Chapter 23

“Oh, they’re fantastic—and you’re erect,” the director said after convincing Marsha to remove her top and bra.

“Ssss,” she hissed a little when the man, who everyone was calling Raymond, grabbed her boobs with cold hands, lifting them up almost painfully, while flicking at her nipples with his thumbs. He was just prepping her, she told herself as she did her best to ignore the other men in the room.

She was actually in a small hallway of a cheesy two-suite hotel room along with a small film crew and a whole lot of camera equipment. Tom, her daughter’s sugar-daddy had put this together, she suspected, and her husband had then jumped at the chance to send her here for a porno shoot.

“Get her hair up, I want it bound to the ceiling,” Ramond called out to the crew.

“Can I ... please wear a mask?” Marsha begged as Ramond kept grinding his thumbs into her nipples as if doing this could possibly get them any harder. She’d once disliked her nipples with the way they’d grown after having two children, and the darkening of her areolas, but came to realize older men treasured such boobs.

“Will accommodate you,” someone behind her said as she felt her long auburn hair being twisted into a ponytail. The man seemed to know what he was doing, and so had managed to incorporate some kind of simple hair gadget, which she could feel now as the man gave it several hard tugs. While he tied a rope onto the loop of the gadget, another man stepped up to her in this tight space, replacing Ramond, who she could hear now consulting with the sound man.

“They’re real, aren’t they,” this apparent cameraman asked her as he too lifted her tits up, leaving her fighting with herself as to whether or not to protest the way they were treating her. She became distracted now when a woman began fitting her with a leather mask, which incorporated her chin within it as well. She couldn’t yet guess how she looked, this as the man fondling her tits stared creepily into her eyes.

When the woman was done feeding the rope they’d attached to her hair, through the hole in the top of the mask, Marsha began to realize this was more of hood she was wearing than a mask. It made her panic a little, but the squirming that came along with it just caused the cameraman to smirk even more and to squeeze her tits even harder.

“Ahh ... please...” she said softly, and then felt enormous relief when he let go and backed off.

“Bar or behind the back?” the woman behind Marsha called out to the director, who replied, “High on the back,” from the far room where he was currently working with another female model.

She’s prettier and younger than me, Marsha told herself as she watched the director mess with the woman’s hair and position her in different ways. Plus, the girl was allowed to wear a towel, which encouraged Marsh to ask for her own.

“No, it will just fall off,” the woman replied as she pulled Marsha’s wrists behind her back, then secured them will some kind of Velcro cuff. Next, she was fitted with a long strap like structure that included an uncomfortably wide collar. With it on her neck now, Marsha could feel the strap part running down her back, and then suddenly her wrists were lifted up high, getting an “Ughhh!” of complaint out of her.

“There you go—you alright?” the woman asked as she spun Marsha around, looking her over now in a professional manner.

“I guess,” Marsh replied as someone came up behind her and pulled upward sharply on the rope attached to her hair. The strength the man was applying almost forced her to her tiptoes, as she tried to relieve the stress on her hair. “Ohhh, ohhh—that’s too much,” she complained.

“There, there, you’ll get used to it,” the woman told her as she began pulling down Marsha’s skirt and panties, without bothering to ask first. The man behind Marsha kept lifting on the rope, so there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop the woman. Naked now, she bit her lip in a silent plea to the woman for some dignity.

“Can’t have you changing your mind,” the woman told Marsha with a smile as she stashed Marsha’s clothes in a closet.

“I won’t,” Marsha promised, knowing her husband would be furious with her if she did pull out for any reason.

“Oh, she’s marked!” the cameraman said from behind her just before he began caressing her naked ass. “Love marks, who’s the lucky man giving you these?”

Marsha blushed at the attention, feeling embarrassed now about the welts all over her ass and upper thighs. “My husband,” she said softly, hoping this would satisfy the man.

“Your owned, are you?” the woman asked as she pulled a large electric razor from a bag and then tested it’s charge for a moment.

“I guess,” Marsh replied as the still unidentified man, muscled her toward the hall closet by lifting her up on her tip toes, completely this time, stressing her scalp to the fullest. “Ummmmm,” she complained, but no one seemed to notice.

The woman than began shaving her already bald pussy as if wanting it fully presentable for the camera. The buzz of the electric razor was over stimulating her clit now, but she figured the woman just didn’t care about this. She got her first look at the man pulling on the rope, who now had attached it to a hook, just inside the closet. He was a burly guy, easily six-foot tall, who’d yet to say a word.

“How could these people be this callouses and nonchalant about nudity and bondage,” Marsha asked herself as the woman, between her legs, lifted her knee up, leaving Marsha standing on one foot. This really exposed her pussy, which the woman ran the razor over, again and again.

“You want more of this?” the woman asked as she looked up at Marsha while holding the buzzing razor against her clit.

“Noooo,” Marsh groaned in protest.

“Ok—some like it!” the woman said with a disappointed look as she stood and put the razor away.

Smack!

The woman had just slapped Marsha’s ass hard, as if sending the message to cooperate better. With a smirk, the woman left Marsha dangling helplessly as they all begin to hear the sounds of sex acts being performed in the main bedroom. Twisting herself about, Marsha tried to see into the far room, but couldn’t quite, partially due to all the camera equipment and lights stationed at the bedroom door.

“You wet yet,” one of the crew asked boldly as he grabbed hold of Marsh’s hips, forcing her to turn toward him.

“Yes,” Marsha admitted softly, realizing now that things were really going to happen and that she must be depraved to have even considered going along with this.

