The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “Okay, follow me,” he said after hanging up the phone. “You ever done any professional work before?”

  “Well, yeah, I’m a CPA at a firm in Jersey.”

  “No, man, porn work. You know, sex work. You done any sex work before this?”

  “Oh, I see. Porn. Yeah, well, yeah. I mean no. I mean – porn?”

  “Yeah, buddy: porn. Waddya think? I mean you’re gonna be naked, on camera for a week. Waddya think it is? But hey, if you got a problem, you gotta let me know now. No one’s gonna let you outa there unless you’re sick or somethin’ once you go in, ya know? So? You still wanna do this?”

  “Well, um, yeah – I guess. I mean, yeah, sure. Why not?”

  “All right then. Everything’s on this floor. We got the whole loft. Inside, it’s nice. You got everything you need. There’s food and stuff to read and tapes ’n’ stuff to watch. You don’t get TV, but there’s DVDs and stuff. All you gotta do is what the ladies tell you to.

  “Nobody’s gonna come in and you can’t come out until your time’s up or they kick you out. You signed a contract that said you’d do what you were told and that’s all you gotta do. If nobody’s tellin’ you to do anything, you can do what you want, but when somebody tells you to do something, you gotta drop whatever you’re doing and do it. Get me?”

  “Yes, I know.” The guy was getting on my nerves. Or maybe the whole thing was beginning to get on my nerves.

  “Now look, and this is important, you gotta do everything they say or at least try to do it. If you don’t do something or you refuse, you don’t get paid, see. You understand?”

  “Yeah, okay.” He stared at me like I wasn’t getting it. I was getting it.

  “All right, so, there are cameras everywhere in the loft. There’s no place you won’t be on camera, OK?”

  I nodded. We were standing in front of a door, in a hallway behind the reception desk.

  “All right. You can take off your clothes and everything here.” He handed me a locker key and said I should put all my belongings in the locker and take the key inside the living space with me. He said I could put it in a bowl by the door, that way, I wouldn’t lose it.

  “Cause you lose your key, you’re gonna be the one who has to pay to get the lock cut off.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I very quickly got out of my clothes and folded them up in the locker. I just wanted to get inside.

  “You gotta take off all the jewellery and the watch too.”

  “Yeah, all right.” Finally I stood in front of the door, completely naked and a little chilled, key in hand. There seemed to be a draft. I hadn’t thought about it before but some of these old buildings, well, you had to expect it. I really hoped I wouldn’t freeze to death for an entire week.

  He unlocked the door. “Okay pal, have a good one,” and in I walked.

  I heard the door close and the lock slide home behind me but I was more concerned with what was in front of me to pay much attention. There was no draft. There weren’t any windows. Everything was white. I detected a light scent of lavender in the air as my feet sunk into the thick carpet. A white velvet couch faced a huge plasma screen on the opposite wall. In front of the couch was a large white plastic low table; one of those really expensive ones you see in magazines. Below the TV was a table with a white DVD player and two shelves of white-sleeved DVDs. There were small white speakers on stands at each corner of the room.

  If I continued in a straight line from the door, I came to a white dining table with one straight-backed chair and then the kitchen. The kitchen was no different: white counter and sinks, white appliances, white dinnerware but stainless silverware and pots and pans. The glasses were a frosted white. I wondered if the food would somehow be white too.

  The bedroom, off the living room, held a king-sized bed with a white anodized barred head and footboard. The bathroom had a white tile floor and mirrors covering the walls opposite the sink, shower, toilet, and tub. Back in the bedroom, I noticed a nightstand by the bed with a shelf of white-covered books.

  Walking back into the bathroom I lifted the seat and began a much-needed piss. It was slightly weird, gazing at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror behind the toilet.

  “Don’t make a mess, boy. You’ll have to clean it up with your tongue. No one likes a messy boy, do they?”

