielding cock.

Jessica gritted her teeth, tightened her legs, and exploded.

She let out a wailing moan. It was a sound that had never before emanated from her lungs. It was the moan of a slut. Her sex had been dominated, owned, made to submit to Alexander's masculinity made manifest by a solid, unrelenting stalk of flesh. Jessica' post-orgasm sensitivity was almost painful. Yet her pussy wouldn't let go.

Bringing his captive to climax sparked an almost alpha-like pride within Alexander. His thrusting became faster, more forceful. Now that he had given her the wettest orgasm she had ever had, it was Alexander's turn to take what was his. He stopped groping her, instead concentrating his eyes on her body. Her average build, her average breasts—he relished how hot Jessica was in mundanity. He felt a certain amount of privilege having her naked body all to himself before the porn-watching (or “erotic-watching” as Luis Fernando would say) public would get to see it.

The familiar coolness of semen pooling at the base of Alexander's shaft signaled that he was near climax. A few more strokes and his urethra was going to start filling her up. Just the thought of that put him over the edge. Looking down, he made another command that was phrased as a question: “Do you want me to cum in you?”

Jessica had trouble thinking straight. The extreme post-orgasm sensitivity caused her mind to lose cogency. Alexander knew how to get her to respond. His hand grabbed her hair and pulled. “Yes, sir! I want you to cum inside me, sir!”

“That's what I thought.” Alexander continued pumping until he reached the point of no return. He could have thrusted through the orgasm, but he wanted the woman to feel every drop entering her, to make her know she was accepting his seed. Alexander grabbed the woman's hips and pulled her toward himself, making sure his cock traveled the entirety of her inside. His dick starting spasming, unleashing gushy ropes of cum inside her unprotected pussy. The very act marked her as his. Torrents of cum gushed forth so much that excess ran down the sides of his cock. There was no ambiguity, no second guessing—Jessica had been simply and totally fucked.

She lay spent, Alexander pulling himself out. In the distance, she heard Leanne moan out behind a door. It wasn't the moan of pain or even first penetration. It was the unmistakable moan of climax. Leanne! Jessica thought. What had happened to her friend? Jessica knew the answer in an academic sense, that her friend had just been part of her own scene.

The moment Dante had gotten Leanne shoved into the model bedroom, he slammed the door. She inched up against the wall. The man's eyes drank in the curvy prey. Her round, bulging tits, her thighs that seemed as though they would burst the seams of her skirt—Leanne was prime to be taken by someone man enough to mount her. Whereas the awkward guys couldn't muster the courage to ask out Leanne, Dante wouldn't deign to ask permission to put his hands all over her. He would strip her down and take what was his.

“I'm going to breed you,” Dante growled, the business-like affect previously demonstrated in the control room now overtaken by a lecherous frankness. Leanne felt weakness fill her ankles, buckle her knees, consume her sex. Dante sulked toward her, his momentum concurrently driven by his intellect for action and his aching cock's attraction to vulnerable beauty. He just had to have Leanne. But the scene did not call for romance. No—instead she would be handled in the rudest of ways.

Dante grabbed Leanne and pushed her over a night dresser. She clumsily toppled forward with a frightened grunt. Not wasting a moment, Dante pinned his body against hers. Leanne found her mouth agape from feeling her captor's engorged cock pushing against her derriere. Even with his cock held back by pants, Leanne knew Dante was well hung. The implications turned a harrowing ordeal into an exercise in dread. Would he wreck her pussy? The thought caused disquietude in Leanne.

Dante reached around and grabbed Leanne's breasts and began groping her, hard and deliberate. He pushed himself further into her ass, taking pleasure in feeling Leanne's sturdy body pushing back against his. A hand left Leanne's breast and found itself way toward her crotch. With a tight grip, Dante squeezed Leanne's pussy through the front of her skirt. Helpless, she squealed. Dante loved the hold of her thick thighs around his hand. He maintained his hold, making it clear that Leanne's sex truly was his—at least it was in the unfolding scene scene with her as the captured starlet.

