“Happy Birthday, Roser!”

My mum led the toast. My dad, my mum, and my circle of close friends from college all clinked glasses.

“Here’s to many more,” said Maria, who I sat next to in class and was the best friend I’d made there. We sat next to each other in lectures. We went to museums and historical sites together. We were going to see Coldplay in May.

“Thank you!”

I had another reason to celebrate, though I was not about to reveal it to anyone at that table. My five adult movies had, cumulatively, reached two million views at some point the previous night. Two million people had watched me have sex! Why was I counting? Why did I care? But I was, you’d best believe. It mattered to me that people were interested in me. That they jerked off to my naked body.

My most popular video, “Newcomer Joana La Loca takes a HUGE dick in her ASS!”, accounted for about half that number, sitting just a few thousand below a million. It seemed an impossible number. Possibly, some of those views were people watching the same video twice, but even so! 

And I’d signed up for my most lucrative shoot yet, although there was a reason that they were going to pay me more for this one. It was scheduled for the very next day.

The email had read,

“Dear Roser,

We are extremely impressed with your work as Joana La Loca. We’d like to offer you three and a half thousand euros for a shoot. Are you interested in work filming rough sex? We’re looking at tying, choking and slapping and some anal work. We understand that scenes like this are not everyone’s cup of tea. Please take time to think it over and let us know in a week or so’s time.

Yours,

Felipe. T.”

Three and a half thousand euros! That would carry my earnings from porn to nearly ten thousand euros. It would fund a vacation in the upcoming summer holidays. For two hours of sex, I could travel throughout August. I could take a plane anywhere in the world, or Eurail around the continent. While my friends slaved in McDonald's or cafes, I could be sunning myself in the Canary Islands.

It is worth reminding readers at this juncture of my age. I was not a self-possessed, emotionally stable forty-year-old woman. I had just turned nineteen. I still harboured dreams of fame and glory. I was proud of myself for making the kind of money I’d received for adult movies and breaking away from my parents financially so young.

But it wouldn’t be much fun. I wrote out a pro and con list. Pro was the money. It would only take two hours of one day of my life. Rough porn movies were regrettably popular, so there was the boost it could give my budding career. And I must admit, there was the sort of ‘it’s a life experience and you should always be open to trying new things’ aspect.

Con? It would hurt. I might not come. And it was degrading. But it wasn’t like they were in the business of murdering their performers. I could take it. I was tough. It was only acting, after all.  

I signed. I was naïve.

                                                                                                                *

A week after my birthday, I got a text from Maria.

“Hey, sweetie, come and have a drink with me?”

“Not tonight.”

She didn’t reply to my message, but an hour later the bell rang. I opened it to find Maria there, arms laden with boxes and bottles.

“We’re going to eat this pizza and drink this wine and you are going to tell me what’s wrong,” she said firmly.

“I’m fine, Maria,” I mumbled.

“Bullshit. I’m your friend. I know when something is bugging my friends. You’ve not been the same since your birthday, Roser. Come on, spill.”

“I went to bed with a guy, ok?”

It need hardly be said that Maria knew nothing of my double life.

“And?”

“He was kind of…rough, I guess.”

Maria took this in, then said,

“Do you want me to take you to the police?”

“No,” I said quickly, “No, it was consensual.”

“You didn’t tell him to stop?”

I shook my head.

“I want you to look me in the eye and swear you agreed to everything that happened.”

I looked her in the eye and said,

“I promise you, everything happened with my consent.”

And it had.

There was a painfully awkward silence between us. I took a deep draught of wine and refilled my glass.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Roser?”

I couldn’t hold her gaze. My lip trembled under the weight of the secret I was desperate to tell my friend. But it wouldn’t come out. There was an exquisite pause.

“No.”

Perhaps I’d better tell you what it was like at the time.

                                                                                                *

The male performer went by Biel Zebub. I’d known many Biels over the years…it’s a common name in Catalonia. There had been two in my class at school, in fact, so I had to smile. I sat down with Biel and the director.

“First, you blow Biel. He’s going to face fuck you. Then, he throws you onto the bed on your front and ties your hands behind your back. Then he wraps the gag around your mouth. You raise up your ass and he enters your anus and, obviously, fucks you. About halfway through, he pulls out. He flips you onto your back and enters your vagina. There’ll be some slapping of your face and breasts,”

“Hey, go easy on me, man!” I said to Biel, suddenly anxious.

“Don’t worry. I won’t damage you.”

“Finally, when he’s ready to come, he’ll pull out and shoot over your face. The safe word is “Oh, Jesus,” the director said, “If you say that, Biel will pull out and we’ll stop for a conference.”

‘Wasn’t the point of a safe word that you stop, full stop?’ I thought.

