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Chapter Twenty:  Patrice

In Death's Hands

“Dammit, none of the talent showed up for filming, and we’re already behind schedule,” Eddie shares in frustration that first day production for Naughty Cinema was stalled. 

The global pandemic affects even our business.  Surprise!  He’s worried and pissed at the same time while he passes back and forth wondering what can be done now.  How will Eddie salvage the money he has already plunked if there’s no pornos to film?  The money down was non-refundable for the location procured. 

After Ian’s death, Eddie decides to forego the break in filming and moves full-speed ahead.  He always has a roster of hung guys and buxom gals who want to break in to the business.  None of them are interested in this line of work with COVID-19 spiking in our state to shoot porn, though.  Eddie seeks to leverage his bets on capitalizing on footage already shot with Ian.  The plan is to pepper that footage with some other scenes so that we can stretch out our offerings into multiple contributions in a final series.  He will sell it all for a premium with several hot pornos in the bag.  No one seeks to risk work even with the allure of extra bucks by the cheapskate. 

The situation is solved the moment I step out of the make-shift dressing room in my leather and lace ready to play as I flirt with Dennis. 

“Patrice?  That you?” Eddie inquires with a frown.

I ignore him as I shake my bum at him.  He stares at it and then my face before he burst out laughing. 

“Okay.  You can quit now,” Woody says with an uneasy chuckle.  Eddie nods his agreement.  “Yeah—”

Eddie thinks I’m kidding about performing until he breaks off what he’s going to say.  He watches instead as I kneel, unbuckle, and pop Dennis’s tan banana in my mouth right in front of him.  Dennis only half-heartedly tried to stop me, before I smack his hands away.  They fall at his sides, useless.  The boss flops into a seat floored by how I go to town on Dennis who stares at me wide-eyed and moaning.  Even Woody has been silenced by the sound of my sucking the hard man broom I enjoy. 

My massaging tongue and sucking jaws make my friend forget that we are not alone.  He drops his head back and moans as I deep throat him several times.  When I make him come shuddering in his fight to resist dumping a load in my mouth, I dig my nails in his ass and suck down the jets of his custard.  It tastes really good regardless of the fact I never eat cum until I suddenly have no control of myself.  When I rise to my feet licking my fingers, Dennis collapses to his knees staring at me in dazed amazement with a goofy, almost drunk smile on his face. 

I glance at Woody who stares back with an open mouth and an eye-popping tent in his jeans.  With a wink, I approach Eddie who wears a similar expression of surprise.  I cannot tell if he’s got a boner, not that it matters.  I have his attention, and that’s all I desired.

“You will pay me the going rate.  None of that amateur business, Eddie.  Make me a fair offer, and you will have the best damn film for your money.  Try and cheat me?  I walk out, and you’ll have nothing.  Straight sex, though, with the man of my choice.  Anything more and that stands for extra, which means a renegotiation of our terms and increased prices.  Are we clear?”

Eddie does not blink.  He only nods. 


I lay on my boss the proposed scenes not that he has a choice if he wishes to stay somewhat on schedule.  Half the money is paid to me upfront.  The rest is given upon completion each day. 

No waiting occurs to the end of the week to be paid for me or Dennis with whom I rope into filming with me.  Not that he seems all that banged up about it as I recall.  He tries to convince me out of it, but I refuse.  I want some man meat stretching my walls.  Besides, it’s either him or Eddie.  Dennis makes the sacrifice for me knowing how much I loathe Eddie. He remembers bits of our previous night in my bed where we pleasured each other.  Acting out his fantasies of us together while sober is something that he always wanted.  Fantasies I have no idea he considers, but ones we have so much fun flushing out.  The bonus comes in the form of money in sharing our time together.

Whether I like it or not after the fact, there’s little that I can do to change what happens. One minute I lay in my own bed and the next stand in a strange bathroom touching up the elaborate make-up applied to my pale face.  My comfortable clothes are gone.  In their place, I wear some skimpy lingerie from the set.  I black out again and there I straddle Dennis who is flushed and smoky eyed while that greasy bastard of a boss aims his camera at us.  Since he’s also the director, he’s got his tongue flapping about his mouth.

“That’s it, Hellcat,” Eddie begs, “Make love to the camera, too.” 

My other friend Woody who also holds a camera wears a stunned expression to go along with his thick lips in a wide “o.”  Like Dennis, he cannot believe that I’ve complied with our prick of a boss.  Frankly, neither can I, but I am not really in control of myself. 

I follow the direction and loose myself to the moment.  “Ooo, yeah!” I exclaim in a high pitch.  My fingers have tiny minds of their own as they dip one at a time inside my pink penis cushion.  When adequately moistened, I lick the juices I produce from them.  The last digit I suck in my mouth with a moan.


These disjointed memories filter back to me in the safety of my apartment at odd intervals.  It is as if I view another person who wears my skin like a suit.  This other person shames me to no end even in the antics done to earn the piles of cash I make off that pervert Eddie.  It’s about time he pays me what I’m worth. 

“Have I sold myself to the devil to claim the styling credit and a performer credit?” I ponder and shiver a little while still mortified by my brazen behavior.

Somehow despite this unlikely side of myself, a sense of pleasure washes through me to get what I deserve for once.  Why should I let that rat (who is an insult to the critter) dictate to me what that looks like?  I earn that right, but at what cost.  Do I play right into his hands?  It disturbs me how I can have such divisive feelings that tear me apart.

Submitted: January 22, 2023

© Copyright 2023 Amy F. Turner. All rights reserved.


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It seems like Patrice has the upper hand now, taking circumstances to her advantage. Interesting.

Mon, January 23rd, 2023 2:55am

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