by Fulani
The kneeling position was one Ruth associated with … But she knew he was good at messing with her mind. She opened her mouth anyway, not knowing whether to expect a cock or a gag. Instead, fingers moved aside the material of her short dress and probed between her legs. They detected her lack of underwear and her excitement, gently separated her labia and pushed inside. It wasn’t enough stimulation to come, despite the whole 24-hour build-up to the moment, but it certainly made her gasp. Even to her ears, her plaintive moans sounded charged with sexual desperation. The moans only stopped when those same fingers entered her mouth, forced her to lick her own juices from them.
Those juices were sealed in with a huge ballgag that distended Ruth’s jaw and pushed her tongue back inside her mouth. Despite the blindfold, the chain around her neck, and the ropes, it was the ballgag more than anything that made her feel vulnerable and helpless. And that made her recall a previous moment, in Leo’s van, inside the cage, being driven to a place where he’d fuck her. And the thoughts and fantasies that had raced through her head at that moment. Last time, it had just been the two of them. Now there were two other people there, strangers, and Leo could let them do anything they wanted with her.
Well … She’d already given her consent to that, hadn’t she?
‘She looks really cute. Very torturable. Pity she’s not part of the shoot, really.’ It was the female voice, young-sounding, business-like and with a hint of amusement there too.
Someone unlocked the chain – not from around her neck, but from the wall so Ruth was effectively now on a leash. And the chain tightened, pulling her to her feet.
‘I’ve packed everything I need, we should be getting back.’ That was Leo, speaking from the back of the garage. Which meant the guy holding the leash was someone she didn’t know. Mentally, Ruth didn’t know whether this should excite her or not. Physically, it put a huge electric charge into her clit.
In the van – she was lying on blankets in the back of it, Leo’s fingers still working inside her – Leo poured dangerous, compulsive thoughts into her ear. How he’d leave her tied up in the yard behind the club for a while, how he’d laugh if it rained, how he might turn a hose on her before cutting off her wet dress. How she’d be forced to watch him give the other women forced orgasms, would be stimulated by the occasional fleeting touch of strangers, until she couldn’t stand it any longer. How he’d make her beg for sex in front of the camera crew, offer to take a beating first, and he’d fuck her right there with everyone watching.
And while this was going on, Ruth’s mind was working overtime. The idea of actually being in a porn shoot had suddenly become attractive to her. The attention, the challenge, the public performance of her sexuality – all of it gripped her primary erotic organ, her brain, and expanded until it was the only thing she could think about.
Put the contract in front of her, she’d sign it. The only thing that had held her back, ever since he’d told her about the shoot, was the idea that someone, somewhere, she’d trained or who had hired her would recognise her.
She wondered, fleetingly, why she should care. Everyone had a sex life, and most people these days put their sex life right out there on social networking sites. In all probability, most of the men she trained had cock shots online and most of the women, nude pics of themselves on the amateur porn tubes. She’d seen the shots some of the women had of themselves even on their mobile phones, having wandered into the ladies’ toilets and interrupted her trainees showing them to each other.
The probability anyone would see her on a porn site was low, the probability anyone would care if they did was lower. But it was a porn shoot, she wasn’t just going to be on some amateur nudie website. And there were still cases of people being “outed” every so often. If it happened, it would be a big deal for her personally.
There was, though, an answer to that. The only bit of her they’d recognise would be her face. And that could be solved by the simple expedient of a hood.
Ruth had absolutely no experience with hoods. Blindfolds, yes. A gag – Leo had been the first person ever to gag her, and he’d done it that first night, within half an hour of tying her up. But a hood was a completely different thing. She’d seen him use one, in the porn video. The woman wearing it had seemed anonymous, robbed of her identity. She’d become, literally, a sex object.
Ruth imagined it pressing over her face, restricting her breathing, imagined it hot and claustrophobic against her skin. Imagined being reduced to an object, a piece of flesh.
At the same time, she was aware that a hood would be her protection from the camera. The way to insulate this part of her life from her professional existence.
A hood would be a huge challenge. More of a challenge, mentally, than almost anything else she could imagine having done to her.
But … unless she tried it, she’d never know.
She could have chosen a lesser challenge. Trying a hood in a private play session, for example, or just being at the shoot – wasn’t that enough of a challenge already?
Ruth knew she was putting herself under the same pressure she applied to her work. She needed a serious target to aim for, something that would consume her whole being, before things got interesting.
And it’s not interesting enough that I’m tied, gagged, blindfolded, with strangers, in the back of a van and being taken to a porn shoot?
She was ramping up the level of danger, testing herself psychologically as well as sexually. And it was that, as much as the fingers in her pussy, in fact more than the fingers moving in her pussy, that was making her horny as fuck.
The only trouble was that with her even white teeth clamped around the huge ballgag, there was no way she could communicate any of this to Leo.
Ruth stood, legs spread, wondering what the hell was happening. This was presumably their destination. Weak sunlight on her bare skin and the sound of birdsong told her she was outside, she imagined in the club’s back yard. She hoped she wasn’t visible from the street. She assumed Leo, or one of the crew, had checked this. The chain around her neck had been fastened to something, but she didn’t know what. Didn’t feel brave enough, with the blindfold, to take the two or three steps in any direction that would tell her how secure the chain was. She could fall into a drain, stumble over some equipment, hurt herself in some very unsexy way.
