Director and female student

He entered the studio. The lights were bright. A fair-skinned female student, wearing only underwear, sat on the edge of the bed, while the director gave her some "psychological preparation."

He walked silently to the director's chair and sat down. Beside him were the cinematographer, lighting technician, recorder, sound engineer, and others. In reality, the entire studio was just a small hotel room with a single camera.

Yes, he was the male lead in this short film. His original co-star had canceled at the last minute, going off somewhere, and the director had no choice but to use this newly recruited actor.

It was certainly awkward being new to this industry, having to strip naked in front of the camera, be intimate with a complete stranger, and sometimes perform special techniques—even if you didn't want to, you had to do it, pretending to be excited even if you didn't have an orgasm. There were many hardships involved.

He looked at the female student, thinking to himself, "She'll definitely get used to it eventually. Like the actress who often worked with me on films, she's now spending money like water."

"Earning money with your body is money too, what's so shameful about it?" She told him this after a chance encounter with him in another city, after a passionate lovemaking session. He thought of her, this friend he only knew through casual sex, not love. If she truly had no intention of selling her body for "work," the director shouldn't have said "come and see the work environment" when he approached her. He knew that although the director was in this shady industry, he would never use false advertising to force someone into prostitution.

The female student kept her head down, seemingly unwilling to agree.

"So stupid, if you really don't want it, just say no, get up and leave. Why haggle? What's with all this 'only touching, not playing'..." the photographer beside him said disdainfully.

He wholeheartedly agreed with the photographer's words. Times had changed. While chastity was an outdated concept, he still couldn't understand teenagers ten years his junior. He had once filmed with a female student who clearly only wanted to "work" once, but he was astonished by her sexual skills. The ecstasy she experienced was something only someone with far more experience than him could achieve. He had also discovered groups of classmates working together, and even more outrageously, one had slept with twin sisters. In this circle, he thought he understood women, but it turned out he knew nothing, especially about high school girls of this era.

She was plain-looking, and judging from her bikini-like underwear, her figure wasn't particularly outstanding. Why would a director date a girl like that? As if to prove her identity, her schoolbag was still lying to the side, and her light blue school uniform was neatly arranged.

He gave a half-smile. He'd seen this kind of thing countless times. Of the nearly fifty short films he'd made with directors, at least thirty involved high school girls. What did he think high schoolers were? Judging from her appearance, she clearly didn't have any special skills. If his girlfriend hadn't been on her period, he might not have even considered sleeping with her.

He thought of his girlfriend and felt a pang of guilt, because she had no idea his side job was these shameful films.

He muttered to himself, "It's okay, I was forced into it anyway. She should understand my good intentions."

He always comforted himself like this when he made a film. However, after owning fifty films and sleeping with over sixty women, his aesthetic sense had become strange. His girlfriend was just an ordinary girl; compared to those sixty-odd women, she probably only ranked fiftieth. But that didn't matter. The thought that beneath those beautiful exteriors lay hearts he couldn't fathom filled him with dread. He feared the women he genuinely loved might be secretly having affairs with other men. He might be able to ignore their past, but he couldn't tolerate their present infidelity. The evidence—many of the female students he acted with had boyfriends—reminded him of a crisis and awakened his obsession with beauty. Therefore, he preferred a woman without guile or materialism; he wanted a genuine heart he could grasp, not a glamorous but unpredictable love. He thought his lack of sensitivity to beautiful women was probably due to this part-time job. After

the director's negotiation, she agreed. From her tone and indecisive demeanor during the discussion, he had already predicted her agreement.

He took off his clothes and trousers and moved to the bed.

He climbed onto her body, a familiar sensation. Over the years, he had been with countless different women, each one so radiant, white, smooth, and soft. But he had only ever sought pleasure with them, experiencing orgasm after orgasm, union after union. Yet, even as he penetrated their depths, he remained shut out of their hearts, as distant as universes.

He wondered, were they wrong? Was he wrong for "raping" them? Was the director who provided them with this "job" wrong? Or was the entire social climate wrong?

