I returned home after my first film, unsure whether I could continue on my current path. I had no way to explain my movies to my family or friends. I was becoming a porn actress, not what I thought I was signing up for, but it's where I was. If I stopped now, I could go home and live a normal life with my family. My family wasn't my only sticking point; fucking and sucking groups of men on film was taking a toll on my self-esteem. I was doing things for men I'd never dreamed of doing before I met Mr. Habel. Looking in the mirror, I was ashamed of who I saw. I showered and ate, then sat on the couch and tried not to think of how I'd acted the past week.

"Rebecca, I have a commercial booked for you on Wednesday. Can you be ready by noon? It shouldn't take more than an hour, should it?" Mr. Habel asked."

"I'm not sure. Will I be fucking a dozen guys?" I replied, snarkily.

"It's a beer commercial. I highly doubt it, but you can get wild, lol," he replied.

"Fine," I said.

My driver picked me up at 10:30 on Wednesday and drove me to a film studio on the east side of Los Angeles. Mr. Habel was waiting for me inside.

"Good morning, Rebecca. How's my new superstar today?" he asked happily.

"She's on the verge of going home; that's how she is," I replied, upset.

"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"You didn't say I'd be doing porn when we met, and I signed to have you represent me," I said frankly.

"No, but did you think you'd get into movies in mainstream Hollywood with no acting experience whatsoever?" he asked.

"I didn't know; I trusted you to care for me," I cried.

"Rebecca, you are on the verge of becoming a huge film star, and I will look over you to ensure no one hurts you," he reasoned.

"How can I explain to my family and friends that I'm a porn star?" I moaned.

"Well, the truth is always best. I've had a few girls in your predicament, and they told their parents the truth, and things worked out fine. You're a performance artist, pure and simple," Mr. Habel explained.

"So, who do I have to fuck today?" I asked sarcastically.

"You have to open a beer bottle with your pussy; that's all," he said, laughing.

"Oh good, I was wondering when I was going to use that skill," I deadpanned.

Mr. Habel handed me the script. It had me in pigtails in a waitress dress, serving beers to a of men. One of the bottles still had the cap on it, so I grabbed it from the guys and stick it under my dress to my pussy, and you hear the "squish" as the cap pops off and hits the ground. I hand it back to the guy and walk away as the men look at me, dazed and amazed.

"Cute," I said.

So, I did the commercial, although the director was a total dick; he was mean and yelled at me the whole time, even though everyone said I did great. Mr. Habel went to the office to get my check, and when he returned twenty minutes later, he looked for me on the set but couldn't find me. And that was because I was behind a screen in the corner of the building on my knees, giving the director a blowjob.

He told me that his company filmed ninety percent of the commercials in town, and if I wanted any more work, I'd better suck his cock good. I was furious when I finished sucking his cock. I stormed out of the studio without my check, telling my driver,.

"Take me home now."

I was at home packing my bags when I heard a knock on the door. It was Mr. Habel.

"Rebecca, may I come in for a minute?" he asked.

"Sure, I was just packing," I said.

"So, you're planning on going home?" he asked.

"Yeah, I figure even if I get a job at McDonald's, I won't have to blow or fuck every customer I wait on," I answered cynically.

"Haha, yeah, that's true," he said.

I returned to the bedroom and continued to pack, and he followed me back.

"Rebecca, you're free to do what you like. I'll cancel my contract with you, but you signed a three-film deal with Big Dog Productions and did one film in a series of three. If you walk out on that contract, his lawyers will sue you for millions. Your face is the face of the series; they can't replace you now," Mr. Habel explained my dilemma.

"So, what, I'm trapped into fucking in two more movies?" I asked, alarmed.

"I'm afraid so, Rebecca, unless you want to get sued," Mr. Habel responded.

"Fucking great," I said as I began to unpack.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Habel responded.

I spent the next two days debating what I should do. I even had test conversations with my mom, telling her I was an adult film actress. I didn't know what to do after I fulfilled my contract with Mr. French.

"Rebecca, you have a personal appearance scheduled for Saturday night at one of Los Angeles's biggest nightclubs. Do you want me to cancel it? It's worth a thousand dollars," Mr. Habel texted.

"Well, I can't legally drink yet. Will they let me in?" I asked.

"Yeah, that won't be an issue," he replied.