There was a voice in my head saying, “Go. You don’t want to do this.” There was another saying, “Take it, you’ll be safely home tonight. Take the money, live life to the full all summer.” I guess the devil on my shoulder was louder.

There was a brief rehearsal of Biel throwing me onto the bed. I had to stand, spread my arms and let him lift me without struggle. He wasn’t gentle, but it was a bed he was throwing me onto, so it didn’t hurt too bad.

We both got naked before we started the shoot. Biel looked good in the buff. He was the most muscular performer I’d met. I was told to start blowing him, which I duly did. His cock swelled in my mouth. The director held up a sign saying, “Suck it as hard as you can!”, which I did. Biel made all the suitable. “Oooh”s and “Aaaahh”s. So far so good.

After about five minutes, he began to thrust inside my mouth. It was a bit…uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt. His cock rammed into my mouth, tickled the back of my throat and caused me to gag. Biel grabbed the back of my head and pushed my forehead to his belly. That really made me want to vomit. Luckily, my stomach was empty. He held me to him, his cock about as far down my throat as it could go.   

“Good girl, good girl!” Biel said.

After seven minutes of having my face fucked, the director motioned to change. I stood and turned to face the bed, and felt Biel pick me up under the arms and throw me onto the bed. I felt him seize my arms and pinion my arms, and then he was binding them.

For the first time, I felt actively glad I was being filmed. This scenario would have terrified me in real life, naturally. The presence of the camera and the director alleviated the fear. The man with the camera reminded me that I was not being tied up by this (potentially) dangerous man in reality.

“You want it in your ass, baby girl?” he growled.

“Yes, yes, I do,” I said.

My hands were bound now, and I was on my front. I elevated my ass as per instructions.

My two conditions for my second anal film were the same as the first had been. Not without a lube, and he had to wear a condom. I felt the lubricant being applied and braced myself for a hard fucking from behind.

But nothing prepared me for what followed. Biel spread my cheeks, pushed roughly into my ass and began thrusting in and out.

What struck me was that there was no…empathy. Like, none. Believe me, I wasn’t so naïve as to think that all sex is between married partners who were in love. I was a porn star, or at least a porn actress, myself. But Biel just did not give a shit if his cock ripped my anus. He didn’t care if he was hurting me, or if I didn’t like gagging on his dick. He was ramming my ass as if his pleasure was the only thing that mattered. I closed my eyes and thought of the money.

Having a big cock drill through my sphincter was not entirely without its charms. Nerve endings were being struck, played like the strings in a piano. My g-spot was being reached by his ample cock.

As he thrust his penis into my ass, I decided that to win the day, I should come. I focused on achieving orgasm despite the discomfort. I began to squeal involuntarily, but he reached around and covered my mouth with his hand. A minute later, and a gag was produced, a piece of cloth that, even as he fucked me hard from behind, he wrapped it around my head and tied it, so that I was unable to vocalize.

Biel was pulling my hair back now, pulling it hard so that my neck was arched. I was both respiring and perspiring hard, overwhelmed by the physicality of the experience. That cock was ramming up my rear end as hard and far as it could go. I was being pulled backwards but pushed forwards by the force of the pounding of his cock.

How did Biel fucking my ass feel? I can only describe it as an almost perfect balance of pleasure and pain, as if there were two titans at war with each other within my body, equal in strength and neither was able to overpower the other.

I couldn’t tell you how long that went on, but eventually, still tied and gagged, he pulled out and rolled me over onto my back. This time, he entered my pussy and, to be fair, he wasn’t too rough in how he did it. He began pumping in and out and, as he was well endowed and I was already aroused, the stimulation of my g-spot was feeling good. I would have liked to diddle myself, but my hands were tied, so I could not. At last, I gave in. I came, arching my neck back, breathing deeply into the cloth that was bound around me, I came. I had been fucked hard for the first and last time. I collapsed exhausted onto the bed.

                                                                                                *

After the shoot, I walked to the metro. I was limping, feeling my sphincter ache. I felt vaguely nauseous. I had never felt so alone as I felt on the ride home. Inside, I felt numb as I scanned the normal people going about their lives in the carriage.

I bought three bottles of wine. I went straight to my room, locked my bedroom door, and burst into tears.  

The next day, I looked in the mirror. I looked like shit. I was hungover, pale, and puffy-eyed from sleeplessness and crying. I could still feel the stretch where the dick had been in my ass. I could still feel it in the roots of my hair where it had been pulled hard. I could still hear the slap of his hand on my face.

And all I could think was, you deserved that, Roser. You put yourself there. You got what you asked for. They offered you the money and you took it. And how fucked up must you be to take any pleasure from being treated like that? Christ, you’re a dirty bitch...

I looked in that mirror and I swore I was done. I swore on my life that I would never sell my body for sex again. Joana la Loca had died that night. And with her, I felt, so had a part of my soul.