  I stopped in mid-stream and looked around, my hands automatically going up to cover my cock and balls. I heard a chorus of female voices commenting on messy guys and then the first voice said, “What do you think you’re doing? Take those hands away!”

  I removed my hands and said, “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Pretty shouldn’t speak unless he’s asked a direct question. But he is very pretty, isn’t he?”

  “Prettier than his pictures, I’d say.”

  “Finish going to the bathroom, boy.”

  I was frozen in place, one hand holding my cock, looking around the room for the cameras, but I couldn’t find them.

  “What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t like an audience? We’ll be quiet. Just pretend we’re not here.” There was some quiet snickering and whispering and then nothing but the occasional quiet cough.

  This was what I was getting paid for, I guess I never truly thought about what “On camera 24/7” really meant. But I had to go and so, I went. As I was washing my hands, the first voice spoke again.

  “Hurry it up, boy. It’s time to learn the rules. Go back to the living room and take a seat in the middle of the sofa.”

  Once back in the living room, she continued. “Spread those legs. Whenever you sit, your legs are to be spread as wide as possible. Better. You’ll do what we tell you. Whatever we tell you, or you’ll be forced to leave without pay.”

  I have to say, I was beginning to feel like I might not have made such a good decision. She talked about how any of the women, at any time, could give me a command and I’d have to execute it. And if they told me to stop, I’d better stop whatever I was doing.

  She said there were lots of toys in the apartment, which they might direct me to play with. She said there were magnetic restraints that once put on, only she and her friends had the power to remove. She also said I would have plenty of free time to do anything I wanted. There were movies to watch and books to read.

  “Any questions, pretty?”

  I thought of about a million things to ask. “No, ma’am.”

  “That’s fine then. Masturbate for us.”

  And that was my introduction to the house. Of course, I didn’t mind jacking off to the cameras, I enjoyed it, being the exhibitionist I am. It was when I got close to coming that the point of their control was driven home.

  “Stop.”

  I didn’t stop right away.

  “I said stop! If you come, you’re out of here right now. It would be a shame to get kicked out less than an hour after arrival.”

  I stopped, right hand still wrapped around my shaft, which stood hard and straight.

  “You’ll get used to it. Now, on the dining table you’ll find a set of wrist and ankle cuffs. Put them on.”

  I found them. Fitting with the theme, they were white leather. I couldn’t see how to fasten them on because there didn’t seem to be any buckles or locks.

  “Just wrap it around your wrist.”

  I did as I was told and felt the ends come together with a strong magnetic pull. I gave it a yank but it refused to budge.

  “Magnetic restraints. I told you.”

  When I had them all fastened, another voice told me to go pick out a movie and put it in the DVD player. My hard-on hadn’t subsided yet and the cuffs were adding to my arousal. I don’t know what it is about cuffs, but you feel somehow more naked when you’re wearing them, or at least I do.

  The movies didn’t have any titles or cover pictures but each was numbered. Which should I choose? I opened a box and found a white DVD with a number corresponding to the box cover.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just put in number twenty-three.�
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  “I suppose we’re going to have to tell him everything.”

  “So many pretty boys are indecisive.”

  “It’s all right, pretty, we didn’t choose you for your brains.”

  “Oh look, now you’ve gone and hurt his feelings!”

  “She didn’t mean it, pretty. We’re all sure you’re very smart, aren’t we, ladies?”

  I turned beet red to choruses of “yes, yes”, “sure” and “of course we do” while I put the requested DVD in. They had me go back to the couch and sit down again. This time I remembered to sit with my legs apart. As the opening credits flashed, they told me to put my hands behind my back and as soon as I did, I felt my wrists snap together in magnetic restraint.

  It was a porn movie. It figured. It was okay, but it really didn’t do that much for me. It had mostly attractive women with fake boobs swimming together nude. Then some guys came over and fucked ’em in a few different ways. Pretty standard fare, really. So I leaned back and watched while my cock wilted. They freed my hands and had me change the movie a few times. I guess they were trying to get to know me, or at least my taste in porn.