And in any case, there was stimulation. As people came and went past her – and she had no idea which people, what they were doing – there was the occasional hand groping her tits, feeling her arse, fingering her between the legs. All the things that if done to her in a public situation, would be unforgivable sexual intrusions. In this situation, though, it was strangely intimate and welcome. In fact, it put a distinct thrill through every part of her body. She was a slut available for casual use, and felt exhilarated, liberated, by playing that role.
The gag didn’t just prevent sound. By holding her tongue back in her mouth, it caused problems swallowing, so the only solution was to allow herself to drool. The feel of it escaping between the gag and her lower lip; her helplessness to prevent it; the gentle touch of her own saliva on her skin, and the moistness of it drying on her exposed cleavage. It was weird and a little demeaning. Yet it was unbearably erotic.
It didn’t rain, and Leo didn’t make good on his threat to soak her with a hosepipe. Nor did he cut her clothing away. Instead, since it was a halter-neck dress, fingers undid the clip on the back of the neck and worked the material out from under the ropes. Then she was naked and tied in the yard, with no idea whose eyes might be on her. While comfortable with her body, Ruth had never thought of herself as an exhibitionist. Not in that sense. Even though she’d worn the slut dress in the hotel bar. And she discovered something about herself at that moment, because the experience of being naked and in the open was a real headrush. Fresh, cool air teased her pussy and nipples. She could feel her cheeks reddening. And more: the sensation in her pussy built, quickly becoming so strong it made her thighs tremble
, and she could barely remain standing.
Ruth felt on a hair trigger: any tiny thing, any touch or breeze, would suddenly make her come. And when she felt movement in the chain attaching her to the wall, it sent a thrill through her that was certainly half-way to an orgasm. The chain tightened in preparation, she suspected, for it to be used again as a leash. A voice she didn’t recognise whispered in her ear.
‘We’re ready for you now, slut. Follow the direction of the chain, move slowly and I’ll tell you when there are steps or obstacles.’
As the chain pulled at her neck, Ruth couldn’t do anything but mmmph through the ballgag and obey.
Four paces. Four steps up. Six paces. Left turn, four paces. Right turn. Twenty-four paces. Ruth counted them. Clearly she was inside the building. There were people around. People she didn’t know. Possibly they were watching her, though she suspected they were setting up the video shoot and whatever was happening to her was normal, unremarkable, in their world. It freaked her out more that there were probably a couple of porn actresses sitting in the room, casting a critical eye over her.
The chain pulled downwards, forcing Ruth to her knees.
When the ballgag finally came out, she had to concentrate in order to make her jaw work properly again – move it from side to side, close it, open it again. Last time, in the hotel and in Leo’s van, she hadn’t been gagged for nearly as long. It felt like the muscles had almost seized up. But having got life back into them, Ruth figured there could only be one reason she was on her knees and not gagged.
The only question in her mind was who. She hoped it would be Leo’s cock. But she remembered the emails, words marching vividly across the darkness of the blindfold. Anyone on the set might want to fuck her, if she gave her consent. And she’d said: I consent! Tell them not to even ask, I consent already! The whole point is for me to be a submissive slut!
It could be any of the guys. Guys she didn’t know, had never met, never even seen.
Only one thing to do. Open wide, put her tongue out long and low in what Leo had called the ‘approved fashion’. Wait. Hope.
Yes, it was the cock she wanted. She knew the taste, the smell, the feel of the engorged veins as she ran her tongue over it. The intimidating thing was that she was taking it into her mouth, to the back of her throat, in fact deep-throating Leo, in front of an audience.
Embarrassed? That was part of it. Performance anxiety? That was the other part, and once she figured that out, she felt that damn go-for-it devil in her kick in again.
In her training work, she could stand in front of an audience, short skirt, long hair, commanding voice, and have the rapt attention of every person there. On the prowl in the evenings, she could dress to impress and undress to impress.
Different skill sets. Same principles.
Ruth went for it.
Not that she needed to do much, other than accept that her hands were still bound and she couldn’t keep her balance because her movements were dictated by Leo’s hands grasping her hair. She relaxed everything – her neck, her throat, her arms. Relinquished control. Allowed him to treat her like a fucktoy. Tasted the sweet and salt precome, groaned and yelled until the vibrations from the noises she made resonated inside his cock, travelled the length of it, called up his juices. Which spurted into her mouth with some force. She coughed, dribbled. He held her hair, wouldn’t release her mouth from the cock until it had finished depositing its load.
Still behind the blindfold, Ruth heard applause. For him or for her? Or because something else was happening in the room at the same time? She couldn’t tell. Or at least, couldn’t tell until Leo removed the blindfold and Ruth discovered she’d been performing a deep-throat blowjob before an audience of eight or ten men and women … The applause had been for her.
That just felt plain weird. But weird in a good way.
She’d read the emails, taken up Leo’s proposal, known how it might play out. She’d accepted the whole scenario, and however much she’d felt intimidated by the reality of it, she’d played her part brilliantly.
