Anything for the Green Card

I've been trying to write something more pretentious, snobbish, and you know what? This headache is going to be the end of me. I'm not really in the mood for complex structures or symbolism. But I need to practice. So, screw it. Let's just write whatever comes to mind. Hope you like... whatever the hell this experiment turns out to be.

P. S: Thank to the editors for clarifying some issues when I got back the discarted manuscript. Althought I tried to recreate something akin to an adult web video, I can understand why it may lock odd in a vacuum. I shall avoid anythig like that on the future.

***

Anything for the Green Card

--Hey, gorgeous! --the man exclaimed, running from the other side of the airport terminal.

--What? Mister, careful. Floor slippery. --The tall dark haired woman answered with a thick eastern European accent.

The man caught up with her, running out of air. Panting, the woman's enormous breasts were before his eyes; but as much as he liked the view, he focused on his task.

--Hi! Oscar Stone. At your service.

--Hello, Oscar. Listen. Friends looking for me. I have to go.

--No, no, no. Wait. Don't you wanna make a lot of money? Earn a wage in dollars?

--American dollars? How did you know?

--Eh, call it instinct. I have a good job offer.

--Sorry, but can't work here without permit. Great card.

--A Green Card, yes. But we can sort it out.

--... What is "sort it out"?

--We can take care of that. Anyway, haven't they told you what an amazing body you have?

There was no need to tell her that. Out of all the ghetto's residents, she was the ever blooming flower among the filth. Even among her countrymen, her height of six feet five towered over everyone else. Her well-defined face was adorned with topaz eyes, plump lips, and abundant black hair. Even though she was covered by loose clothing, one could appreciate the essential curves of her body, surpassing those of those operated-on models. Oscar knew he had a rough diamond on his hands.

--What is job about? --asked the woman.

--Well it's, uhm... I'm gonna be straight with you, have you ever heard of Desire Dungeon dot com?

--Goodbye --the woman walked towards the exit, and the man tried to catch up with her.

--Wait! It's not that bad.

--Maybe I talk funny, but I not dumb. Read the news. Watched Tah-ken. Women end in street, or worse.

--Yes, we know. That's why we are working legitimately. The girls even have a union.

--Whore union? America is weird. But still no.

--Come on, one session equals a month in minimum wage.

--Not interested.

--We can make them approve your Green Card.

--No. Is. No.

--... We can get your entire family's documents approved.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks. With all the noise in the airport, those words boomed like drill hammers. The solution to an old worry, finally at her reach. She turned around and said:

--Can keep name secret?

Oscar couldn't hold his grin any longer.

--In this industry, who doesn't? So what should we call you?

***

The set lights dazzled her, along with a more detailed impression of the place: just like she expected, a rustic scenery riddled with plywood reinforcements and riddled with drill holes, surely for the "special" furniture she had behind her. Above her head, the set's walls did not reach the ceiling, which was filled with pulleys and hooks. The mere tiptoeing of the crew behind the camera was enough to fill the room with echoes.

The cameraman captured her in the shot, but Oscar wanted her to move her head a little more. "Don't look at the camera", he said. Then, after everybody went silent, a voice behind the camera took her by surprise:

--Three. Two. One. We're rolling.

Ready and in position. Sitting on the chair, check. Legs crossed, check. Hands on her lap, check. A brilliant smile, check. If she could change anything, it would be her wardrobe: the blue dress, the belt and high heels were a nice touch, it let her flaunt her well defined body and show some cleavage; but the cloth of both the dress and her panties somehow was cheaper than what she wore back home, all itchy and fragile. On top of that they asked her to go without a bra. On one hand, she understood why considering the performance she was going to give. On the other, the dress was scrapping her nipples so much that they hardened in response.

--Please introduce yourself --the man she knew as "The Count" said.

--I am Nadia Naught --she responded.

--How long have you been in the industry?

--This is my first time.

--Nice. How old are you?

--Twenty two --actually, she was twenty five, but the cue cards said otherwise.

--What are your measurements?

Pointing to her chest, waist and hips, Nadia replied:

--Thirty four. Twenty five. Thirty three.

