The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  I remember forcing the water into her navel, and moving the stream south until it beat on the area just under her curls. I laughed when she gasped and managed to catch her when her knees collapsed under her. I washed her very thoroughly while I told her exactly and in very explicit terms just what we were going to do to her that day. I think part of me wanted her to renege on the deal right then and there so maybe I could ask her out. But the baser part of me wanted to taunt her, maybe even terrify her a bit. I could see that she was perfect for the part of my heroine. She projected naïve innocence. I couldn’t wait to have her.

  “The other actors showed up as I was just finishing with her and I made a major production of displaying her for all to see. I could see how it affected her to be seen like this and it was an incredible turn on to me. She blushed furiously, tried to cover herself and turn away, but I kept forcing her around to face them. I even remember spreading her legs wide with my foot snaking between her ankles and gripping her wrists behind her back while she stood in front of me as they ogled her. I don’t know why, but I loved showing her off as if she was my discovery. I knew that the camera would love her skin. She was so very lovely. And I was going to be the man who showed her to the world. I was ecstatic.

  “When I saw her begin to tremble, I remember I whispered in her ear, ‘You’ll get used to them staring. In fact, you’ll get to where you won’t even notice them looking at you at all. And sometimes they won’t look at you when you’re right in front of them. Right now, you’re new to them, and you’ll be new to the cameramen too, so they’ll all want to check you out. You’re a beautiful woman, so it’s natural, and you can’t blame them. Even though every man here looks at tits and cunts all day long, every day—each woman has her unique appeal.’

  “Then I slapped her on the ass and made Rabbit parade her over to the make-up department so all the men there could see how well-endowed she was. Everyone’s eyes popped— the cameramen, the lighting men—all the young gophers. She had long dark pink nipples contrasting against porcelain skin; combined with her dark thatch she was almost lewd in her sexuality. She was a stunner. But it was very clear that she was uncomfortable with this, and that she probably always would be. She conveyed this delightful sense of naïveté, but she had such a provocative body that it totally captivated you. But I, I was the producer and director, and I was of a mind that a porn actress should be comfortable in her own skin, proud and flashy even. Since she was definitely none of those things, I was looking forward to training her, forcing her into the mold. I watched with a fair amount of glee as she tried in vain to hunch over or to keep herself covered by using her hands. I don’t know why I was torturing her like this, except that I was still plenty mad about the money, and maybe just maybe, because I could. I felt powerful. She was submitting to me whether she wanted to or not and it was a heady feeling. In retrospect, had I known how much money she was going to make me that day, I suppose I would have dressed her in furs, put diamonds in her ears, and kissed her lily-white feet.

  “When she was ready we went over the script and then the action began, and I must admit I had never seen the men so eager to perform, so determined to catch her eye, so proud of their jutting cocks. While the guys took their places, I bent down and kissed her on the lips. I remember the amazing feeling that kiss created; I actually felt a tingle go through my body. It angered me a bit because I didn’t understand it, so after savagely taking possession of her mouth and dueling with her sweet tongue to mark her as mine, I had wardrobe put her abbreviated little schoolgirl costume on, then I called for action. Ten minutes into the scene she was naked, my hands holding her thighs splayed wide for the camera. God she was lovely. I diddled her for the camera and then I went down on her. To my credit, I did make her come before I mounted her, several times in fact. So I’m not a totally selfish asshole.

  “I’ve viewed that tape many times since that day, and I know for a fact that she came no less than thirteen times that day, five times by my hand, my mouth or my cock. So I wasn’t an unfeeling prick. I gave as I took. She found pleasure despite her situation, and the evidence was there for all to see—she could not have faked what the camera saw. So even though her predicament was . . . unique—none of us knew that then. Yet even so, none of us were selfish about doling out the cookies. She got off—plenty of times.