Dante released Leanne's sex and slid his hand up over her stomach, back to her breasts. His fingers found their way between the buttons of her shirt. Leanne's stomach buzzed in trepidation and fear. “What are you doing?” she whimpered. But her question was but an attempted placeholder for an unstoppable, unyielding ravishing. She knew what was coming, and it needed to start with her shirt coming off. In that moment, she felt powerless, subsumed. She was cognizant of the strain of her breasts against the inside of her bra, the bulging of her ass against her captor's manhood. She felt like a woman.

Buttons sprayed onto the dresser, bouncing off with a plastic timbre. Her breasts pushed out as two Lycra-covered mounds, teething from the torn top. Dante pulled the shirt from Leanne's shoulders and arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. She was wearing a full white bra, its cups detailed with a tasteful smattering of white floral lace. Her face burned with shame, having been stripped to a garment not meant for just anyone's eyes. Leanne had always been somewhat self-conscious about the size of her breasts. Now, any vagueness of their true size had been dispelled. They bulged out as weighty, round spectacles. Yes, their function was to fulfill basic mammalian need, but the size and shape by which they had grown over the years was to spark animalistic lust in a straight man. It's just none had before acted upon their desires until the scene was set for Dante.

After taking a moment to enjoy the de-blousing, Dante reached down and began working on Leanne's skirt. He fidgeted a few moments in horny inelegance before popping open the front button. With a quick motion, he pushed down the zipper. Leanne let out a nervous gasp, unaware that she had just added a tantalizing detail to the scene being filmed.

Then Dante pulled her skirt down from her hips, past where her body narrowed and could no longer hold the garment up. He let it fall around her white sneakers. Leanne was wearing dark blue, full-cut briefs. The color mismatch of underwear would surely please Luis Fernado as the aesthetic spoke to the mundanity of a random woman who had not given much thought when picking out the day's lingerie, completely oblivious to the potential she later would be baring them for the thrill of thousands to see. The panties hugged Leanne's thick, sexy hips in a pleasing way—an image not lost on Dante as his cock uncontrollably throbbed with intention, yearning to be free and finally penetrate the woman.

Dante's hand snatched Leanne between her inner thighs. Feeling dampness, he snarled in a way intimate for her ear yet loud enough for the microphones to hear, “You're already wet.” Leanne bit her lips. She didn't understand. She hadn't asked for any of this. Intellectually, she wasn't consenting to any of this. Yet being manhandled and partially stripped caused her body to prepare itself for sex. Dante worked over her pussy until the gusset of Leanne's panties became saturated. Dante then gave a smack to Leanne's ass. No longer bound by a skirt, it shook this time in a satisfying jiggle. Leanne let out an unrestrained squeal. He was turning her into a little tart!

No longer content to grope her pussy, Dante slid a hand down into the waistband of Leanne's panties. His finger traced her pussy lips before slightly parting them. Dante ran his index finger inside, teasing his captive's sex. Leanne pushed down on the dresser top in a mix of cringing humiliation and arousal. Dante sank his finger deeper into Leanne's folds, slowly raking upwards. Leanne's heart raced, partly due to the precariousness of the scene and partly because she knew where his finger truly aimed. And it didn't take long to get there. Dante mischievously smiled when he felt the hard button that had been hidden away in Leanne's folds. He put pressure on her precious little clit, causing the woman to buckle at the knees.

She groaned out, which made her feel slutty and ashamed. Leanne felt a tightness grip her underarms and shoulders. It was the tightness she felt at the end of each day: the tightness before her bra was unsnapped. Her pussy now compromised, she had lost all agency to even consider stopping the man from popping her bra off with his free hand. Worst of all, Leanne wasn't afforded the modesty to be stripped underneath covers. The realization washed over Leanne that she was soon going to be fully naked right then and there, completely exposed against the dresser. She could only wince in sexy disgrace when the hooks released from the eyelets of the bra band and her breasts drooped in a sultry display from the immediate lack of support. One finger still firmly on her clit, Dante used a free hand to pull each strap down, before the entire garment slid down Leanne's arms, piling up around her wrists on the dresser.

