by Paul Preston
I lost the male lead in the film to the hooded monk Roger, a large, solidly built, if slightly chubby man, who always seemed to be in need of a shave. He had thick black hair covering his forearms and a dark smarmy complexion. I was Igor to his Dr. Frankenstein, escorting pretty young women, dropped off by their husbands for “training” to their cells. Farnsworth wrote himself once again into the script, ostensibly to save money, but I no longer believed that ruse. Our fearless leader cast himself as Elizabeth’s rich husband (he wished) who brings Elizabeth’s character to Master Victor’s home to teach her to become a more obedient and docile wife. Delores played a large part in the film too. I later learned Delores and Roger were an item and had an off and on affair going on for years. How convenient for Farnsworth that the two employees of his downtown San Diego sex shop were intimately acquainted. Though Mr. Farnsworth had delusions of grandeur as a film director, I now realized he wasn’t really an artist at all. He just set up scenarios to fulfill his perverted fantasies of watching young people whom he was attracted to engage in multiple sexual acts while filming them with his cheapo cameras and passing it off as art. Why did it take me so long to come to this obvious realization? I suppose I thought at the time what I was doing also qualified as art. Farnsworth was not the only one on the set with delusions of grandeur.
The five of us sat around a rickety cardboard table in Farnsworth’s living room to read the screenplay. The film began with an intensely sexual scene between Roger as Master V and Delores as Lady Magrette. The conventional opening was similar to most pornographic videos where exposition, plot, character development and dialogue take a back seat to sex scenes and nudity. I suppose Farnsworth chose to stick closer to the usual format of these kind of movies and not muddy the waters by making his latest effort in his own words, “too artsy”. His days as a groundbreaking pornographic film director were now over. After losing so much money on “The Monastery”, Farnsworth had gone commercial.
In the first scene, Master V engages Lady Magrette in one of his trademark “obedience sessions”. The script directed Delores’ character to be completely nude, blindfolded, and tied to a post in the center of a bright room. No mood lighting or candles this time around. Roger mercilessly spanks and whips her into submission and then picks her limp body up and tosses her onto a bed. He ties her up tightly and does unspeakable things to her over and over in a variety of sexual positions. My character limps around for what seems like hours in the background of the scene, handing over a whip here or a pair of handcuffs there. After Lady Magrette is sufficiently trained, I am seen from behind with my hunched back, carrying Delores off to the dungeon. The camera never even shows my face. Whoever said the film business was glamorous never filmed in Chula Vista, I guess. Ah, gone were the days of my movie stardom. How fleeting they were.
In the second scene, Farnsworth brings his wife, Lady Alabaster, to Master V’s academy for training. You can see me limping around and drooling while serving drinks to the Lords and the Lady. After a cordial meeting, Farnsworth leaves his wife in Victor’s care.
As soon as Elizabeth read in the stage directions that Master V strips Lady Alabaster of her clothes, blindfolds her, chains her to the wall and forces her to give Roger’s character oral sex, Elizabeth freaked out. She stood up, dropping her script, the pages fluttering to the floor.
“No way. Not in a million years will I let that Neanderthal touch me, much less… I should’ve read this before I agreed to… Oh my God. I think I’m going to puke. Edward, can you get me a glass of water and my purse please?”
“Sure,” I said, jumping up to pour her a cup of water from a side table.
“Oh my God, gag me with a stick!” Elizabeth said, opening her mouth as if she was about to wretch.
“Well, that’s nice. You remind me of my prom date from high school, honey. Tux, corsage, limo, fancy dinner, dance, but no happy ending. That was the most expensive goodnight kiss in my life,” Roger said, smirking.
I gave Elizabeth her glass of water and she drank it down, while popping a little pink pill out of her purse. Farnsworth took his black rimmed glasses off and gave her his best attempt at a stare down.
“Ms. Rose, need I remind you, you have already signed a contract to perform certain acting services. The contract explicitly states—”
“NO FUCKING WAY! Not with that caveman!”
“Nice. Can we add a scene where I get to drag her by the hair?” Roger quipped.
“I have already incurred significant expenses in the rental of specialized lighting equipment,” Farnsworth complained.
“Great! Now at least someone can see what’s going on in your movie,” Elizabeth said.
“Need I remind you, Ms. Rose, that you’ll be in a breach of contract and liable for the expenses if you—”
“Go ahead, Farnsworth! Sue me! I’m not having sex with that gorilla!”
Farnsworth rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“And where are Edward’s lines, by the way? What part is he playing? I haven’t heard any of his lines yet,” Elizabeth said.
“I’ve given Shakespeare a non-speaking role, and he’s lucky to get that. He will be playing Master V’s servant, otherwise known as the Keeper of the Keys, who escorts you and Lady Magrette to and from the cell you share together,” Farnsworth said.
A long uncomfortable pause passed as Elizabeth and Farnsworth locked eyes.
“Are you some kind of idiot, Farnsworth? I thought you were smarter than that. You’ve given the only person in this room who can actually act a non-speaking role?” Elizabeth said, as if scolding a toddler who just wet his pants.