  “Anyway . . . where was I? Oh yeah, then I climbed up her body, nudged my penis to her opening and after making sure the cameras were in position, I thrust into her. And she was indeed a virgin. I had never felt anything so wonderful in all my life. I wish I had taken the time to actually think about what I was doing with her in that moment instead of thinking about the different camera angles and trying to put variety in the action while I took her in every way imaginable.

  “I brought her to the edge and then used every trick in the book to keep her from coming until I was ready. I changed positions, altered the tempo, and distracted her with little nips on her neck. We finally came together and my own orgasm nearly crippled me. I remember I barely pulled out in time to show proof, to coat her chest and belly. By the time I yelled, “Cut,” it was clear to everyone there that I was blindsided by this woman. Still, after a short break, I gave her to each and every one of them.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. My stomach was in a tight knot. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had to use the bathroom or because I was that troubled. I had made the mistake of putting myself in Cassandra’s place in my mind and now I was feeling some of the shame and degradation that she must have felt looking down and seeing what Philip had done on her breasts while the cameras had recorded it. “Can we stop for a minute?” I whispered, surprised that I couldn’t get my voice to project further.

  “Yeah, I need a break too. Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I managed to utter. I was lost in the story. Now that I remembered whose it was, that it was his wife’s, my chest hurt because of what he’d put her through.

  I reached for a tissue to dab at my eyes and looked at the clock on the mantel all at the same time. It was two in the morning.

  Ohmygod. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. I was flabbergasted and for the first time in my life actually knew what the word flabbergasted meant. Philip, oh my. Jeez. I could not get a grip on this. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This is how he had met his wife? He’d married her after all this? And why would she marry him? Why the hell would she marry him after what he’d put her through, after all he’d done to her, and in front of soooo many others? Although then again, this must have been what she wanted, she took money for it, didn’t she?

  I grabbed my wine glass, which I’d hardly touched since my initial sips, and downed the rest. Then I took a big breath and asked myself the question Philip would want to know the answer to. What were my feelings for him now? Could I reconcile all this, and all he went through, to how he was feeling about me, and what all this meant for our future together? Did I even want a future with a man like this? A man who could be so well . . . so . . . hell I didn’t even know how to fill in the blank on that one. He had been evil. He had been despicable.

  I went to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to refill my wine glass, then I took a thoughtful sip and tried to put myself in his position all those years ago. Okay, she was hired as an actress, he had paid her extremely well, and she had known what she was getting into and what she was giving up. She had even signed a contract to that effect. And in all fairness to him, despite her reasons for agreeing to do all this, which obviously had been motivated by money, he’d been told she wanted to get into the business. But a young girl like that . . . an innocent . . . I just knew that she had to have another reason for selling her body like that. What could that have been? And would it have made a difference if he’d known about it at the time?

  Wow. I plopped back down on the sofa, throwing my arm over my forehead and sighing. Then I realized I was horny and I cursed. Yeah, I was. I could do some
body right now, and oh so easily. And do it well, I thought as my hand strayed to my breast. How could I be horny after listening to this woman’s ordeal? I supposed it was conjuring up the thought of Philip and what it must have been like as a young beautiful woman to have him on top of her, and inside her—a young Philip, in his prime. I could picture him from a bird’s eye view, his muscular butt clenched with each thrust into my . . . uh . . . her body.

  I sat up and cursed again. Then I belittled myself again. How could I be horny? How could this woman’s story be affecting me like this? This wasn’t right; this wasn’t like me, unless I was just as perverted as Philip apparently was. Surely I hadn’t put myself in her place, in my mind, that completely. And then I realized that maybe I had done exactly that. I wanted to be with Philip right now, so maybe I was putting myself in Cassandra’s place, especially in that last scene. Kowabunga.

  My hand fell from my breast to the sofa cushion. Did I really want to hear more of this? I stopped myself from saying more of this trash, because I remembered that this was actually Philip’s life. He had lived through this. And so had Cassandra. I realized that I actually envied her the time she’d had with Philip. But not the time spent with the other men, however. Now I wasn’t so sure I would have wanted to be her at the time after all.