Each breast was a pillowy paragon of femininity with dark brown nipples in perfect proportion. Dante's manhood twinged at the glorious sight of Leanne's chest. The slow build up had finally reached its apex. The sight of Leanne's naked boobs caused Dante's libido to break loose. He had to get his cock out of his pants into his captive's fair lips. Letting go of her sensitive little clit, Dante grabbed the waistband of Leanne's panties, forcing them to the floor around her shoes. She was now wet and naked: just how Dante wanted her.

Leanne's stomach jumped as she heard the clank of Dante's belt loosen and pants come undone. He arched back, letting his fully erect cock spring out. Fans of the erotic series loved seeing a man's hard dick right before penetration. Luis Fernando theorized it was perceived as a symbolic weapon, so Dante always made sure the cameras got a lens full. In the faint distance beyond the wall, Jessica could be heard, moaning out. “Sounds like your friend is getting fucked pretty hard,” Dante teased. The very idea of Alexander wrecking Leanne's hot, plain friend a few feet away was incredibly sexy to him. In contrast, the shared ravishing added to Leanne's own humiliating predicament. Luis Fernando referred to the phenomenon as “Shared Precarity,” and reasoned that it was a significant aspect of multi-woman scenes.

Dante grabbed Leanne's breasts, using her own weight to pull himself into her. She felt her lips begin to part as the man's throbbing cut head penetrated her sacred folds. Slightly struggling, he pushed more of himself inside Leanne. Noticing how unusually tight Leanne was, he said through gritted teeth: “This is your first time?” It was less a question and more a statement for the cameras. Leanne didn't reply, opting to avert her gaze downward. She had trouble accepting the fact she was in the process of losing her virginity in such a way. And while every young woman dreams of the special moment happening in missionary position—Leanne not an exception—here she was, losing her virtue by being taken from behind.

Further pushing up into Leanne, Dante fit his entire manhood inside until the base of his shaft was up against her pubis. Shivering, Leanne reflected on what it felt like to have a man inside of her. She experienced the wholeness, the utter size of Dante and her own vaginal wall gripping his manhood. He slid himself down but not completely out of Leanne, then pushed himself back up into her, causing her whole body to shake. He pulled his cock partially out once again before slamming himself up. Slowly, he was training Leanne's pussy, teaching it to react to his shape and girth.

Dante's hands drifted from Leanne's breast down to her hips. His thrusts increased in speed and waned in power, falling into a comfortable rhythm. Leanne thought she heard Jessica yell out in the other room. It sounded as though her friend had cried out “Sir!” Leanne secretly hoped Dante wouldn't force her to call him by such a moniker.

Force pounding into Leanne's core, she toppled forward, landing breast-first onto the dresser. She attempted to push herself up, but Dante had used the opportunity to push down his own body upon her back. He started to pull at her hips, which created even more libidinous friction. Dante had forgone masturbation for over two weeks. He saw it as a special duty to his profession. The women he ravished deserved big loads that could only be cultivated by foregoing self pleasure. And a big, sexy woman like Leanne needed a big, steamy wad, Dante reasoned.

Leanne's pussy had become incredibly slick. She felt something welling up inside. Even though she was inexperienced, she knew exactly what it was: a cresting orgasm. Her body was about to betray her. Leanne could blame her hard nipples (which could practically cut diamonds at this point) on the cool air of the back room. But there was no denying a full on climax.