"Well, it might be nice to blow off a little steam. OK, I'll do it," I responded.

"OK, I'll let them know, limo, at eight p.m., OK?" he finished.

"OK, I'll be ready," I responded.

Saturday arrived, and I showered and shaved and wore one of my sexier outfits, just in case I met a hunky Hollywood star. I wore a see-through silver chain halter top, a red leather micro mini skirt, black knee-high clogs, and pigtail hair; I looked dangerous. Tonight, along with my driver, was a bodyguard, Bret, an ex-Navy SEAL to protect me from the crazies.

We arrived at the "Dirty Angles Men's Club," the sign read. The parking lot was packed, and they had my name on the marquee with flashing lights: "Super XXX Adult Actress LaBecca Freaka." I was in shock; who had given me that name? I asked Bret, and he just shrugged. We walked inside to stripper music and girls on stage naked, dancing on poles. Men clamored to touch and throw money at them, but Bret led me through the crowd to a private area where Mr. Habel sat.

I walked in and sat down; a waiter took my drink order, and Bret stood against the wall with his hands clasped.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do here?" I asked Mr. Habel sternly. "It's a fucking strip joint."

You'll go on stage in a while, talk to the crowd, and answer some questions," he said.

"Talk about what?" I asked.

"Tell them about being a film star," he replied.

"I thought I'd be at a nice Hollywood club," I cried.

"And do what, Rebecca, take drink orders?" Mr. Habel took me down a notch.

I looked around the club. Along the top was a catwalk with executive suites. Three rows of seating led to the full-windowed club suites. Most of them had lights on and looked to be filled with people.

I got my drink and inhaled it, ordering another and then another.

"Are you nervous, Rebecca?" Mr. Habel asked,"

"Terrified," I responded.

"Here, take a few of these; they'll help you relax," Mr. Habel told me quietly.

"What are they?" I asked suspiciously.

He handed me a prescription bottle of Xanax with my name on it prescribed by the doctor who did my initial exam.

"Er, I don't know," I replied.

"Becca, the doctor prescribes them to all the new girls to help with anxiety and nerves you'll experience the first month or two in the business," Mr. Habel explained.

He left them on the table as I sipped my drink.

"Miss, twenty minutes till your show starts." The manager came and told me.

"Show? What show, Ron?" I asked excitedly.

"Just do as I told you, and everything will be alright," Ron assured me.

I grabbed my bottle of Xanax and took two.

I sipped my drink as the pills began to take effect, and I began to calm down. Bret escorted me to the stage, and I was handed a microphone as I tripped up the four stairs to the stage. I'm such a klutz. I looked out, somewhat blinded by the lights, but I could tell everyone was watching me.

"Hey, guys, how's everyone doing tonight?" I asked as the crowd roared their answer.

"They sure have some pretty ladies in here tonight dancing for you guys, don't they?" I asked.

"Not as cut as you, baby," someone yelled.

I got through three or four minutes of making small talk when I made a big mistake.

"So, I'm going to let those beautiful ladies get up here and dance for you guys," I said, my head spinning.

"We want you to dance for us," a guy yelled.

The rest of the crowd echoed his sentiment. I tried to wave off their request, but then stripper music started, and they started chanting.

"Strip, strip, strip, strip.

I was shaking my head no and tried to leave the stage, but the stairs were blocked with guys sitting and standing on them, so I retreated to the center. I looked like a deer in headlights when I looked out at the men. They kept chanting, and the music kept playing. Playing. Finally, the manager came on stage and took the microphone, and I thought he would save me.

Hey, hey, if you want to see her pussy, you'd better start throwing some money up here," he told the crowd.

"What? No, what are you doing?" I screamed.

The men showered the stage with dollar bills as I stood there frozen.

I couldn't think straight. I knew I should leave, but I thought, "Oh my God, Rebecca, will you never learn?" I slowly began to wave at the men and blow kisses, hoping they'd be satisfied.

"Strip, strip, strip, strip," the whole place chanted.

I continued to act shy, waving and smiling at the crowd as they became increasingly boisterous. Then, the manager came on the stage and walked up to me.

"Baby, you'd better lose those clothes, or we're going to have a riot on our hands," he said excitedly. "You're a fucking porn star, for Christ's sake."