  Then the phone rang and a very tired-sounding Philip began again. He skimmed over the parts where Tony, the hairy one, took her over the arm of a chair; where Bill, playing the nerdy teacher, made her suck his cock; where Joe had her in multiple positions and in multiples orifices; and where Tom indoctrinated her to the joys of 69 before taking her up against a door. I just couldn’t absorb it all, it was too horrible. I didn’t want this in-depth study of what had to have been the worst day in this woman’s life. It seemed I didn’t mind hearing about her and Philip quite so much, as I supposed I knew they were going to end up as a couple. But gosh, so many men, her first time experiencing sex, this was way too much.

  Philip recalled each scene of the all-day love fest, and what for the actors and the crew, had been a typical workday. For Cassandra, who had spent most of it in a bed, it had to have been one nightmare after another, all day long.

  I listened with morbid fascination about the scene in the bathroom where it took all six men to hold her down while Rabbit gave her an enema in preparation for her “analingus” scene with Tom. How mortifying. How humiliating. I just couldn’t imagine it. And my stomach turned sour realizing that Philip, my Philip, was the one who had orchestrated all this misery for this poor woman.

  I felt as if I needed a reprieve, but I was doggedly determined to hear every despicable thing that related to Philip so I could analyze it and try to find a way to justify it. Or not.

  The scene where he sat her on a tabletop, spread her wide, and lovingly made her come with his mouth reminded me I that I was still horny. The scene where he forced her to her knees to take him into her mouth disgusted me in that he remembered her tears and how they’d had to be edited out later. He described how she had kind of gotten into fellatio toward the end after sucking on each man’s penis, and even had to be pulled off of him so he could come for the camera instead of in her mouth. He’d laughed and said she had gotten “into the zone.” He told me he had thrown some bondage in during that particular scene, making her do it with her hands tied behind her back. I could hear him smiling through the phone as if fondly remembering that titillating scenario.

  Then there was the scene where Philip had sat against the headboard, Cassandra straddling him in the cowboy position while at the same time, Joe had sodomized her. It sent me to the bathroom. But Philip didn’t let up, even knowing I was holding the phone to one ear and puking into the toilet at the same time, he continued to describe her moans and cries, telling me that her sobs and tears were the real deal, not the exaggerated and fabricated heavy breathing of a seasoned porn star. She had been crying and still he hadn’t ended the horror for her. It was as if he had to get it all out now. He had to tell me how evil he’d been. How disgustingly sordid he had become. How vilely he had treated a woman. It was as if he wanted me to find him so repulsive I’d never want to see him, ever again. As if he needed somehow to be punished for what he had done so long ago.

  I was sick again. I cried for her as I mopped my face. The man had been despicable. I could hardly credit him with being the same Philip that I was coming to know and love. Dear God, what was wrong with me? But I saw through his dogged determination to repulse me—he was trying to get me to hate him. It was almost as if he needed me to hate him.

  I told him I couldn’t finish listening to the story now, that he’d have to call back in the morning. I was wiped out, and from the sound of it, so was he.

  He said all right, that he’d call in the morning and I knew from his tone, that he was in pain.

  I went to bed, leaving my clothes strewn all over the bedroom. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to finish that story, but it sure wouldn’t be tonight. I felt bad that I couldn’t help Philip with his pain.

  Chapter Twenty

  Life is cruel In the morning I took the phone with a thermal cup of coffee out to the garage. I sat in Dale’s truck with the seat reclined partway back and waited for Philip to call. I didn’t want anyone to disturb me, but I think I also didn’t want anyone to catch me listening to this kind of well . . . smut. It wasn’t nighttime anymore and this kind of stuff was definitely after dark material.

  When Philip called, he said, “No niceties, let’s just finish where we left off so we can move on. I need to get this over with.” I agreed and he began again.