By this time, Dante had no problem ramming himself inside Leanne. Her body jiggled in all sorts of erotic ways with the force of each thrust. She gripped the dresser, feeling its sharp edge, reminding her of the predicament she was in. Sensitive to how women's bodies responded, Dante increased the pace of his work, forcing Leanne over the edge. In a day where Leanne learned many new things about herself, she also learned she was in fact a squirter. Her pussy showed its appreciation by painting Dante's prick with a creamy dousing. Leanne's face cringed, cheeks flush with humiliation. She had just blown herself all over this man's cock, and the very act was a degrading reminder she was not in control of her own body. She took consolation that at least she had cum during her very first time.

Dante was pleased to have brought his prey to climax. Now it was time to take his. He slipped out of Leanne, and pulled her from the dresser. She stumbled with panties around her ankles and completely off balance from the orgasm that had recently overtaken her body. With a gentle shove, Dante pushed her face-down onto the small bed, leaving her legs hanging over the side. As Leanne reeled in post-coital fuzziness, Dante pulled his pants the remainder of the way off and slipped his shirt over his head, leaving himself in naked-hunter resplendence.

Looking back, Leanne finally saw Dante's monolithic cock for the first time. She could hardly believe it had just been instead her. “Aren't you happy?! You have already made me cum! What more do you want,” she cried out.

“Yes, but I haven't came yet,” Dante retorted, grabbing Leanne's thick hips to pull her spent pussy closer to his cock head.

Leanne screamed upon again being penetrated from behind, this time her sex overly sensitive from the recent orgasm. She felt every ridge of Dante's dick in a way she had not when previously pressed up against the dresser. He remained standing next to the bed, railing the plump, sexy woman now strewn out on the mattress. At this point, Dante knew he wouldn't last much longer, but he would take enjoyment in the waning moments of Leanne's ravishing.

Whereas Dante struggled to penetrate the woman when the scene first turned to sex, he now easily slid in and out of her. He had completely dominated Leanne's pussy, making it his. Dante leaned down and began running his hands all over Leanne, groping her ass, squeezing her thighs, even slipping between her and the bed to feel up her breasts. Her body was such a delight, and feeling its softness against his fingers caused Dante to edge.

His scrotum tightened, preparing itself for the growing crescendo. Dante felt cool wetness around his glans, signaling precum had dribbled out in preparation of the scene for his oncoming orgasm. A man in less control may continue to thrust through the climax, but much like Alexander, Dante wanted to fully immerse himself inside the object of his lust, to clear any ambiguity that the oncoming wad was truly for her alone. He saw it as his professional and personal duty to fuck a woman to completion. Leanne's mouth hung agape, her sex once again flowing with lubrication. She knew her own orgasm was building again—a inevitability not lost on Dante, as he could smell her own feminine fragrance waifing upwards.

Dante slammed faster into Leanne, pushing himself until reaching the point of no return. The familiar pre-ejaculation tingle ever man knows overtook his shaft. Burying his fingers deep into Leanne's hips, Dante pushed himself as far as possible inside. He groaned out, “Take it like a woman!” Cock shaking, the man unloaded, blasting a thick, confident stream of semen into Leanne's cervix. Her own body reacted, bucking back onto Dante's shaft, exploding all over in an uncontrolled deluge of her own female secretions. Their sexual fluids coalesced into a naughty concoction that spilled out all over the mattress. Leanne let out a moan like none that had ever escaped her body.

Dante quickly slipped out. Her breasts, her ass, and finally even her pussy: He was satisfied at having conquered every part of Leanne. She lay on the bed, feeling ashamed that she had been forced to orgasm twice while unwillingly giving away her virginity. And worst of all, her orgasms had physically manifested in perverse displays of squirting. She contemplated what was going to happen next, was Jessica alright? Leanne didn't have much time to worry about the immediate future. She heard the bedroom door fly open and what she could only imagine as at least 6 men rushed in. From that point, all she could remember were a bunch of hands grabbing her and a sweet smelling piece of clothe placed over her mouth and nose. Then, darkness.

