The following is a total fiction. All of the sexual events involve adults over 18. Rape is a part of the narrative, and I must again say that it is a work of fantasy, but if you might be offended, my apologies.

Retirement Plans

What does an actress do, when the Internet makes porn so easy to get, and virtually free. We live on forever, with people viewing our labors for fractions of a penny.

I had a good run, thriving at deep throat performances. I learned to tolerate and even enjoy long stretches of fucking, anal, vaginal and oral. I was very famous for a time.

But time moves on, and so does the money. Most of my contemporaries found sugar daddies or they became prostitutes, first for the rich, then as their looks left them they moved on to lower paying clients.

For me, it wasn’t about getting older, it was more about technology making my job open to the masses. I didn’t want to be a hooker. Most of them have a pimp or an agency taking a big chunk of the money. What I needed was an agent.

I achieved some measure of fame with my ability to cum. Some women squirt, and there is all the time skepticism about it being pee (from the urethra) or a thin fluid emission (from the vagina). When I cum my vaginal wall exudes a thick white fluid, which seeps out and globs down the cock or dildo or finger, or tongue. If I’m being roughly pumped by something that really fills me, it may look as if I’m pumping it out like a man, but it is only the pressure caused by the piston action.

A stage hand came up with my first glass dildo. It enabled my audience to see the buildup of cum on the wall of the device. Then, as my cum pushes out, it is obviously mine alone.

After that film I had my niche.

The Adult Film Industry has some ingenious people. Other glass pieces were used with the focus on seeing the inside of my vagina, and making me climax bigger and harder.

I actually had to learn how to act, giving the most heartfelt moans and mews and squeals. Scenes with bondage were also in big demand, so I had to be able to act desperate to escape, for my freedom and my virtue!

The ability to experience, and maintain an orgasm has never been a issue for me. If I want one, and sometimes when I don’t want one, I can cum. I take my mind to my happy place and my eyes go out of focus. My nipples will already be plump with blood, the nibs achingly pointing out.

Most men that like porn have watched those videos, where I am stuffed with a fat clear glass cock. The outside is bumpy to stimulate me more, but the audience can still see a closeup of the intimate walls of my pussy, as it whitens with my emissions.

You can watch that wicked video as often as you like, and blast load after load in response to my humiliation and torture… for free. Millions of views, and I make a royalty of zero.

My new niche is in live performances, but even there I have a issue.

If you can imagine a group of 10 men sitting nearby, while I masturbate myself with my special toy. Perhaps on a raised platform that rotates so that all could have the best line of sight.

I would bring myself to an orgasm. A process that took as little as 2 minutes to begin and I could orgasm for a good 60 seconds. Cum would be seeping down the handle. Sometimes its better to use a piston or fucking machine so the pace doesn’t letup as I enjoy my bliss.

I could give them two or three such performances, taking up to an hour. They might masturbate themselves or just watch, but they have an hour and they have paid well for it. I enjoy many minutes of orgasms. It’s hard to put a number on it, since the intensity varies so greatly, but let’s just say I enjoy my work.

The issue comes, when I get raped.

Last year I negotiated a private show at a School Fraternity. They had a big rec room for me to entertain them, and they were perfect gentlemen as I performed my most heartfelt orgasms for these young, healthy and horny men. Most of them had blankets over their genitals, but some did not hide their cocks as they pleasured themselves.

Soon I started to wonder more about the men that did not satisfy themselves. Why were they waiting?

Most of them got up and left as I was putting away my equipment for a hasty exit. Six men stood by and watched me.

I hoped that they wanted an autograph, but when I reached for my clothes one of them grabbed my wrist and another one spoke as their leader.

“You won’t be needing your clothes for a while, Beautiful. We want to see for ourselves if it’s real.”

They took me to one of their bedrooms. The bed was already set, with the leather straps and handcuffs. Two tripods held cameras.

It was obvious that they had prepared to rape me, and video the process for future use.

A bit was forced into my mouth. It served to push my tongue up against a cock but it would also prevent me from biting down too far. I was to be orally used.

I can tell you that 6 young men, in average health, can fuck for the better part of 6 hours. They rest between fucks, but sometimes they like to fuck while their friend skull fucks me. They will have 5 orgasms. Plus or minus 2. Their last one usually hurts a little, but they don’t stop smiling.

Of course I’m not immune. I cum too. Is 100 times a lot?