--When was the first time you had sex?

--At nineteen. My boyfriend took me in his car, we drank some beers and did it on the back seat --she was grateful to have practiced before.

Between the cameraman and The Count, Oscar, holding the cards, gestured to her not to exaggerate so much the smile. She complied and closed her lips in relief, her checks were already hurting.

--Since when have you been interested in bondage, submission, and masochism?

--Uhm... I took interest at... Eighteen?... Yeah, eighteen. Rubbing myself was not enough... --Nadia squinted her eyes, trying to make up what the cards said--. So I tried, er, binding my arms and legs, with a ball on my mouth, fingering to no end... It was great.

--Cool. Anything you expect us to do tonight?

--I, ahh, would like some teasing. Some good ol' rough sex wouldn't hurt. And I am super excited for expe- experimenting some fol- flog- flogging- FUCK. Sorry.

--Don't worry. We will cut it on the editing floor. Try it again.

Nadia began to review the pronunciation of those strange words in her mind, but gave up halfway through.

--Alright. Yadda yadda yadda, anything you expect?

This time, much to Oscar's displeasure, Nadia let her mind run wild and say:

--Truly, I like mask. The less I see better. Think I can take beating. If you want have sex with me, be hard and long. I expect to try every toy you have here.

While Oscar looked like he was about to foam at the mouth, The Count took Nadia's words more like a challenge, and continued in a rather charming voice.

--Well, we hope to live up to your expectations. So are you ready to go?

Nadia remembered what was at stake and, while keeping her attractive posture, she replied firmly.

--I am.

An awkward silence filled the room until a bell ringed alongside the cameraman's chant:

--And, CUT! Alright get ready for the action!

The set became crowded when, out of nowhere, different teams holding recording equipment distributed themselves all over the room, trying to prepare to catch every conceivable angle. Then came the cart filled with sex toys and bondage gear to The Count. At that moment, Nadia's resolve fluttered. But when she thought of the prize at the end of the road, the best she thought she could do was let herself go along.

***

Gazed by four cameras, Nadia Naught stood firm at the center of the stage, with her hands behind her back, "like a good girl should". The heels were digging into the soles of her feet, and she wasn't allowed to move much."Don't worry, she thought, it's going to get worse". The Count came closer for a further inspection before shooting. His prominent beard itches when he leaned close to her ear and whispered:

--Don't be afraid to speak up. If it is too much for you, just say the words and we terminate the session right away. Don't worry, I'll pay you a day's worth of salary out of my pocket.

Nadia simply nodded. A few dollars just to bail out at that moment was tempting, but those weren't going to get her family out of the slums at the other side of the pond. They had already broken their backs just to give her the chance to know something other than misery, it was time to pay them back. And if this had to be the price she had to pay, her punishment for carrying her family so close to the sun, then she would take it as best she could.

--And... ACTION!

When the artist works on his piece, the audience falls silent, not only out of respect, but they are mesmerized by the technique they witness before them. To the film crew, despite having witnessed The Count countless times perform, the spark never stopped shining like the first time. The echo of his heavy footsteps shook Nadia's entire body. Her feet already struggled to keep their balance in such small shoes. He carried a bundle of coiled rope in his hand, loops hanging from his fingers. Upon reaching her, The Count slowed his pace, giving himself the time to take a walk around her. His stance was that of a tiger, examining his target, focusing on the weak points. The rope shook from side to side like a tail, the only indications for his excitement on the game.

The Count disappeared from her sight. She felt a strong hand behind her.

--Keep your arms behind your back.

--Yes, Sir --she replied, partly because of the script, partly because of the imposingness of that voice.

Nadia felt the rope slide over her wrists, twisting until it ended in a knot; not so tight as to cut off circulation, not so loose as to separate her hands. When she thought he had finished, she beared witness at the strand slithering all over her body, her shoulders, her chest, her neck, reinforcing in a blink of an eye. She could see The Count's hands moving at a speed she deemed impossible, tying every knot with a mechanical precision. She was astonished when he binded each of her breasts individually, bulging out looking bigger than they were. Shibari, they called it in the script. The Count held back when he reached the waist, he almost forgot they were filming. Nadia, on her side, seemed to blush slightly.

