Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Ferry to Ballgag Island



Part I

It was one of those perfect days when I was working with Anna at the dungeon--the kind of day I often think about now when fighting the pangs of nostalgia.

Unlike the other mistresses, Anna was easygoing and uncomplicated. There was always an indescribable peace and calm in the room when we worked together. Sometimes we both read quietly and sometimes we watched movies together curled up on the couch. There were days when we talked endlessly about our problems--problems with men, antidepressant medication, stubborn yeast infections, et al. And other days, we just sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence. However, this day we sat on the couch, catching up with one another.

Anna was a cutter and as we spoke, I noticed she had a fresh gash in the middle of her forearm. She had tried to cover it up with makeup, but the wound was too new and the gore underneath just leaked through. She caught my gaze and said, "I know it looks horrible. I had a bad night."

"What happened?" I asked.

"There's just a lot going on in my life right now," she said, "and things came to a head last night. I feel better today, though."

I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Let me know if I can help," I said.

She paused for a moment and then looked me in the eye real serious. "Actually, there is something you could help me with," she said.

"Sure," I said, "what is it?"

"You know that weird couple who live on Whidbey Island?" she said.

"The ones who make those fucked up movies?" I said.

"Yeah," she said. "Well . . . I'm doing some work for them again."

"No wonder you're all stressed out," I said. "You were a wreck for a whole week last time you did that."

"I know," she said, "but they called me up last week to shoot a couple of easy scenes and I really need the money."

"What do you have to do?" I asked.

"Well there's no nudity. I just have to wear this cheerleading outfit and run around the house screaming like I'm being chased by someone," she said.

"Sounds fucked up," I said.

"I know," she said, "but they said there's a high demand for these movies and they have a ton of work. They even asked me if I had any friends who wanted to make some money."

"No, thanks," I said. "I can't stomach that slasher porn shit."

"It's not that bad," she said. And besides . . . I was hoping you would do it for me . . . a favor," she said. "I mean I would never ask, but there's this scene they want me to do with a ballgag and I just can't do it."

"You want me to wear a ballgag in a movie?"

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I've been having these panic attacks lately and they want me to wear the gag for about twenty minutes. I've been practicing with it at home, trying to relax, but I just can't keep it in for more than a couple of minutes."

"Hmmm . . ."

"So I called them up and told them I might not be able to do the scene and they told me they'd have to find somebody else. That is, unless I could find another girl to do the scene with me."

"I don't know," I said. "I have anxiety problems, too."

"Well you'd only have to wear it for twenty minutes and you'd make around $200.00," she said. "And there's no nudity."

"But I'd have to wear a cheerleading outfit, right?" I asked.

"Probably," she said. "But it's easy and they're really cool. The worse part of the whole thing is that damn ferry ride back by yourself. That's the part that fucks with me. The ride over isn't so bad, but after the shoot your mind's in this weird space and everything looks different on the ride back. It wouldn't be so bad if you had someone to talk to. Or if you had your own car, you could just sit in there and listen to your music with your eyes closed. But sitting in that sterile room above for thirty minutes is hell. After a couple of minutes up there, the white metal walls and the grey smooth floors start moving in on you and the eyes of the people next to you turn dull and empty, looking more like patients in a mental ward than passengers. I try looking out the window at the water, but the water's always black at that point. I usually end up closing my eyes and popping a Xanax and then the drone of the motor luls me to sleep."

I looked at the amber ooze coming out of her arm. "OK," I said. "I'll do it."

Anna leaned over and gave me a big hug. "Thank you," she said. "I swear I'll make it up to you." With that, she jumped up from the couch and ran into the dressing room. A couple minutes later she came back, holding a small black bag. "Here you go," she said, handing me the bag. "Thanks," I said, reluctantly. I opened the bag and there was the ballgag. Anna smiled and said, "The shoots this Saturday so we only have a couple of days. I thought we might practice."

(to be continued)


2 Comments:
Blogger Trish said...
You're a sweetie to do that for her...
10:25 PM  
Blogger Peach said...
I'm dying for part 2!
12:36 AM  
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