She deserved the applause. She felt proud of her sudden status as public fuckslut in the middle of a porn shoot, even if she wasn’t the one the cameras were going to be focusing on.
And nothing about that changed when Leo lay her down on the floor, opened her legs and used the Magic Wand to make her scream in a completely uninhibited fashion. Time to forced orgasm: around three seconds. She had no idea, though, how long he held it against her clit except that it was one long, single, rollercoaster of an orgasm that went on far, far longer than any orgasm had a right to do.
It was a long time before she was able to even form a thought, let alone a word; longer still before a comprehensively pleasured, exhausted and aftershock-ridden body allowed her to exercise voluntary control over any of its muscles.
‘With a hood?’
Ruth’s proposal had taken Leo by surprise. Privately, she was pleased at that. It was a reversal of their previous roles, a tipping point in the balance of power between them. Because now, it appeared, it wasn’t just Leo who could invent things to surprise Ruth. By asking to be involved in the shoot, offering to sign the contract if she could wear a hood, she’d genuinely blindsided him. She’d made her own peace with what she was going to do, her private compact with herself; now Leo had to deliver. And he was suddenly struggling with the gauntlet she’d thrown down. This was confirmed by the way his eyebrows gyrated around his face in a complicated mix of emotions.
‘With a hood,’ Ruth confirmed. ‘And remember, I already sent you the checklist of what you can do with me. I did it for fun, but now it’s serious.’
Leo opened his laptop, which was resting on what had once been the club’s bar. He checked the emails she’d sent him.
His eyes widened when he saw the things she’d checked as acceptable.
‘Are you sure you’re happy about …? You haven’t tried some of this stuff.’ He looked at her with a mock-severe expression. ‘Not with me, anyway!’
She fixed him with a cool stare. ‘I can use Google as well as anyone. I know what’s involved. Even if I haven’t tried it, I’m prepared to, and if I’m wrong about liking it I’ll just deal with it and we can talk about it later.’
Leo shrugged. ‘That’s brave talk, but I guess you’re strong enough to handle it. I’ll make sure we’re not too rough on you, though …’
It was only when Leo started moving lights to get “better camera angles” that Ruth asked what he was planning for her.
Leo gave a wry smile. ‘Planning? Oh, I’m going to keep you in suspense.’
She cast a critical eye over the set. Beyond the bar was a dance floor, either side of it small semicircular podia with dance poles. The back wall had a stage big enough for a band – or in this case, for a couple of cages and a St. Andrew’s cross. But when Leo said the word “suspense”, he was looking up at a roof beam. Hanging from it, in the pace where she’d have expected to see a glitterball, was a foot-wide metal ring.
Ruth got the message.
She didn’t get a lot of time to socialise with the others on the set. The high heels and female voice she’d heard in the garage belonged, she discovered, to the director. Ruth hadn’t even known there were such things as female directors of porn movies. No reason why there shouldn’t be, of course. And she evidently knew the whole business inside out, from camera and lighting to the psychology of the participants. Including, it turned out, how to wind up Leo by covertly rearranging the ropes he’d carefully laid out on the bar. Ruth took note. It was a trick she might have a use for at some later date…
She didn’t even get much social time with the other actresses, because there was hair and makeup to fix. Why? ‘Just because it’ll make you feel good on the inside, even if it’s hidden by the hood!’ Then a couple of the others went to the toilet with menacing-looking anal douche kits. The only conversation she had was in the short time they were able to spend smoothing and preening rather small
and tight dresses, Ruth donning the same slutwear she’d started with in the garage. Ruth didn’t catch names, but gathered some interesting details. Yes, they’d done these shoots before. But they weren’t professional models, didn’t have perfect bodies, and lived everyday lives that weren’t, maybe, as frantic as Ruth’s own but certainly weren’t exotic or glamorous. One worked on a supermarket till; another was a postgraduate student; the third was a care worker in a nursing home.
And then it was time.
Three guys, including Leo, and four women. But the men were quick and effective with rope. All four women with hands tied securely behind their backs inside about forty-five seconds. For Ruth, the reaction was instant. Now I’m tied, please fuck me. And the ballgag that fitted her mouth, so she couldn’t actually say the words, just seemed to seal the desire inside her more intently.
She was intrigued to note, though, that she wasn’t the only one reacting this way. Though none of the women could speak – because they’d all been gagged – she saw the subtle but unmistakable movements of hips, thighs, spines and breasts that announced the others were as turned on as she was. The fuck-me-now thought in her mind mingled with the reflective question of how she’d managed to miss this aspect of her own sexuality for so long, and the observation that if she was sitting with three similarly writhing and turned-on women, her reaction was clearly not as unique or deviant as she might – once upon a time – have thought.
‘We didn’t have a hood. I had to improvise.’ Leo’s murmur interrupted Ruth’s moment of reflection. She couldn’t see exactly what he used, because he was standing behind her, but it felt like a thin fabric bag, the kind someone might use for keeping trainers in. No smell of trainers, though. And thankfully, because it was thin, she had no trouble breathing inside it, even with the gag.