Farnsworth calmly wiped the lens of his glasses with a tissue and put them back on. The director’s eyes watered at her stinging words. I could tell Farnsworth was smitten by Elizabeth, just as much as I was. His feelings were obviously hurt. He sniffled. I was afraid he was about to start crying at the read-through. I tried to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Elizabeth, I don’t think I’d be very well cast in the role of Victor, but I have some good ideas about playing my smaller part,” I said, trying to make the best of the situation. “I’ve come up with an interesting back story for my character, I think. After being abandoned by his Mother and given away to an orphanage—”
Elizabeth interrupted me, as if she could sense the masked disappointment in my voice about being relegated to such an insignificant role.
“Farnsworth, if you want me to appear in your weird-ass little movie, the only person that I will agree to have a sexual encounter with is Edward.”
“That’s ridiculous. Victor would never allow anyone other than himself to have sexual relations with one of the high-borne ladies under his instruction, especially his deformed servant,” Farnsworth pronounced.
“What if Lady Alabaster was disobedient and behaved disrespectfully to Victor, refused to call him “My Lord” and acted sassy to him, even while in bondage and under fear of the whip, so he decides to disgrace my character by handing her over to his servant for discipline. That way Edward and my character could fall in love in the dungeon, just like in the last movie. Girls always like a good love story, just ask any of my friends.”
A long silence followed. I thought it was a pretty good plot twist, actually. Not to mention it made my part a whole lot juicer. Finally, Farnsworth spoke.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but a love story is not in the script I wrote. While I appreciate hearing your ideas and I am open to creative collaboration, I do not appreciate being called an idiot by you in front of the cast. It shows a general lack of respect toward me as director of the—”
“OK, Mr. Farnsworth. I apologize if I hurt your feelings, but my terms are non-negotiable. Edward is the only actor I will allow to touch me in the video. I certainly will not have that man’s meaty paws or any other part of his body touching me. Come on, Edward.”
“You’re walking off the set? Again!” Farnsworth shouted.
“That’s correct,�
�� Elizabeth said.
I sheepishly gave my script back to Farnsworth and followed Elizabeth out the door. I thought my film career was definitely over, until Farnsworth called Elizabeth a few hours later and a compromise was reached. She held her cell phone up so we could both hear the conversation. Elizabeth agreed to have a one on one sexual encounter on screen with the character of Lady Magritte and Roger would have no sexual contact outside of a brief fondling of her breasts in the beginning of the movie. And Elizabeth and I were granted our love scene. Farnsworth rewrote the script and we picked the new version up a few days later. When we read it together, it wasn’t half-bad, for porno movie dialogue.
“There. I got you a bigger part.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me, you know. What about that sex scene with Dolores? Are you sure you want to…”
“I don’t know. She’s a pretty cute girl, in case you haven’t noticed. Maybe it will be sexy for you. You’ll be watching, won’t you, Sir?”
“Sure. But only if you want me to.”
“I want you to, Master Edward.”
“OK…”
“At least I won’t have to do anything nasty with that disgusting guy.”
“Right,” I said, feeling a little relieved about it too. “Are you OK with him touching your…”
“My boobs?”
I nodded.
“I don’t care. It’s just another part of my body. I never understood why guys go so crazy over them. Boobs are just boobs. Every woman has a pair.”
“Yours are special, Elizabeth.”
“Really? You are sweet to say so, Mr. James.”
When my part got bigger, Farnsworth grudgingly increased my stipend for the project from $250 to an amount equal to the other performers, $1000. We memorized our new lines and started filming a few days later with no rehearsal, of course.
After Farnsworth hands his disobedient wife, Lady Alabaster, into the clutches of Master V, she’s offered a chair and interviewed. Elizabeth looked spectacular in her sheer, lacy Victorian gown with a low-cut bodice that revealed her ample cleavage. Things became tense between the Master and the Lady quite quickly, as she refuses to disrobe, make direct eye contact, or call Master V Sire or My Lord. Other than just lurking around in the background, I made my first appearance on screen when the Master called me over to subdue Lady Alabaster and tie her hands over her head to a hook in the ceiling. Master V places a black collar around her throat and slowly unbuttons the front of her dress, slipping the gown off her shoulders. He removes her bra, stockings, panties and shoes, until her body is completely exposed to the camera. While fondling her breasts, Master V speaks in a kind voice to Lady Alabaster, asking in a patient and gentle manner to submit to him in order to avoid punishment. Master V confesses his attraction to her and attempts to kiss her, but Lady Alabaster turns her cheek coldly away. Given no other choice, Master V disgraces Lady Alabaster by giving her over to his lowly servant to be punished for her disobedience.
After untying her arms, my character escorts Lady Alabaster down the dark passageway of Farnsworth’s hallway, her hands covering her breasts. The servant leads the nude body of Lady Alabaster into the dark cell and sits her down on the cold floor. He chains one of her ankles to an O-ring mounted into the wall. Lady Alabaster notices the nude sleeping body of another woman near her, also chained to the wall. She speaks quietly, so as not to wake the woman. I recited from memory the lines from my scene with Elizabeth for Mr. Berman.