--Never been tied up?

--No, Sir --even though she tried to maintain her composure, her voice took on a fragile tone.

--Try to break out.

Nadia tried to wiggle her arms and body, but she could only feel the strings becoming even tighter with each move.

--I can't, Sir.

--Your body may as well be that of a mannequin. To be gazed at... To be dressed --he lifted the skirt, leaving her white panties exposed--... To be touched --his hands cupped her large breast, squeezing them lightly, fondling them slowly, dissecting the malleability of those mounts she was blessed with.

Nadia kept her lips shut as much as he could, but the second squeeze, a slight gasp escaped from her. A gasp that no one could have heard, no one but The Count.

--Hmm? Let us see something.

He took out a pair of scissors from his pants, pinched the fabric of the dress, and cut a hole where the nipples go. They were hard and erect. The breeze of his breath was enough to fire her sensitivity.

--What was all that hot stuff you were telling us earlier?

The Count passed his fingers over Nadia's areolas.

--Boasting, pleading for a beating, and yet you squirm with some foreplay?

He pinched her nipple, pulling and moving it a little. Her whine was cut short by a hand clutching her throat.

--What happened to that attitude? Were they just words?

As he continued to fondle her breasts, Nadia felt her panties moisten, just before hearing something dripping on her feet. The Count saw disappointed:

--Open the legs.

Nadia agreed. The Count crouched down and examined the mess she made. With two snips, he removed the moistened panties from her, still soaking in his hand. Clutching them firmly, The Count put them in Nadia's sight.

--Do you know what this is?

--... Yes, Sir.

--What is it?

--My underwear, Sir.

A hand lightly slapped her face. A warning shot.

--This is doubt. This is one foot inside, the other outside. If you are not willing, if worse not ready, to take on the rest, you better say the magic words.

Nadia's mind was frantic. Fear overwhelmed her. She didn't think it would go down this fast. But her objective hovered over her head. She couldn't give up this early.

--No, Sir.

--Excuse me, what did you say?

--I want continue, Sir.

A moment of silence came to the room, with Count Looking at the woman in front of him, and the now wrung piece of clothing on his hand.

--Do you know what else is here?

--What, Sir?

--Don't you recognize it? Lust.

He whipped off the nylon belt she wore on her dress, swiftly breaking it loose of her bonds.

--In my studio, I am to decide whether a woman comes or not. So tell me, did you cum?

--No, Si-.

The bell cracked at the touch of her bare ass. Nadia let out a groan.

--I am not fond of liars, did you cum?

--NO.

Snap. This one was harsher. The people in the study were looking at each other, wondering if this has not gone too far.

--One more time, did you cum without my permission, yes or no?

Nearly on the verge of breaking her voice she replied

--Yes, Sir! I came! I sorry, Sir! I came witho- AAWWW!

--That one is for lying. I think I know why you did it --he grabbed her by the face, bringing his face closer for hers--. Because, despite you not knowing, you want to feel this pain. You put yourself in this entanglement, because you want to humiliate yourself in front of others. Because you're a bitch that likes to be punished. Now say it.

--I am bitch.

Slap.

--Everything.

--I am bitch that likes be punished.

--Good. Now we are on the same page --he reached for the cart and took out a wand. He turned it on briefly in front of her face --. This is the primary rule: every time you come without my permission, you will receive ten lashes wherever I want. Are we clear?

--Yes, Sir.

The Count placed the little machine right on her clit. Nadia was sweating cold, not only because of the threat and the pain that she knew well, but also she could feel her private parts getting wet with those shameful thoughts.

--Aaaand, go.

The machine turned on. Nadia tried to hold her breath as her sex was being stimulated. It was barely tickling her, but the prolonged teasing was turning her more and more. Whenever she felt like it, she rubbed it as quickly as possible, so that no one would find her like that. Now, she could take all the time to enjoy all those sensations she rushed on the past, but she couldn't shrug off the multiple witnesses, not just lusting after her, but calculating in their heads the better strategies to exhibit her shame as a hot product. Just as Nadia's mind came up with the thousands of viewers at the other side of the camera-lenses', she finally let out some groans.