“Let me double check,” the man said as he worked his hand between her thighs, telling her then to bend her knee a little, which she did almost automatically as she squirmed about in protest.

“How tight are you?” the man asked next as he slid his middle finger into her, getting a pout from her in response. “We’ll ... see how much ... need you stretched out...” the man declared as he pulled down his baggy stretch pants, just enough to expose his rock-hard cock. He then looped an arm under her left knee, lifting it up so as to get his cock head position at her cunt.

“Ahh ... please no...” she complained as he began kissing her face. “Nnnn,” she whined as his cock began to sink into her, with any further complaints being stifled by him as he cupped his hand over her mouth. With wide eyes she pleaded to another crew member stepping past them, but he hardly glanced their way as she was fucked.

“Ughh, ughh, ugghh ... close, ugghh, close ... ughhh,” the man grunted, rocking her ass far back into the closet, until finally she was up against the wall. “Close ... close ... ughhh ... ughhh...” he kept grunting, causing her to close her eyes in disbelief. “Open enough!” he declared suddenly as he slid out of her. He panted now, with his nose pressing hard against hers, using her almost like a prop to recover on.

Was this normal, she asked herself as she was forced to take in his breath, unsure if this was turning her on or not. When he bit her nose softly, while still cupping her mouth, she was forced to except only his breath in quick little intakes that were sending her mind into a whirl.

“Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... ohhhh,” she groaned loudly when he finally relented, backed away and then just left her there, feeling a chill now and wanting his warmth back, but not his cock. Minutes passed now as the crew concentrated on what was going on in the far bedroom, leaving her pinned by her hair, unable to escape the closet.

“Oh, thanks for coming, Marsha!” Tom called out as he slid through the suite’s partially open door. He was the main driving force behind this shoot, she’d suspected, and she welcomed him with a weak smile, feeling embarrassed but relieved.

“I never got back to these, did I,” Tom said as he lifted up her boobs, just as the others had. “I was going to fuck you for your husband, remember—in your kitchen!”

“Yes,” she replied, looking away now as he fondled her.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he told her with a wink before releasing her and moving on down the tight hallway.

How was that even possible, she asked herself with sarcasm, mad at her husband now for putting her in this difficult position. Had she just been raped, she asked herself, but shook her head no, as she should have known what to expect at a low budget porno operation. Listening now to the loud performance coming from down the hall, she began to worry how good at acting she would be.

“Hey, they want a gag on you,” Tom returned to say in a hushed voice, apparently trying to be quite for the soundman. When the woman who’d shaved her showed up with a red ball gag, Tom quickly took possession of it and began attaching it in place.

“Mphh,” she complained softly as he pushed the ball past her teeth, then began using the Velcro tabs on the straps to secure it to her hood.

The thing was a custom fit, she concluded as she failed to dislodge the ball after several attempts. Her husband, Hank, had at first bought cheap bondage gear, and it had been all she could do, during their rough sex, not to let him know that she could easily spit out the gag he’d been using on her. They’d both since learned what was a quality gag, and what wasn’t. This one in her mouth now, was quality!

“Did they fuck you yet?” Tom asked as he began playing with her tits again. When she nodded yes, he beamed a smile at her before asking, “Did you see the footage of it?” To this, she shook her head no, hoping no one had recorded her cruel treatment.

She had her eyes downcast as Tom began asking around for the video, finally being informed by the big guy, who’d tied her here, that there wasn’t any yet. Tom looked disappointed as he came back to her, turning her around now, which she thought might mean he was going to untie her. When she felt him unbuckling his pants, she realized she’d assumed wrong.

“Mphhh,” she complained as Tom positioned her ass back a bit, making it protrude from the coat closet she was in.

“Hey, loosen that rope a little—I want to get her legs further apart,” Tom said to somebody.

“I’ll get a spreader bar,” Marsha heard the woman say, just as the big guy, who she finally figured out was named Regg, began loosening the rope bound to her hair. He did it just enough so that she could lower her head finally, which was when Tom and Lira, the woman helping him, began fitting her with a spreader bar between her ankles.

“Mphhh,” she whined into the gag again, but no one seemed to notice or care as her feet were forced back, causing her back to arch and her tits to start swinging.

“Get a camera on me,” Tom told someone as he ran his hardening cock up and down her now prominent ass crack. “Tell me when!”

“When!” came a reply from one of the camera men, sending Tom into action.

His cock wasn’t nearly as long and thick as the man who’d mounted her previously, but still, Marsha couldn’t just ignore it. Rocking from his thrusts, she pictured the way they were watching her big tits flop, finding it a bit erotic to think about. It would be a good video for her husband, she was sure as she did her best to look good for the camera.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Tom kept saying as he nailed her, sending his balls slapping against her pussy with each quick thrust. It was exciting to Marsh now, to please this guy, who she knew had thrown a lot of money toward her family. Maybe too much!

“Mphhh, mphhh, mphhh,” she moaned intentionally, feeling this was what the director would want.

Slap! Slap!

“Yeah!” Tom called out loudly as he slapped her ass hard, getting some moans of complaint out of her. “Cum shot ... arrrrrghhh ... arrrghhh ... OHHHH!” She felt his quick withdrawal from her pussy and expected to feel now the hot kiss of cum on her ass, and she did.

“Cut!” called out the director, “Get her on the other bed ... rough setup—chop, chop!”

Marsha tried her best to suck in the saliva that was dripping out around her gag, embarrassed now by the sheer volume of it. Again, no one seemed to care, and when the big guy, Regg, picked her up after untying the rope, she found herself being carried into the bedroom by him, still shackled by the spreader bar on her ankles.