"I looked at the ceiling crying, hoping to be saved, but I looked around, and I was alone.

I dropped my microphone on the stage and began to dance for the men. My hips gyrated as I walked on stage; I swung around one of the stripper poles, almost falling. The men clamored for more, the stage covered with money.

"Strip, strip, strip, strip," they chanted.

I looked to the side of the stage; the manager was motioning me to strip. I looked out into the crowd of faces, all chanting for it. I took a deep breath, reached behind my head, unclasped my chain top, and pulled it over my head. The men went wild as I walked out on the catwalk, shaking my tits at the crowd.

I was getting excited now; and the crowd was all pushing me to do more. I walked back to the stripper pole and leaned against it, slowly lifting the bottom of my skirt and exposing myself to the crowd. I untied one of my clogs, flicked it off on stage, and then the other, to the crowd's delight.

I paraded the stage length and returned to the crosswalk, where I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the stage. The crowd roared as I walked the catwalk, blowing kisses to the crowd. And then my inner slut came out; I bent over to the crowd and spread my butt cheeks, showing them my party zone. The crowd went nuts as I returned to the main stage and waved to the crowd. I walked off the stage, and a bouncer put a robe around my shoulders and had a pair of slippers for my feet.

Bret retrieved my clothes and clogs from the stage, and they escorted me back to the private area. A black mesh curtain had been pulled to cover the area but didn't block out much. I stepped inside to see Mr. Habel talking to the manager.

"Great show, great show," the manager said, clapping.

I looked at Mr. Habel. "Just a talk, eh?" I said as I plopped down in my chair and sipped my drink.

I sat there catching my breath, figuring the worst was over.

"It's customary for the featured entertainer to tip the manager," the manager told me.

Mr. Hable sat there silent.

"Oh yeah, and how much is the tip?" I asked leerily.

The manager stood up and dropped his pants and underwear, pulled on his hard cock, and sat back down on the couch.

"Oh," I said, glaring at Mr. Habel.

Mr. Habel didn't even turn his head; he took a puff of his cigar and sipped his drink.

"Yeah, fine, why not? Everyone else does," I said, exhaling loudly.

I got up, removed my slippers, dropped my robe, walked to the couch, and crawled on the manager's lap. I grabbed his cock and put it between my legs in the folds of my now-wet pussy and plunged down on it.

"Oh, oh fuck," I cried as his cock claimed valuable real estate in my slow-to-open snatch.

I pushed down again, and his cock claimed more of my pink fuck slot.

"Um, yeah, yeah, that feels good," I moaned as I began to fuck him.

"Oh, fuck, is your pussy tight?" the manager moaned.

I humped him as I enjoyed the big cock inside me.

"Oh, fuck, that's good," I moaned, beginning to lose control.

"That's it, baby, fuck me, fuck me good." The manager moaned before sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I looked through the curtains, and I could see the crowd of people in the suites watching me fuck the manager.

My head snapped back, and I knew I was nearing the boiling point. My hips rolled, and he worked his cock inside me, brushing my cervix. It was all I could take.

"Um, um, God, yeah, yeah, yeah, I moaned as I came on the manager's cock, as my juice rolled down onto his balls.

He followed me, biting my nipple before moaning.

"Oh fuck, of fuck, yeah,"

He jerked inside me as his swimmers were unleashed inside my boiling-hot pussy. I fucked him till he stopped coming, then climbed off his lap, wiping his cum out of my pussy with tissues before putting my robe back on and sitting in my chair. I sipped my drink and tried to calm down.

"Baby, your pussy is dope," the manager said as he dressed and got up to leave.

"Thanks," I said, as I looked around the club.

I put my head back to unwind as a bouncer came in and whispered to Mr. Habel. They talked for a minute, and then the bouncer left. Mr. Habel called Brett over and spoke with him for a minute, and Brett went back and stood by the wall. The bouncer came back and handed Mr. Habel four envelopes. He looked inside the envelopes and wrote something on each envelope. I was fighting a panic attack, and I closed my eyes and relaxed and calmed down from everything that had taken place.

I listened to the music and rested for a few minutes before going to grab my drink. On the table were the white envelopes with the one thousand written on each one. I studied them for a minute.

"What's with the envelope, Ron?" I asked.

"Four gentlemen in one of the private party rooms would like a private show if you're willing," he replied.