--You like it?

--Yes, Sir.

--Do you wanna cum?

--No, I don't.

--Good, because we haven't even started.

Nadia shouted surprised, as she felt The Count pressing the vibrating wand on her sex, ramping up the power of the machine and stirring it around up her cunt. A lightning bolt went up from her belly up to the top of her head. Her eyes went wide just as her legs crumbled on the stilettos, waves of ecstasy flooded her entire being. Between screams, groans, and long lasting-moans, she cursed loudly as much as she praised her current circumstances. Some members of the crew wondered about the meaning of some foreign words they happened to catch on, and the ones who bothered to look up were astonished, and drew their own conclusions. "With a mouth like that, no wonder she signed up for this," this and other things in the same vein were commented on. Nadia, by happenstance, managed to hear those taunting words. "No, she thought. I'm not like this. I'm not this dirty whore you think of". Just then, a creeping feeling she knew too well was peeking. Promptly Nadia turned to The Count and said:

--Please, may cum?

--What was that?

--May cum?!

--Please. Sir. May. I. Cum?

--Fuuck! --as she tensed her thighs, she begged-- Please Sir, MAY I CUM? PLEASEEE!!!

--Not yet.

--FUUUUCK!!!

Nadia felt a pressure building inside of her. Though her breathing became stronger than before, her knees had practically turned into jelly, shaking uncontrollably. Her body ached to let herself go, but her mind reminded her about the belt, repeating its sharp sound of the ending blow over and over. As much as it distressed her to withhold her natural urges, she was more scared of that belt biting all over her. She bit one of her cheeks so hard that she could almost taste some blood. She clenched her fist until they were purple. She shut down her eyes so hard she started seeing infinite dots in moving patterns. Out of nowhere, she discerned a more familiar picture, unconsciously enhancing her already unbridled feelings. Her whole body tensed up, fighting the urge with every fiber of her being. When she felt she couldn't control it any longer, The Count's voice pulled her from the darkness.

--Alright, you can come now.

With a strong puff, she relaxed her muscles, and let herself go. Her relief could only be compared to the endless flow of her juices dripped out of her cunt, gushing hard to the floor with such force a couple of the camera lenses were hit by drops of her.

--We got a squirter --exclaimed The Count to the esteem of the crew.

He walked out of the stage as Nadia was left standing catching her breath. When she started to think of what happened, a voice interrupted her thoughts:

--And, CUT!!!

A bell rang and the stage became crowded. A couple of guys brought a chair for her to sit.

--Sorry, we need the binds for the next scene.

--Too bad --Nadia responded.

She could see The Count giving orders to anyone that passed in front of, directing the crew with the precision of an engineer. He gave himself a chance to get closer to her as he handed her a water bottle with a straw.

--You did good, miss. Is it really your first rodeo?

Nadia nodded, sorbing from the straw until it was taken from her.

--Well, I hope you are ready, because we've got a long night ahead of us.

While attendants combed her hair and washed her face, Nadia contemplated what had just happened. Even in her wildest fingerings, she had never came like that. But that wasn't what caught her attention. She had a revelation. Just before she reached her breaking point, she envisioned a large crowd watching her, making her cum.

***

--Aaand, ACTION!

"Don't move too much," that's what they told Nadia as the cameraman circled around her, trying to capture the full picture of the condition the main star finds herself in. A few feet off the ground, Nadia was hanging sideways. Some ropes carried her from her chest and her right leg, extending it so that her foot reached the pulley. Her other leg was tied at the leg and ankle, leaving it hanging in the air. She still wore the perforated blue dress, but it wasn't much help when her crotch was wide open for the cameraman to focus both her pussy and asshole in one frame for the world to see.

