I started to accept more hard-core stuff, including an S&M flick. They dressed me up in leather and I had to whip some bloke, and then walk all over him. They made me stand on his balls which seemed a bit odd, but the guy seemed to like it. That was a rough set. In one scene two girls held me down while some guy pretended to anally rape me. I was lubed up so it wasn’t too bad. For once I had to act, but in this case like I didn’t enjoy it. The handcuff stuff was great. But it was always better when I was the one calling the shots. I guess it’s this control thing again.
Around this time I started to get a little voice in my head telling me something was wrong. Quiet at first, and I couldn’t make out what it was saying to me. Just that my life wasn’t as perfect as I was telling myself.
I was offered a lead role in Tiberius. You might remember it, it was the biggest-budget porn film ever made, still is, I think. This was the time when internet porn was just starting to damage the movie business, and this was the industry’s response. I was Marissa the Slave Girl, cruelly abused by her master, then rescued by a courtier and taken to live in Tiberius’ palace in Rome.
The orgy scenes were incredible. One of them took three days to film. We stayed on set pretty much the whole time, the food they brought in was real and we were drunk most of the time. Most of the sex was undirected. My character is brought into the ballroom as the orgy is underway. I was inspected by the Emperor and his wife Vipsania, who decide to break me in on a low dais in the centre of the room as everyone watches. Tiberius was played by Johnny Brooks, possibly the best-looking male porn actor there has ever been, with a massive 10-inch sword spoiling the line of his toga, so I was happy about that. Vipsania was played by Jessie Pink, legendary in the business. She was nearly forty by then but still had a fantastic body and a wrinkle-free, beautiful face.
I was wearing a short tunic, with no knickers underneath. Firstly I lay down on the dais and a male slave came over with a bowl of hot water, soap and a razor. He was actually one of the make-up guys and he was totally uninterested in my snatch other than in a professional way, if you get my meaning. Most of the make-up guys travelled the wrong way up the Bakerloo line. I was glad about that because it meant his hand was steady. He gently rubbed foamy soap between my legs and shaved me quickly and expertly. I’m glad he knew what he was doing because that razor was damn sharp. As I lay there I was kicking myself for not getting my clit insured for a million pounds. It was a weird feeling, and I was surprised to find the heat from that sharp blade got me wet. Maybe it was the danger of it, or the novelty. I’d never been shaved before.
Then they told me to sit up on my knees. Jessie lay naked on the dais and I shuffled forward till I was knelt over her face. I lowered my head until we were in a 69 position. I dove in and started eating her out while she jabbed her hot little tongue into my pussy. I could feel my juices dribbling out over her face as she slid her mouth across my smooth, shaven mound.
Then Johnny got into the action. He came around and presented his cock to my face. I left off licking Jessie’s snatch and took him into my mouth. I could only fit half of it in and his girth was such that it was all I could do to avoid choking as he slid himself in and out of my mouth. I focused on his bronzed six-pack twitching before my eyes. Jessie was all the while working on my pussy, but I wasn’t ready to come.
Johnny pulled out and went around to the other end. I returned my attentions to Jessie’s dripping snatch as I felt her fingers opening me gently so that Johnny could slide in between my wet pussy lips. I felt myself being stretched as he thrust himself deep inside. Ten inches is a lot to take, even for a girl like me. As he fucked me, Johnny held my hips better to force my haunches back against his pelvis. Jessie reached around and fingered my ass. I was dimly aware of the other actors watching intently, and beyond them the cameras and lights, but mostly I was thinking about the massive penis pumping slowly into me, the nimble, mischievous finger in my anus and the hot, wet mouth working against my labia.
I exploded in an orgasm as bright as a supernova. I honestly felt I was going to die, it was so good. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. Johnny never stopped his rhythmic, steady fucking and Jessie never let up with her finger and tongue. Eventually I had to pull away and I collapsed on the dais, sobbing with relief and emotional release. The director loved it; it seemed the little slave girl was finally satisfied.
But when the shooting stopped for the day and the cameras were shut off, most of us stayed on; enough eating, drinking and fucking to make the Romans themselves blush pinker than a tart’s fanny.
I had sex with dozens of people that night, working my way through the cast, then the crew. Everyone else was on coke, or ecstasy, or something. I got through on coffee and naked lust. I woke the next morning, stark naked, sleeping on top of two enormous spear carriers.
Later that day one of the producers approached me and asked me if I was interested in something a bit different. I was out of my mind with exhaustion and I felt like someone had stuck a broom up inside me, brush end first. I shrugged, and told him to contact my agent.
‘It’s a farmyard scene,’ he said, when I called him the next week.
‘What, you mean I’m shagging some farmhand on a horse?’ I asked.
‘No, I mean you’d be shagging the horse.’
I burst out laughing. I’d thought I couldn’t be shocked by anything but I was wrong.
‘Actually I’m all right, thanks. I’m not that fussy about who I have sex with, but at this stage in my career, I think I’d prefer to stick with the human race.’
It was an eye opener though. What I was hearing was that people saw me as a girl who’d do anything. I decided that I was going to go for the high-class stuff from then on. My agent got me some auditions for some softer stuff, arty films, you know. Still real sex, but not so hard core. I was comfortably off by then and I could afford to do fewer and better films, just two or three a year. I wrote a couple of books, or at least I had a couple of books ghostwritten for me. They made a joke about me on the News Quiz, they said I was the only woman ever to have written more books than I’d read. I had a guest appearance on a soap opera, I even got on a couple of late-night talk shows and nearly made it into the mainstream, but then the tabloids started printing double page spreads of my early pictures and stills from some of the hard-core stuff I’d done. They’d known about my background all along of course, but they obviously decided to wait until I’d become reasonably well known before they splashed on the story.
That was it for going mainstream. I ran away to LA for a while. The industry over there is much more professional, and if you’ve got your shit together, you can earn a lot. I quite liked it there, but everything just seemed fake, the tits, the tans, the teeth, even the sex. You could never be sure whether the director really thought you were hot in a scene, or whether he said the same thing to all the girls. You could never be sure if the guys were that into you, now Viagra was commonplace. ‘Oh yeah, that’s so good,’ they’d say in a monotone. ‘Yeah suck it, bitch,’ in a voice like they’d rather I did anything but.
Some of the stuff was good. I did one film which was a take on David Cronenburg’s Crash, and the cast and I drove around in flash cars giving each other oral sex and shagging against the steering wheel. We didn’t actually get to do any crashing though; the budget didn’t stretch that far. We had to give the cars back at the end – just as well the seats were leather or else the dry-cleaning bill alone would have bust the budget.
Mostly though, the films were uninspiring and mediocre. No proper story, just a series of gratuitous excuses for shagging. Not turning my nose up, you understand, a cheque’s a cheque and a cock’s a cock, whichever side of the Pond you’re on, but, y’know, I guess I’d known for a while I was missing something in my life. I didn’t understand what, but I figured I wasn’t going to find it in California.
So a couple of years ago, once I’d earned a decent pension, I came back. I’d intended to retire, maybe meet a nice guy who didn’t watch porn and who didn’t know who I was, if there were any. Maybe even have a kid? I didn’t know. I dropped right out of the business, or at least I dropped out of the sex part. I needed to keep myself busy somehow,