  He told me about Mike, his main cameraman and how buoyant he was at the end of that day. He had come up to Philip talking excitedly about the last scene when one of the actors had arched up and had slung Cassandra’s legs up over his chest so they had her ass hole framed and how nice it was when she came, when she came her little cinnamon colored hole had fluttered open and closed, open and closed. He said it was amazing, the best single porn shot he’d ever seen. He wanted permission to enter it in one of the trade contests. He said he told Mike he’d think about it. I thought I heard his voice crack.

  “Thinking back now, I don’t know how it was that I eventually agreed to this. It was months later and we were married. I remember saying to myself, this is my wife, how can I do this? But I was proud, so very proud of her and how she looked—which to me, was beautiful in every aspect, from every angle. It was a scene that was so base, so primal, and so invasive that I was not at all surprised when it won the award. As those words are practically the definition of porn—base, primal, invasive. It became her brand and just about every man in the world had either seen it or heard about it.

  “It actually pains me to say this but when it took all six of us to hold her down for the enema in preparation for the analingus scene with Joe I treated her worse than I would have treated any seasoned porn star. Knowing I was orchestrating all this misery for a young girl who had just lost her virginity, didn’t faze me. For some reason, I just didn’t care at the time. Or maybe I cared too much and it scared me. It was like I wanted to teach her a lesson, or show her what she was in for if this was the career she had picked, which I clearly thought she had. She never once refused to do anything I directed her to, yet it was very clear she was hesitant, fearful really. And the camera loved it. I knew that all the men jerking themselves off to this film would love it too.

  “After a full day of all manner of debauchery, the men left to go home and I was standing there listening to Mike, who was going on and on about that shot he had managed to get in the final bed scene when I looked over and saw Cassandra dressed in street clothes getting ready to leave.

  “I remember she was in stylish stretch pants with a short tunic and she had a campy bag over her shoulder. She looked so sweet, so young, still so innocent, yet now she was a porn star—full-fledged. I was back in my traditional businessman’s suit. I called over to her asking her where she was going, and
she said home.

  “I shook my head and reminded her that I had a twentyfour hour contract with her. That she was coming home with me, and that I was going to make sure she earned the full contracted amount, even if it was in my bed that very night. I can still see the fire in her eyes; she hated me in that moment. But I really didn’t give a damn. I wanted her. Even after having her in a variety of ways all day, I still wanted her.

  “So, I took her home to my apartment and made her service me all night. I even forced her to allow me to shave her glorious pussy. I made her pose in front of my panoramic windows so that my brother could view her from his condo in the next building over with his high-powered binoculars, and in the early morning when one of the doctors I kept on retainer showed up, I let him have his eyeful. I was so damn proud of her, she was beauty incarnate.

  “When this friend, who had actually been the doctor she had seen for her check up, asked if he could fuck her, I let him. I stood right there and watched as he put on a condom and plunged into her. After he left I took her two more times and then at nine I called a cab for her and she left. I spent the next three months looking for her. But she had disappeared. No one in the world of porn knew anything about her, even Eddie, my procurer couldn’t find her for me. It was as if this had been a one-shot thing and she had moved on. I speculated that maybe she had needed the money to get back home but no one had a record of her using any kind of transport whatsoever.

  “Then one night she showed up on my doorstep, crying. And that’s when I learned what had compelled her to sell her virginity and to put her body on display. It seems her young brother was being treated for cancer. She had arranged for her mother and her brother to travel to the states and she needed money for his treatment. She told the hospital that the boy was her son in hopes that she could get a job and health insurance, which would have covered him too. She gave forty thousand dollars to the doctor and clinic that were treating him. Now they were demanding more. She needed money, lots of it, and fast, or soon he would die. She didn’t know anyone who had that kind of money, except me. So she promised to do anything I asked, anything . . . anything at all. I let her in and sat her down, and then I told her to marry me. As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win situation. I wanted her desperately, she needed health insurance for her ‘son,’ and we both agreed that as soon as everything was resolved with her brother, we could divorce if need be. She readily agreed and we were married at the courthouse the next day.