While the cameraman was more than content examining his work up close and personal, Nadia was absorbed in the last scene, bothered for getting turned on by the thought of hundreds of people gazing at her shameful behaviour. "It can't be, she thought. I've never fantasized about anything like this." She was always the young, respectful woman her parents raised her to be, never wishing for anything that would taint her soul. Sure, she had needs as any woman, but she took care of them in the shadows. And now being in the spotlight, she couldn't understand how those perversions came to the surface.

Her pondering was interrupted by The Count walking on scene once more. She got nervous when she saw a pair of metal clamps in his hand. Her fears were confirmed when both of her hard nipples got bit by the clamps. "Ok, I can deal with that," she thought before she emitted a series of whimpers and one or another curse, after The Count hung weights on the clamps, stretching her nipples to the ground.

As Nadia battled to regain her temple, The Count made use of the rotating pulley by spinning her in her axis. Round and round she went, making the dizziness easy to ignore the pull from her clamps. In a peculiar way, she found it kind of funny.

The turns stopped dead. While Nadia's head kept stirring, she saw The Count pointing a staff at her, with a long pink rubber rip that resembled a cock.

--Do you want the cock?

--Yes, I want cock.

--Well, don't just stare at it and lubricate it.

She stuck out her tongue and licked it from top to bottom. With her eyes closed, she let each of her taste buds savor the entire surface of the material. When she gave it a slow, long wipe to the upper part, one of the cameramen managed to capture a shot of her, opening her eye to the camera in a seductive manner in a way that he didn't think of her; for a man that had become desensitized to any niche fetishistic paraphernalia, she managed to make him get a boner on set.

--Suck.

--Yes, Sir.

Nadia raised her gaze as she shoved the rubber cock in her throat up and down. Her plump lips not just molded to the giant dildo perfectly, but they syphoned to the toy, clinging to the thing with a profound desire. "Damm, I wish my girl did that," she heard one of them say. "What is up with me? she thought. I am not here just for fun. This is supposed to be a punishment for wanting to go the easy way. But their eyes, looking at me like I am just a piece of meat. Oh God, I can see one having a boner! They can do anything to me, but that doesn't unnerve me. And the people, those perverts online watching me over and over..." That feeling came back, and she promptly tensed her thighs, to which The Count seemed to notice, pulling the oar from her mouth with a trace of drool.

--Looks like we didn't need to lubricate after all --he exclaimed as he saw her wet cunt.

--Sorry, Sir. Please, gentle belt.

--Bitch, if you had came, we would have noticed it already. No belt now.

--Oh, right Sir --Nadia answered, rather let down to her surprise.

--For what's coming, though, you'd better keep that rule in mind.

The Count took firmly the staff on his hands, and shoved it deep down Nadia's pussy. The girth may have not been that much for her experience, but its length amazed her, feeling the rubber end of the oar bending inside of her. Even when The Count frantically thrusted it inside of her, Nadia could bear the impulse to come like before. After noticing it, he pulled out the dildo before sticking it inside her asshole, slowly squeezing it through. She felt her hole expanding, and her gut getting filled. She never did anal, she thought it was unhygienic and uncomfortable; but as The Count started to pump in, she could feel herself getting hotter than before. She moaned loudly, savouring every sensation he made her feel, occasionally giving herself the luxury to look at the camera. That shame those lenses reflected on her. That made her feel hornier.

"This is crazy!, she thought. I am the lowest of the low. Any woman in my place should feel ashamed of herself. And yet, why does this punishment make me blush? That giant cock thrusting in and out. The lashings with the belt. I can hear the respiration of the people in the room: gasping, blowing warm breath. Oh, God! I'm cumming!"

--Please, Sir! May I cum?!

--Go on!

Just as he uttered the last syllable, Nadia let herself go, expelling a stream that was blocked by The Count's palm, sprinkling her juices back to her bottom and legs. Once the stream lost pressure, he cupped his hand and filled it with the remaining juices she dripped.

Nadia was catching her breath when she was surprised by the sour smell of the hand standing in front of her, and His voice telling her:

--Drink it.

Reflexively, her body throat gagged, but as if an invisible force took hold of her, Nadia leaned her head over to the cupped hand. Just as her lips were about to touch the spill of her own juices, The Count swiftly poured it on her face, smearing it all over with her own scent: from her jawline to her long hair. He squeezed her cheeks, turned her face to him and said:

--Do you like it?