Near the end of their fun, as five of them ‘rested’, one of them explained their plan.

“Our legal guy says that our film, and the fact that you took our money, guarantees that the D.A. will not press charges.”

He leaned in close and whispered with a guttural voice, “He’s going to take the film home and yank away, while listening to you cumming, over and over. The cum leaking down your leg. The joy on your face.”

At some point, during my night of bliss, I slipped into a subconscious state. I was aware of my undulations and gasping orgasms, but I could still see the overall picture. I already knew that the cops would do nothing. Nothing more than watch the videos, and jack off to my humiliation. I knew that further performances would bring further exploitations.

It was also clear that I could be sold overseas or into someone’s garage-dungeon.

When I came to grips with the fact that I enjoyed the controlled rapes; they had used condoms and a greasy ointment to protect me from disease and impregnation; they had offered water, between face-fucks; their video brought in a few dollars per month: and the gig paid well! I decided that I needed a reputable agent.

Lou DeSiglia was a lawyer for the old mob. I got in his front door with a referral from his accountant.

“Ah! Miss. Leona, or may I call you Jizelle?” He welcomed me as he jumped up from behind a gigantic oak desk.

He took my hand and ravished me with his eyes. I had dressed conservatively, thinking that he might not want his secretary or his wife or his mother knowing about my visit. I might have been recognized.

“Oh, not to worry, my lovely! My assistant, who is no doubt listening right now, will be happy to think that I might not molest her this afternoon,” he explained as he escorted me to a plush chair.

He leaned in deep and lowered his voice intimately, “Of course I did my research last night, and let me say that you are even more lovely in the flesh.” His eyes went to my grown and held there.

I did not know what to say, but I didn’t have to wait long for him to continue.

“How much did you make for that fantastic performance?”

“5k” I responded.

His eyes did not roll, but I could still detect amusement.

“I think that the rape, if that’s what that was, is the best you can hope for, so you should build it into the contract.”

He had figured out the same thing that I had. Make it something that they could take or leave. If there is a physical attack after my performance, they would have to pay an ‘abuse surcharge’.

He had chuckled after that last bit. It hardly looked like abuse, when you considered that half of that cum was mine.

“The question is, how do you want to divy it? How much for the performance, and how much for the gang rape?

I was surprised when he came up with the options.

“You will get ten thousand for your performance, and an additional fifty if they choose to assault you.”

I was a bit surprised to hear ten thousand, but 50 dollars was not enough compensation for…

“50 thousand is the assault penalty, Jiz,” the lawyer responded.

I was thrilled. I still had to worry about security, but Louie said that he had people that only charged for their intervention when they were needed.

“Of course you will have to pay the Don out of your money and 10 percent will go automatically to me,” he finished, nodding as he spoke, like a used car salesman.

I knew that he meant the mob guy that he still represented, but what can you do?

“How much do I pay ‘the Don’?” I asked, logically.

“It is only another 10 percent, or you could bring it to him yourself, and make a better arrangement.” His smile and nod confirmed my thoughts.

He gave me a cell phone, and said nothing as he led me to the exit.

The assistant, a curvy girl in her 30’s, took down my information, including my bank info for deposits. It would confirm that I was paid for, before the event.

“Do you think that I’ll have to wait long?” I asked the curvy lass.

She smiled and looked me up and down.

“You will have a text before you get home, baby. Make sure you stay hydrated and stay ready for anal,” she winked with that understanding look.

Sure enough, I had a text from a name similar to my agent, but not quite right. It was on the burn phone, as I think they call them, so I opened it to read.

‘My dearest J, I have secured for you, a performance at the Anthropology Society. They have forwarded your fee, including the damage penalty, which was paid by six of them. I have deducted my fee, and forwarded the rest to your user account. You will have to take care of the Don for your first commission, but you will have to discuss that with him.’

It included the address, date, and time of the event. I checked my bank user account, and I had an alert. $54,000 had been deposited into my user account.

After I stopped dancing, I wondered about the 6k that I would have to take out and bring to the Don. I had no idea how old he was, or weather he even wanted sex. Maybe I just had to show my respect?

I’m not gonna tell you about my visit to the Don.

He is over 75. I left him the 60 Benjamins, and we parted, one hour later, friends.

So I guess I’m in the mob now?

End of Chapter One.

Chapter two will include my first performance, and the penalty clause.