Lady Alabaster: What is your name, good man?
The servant looks down to the floor, ashamed to be addressed by such an angelic creature.
Lady Alabaster: Can you not speak?
He shakes his head no and picks up a small dusty chalkboard to write upon.
Lady Alabaster: You know how to write?
He nods his head yes and hands Lady Alabaster the chalkboard. The camera focuses on the words.
“I am called Keeper of the Keys.”
Lady Alabaster: But what is your God-given name?
With the filthy sleeve of his robe the servant rubs out the chalk and scrawls the words, I no longer have a name.
Lady Alabaster: What happened? Why can’t you speak?
The servant writes, I was hungry. I got caught stealing bread. I lied about it to the magistrate. He said my tongue would be removed if I ever spoke again.
Lady Alabaster: You may speak freely to me, my friend. I will not tell a soul. Why do you have a scar across your face?
He swallows and with some difficulty speaks for the first time.
Keeper of the Keys: It… was my… punishment… for my crime…
Lady Alabaster: You poor man.
Still covering her breasts with one hand, she reaches out with her other hand to brush the tangled hair away from the servant’s eyes. He quickly turns away, covering his face with his hands and moves into the corner of the room.
Lady Alabaster: I’m sorry I… I just wanted to see your eyes. I didn’t mean to make you afraid…
Keeper of the Keys: I am ashamed, my Lady.
Lady Alabaster: While it is true that most men only care about the outward appearance of a woman, women can see into the heart of a man. And I see that your heart, my friend, is far more attractive to me than the most handsome man in our province. Please don’t feel shy. Come closer to me…
The servant slowly stands and walks over to sit near her.
Keeper of the Keys: You are kind.
Lady Alabaster smiles.
Lady Alabaster: If only you knew me in the home of my husband, you would not think so. I’ve been quite rude to my servants all my life. My heart is black inside, as dark as this hideous cell.
Keeper of the Keys: You are kind to me, Madam.
Lady Alabaster shivers.
Keeper of the Keys: You’ve caught a chill. Here.
He covers her delicate white shoulders with an old blanket.
Lady Alabaster: You are kind. Perhaps it is fitting that I be chained in this dungeon and whipped by you, to repay me for my unkindness to my own servants.
Keeper of the Keys: I cannot take the whip to you.
Lady Alabaster: But Master V said…
Keeper of the Keys: You are too beautiful. I will not touch your skin with the lash.
Lady Alabaster: But what will happen to you if—
Keeper of the Keys: Master V will whip me for my disobedience.
Lady Alabaster: But… the pain—
Keeper of the Keys: I care not for the pain, my Lady. I would rather be whipped to the bone than harm the slightest hair on your head.
Lady Alabaster: You would do that… for me?
The servant bows before her.
Keeper of the Keys: My heart… my soul is yours… My Lady.
Lady Alabaster touches his cheek.
Lady Alabaster: You are a sweet man… Come to me. Let me embrace you.
Keeper of the Keys: But… my lady. How can you bear to touch me? My face is deformed. I am a monster.
Lady Alabaster: Come. Let's see if that pretty tongue of yours can be used in other ways than just talking…
Lady Alabaster slips the blanket off her shoulders and offered her breasts to suckle upon. The servant stares at her bosom, transfixed.
Keeper of the Keys: You are an angel.
Lady Alabaster reaches out her arms to him.
Lady Alabaster: Come to me. Let me comfort you, Keeper of the Keys…
The servant embraces Lady Alabaster, his cheek resting in the soft flesh of her cleavage. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing him closer to her breast.
Lady Alabaster: Your skin is so warm, it takes away the chill. Let me feel you, skin to skin.
Lady Alabaster helps remove his robe and they hold each other in their nakedness. She delicately kisses the servant on the lips. He kisses down her neck and over her shoulders to her breasts. Lady Alabaster tilts her head back and presses his head closer as he takes her swollen areoles and puf
fy nipples into his mouth to suckle her. She lays back on the floor and the servant kisses down her torso and abdomen. She opens her thighs as he passionately kisses the unfurled folds of Lady Alabaster’s sex.
Lady Alabaster: Mmmm. My Lord…
Keeper of the Keys: My Lady…
Lady Alabaster tilts her head back and opens her mouth. Her skin trembles as the servant brings her to a release with his tongue. After her breathing calms, Lady Alabaster strokes her fingers through his hair and holds him close to her breast on the floor of the cell.
Lady Alabaster: No man has ever… kissed me there.
Keeper of the Keys: It was my pleasure, My Lady.
Lady Alabaster: What about your release?
Keeper of the Keys: You are too beautiful to be used by a servant, Lady Alabaster.
Lady Alabaster: You are not my servant, but my jailer. You may do with me what you will.
Keeper of the Keys: Are you not frightened of me?
Lady Alabaster: No. You are no more or less frightening than my husband, who dropped me off at this hideous place to be whipped into submission by that hideous man.
He looks toward the cell door and whispers in her ear.