--Yes, Sir --Nadia answered pleadingly.

--You are a whore, you know that?

--I am, Sir.

--There is something we do to sick little counts like you around here.

--Oh, yeah?

The Count spanks Nadia on her butt, bringing out a muffled moan from her.

--Did you talk without my permission?

--Sorry, Sir!

--Do you want to feel that something I'd just talked about?

--Yes, Sir. I want the something.

He let go of her face, leaving her hanging in mid-air silently, until a voice crashed the room.

--And, CUT!

A flock of people crossed from one side of the set to the other. Pulleys turned as she saw herself going down to the ground once more, greeted by at least two pairs of hands unleashing her from her bonds, and another water bottle at her reach. She felt the ache and soreness getting more noticeable as the pressure from the ropes decreased, her muscles hurting with the slightest of efforts; but she could not help but smile and heat up to the admiring eyes she could stare all over the place.

--You did good --The Count praised as he handed her some wet towels

--Thanks, uhh, what this?

--'Member what you asked to keep your identity secret? Let me tell you the solution doesn't combine with you covered in your own jizz.

--... Actually, let me keep same.

--Sure? It's gonna get very damp and sweaty.

--Yeah... The sweatier, the better.

***

From Nadia's perspective, there was nothing. A piercing darkness enveloped her, penetrating under her being. She felt herself in the center of an overwhelming silence that stretched to infinity. Her head was held firm by the neck, giving her little chance to even grimace. She could hear her heartbeat at the top of her skull, pumping tirelessly, overloading her brain. Her sweat and juices condensated at her face, impregnating her hair with the essence of her own desires. This was Nadia's own world. If it weren't from the occasional spasms of pleasure, she would not have remembered the rest of her immobilized body. The only means she had to perceive a reality outside her own was a small hole through which she could stick her tongue out, and the abrupt sound that disturbed the calm waters surrounding her. She could feel it. Just a shake first, but as a thunder it echoed with fury, unearthing the words she was supposed to look forward to a long time ago:

--And, ACTION!!!

Red lights shine all over the set. At the backs of the cameramen, men and women gossip dazzled at the exhibition, incredulous at the possibility of witnessing it firsthand. The main cameraman breathes profusely, almost mimicking the subject he was capturing.

Captivating both the eyes and the cameras was Nadia's virtually nude body, hanging upside down in the middle of the room. Her toned legs perfectly split open, parallel to her arms, allowed the world to gaze down at her pussy and asshole shamelessly. Her big well formed breasts hung down her collarbone, her nipples looking directly at the floorboards. The cream trail of her skin came to a halt when the crew's eyes reached Nadia's head, covered in a jet black featureless latex mask. When once there were sockets for her eyes and nostrils, rubber tubes that looked outwards were put in, bearing some resemblance to the eyes of a reptile. The only hole that remained intact was of the mouth, where one could see her two incisor teeth, and sometimes her tongue peeking out the exterior, like a snake sensing the ecstasy charged air.

Since putting on the mask, Nadia knew a barrier was broken. Animosity was the least thing on her mind. In this position, she didn't feel like a person anymore. She was a toy to be used, to be abused, but most of all, to be gazed upon. In her darkness, she could visualize hundreds of eyes watching her with ravenous lust, anxious to have her, and yet so far from it. The mere thought of this made her wet. "Fuck, she thought. So many years, dreading for some divine punishment, when the terrenal one is so delightful. I was right, I am a sinner, but this penalty is also my pleasure."

Her mind went quiet as she heard the heavy footsteps. Finally, it's him.

The Count was quick to act, stuffing the big oar in Nadia's ass. It came all of the sudden but it wasn't anything different. But then she realized there was something, some ball on her pussy. The Count revealed it, activating the vibrator attached to the oar. Nadia began to squirm, her whole body unable to move past the bonds attached at her frame. She let out some cussings, and mostly moans of excitement. The confinement that latex mask brought her had also amplified her sensations, whether be the vibrations resonating rampantly through her mind, or the feel of The Count's hands covering her in oil multiplied by the thousands of viewers caressing her body, grabbing her ass, fondling her breasts. A little bit of drool escaped her wide open mouth and stretched to the ground, as Nadia was being raised up.

