Film, Film, Film

Olga sat in front of the computer, browsing ads online. Her thoughts were preoccupied with finding a way out of her current predicament, namely, finding the missing sum to pay for her apartment and avoid ending up on the street. It wasn't the first time Olga had been late with her rent, and this time she had been warned there would be no more extensions—either the money or she had to pack her things. She had no one to borrow from, so Olga began looking for ways to earn money quickly. Suddenly, one ad caught the girl's attention.

"Attractive models needed for a photo shoot. Payment on-site in cash."

Olga was a university student and worked part-time as a waitress

in a cafe. At first, everything was fine, and she had enough money to pay for her modest housing, but then the cafe owner started making indecent advances towards the girl, offering all sorts of benefits for certain services. But Olga, raised strictly by her parents, could not allow herself anything like that, and the owner, finding fault with some trivial matter, fired her.

She couldn't find another job, her parents lived far away and were barely making ends meet, so Olga found herself in a hopeless situation. She was a pretty girl—why not a model! She was somewhat frightened by the thought that the ad didn't specify the nature of the shoot, but she hoped it would be limited to, at most, swimwear. She wasn't naive and understood the shoot might not be so innocent, but the girl was in such despair that she tried not to think about the worst. The main thing for her at the moment was to get the money. And she dialed the phone number listed in the ad.

— "Agency 'Beyond the Edge.' I'm listening," she heard a pleasant male voice. The agency's name unsettled Olga, but she gathered her courage and decided to proceed.

— Good afternoon, I'm calling about the ad.

— Okay, good, describe yourself.

— I'm 23, height 176 cm, slender.

— Tell me your bra size.

— B-cup. So, probably swimwear, the girl thought.

— Excellent. Are you blonde or brunette?

— Blonde. Natural, Olga clarified for some reason.

— Where do you work?

— I'm a student.

— So, you're really in a tight spot, the man chuckled. — Well, we're always happy to help pretty girls.

— Tell me, Olga hesitated, are these shoots without... — she trailed off and fell silent.

— All details on-site, but our agency is serious, we have partners in Europe.

— But still, what does your agency do?

— Lingerie catalogs.

Olga sighed with relief. That didn't scare her; she had feared worse.

— And what's the pay?

— $50 per hour, in lingerie, $100 without.

Even with nudity, this amount wasn't enough for Olga to cover her debt, but it was something. Plus, maybe she could persuade the landlady to accept the money in installments. Olga pondered.

Her interlocutor seemed tired of her indecision.

— Listen, girl. Do you need money or not? If yes, then a car will be sent for you tomorrow at 11 PM. Dictate your address. And if you're just calling out of curiosity, don't waste my time. We have plenty of applicants.

Olga, understanding there was no other way, confirmed her agreement and dictated her address. Olga's intimate life had reached a dead end. Men, attracted by her striking appearance, courted the girl, trying to get her into bed, but quickly became disappointed, considering her cold, uptight, and inexperienced—in a word, an ice queen. Classmates invited Olga to have fun, but she seemed only interested in her studies. Such a shoot was a risky venture for Olga, which she got into out of desperation, believing that one night of such work would solve her problem, at least partially.

The entire next day, Olga was on pins and needles. By evening, she began waiting for the promised car; they called and warned her they were on their way. After a while, the car arrived. An attractive young man was at the wheel.

— Hi, he said, opening the door for Olga and looking her over with interest. — Well, let's go.

On the way, it turned out the young man's name was Igor. At the firm, he was a driver, agent, manager—basically, he did a bit of everything.

An hour later, they arrived at a majestic mansion surrounded by a high fence.

— Get out, Igor said. — I'll take you to Arnold.

— And who is that?

— Our boss.

Olga and Igor entered the mansion and went into a large room. Carpets on the floor, comfortable sofas along one wall. Between them, a sizable bar. Along another wall was a huge aquarium with fish. On one of the sofas, Olga noticed a well-dressed, portly man around 45. A glass of whiskey stood on the table in front of him.

— This is Olga, Igor introduced her.

The man looked her over with an appraising glance and turned away; Olga thought he seemed dissatisfied.

— Sit next to me, he ordered. Olga obeyed.

— Show me your tits.