  Each time I changed the movie, they’d restrain my hands again. Eventually, I came across a movie I liked, as evidenced by my returning hard-on. Surprise, surprise, it was about some ball-busting women tying some guy up and fucking him in front of an audience of people. See, he didn’t know there was going to be an audience until he was already tied up, then they opened some curtains and he could see a room full of people watching. I really liked that part. I told you I was an exhibitionist!

  Then three different women fucked him with strap-ons. I didn’t think I’d like that but I did. Or at least my cock did. That kind of disturbed me a little bit – that my cock seemed to like that so much, but I wasn’t too scared because I knew I was alone and no one was going to come in and do that to me.

  The voices made all sorts of comments about what I liked and what they should do to me and about all the pre-come dripping from my cock. The screen had a “picture in picture” mode and they put a close-up of my cock on the TV screen for me to watch. That was kind of cool. You never see yourself like that. I mean, even if you watch yourself masturbate, the angle’s different, you know?

  At one point in the movie, this one woman was scratching the guy’s balls with these long metal claw-like things on the ends of her fingers. I guess my legs started to come together and that woman who seemed to be in charge barked, “Keep those legs apart!” The next thing I knew, my feet were rooted to the floor, with my legs really wide apart.

  “There are magnetic points in strategic places which we can activate, boy. Why, what sort of fun would it be, if we couldn’t tether you to something when we wanted to? Yes, there are points like this all over, not just in the floor, but you’ll see. It seems we have a live one, girls!”

  The movie I was watching ended but another came on right after it. This one showed a guy attached to a wall, again with an audience. There was only one woman in it. She was beautiful but really mean. You could tell she liked hurting the guy. Like when you watch a horror movie, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

  “Mmm, pretty, pretty. You like that, don’t you?”

  I almost hadn’t heard her. No, I didn’t like that. I wasn’t into that sort of thing. I stole a glance at my cock on the screen and saw it bobbing and dancing. They unfastened my wrists and the woman told me I could touch myself. My hands raced to my shaft and started pumping.

  “Stop!”

  It took me a second, but I managed to stop.

  “I’m going to let you come, but I’ll tell you when. There’s a part coming up here that I think you’ll really like. It’d be a shame if you came too soon and missed it, don’t you think?”

  They freed my hands. “Press ‘pause’ on the remote.” They freed my legs and told me to open the drawer in the coffee table. Toys. There were lots of different kinds of toys. There were things in there I had no idea how to use or what they might be for.

  “Now, pretty, you see that sweet little red butt plug?”

  I suppose I hadn’t really been thinking when I looked in the drawer that these were for me to use – on myself! Whoa, butt plug? And it wasn’t “little” either. Somehow, I gave myself away.

  “What’s the matter, pretty, Never used one of those? Ooh, I think you’ll like it. Don’t you think he’ll like it, girls?”

  Once again, there were choruses of, “oh yes” and “you know it”.

  “And besides, it’s always so much fun watching a sweet little anal virgin trying to insert his first plug! Here’s what you’re gonna do, pretty; you’re going to pick up that bottle of lube and the red plug, close the drawer, walk around the table so you’re standing between the TV and the table. That’s right. Now, you’re going to bend over and put your hands on the table top. Yes, that’s nice. Now, take your hands off the table – no, no, don’t stand up – grab your butt cheeks and spread ’em. We want to see that lovely virgin hole of yours. That’s right.

  “Okay, you can let go. Now, squeeze some lube on your right index finger and rub it over your anus. Yes, now, get some more lube and do it again. Push your finger in a little bit. Doesn’t that feel nice?”

  You know what, it did feel good. I wasn’t going to tell her that, but it did kind of turn me on. I never did anything like that before. I never thought I’d want to. I mean, I’ve fucked a girl in the ass before and I really liked it, but I never wanted to put anything in my ass. It kind of sent a chill down my spine, into my balls.