--Keep your mouth open --said The Count.

Nadia knew what was coming and obeyed like the little toy she was. She formed a perfect 'O' with her mouth, as big as the tight hood allowed her, waiting eagerly for that thing. Just as it skimmed her lips, in less than the blink of an eye, Nadia had The Count's erect cock in her mouth. She swallowed the giant member with an unmatched hunger, only powered by the vibrations she was subjected to. And she sucked, harder and harder, until she felt her Sir's load shooting up her throat, leaking through the tubes on her nose, violently sneezing loads of cum and snot back to her bouncing breasts.

The Count got Nadia's head off his dick, and raised her up for everyone to see her head. She was a wreck, gasping between moans, and her mask smeared on oozing cum, which she seems to be relished about. He put his thumb on her mouth, which she began to suck on sensually, taking her time to savour every crevice with her tongue.

--Do you like it?

--I love it, sir.

--What was it?

--I LOVE IT, SIR!!!

--You are the biggest whore I ever met.

--I am big whore. I want cock. Please, LET ME HAVE COCK!!!

--Do you want to cum?

--Fuck, yes. I want.

--Not yet.

Her sex was on fire, 'not yet' wasn't an option for her. She recalled the last time she didn't obey, but while an air of fear lingered in that memory, she felt somewhat excited to replicate it. As she arched forward against her own weight, she let out a deep groan of relief when her vibrated pussy became a sprinkling fountain, splashing most of the crew and mainly The Count with her juices. He turned off the vibrator, and approached her with a stern pose.

--Did I ever tell you to cum? --asked The Count deadpan.

--No, Sir --answered Nadia, teasingly, but with a hint of playfulness to regain The Count's good vibes.

--Do you know what that means?

--Do I get belt?

--You really want it?

--I want belt so fucking much!

With a smile on his face, The Count replied:

--Sure. Whatever the client asks for.

Nadia giggled with enthusiasm, and almost seemed to faint when she heard the crack made on the floor.

--How many lashings, Sir?

--As much as we see fit --he said just before, to Nadia's surprise, turning the vibrator back on --. Keep the count aloud.

--Yes, sir --she said mid gasp, followed by the first lash --. One.

And so, just as she had desired, Nadia's body became the canvas for The Count's mural of masochism. Waves of pleasure overflowed her entire being, her reddened pussy becoming the focal point of sensuality; while at the same time, with the beat of a metronome, the belt whippings release their force on her midriff, her firm thighs, her skinny arms, her wobbling breasts, their energy penetrating under her skin, lighting fireworks on her brain. If only she could see the marks left by the lashings, spreading over her body like a chessboard, she wouldn't hesitate to bring her hands down and rub as long as the pain lasted. Now she could only imagine herself surrounded by her viewers, touching her, licking her wounds. Pain, shame, desire. Never had such distant concepts seemed to mix together so well in a pleasure beyond her comprehension.

After a while, the time between blows was extended, and Nadia finally could catch her breath between numbers. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine. She felt the vibrator turn off, then the dildo attached to it pulled out from her ass, leaving behind a big gaping hole. All of the sudden, she let out a scream when the belt impacted on her crotch, it's force snapping from her clitoris to her asshole.

--THIRTY!!! --Nadia shouted, more aroused than before.

--Do you still want to cum? --asked The Count.

--Please, I want.

There was no answer, but the sound of chains clanking right behind her head. Just as the pulleys started spinning, she sensed her head rising up while her bottom half was lowered down much faster. She felt her body finally resting when both her feet and head hung at the same height.

She began wondering what was next when, without notice, her sex was penetrated by a massive phallus. It wasn't a dildo, she was well acquainted with it. When the massive hands grabbed unto her ass and began drilling into her, she finally realized it was The Count himself fucking her. Her happiness was only outmatched by the raw carnal lust she was the recipient of, declaring it to the world loudly in a symphony of animal desire. Nadia pleaded for her other holes to be ravaged at the same time, but The Count only kept going and going, never slowing down.