*********

Three months passed since the incident at the furniture store. The roommates' periods had come and gone, much to their respective relief (little did they know all men hired to create the scene have to undergo a vasectomy). Life had returned to normal—or at least as much normal could be expected after being ravished to orgasm in the backroom of a shop. After their encounters, Jessica and Leanne had awaken on the porch of their house. They were dressed in what could be best described as medical scrubs, their identification documents, bank cards, and cash in their pockets. Clearly the men were not interested in robbing them of anything but their sexual agency.

Jessica walked downstairs after taking a shower. “Jessica, you have to see this,” Leanne sat on the couch with the remote control in hand. The roommate stood next to the couch, looking at the TV screen. Leanne scrolled through channels on the digital media player, landing on one called Adult Industry News. “I heard about this on the radio on the way to work today.” A few clicks of the remote button keyed up a 10-minute news segment.

Jessica's mouth hung open. “That's the guy we saw at the...place.” The event still fresh in their minds, neither of the women liked to even say the words “furniture store.” Luis Fernando was on screen, sitting with a dolled-up female interviewer whose breasts clearly had been the work of a brilliant plastic surgeon.

“Today we're talking to the brilliant adult film producer, Luis Fernando Gomez Rodriquez about his latest film, Scenes from a Home Furnishing Backroom. Luis Fernando, glad to have you here today.”

“Glad to be here, Rebecca.”

Leanne shook her head, unable to fully process what she was seeing. Jessica provided exposition between the dialogue on the screen. “Apparently, this guy goes around, having men capture and have sex with unsuspecting women and then sells the videos.

The interviewer continued, “So Luis Fernando, critics have been calling Scenes from a Home Furnishing Backroom your best film yet, particularly since it has a very erotic scene of a woman quickly becoming submissive and another scene featuring a plus-sized woman.”

“Yes, Rebecca. The first is a very sexy woman named Jessica. When creating the scene, we were all intrigued with how quickly she began to comply with Alexander. It's reminiscent of much the main character in Fanny Hill by John Cleland ” The interviewer politely smiled, clearly not understanding Luis Fernando's mid-brow reference to 18th Century erotic fiction.

A pop-up appeared on the TV screen, showing Jessica on the bed from the furniture store, the camera angle shot to avoid any explicit nudity. “Sir, please...please grope my throbbing, vulnerable tits.” Jessica watched and heard herself say those words on the TV, reliving the experience and the sexual humiliation she felt in that breezy room.

Leanne looked pensive, before saying, “That was a camera I saw behind that plant.” The amalgamation of what first appeared to be random observations on that fateful and sexy day started to become clear.

“Wow, that is really hot!” the interviewer observed about Jessica's scene.

“It is, and Alexander really got off on her calling him 'Sir'. He is a brilliant sexual mind, going as far as to study the works of Foucault on sex and power to give each scene the context it deserves.”

“So tell us about the other featured woman.”

“Yes, the other woman is a very beautiful woman named Leanne. We had been wanting to feature a woman with curves—real curves—so when Leanne walked into the store that day, we knew we had found the perfect woman to create a scene around. She would be considered a larger woman by modern, Western standards. But in the Renaissance, period, she would have been elevated to the state of the ideal beauty.”

Another pop-up appeared on screen, showing the moment Leanne's shirt was torn open, exposing her bra-clad chest. Upon seeing herself, Leanne looked away, her face red at having just relived the humiliating experience of her top being popped.

Luis Fernando continued, “At the risk of giving too much away, anyone who enjoys the climax of a woman spilling herself out will enjoy Leanne's scene.”

Leanne started to walk away. “Okay, I've seen enough. Turn it off,” she told Jessica.

For the rest of the evening, Jessica tried to push from her mind the new knowledge she had unwittingly stared in a pornographic movie, but she just couldn't keep herself from thinking about it. She found herself grappling with confusion as the thought stayed prominent in her mind.