"Is there four thousand dollars in those envelopes?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered, taking a sip of his drink.

"So, they'll give me four thousand dollars for a strip show?" I asked.

"Well, they'll tell you what they want," he replied.

"Oh shit, they're paying me to fuck," I said, finally getting it.

"Yeah, most likely, but I know you don't want to, so you can say no, and I'll send the four thousand dollars back to them. Mr. Habel said calmly.

I sat back, took a Xanax, and closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around my head as thoughts raced through my brain. What was I doing? Why was I here? It's four thousand dollars! I reached for my drink and took a sip. I stared out at the stage, watching the girls dance. My mind raced as thought flew through it. Was I a porn star? If I was fucking shouldn't be a big deal. But, what about my mom and dad? I looked at the envelopes. Christ, there was four thousand dollars in there. If I'm going to fuck, shouldn't I get paid well for it? I opened my eyes and looked at the private suites. I took a deep breath and shocked myself when I asked Mr. Habel.

"Which suite?"

"Number three, Rebecca, Bret will go with you," he answered.

I got up and put on my slippers, and Bret led me to the stairs to the private suites. The security guard stepped aside, and we climbed the stairs and walked down the narrow walkway to suite three. Bret knocked on the door, and a man opened it and immediately smiled, seeing me standing there.

"Oh, wow, you came; that's great," he said as we entered the suite.

"Guys, I need your cell phones. What happens here stays here," Brett announced to the men.

While Bret collected phones, I looked at my surroundings: theater-style chairs in front of the window, a couch, and a small round padded table a foot off the ground in the back of the room. There was a knock at the door, and a waiter delivered all of us a round of drinks.

"So that was a hot show you put on, sweetheart," one of them said.

"Thanks. What is our show looking like?" I asked.

"We thought we'd go one at a time, a personal party," another offered.

"Ok, let's do this then," I said, taking off my robe and handing it to Bret.

"OK, baby, lie on your back on the mat," I was told as the men stripped down to their underwear. I lay down on the platform and spread wide open for them.

"Look at that little pussy," one of them said.

I gently rubbed my itchy little twat as it prepared to pull a train for the five men. I watched as they cut cards to see who would cum in me first. The man dropped his shorts and knelt in front of me, stroking his fat eight-inch cock. He pressed the purple head into my pussy and pushed forward.

"Um, easy, big boy," I moaned.

My pussy put up a failed resistance to the rock-hard cock, and it barreled inside me. His hips rhythmically began to push back and forth as my butt pushed my wet twat further onto his shaft.

"Um, does your wife know you're fucking me tonight?" I asked, noticing his wedding ring.

"No, baby, it will be our little secret," he whispered.

He began to fuck me faster as our bodies rocked on the platform.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck me like that," I moaned.

The other guy's eyes were glued to me as we fucked like rabbits. As I watched them watch me fuck, I was warming up to launch.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I want all of you to fuck me," I moaned loudly.

"Oh, fuck, baby, I'm going to fucking cum," my partner squealed as I wrapped my legs around him and joined him in sexual bliss.

"Fuck yeah, don't stop, um, don't stop," I cried, and my body squirmed underneath him.

I held him as we recovered.

"Um, that was nice," I moaned as he pulled his glistening cock out of my sperm-filled pussy.

"Fuck, guys, she's fucking tight," he alerted his friends.

The next man dropped his shorts and filled my twat with his hard cock as we started the horizontal mamba again.

"Oh, you're so fucking big," I moaned in his ear.

I met his thrusts, and we were off and running.

"Ya, ya, ya," I let out short bursts of pleasure.

Unfortunately for this guy, my pussy proved to be too exciting, and in less than two minutes, he dumped his thousand-dollar load in me.

"Oh, shit, not already?" he screamed as he shot his wad.

The third man gave me a good, steady fucking, and I knew he was going to get me off like a rocket ship. The popping noise we made told everyone I was getting fucked really well.

"Oh baby, yeah, fuck me, fuck me," I cried.

"We fucked and fucked, and then he beat me to the finish line.

"Oh, fuck, oh, oh," he moaned as I felt his fat cock jerk inside me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I cried as my pussy quivered on the stiff shaft, pummeling my defenseless fuck tunnel.