What, just like that, right away? The girl wasn't ready for this, but understanding there was no turning back—she couldn't just go back—she slowly, blushing, unbuttoned her blouse and bra, releasing two firm orbs of her breasts. Arnold kneaded them, pinching a nipple. Then he told Olga to stand up, turn around, lift her skirt, and looked at her buttocks. Slapping the girl on the ass, he told her to go get ready for the shoot.

Igor led Olga away. The girl was overwhelmed with horror after the humiliation she had just experienced and, not knowing what awaited her, but it was too late to back out, and there was nowhere to go. She had been brought to a deserted and completely unfamiliar place; it was night outside, and she had no idea how to get out.

What followed calmed the girl a little. No one raped her; she actually posed in women's lingerie, quite revealing—Olga had never worn anything like it—but still, it was lingerie. Gaining courage, she even posed nude in a bathtub full of foam, hoping the foam hid her body, and they paid more for that. In reality, Olga was positioned in the tub so that her entire chest was on the surface and clearly visible. Then they asked her to stand up from the tub and place a hand on her pubic area.

Olga obeyed. Next, she had to climb out of the tub and stand, arching her backside and leaning on the edge. Trying to think only about the money, Olga obediently did everything she was told. During the shoot, she saw other girls, roughly her age, some younger, some older. It seemed no one was bothered by what was happening. The girls behaved freely; during breaks, they were offered drinks and cigarettes. A sweetish smoke filled the room.

Olga refused both drinking and smoking. Finally, it was all over. The girl was paid $150, and she went to get dressed. Getting lost in the huge mansion, Olga unexpectedly ended up in another part of it. From somewhere, very explicit moans could be heard. Intrigued, the girl went to take a closer look. She also hoped to ask someone to lead her to her clothes. Olga was wearing only a towel she had wrapped herself in after the bath. She clutched the money in her hand. Suddenly, she saw an attractive, tall, dark-haired girl changing into an outfit that reminded Olga of a maid's uniform.

— Hi, the girl smiled friendly. — You here for a shoot too? I'm Oksana. Nice to meet you.

— Hi, I'm Olga, Olga smiled back. — No, I'm not shooting. I'm done. I got lost, looking for my clothes.

Oksana looked with interest at the money clutched in Olga's hand.

— So, 150, she noted. Well, is that even money? A beauty like you could earn much more.

— How much? Olga asked with interest.

— First, let's go get to know each other better. And without waiting for an answer, her new acquaintance dragged Olga into a cozy little room with a small bar. There, she poured Campari into glasses, splashed in some orange juice, and Olga thought she saw Oksana add some powder, but maybe it was just her imagination.

— Actually, I don't drink, Olga said uncertainly. She didn't want to offend her new acquaintance, who seemed so nice and pleasant.

— It's a cocktail, light, it'll help you relax, you seem a bit tense. Don't worry, my aunt's a pharmacist, I know about this stuff. Well, cheers to meeting.

— To meeting, Olga said and took a sip of the cocktail. After a while, she felt she really was relaxing; warmth spread through her body, and it even became hot between her legs. Olga loosened the knot of the towel, and it slipped down, exposing her breasts. It seemed Olga didn't even notice. And Oksana watched her with pleasure.

— Now let's smoke, she suggested.

— I don't smoke.

— One puff won't hurt.

Olga took a drag from the cigarette Oksana offered. The sweetish smoke filled her lungs, causing slight dizziness. Suddenly, she felt an urge to be open; she told her new acquaintance about her dire situation and complained about her lack of a personal life. During the story, Oksana sympathetically stroked Olga's head, then her hand moved down to her chest and stroked a nipple, then lower, and soon the towel was on the floor, and Oksana's hand was caressing Olga's pubic area. Embarrassed, Olga fell silent, cutting herself off mid-sentence.

— Now, listen to me, Oksana said, pulling away from her activity and placing Olga's hand on her own breast.

Clumsily, Olga began to fondle the girl's nipple. — Do you want to earn really big money? And solve all your problems?

— How much?

— $1000.

— Wow! And what do I have to do?

— Shoot in erotic films, something like fantasy games. The series is called 'Male Fantasies.' The films are short. One film is $1000. Three, respectively, $3000. You do the math.