Later that night, she crawled into the bed she did eventually purchase two weeks after the incident. More and more, Jessica thought about the fact she had been ravished against her will by a powerful man, made to beg for sexual release, and now her debasement was fodder for countless people's masturbation fantasies. She felt a certain residual shame that caused her nipples to stiffen up and dampness gather around her inner-thighs. Jessica's heart raced as she slipped her hand down the front of her sweat pants. Jessica was well aware of Leanne's true feelings despite her earlier show of disgust while watching the scenes on TV. —and knew that Leanne was already two fingers-deep thinking about the scene from the furniture store.

[Shocker]

What an intriguing story. Really loved the idea, about those forced/tricked backroom videos being the real deal. With the director being the perfect example of narcissistic pretentiousness, that marked so many of the really great showmen and directors.
Leanna and Jessica were delightful victims, they don’t have too look like supermodels, to be attractive to predators.

[HumiliationInc]

What an intriguing story. Really loved the idea, about those forced/tricked backroom videos being the real deal.

I'm so glad you liked. I posted this on the original RU a few years ago but it kind of got lost in the shuffle there. I've had the idea of women being forced into becoming unwitting porn stars for a long time. My favorite victims are chaste or sexually non-aggressive types, so having them put into such a situation is the ultimate humiliation.

With the director being the perfect example of narcissistic pretentiousness, that marked so many of the really great showmen and directors.

He's such a fun character and I set up the story for him to return in a sequel, quoting Barthes and making references to Flaubert to gaslight himself into thinking he's creating high-brow art rather than porn (albeit, it is high-brow porn but still porn all the same).

]
Leanna and Jessica were delightful victims, they don’t have too look like supermodels, to be attractive to predators.

I was trying to make some Bing-generated pics to put in the narrative for reference, but it really had difficulty making Jessica look plain enough. She's meant to be low-key traditionally attractive, but it kept making her Anne Hathaway-level hot. It did a little bit better of a job with Leanne, but couldn't quite get her outfit right.

[HumiliationInc]

Edit: Meant to edit my original post and accidently quoted!

[Shocker]

@HumiliationInc I‘m rather glad that you failed in adding those pictures. It’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine, author’s like yourself paint a vivid enough picture, that adding visual aids is completely unnecessary. Often, if not used sparingly, pictures even ruin the reading flow for me.

[HumiliationInc]

I totally get it. I find the pictures inspiring on the front-end more so than on the back-end, so if anything, they spark imagination. But this was a case in which the story had been written before seeking out reference material!

[Shocker]

I totally get it. I find the pictures inspiring on the front-end more so than on the back-end, so if anything, they spark imagination. But this was a case in which the story had been written before seeking out reference material!

I have been inspired by pictures more than once, so I know what you mean.

[RapeU]

1) What did I immediately feel after reading this
2) What I love about what I read
3) What would I change in the story to make it perfect (for me)
4) Did I get off on this and why

1) What a fascinating idea, hope we see more of this director in the future!

2) There's something just exquisite about someone hearing yelps and grunts without being able to see the other person, and that we were able to get the "off screen" material from both perspectives was really well done.

3) There's a few typeos, but I was too into the story to remember them until just now.

4) Definitely, you had the perfect mix of victims here one who had experience in sex and the old virgin trope. The virgin trope worked really well here from describing the character so well.

[skuttrusk]

The concept is so good I'd love to see it continued. Lots of potential. Almost the hottest thing is the social acceptance of what the filmmaker is doing, nobody really feels sorry for his victims, they think it's hot and clever. Maybe he could keep going further each time. I'd enjoy reading more interviews where he describes his art and the (preferably female) interviewers lap it up.

[Lucius]

Excellent work riffing off the topic of screen obsession and... many other things. The style is fine, ornamental but not too flowery.

Each scene, each captured moment, is a meta-conservation between the people within the action and the audience.

Frankly, even if it's a typo, I'd like it to stay in -- let this fucking pseudo-Debordian blather!