He lay on me for a minute before getting up, his sperm flowing out of my cunt.

It was the last man's turn; my pussy was super sensitive, thanks to Mr. Habel, and I knew with a halfway decent fuck, I'd be coming again soon. The man didn't disappoint me; he gave me a good, solid ten-minute fuck, and I came twice during his performance. I cleaned up my pussy at the sink and put on my robe as the men thanked me, and Bret and I returned to our private area. Mr. Habel was there with his cigar and drink; I had a drink waiting for me.

"Did you miss me?" I asked sarcastically.

He didn't answer. I sat and drank and watched the strippers work the men for dollar bills. A bouncer came in and spoke to Mr. Habel and then left. Mr. Habel laid out five envelopes on the table, each marked a thousand dollars. I looked at them and returned to watching the girls work the men for their dollar bills. I ignored them for a while as I drank and wondered how much the girls here made a night. I finished my drink and took a big breath.

"Which room?" I uttered.

"7," was his reply.

I nodded to Bret, got up, and ascended the stairs to the private suite again. Bret knocked on the door, and we were let in. The ten men smiled and high-fived each other, having scored me.

"Baby, are we going to gangbang you alright?" One man asked.

"Guys, the five who didn't pay have to leave before anything happens," Brett told them. The men complained about having to leave but did. Brett told them they could watch through the window. Everyone surrendered their cell phones, and we were ready to go.

"How about a gangbang?" one of them said.

"Sure, it's your money," I replied. I wasn't too worried. I took off my robe.

The men undressed, none of them sporting a huge package.

One of the men lay on the platform, and I crawled on, facing him; he inserted his cock in my pussy, and a well-lubed cock nestled in my bunghole and wormed itself inside as I turned my head and took a cock in my mouth. Then a cock was put in each hand, and the men started to fuck me. The platform rocked as the men drove their cocks into me, and every few minutes, they shifted positions.

I insisted the cocks coming out of my ass were washed with soap and water before finding another hiding place in my body, and the guys were really good about it. We fucked and fucked before the guys started to cum in me. And that was driving my first big orgasm.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, the guy in my pussy cried out as he came in me.

That brought me to the brink, and when the guy I was sucking exploded into my mouth, I lost it.

"Um, um, um, um," I moaned on his cock as my body shook, and I swallowed a huge load of sperm.

The men fucked me for over an hour, switching out holes and coming in all of them. I was out of my mind. I was having rolling orgasms and drenched in sweat when I realized there wasn't a hard cock left in the room. The men were spent. They helped me to my feet, and I cleaned up before putting my robe on and returning to my private space downstairs. I sat down and pounded my drink, and luckily, they had backed me up with another.

I sat back, caught my breath, and watched the men propositioning the dancers for sex, most of them shaking their heads no. I wished I had done that, but now I was a whore, a prostitute that sold my body to men to use for their pleasure. I didn't like that thought, but it's who I was. I was letting every man use me for sex, whether they paid for it or not.

I got up and went to the bathroom, and when I returned five minutes later, four more envelopes were on the table next to my drink. I sat and leisurely consumed my remaining drink, watching the crowd. I took a deep breath and asked.

"Suite?"

"Number two," Mr. Habel replied.

I nodded to Bret, and we went to the private suite".

That night, I made fourteen thousand dollars, less Mr. Habel's twenty percent.

Is this what a personal appearance is going to be like?" I ask Mr. Habel.

"Yes, usually," he answered.

"OK," I answered.

I went home, showered, and sat on the couch naked, thinking how I'd tell my mom I was an adult film actress. I played with all the money I had; it made my head swim as I thought about it. I was watching a cheesy movie in the early morning hours when I got a text from Mr. Hable.

"Rebecca, there is a group of ten Japanese men who make adult pictures. They're interested in meeting a young starlet at their hotel pool tomorrow afternoon. I know you're tired, but would you be interested in meeting them?"

I thought about it for a minute and responded.

"Meet? What does that mean exactly?"

"Well, I can't possibly know their intentions," he responded.

"So, they expect to fuck me then?" I replied.

"I would imagine they would, yes," Mr. Habel admitted.

"How much?" I responded.

"Fifteen thousand for the whole night," he replied.

"Send the car for me," I replied.

I closed my eyes; thinking I was now an adult film star and a whore. I went to bed.