--Fuck!!! Can I cum?!!

The Count remained in silence, screwing her toy a little longer, giving the cameramen the chance to get as much footage as possible. The drool on her mouth was worth millions at that point.

--Can I cum?

--... Yes.

And so they both came. He kept his large cock inside of her, plugging her juices from scrapping, filling her womb with his cum. Once he pulled out, her cunt was dripping with a white warm mixture, and if they pressed on her belly it sprayed a little. When they focused the frame on Nadia's reptilian rubber face, she was smiling like no one else had in the set.

***

--How you doing? --asked The Count off-camera.

--I'm... woah --Nadia replied smiling, sitting cross-legged, her naked body still shining with oil and enthusiasm.

--Are you sure it's your first time? 'Cause you did pretty good out there.

--I did?

--Yeah. Weren't you afraid? Did something take you out of your guard?

--I was afraid at beginning, yeah. Many times, I think, I was about pass. But, I don't know, I let self go with flow.

--You looked pretty confident when you wore that mask on.

--Yes, Heh Heh!

--Why do you think that was?

--I, ehm... Not only is a clothe, it's another face. This face, now, should look other way or people think bad about. Black mask face not have ties. It is No One. It free to do whatever. And... this is what it wants.

--Sooo, you're saying... that we can hope that No One becomes Someone in this show anytime soon?

--... Maybe. If I need and if it likes, we could return couple times.

PAUSE.

Nadia Naught held onto the controller in the air, pointing it at the screen in front of her. Ten years, she said to herself, how things change. She turned her gaze from the youthful image to the well-lit mirror next to her. She caressed her silk robe, adjusting its cleavage to reveal her breasts, firmer and slightly bigger than those on the video. They had to be, she paid a good amount of money for them. The same can be said for the rest of her body, subjected to intensive maintenance twice a year, shaped to defy the passage of time.

Apart from her plump lips, the only thing that hasn't been touched by the knife yet was her face, with wrinkles and dark circles following the course of nature. For her, it didn't matter, that wasn't a face she was keen to show anyway. Even in Eastern Europe, gossip travels fast, and her debut feature was no exception. While working on her third film, the one she thought would be her last, she received a call from her mother. Even after she had seen the sun set and rise on the same call, her mother continued to berate her with so much bile that it could drip from the receiver; as far the old woman knew, that wasn't her daughter, and she wouldn't let her family even think about her. The same day Nadia hung up the phone, she requested to change the scene to whippings, as strong as they could. It took two years to get rid of most of the scars.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her memories.

--We are ready to film --said her young assistant.

--I'll be there in a minute --Nadia responded.

It has been years since she achieved a C1 level of fluency in English, but producers asked her to keep the heavy accent and grammatical errors from the first recording. Preserve brand identity, as they said.

She got out of her dressing room, greeted by Naomi, her assistant, walking alongside her to the stage. Nadia met her when she tried to break through the industry, when it didn't work she gave her a hand offering that job. From time to time she gets to fuck her: nothing special for Nadia, but if it gets Naomi to work more eagerly, she couldn't complain. While Naomi takes care of the logistics, Nadia focuses on the stage.

Although The Count wasn't able to perform with her anymore, his apprentices sure do fill the void. She examined once more the rack where she would be ridden, padded, fingered, and more, before putting on the mask, now equipped with an O ring. As the crew tightened the shackles, Nadia remembered the shame and sadness that phone call brought her. What she thought was a quick gig to help her family ended up severing any link to them. She was wrong, the punishment wasn't on that night, it was the rest of her life. All she had left with was that mask, that magic amulet that allows her to enjoy the pain, even if it was for a brief moment.

The lights were on. The crew stood behind the cameras, focusing on the voluptuous woman chained belly up on the rack. Frozen still like statues, they were free to move once Nadia gave them the signal, and a voice among them said:

--And, ACTION!!!