The Cocksaw Murders – part 2

In the next room is a girl, lounging on a table. She’s either unconscious or drugged, or just doesn’t care enough to respond as you enter. She’s naked, of course. Slim, blonde, she could be any of your co-stars. Once upon a time, you were a little sick of always being given blonde bimbos, but then you decided you didn’t care if you were being objectified like that, as long as she was objectified more. So you made sure she was, with your cock and your words and your spittle and your piss, treating your colleagues like your audience wish they could. Subhuman, no dignity, no rights, it’s all about you, as if you wouldn’t have a job without them. Indeed, most of them never came back, to work with you or anyone else. More than once there were casting changes each day of a multi-day shoot, not that anyone noticed, or cared. It’s not about their faces, after all. Before long, the studios had a spare girl or two ready for such occasions. In a back room, so the one you were fucking didn’t realise she could try and run at any point without consequences. They wouldn’t get paid if they weren’t needed, they’d just be wasting a day naked in a back room being perved at by all the backstage team. If they sucked off a few of the crew, they’d go to the top of the list for next time, but they didn’t need to know that, it would be just as easy to post on Craigslist, or cruise the streets, or simply buy a girl from the right brothels. You had a reputation among your audience, and your reputation in the industry isn’t much better. Fresh, green girls are the only ones who’ll work with you, except for the occasional woman who thinks she wants what you’re dishing out. Some of them even enjoy it, but apparently those kinds of girls are “dangerous” and “bad for business”. You don’t care if they like it or not, and you can see why your fans would rather see their pain. As they say, that’s showbiz!

The woman in the robe speaks: “You have victimised girls, tainting their experiences of sex and love for the rest of their lives. Porn creates unreasonable expectations for coitus duration, and you’re among the worst: no healthy man can fuck for more than an hour or so, and breaks are an important part of any session; water, feedback and a change of pace make all the difference. Your current record is four hours, and your partner that day still gets occasional bleeding. She told me all about it, and if she hadn’t been gagged she would’ve been screaming and cursing, begging and crying. I suppose you already knew that; it’s not hard to guess, even for you. But I am not cruel, if you want this test to end, just ask. Besides, you might just enjoy this one: you have to set a new record, fuck this girl for twelve hours straight.