  “Answer me, boy, doesn’t it feel nice?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Well, that’s a shame. I guess you’ll be pretty uncomfortable for a while then. Squeeze some lube on the tip of the plug and coat the whole thing. You need more than that, boy. That’s better. Now, reach back and pull your cheeks apart with your left hand and find your asshole with the plug.”

  There was some giggling while I tried to locate the right place. I started sweating. My hard-on was gone and I was getting more and more embarrassed. Finally I found my asshole. Listen, it’s not that easy when you’re doing it for the first time and people are watching.

  “That’s it. Now slowly push it in. No, keep going.”

  It hurt. I thought it might feel good, but it hurt. I told them it hurt and they said it wouldn’t hurt for long and to keep going. I finally got it in, felt my ass close over the bump and the plug sort of got sucked up and held tight. She was right, it didn’t hurt anymore. It felt all right – nice, actually. The longer it was in there, the less I felt it.

  “Stand up, pretty.”

  I felt it then, like an electric shock straight to my cock, which wasn’t so soft anymore, by the way. She told me to walk around to the couch again and take a seat. Walking was an interesting experience. Sitting down was an even more interesting experience.

  “Press ‘play’ and put your hands behind your back again. That’s right, squirm all you like, but open those legs.”

  I felt the magnets lock as the movie started again. It was hard to concentrate on the movie with the butt plug in. I couldn’t keep still, and every time I moved another foreign sensation would take hold of my cock or my balls.

  It wasn’t until the bitch in the movie shoved a big plug into the guy she’d been tormenting earlier that I was drawn back to watching. I realized my hands were free and they were wrapped around my cock. I have no idea how they got there, but there they were. She started smacking his balls with a riding crop and his cock got harder and harder. So had mine. I was riveted to the screen and wacking off for all I was worth. I think I’d forgotten where I was.

  When she told me to come, I almost didn’t hear her. I probably would have come anyway and I bet she knew it. The woman in the movie gave the guy a really hard smack on the side of his cock and he just exploded come. So did I. Holy shit, I never felt anything like that, and you’ve got to remember, this was just the first day, the first few hours! />
  Oh fuck! I wasn’t going to tell you what it was that turned me on that much ...

  I’ve only been home a few days and I still can’t believe all the stuff that happened. You know what she said? She said she was the woman in that video I was watching. That same woman was in a lot of the videos, at least a lot of the videos they made me watch. I think she lives here. Yeah, well, probably not in Staten Island, but I bet she lives in the City.

  Listen, actually, that’s why I’m telling you all this stuff. See I got this idea. I really have to find her. I guess maybe I’m a little obsessed, you know? So I was wondering if I could borrow your gallery space. I mean, I know you only get to show there once a year and all but it’s perfect, and besides, I’ll make it up to you, man. But, a lady like her; I bet she goes to lots of art openings. Anyway, she’d want to see this one. There’s no way she could pass it up.

  It would be just like at the loft, only this time it would be open to the public. Don’t they still do that performance art stuff? It’d be like that. People could come in and watch me and tell me what to do, but only the ladies. And then when she showed up to see what all the noise was about, well, then I could talk to her. I could tell her I wanted to do . . . I could tell her I wanted to be . . . I wanted to be her slave, or . . . OK, that sounds lame, but I know what I mean.

  So could I borrow your space? Please? I can’t stand it; I just have to find her. I think this would really impress her. I know she liked me and if I could only see her in person, just once, I know everything would work out right.

  The Dress

  Kristina Wright

  The dress made her do it.

  It hung in the back of Carrie’s closet, hidden behind silk blouses, pinstriped pants, tailored suits, summer skirts and polo shirts. It languished there in the farthest corner of the closet while other clothes were worn for business meetings and tennis matches and birthday parties and lunches with friends. The dress stayed there when other clothes were tossed in the donation bag, when other new outfits replaced old, when seasons changed and wool trousers were chosen over Capri pants. The dress was like an old friend, waiting patiently for a long overdue call.