Olga's head was spinning. With that kind of money, she could not only pay off her apartment debt but also help her parents, buy herself anything she wanted, and more. But erotic films! Of course, she wasn't a virgin, but this was somehow too much.

— I probably can't, Olga said. — I'm not an actress, and in general...

— What 'in general'? Have another drink. — Olga obediently finished her cocktail. — Just think, you'll not only earn big money but also get pleasure. I don't need money; for me, these shoots are a kind of entertainment. Combining pleasure with usefulness. Enjoyment and they pay.

Olga listened attentively. Excitement gripped her at the thought of the money and those unimaginable sensations Oksana described. Yes, and the cocktail she drank did its job.

"Come what may," Olga decided. Oksana took her to the wardrobe room, where Olga was dressed in a maid's uniform. The same as Oksana's. A short lace apron, a belt with fishnet stockings, a matching fishnet bustier through which her nipples showed. Stiletto sandals and a hairpin completed the outfit. Olga was led into a room that turned out to be a bedroom and was told that she should act like a maid cleaning the room; no matter what happened, she shouldn't get distracted, to avoid ruining the shot and having to reshoot. Olga tried to relax.

She began dusting with a fluffy duster. Suddenly, Oksana approached her. She kissed Olga on the lips and, taking the duster from her, ran it over the girl's chest. Olga moaned, feeling her nipples harden as Oksana's lips descended upon them. Olga felt her tongue teasingly running over a nipple. She grabbed Oksana's hair, forcing her to take the nipple into her mouth. And Oksana obeyed. The girls fell onto the bed, continuing to stroke and caress each other. With the duster, Olga ran it over Oksana's loins. Oksana arched her back... Olga completely relaxed and surrendered to the new sensations.

— What's going on here? — a stern male voice rang out. — Why is my bed still not made? Are you new? You'll be punished. And you can go.

— Bend over and pretend you're making the bed, Oksana whispered to Olga, hastily running off. Olga, bending over, pretended to make the bed.

— Bend over lower, she was commanded, — spread your legs. She obeyed, unaware that from behind, her buttocks were completely exposed. Suddenly, she felt someone approach from behind and slip a hand between her legs, began to stroke her, rub against her with something hard. She looked back. Behind her stood a naked man around 30. A wet towel lay at his feet; obviously, he was playing the master who had just come out of the shower. The man tried to push his penis further, right into the girl's open slit. Olga began to struggle. She wasn't ready for this. Without foreplay, just like that, immediately...

— Cut, someone's voice commanded.

Arnold, approaching Olga, said:

— Listen, girl. There's no turning back. We've already shot part of the film with you; you're in the game. Oksana vouched for you; you're lucky, we don't just take anyone off the street to shoot. If you ruin the shoot, you'll pay a penalty you couldn't even dream of.

— But I don't have money, the frightened Olga whispered. — I just didn't expect him to just... like that... I...

— Then in kind, Arnold interrupted her. — And in such a way that what's happening now will seem like child's play compared to what awaits you. Okay, go, calm down, have some water; I'm not a beast. Oksana will take you. And he unexpectedly smiled at the girl.

— Make me another cocktail, Olga asked.

— With a sedative? Oksana smiled knowingly.

— If possible. Is it harmful?

— Not at all. Now I'll make you a stronger dose so you relax.

After the cocktail, Olga no longer understood why she had acted that way. What was she afraid of? Well, a man came, wanted to fuck her, so what? Moreover, she herself was now burning with desire to continue.

— And you know, don't anger Arnold. He's a great guy, but when he's angry, he loses it, Oksana explained to her. — But overall, he's just a sweetheart.

Olga listened to her but didn't hear. She listened with surprise and delight to her new sensations. She relaxed. She felt bold and uninhibited. She felt light and cheerful. She examined her outfit with interest; now it didn't shock her; on the contrary, it aroused curiosity. Suddenly, she felt heat down there and touched herself with her fingers. It felt very good. She laughed.

— Can I have more? she asked.

— No, you'll feel sick. Here, have a sip of cognac and let's go.

Passing by Arnold, Olga gave him an inviting smile and ran her hand over his fly. He looked at the girl in surprise. Her eyes were glazed, her nipples swollen, she licked her lips with her tongue.

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