He recalled his youthful exuberance after graduating from school—laughable, yet even more pathetic. It was a time when you were forced to become bad, forced by both the white and the black. Finally, he understood. Through a colleague's introduction, or rather, his boss's choice, he chose this job as a side job, using it to numb himself, subconsciously believing it was a good way to escape being his boss's stand-in.

During the filming of pornographic movies, he was merely an actor, bearing no real responsibility. He reached out and unhooked her bra, professionally squeezing her breasts. The slightly protruding, coffee-colored nipples didn't particularly attract his attention.

He moved further into the center of her body, untying the knot at her waist and removing her underwear. He examined it closely; it was an expensive set. He couldn't understand why a female student would buy such things, or how she could afford them. His professional enthusiasm gone, he didn't care to understand.

Then he moved to her lower region, his nose lightly touching her velvety skin, his agile tongue exploring the center of her desire—so red, so moist. He held her soft breasts in his hands, his tongue pressed against the center between her legs. He felt a force gradually lifting him up from the juncture of his body and legs. Suddenly, she cried out in his arms. Was she crying? He wondered.

The director quickly rushed forward, draping a towel over her.

She sat on the bed, sobbing with her eyes covered, and between her arched legs, one could vaguely see the spot where his tongue had just rested. He felt a pang of nostalgia for the actress from the last film, perhaps it was the unique plot that made him nostalgic. In the previous film, the director combined appetite and lust: a sumptuous feast, fine wine, soft music, a naked beauty, intense panting… He lingered in his fantasies, only regretting that the actress in the last film was from out of town, working part-time to earn money for a personal trip. Actually, he was somewhat attracted to her; if she had stayed, perhaps he would have pursued her without hesitation.

A man, he thought, could fall in love with a woman with whom he had shared physical intimacy.

Time ticked by, and his thoughts returned to the actresses from the previous films. He compared the breasts of those female students, the feel of their skin, the deep pleasure they brought, trying desperately to find the most special one, the most unforgettable, but he couldn't, because they all drove him equally crazy, and even his experienced self had to succumb to their skills.

He might just be one of their many sexual partners, certainly not the strongest or longest-lasting, and certainly not the last. He remembered the twin sisters; to this day, he still wasn't sure if they would sleep with the same man they fancied. Back then, the older sister's gentle charm and the younger sister's passionate allure had exhausted him for days. Thinking about it, he suddenly laughed out loud, because he was the only man who had truly conquered them—although this was what the sisters told him when they were having a late-night snack together at a noodle stall in the alley after filming. Whether it was true or not was no longer the point, but there was no doubt that the sisters understood men's psychology quite well. It was incredibly lucky to sleep with them. If they met again someday, would he still be able to hold onto his throne?

The director called his name again, pulling him back to reality from his past memories. It turned out the director had calmed her down. Filming could continue.

The director removed the towel from the female student's body and climbed onto the mattress. After comparing the actresses' strengths and weaknesses, he was frustrated to find himself becoming picky. He couldn't get aroused again with this female student who wasn't particularly beautiful or considerate. So, he got up and moved forward, bringing his genitals to her lips.

She looked uncomfortable, then reached out her slender fingers and grasped him, opening her mouth to take his size, which just filled her lips, into her mouth. He moved his hips back and forth, trying to get pleasure from the wet lips of this unskilled female student.

Before long, he became hard and elongated again. The female student's small mouth clearly couldn't accommodate his size. Suddenly, he felt his tip hit her throat, and a sudden urge to vomit made her push him away. Then she cried hysterically, saying emotionally that she really couldn't continue acting. The director still went over to comfort her.

He stepped back and returned to the director's chair. After so many attempts, each time he was about to get an erection, she would interrupt him. He was truly impatient. He had never seen anyone as pretentious and affected as her. Even on camera, she was still like this…

Suddenly, he wondered if he had been too cruel. He shook his head. He shouldn't have the slightest sympathy for this kind of woman. A woman had already agreed to take off her clothes to act in this kind of scene. Regardless of whether she and the male lead actually did anything, it already showed that her values were problematic. If you're going to film, just do it for real. What's with showing only two or three points, using duct tape? External behavior is the most important thing. If you're already seen and touched, what purity is left? Does she think that keeping that hymen can cover up her loss of virginity? Does she think her future husband will be grateful that she left a hymen for him to break?

He truly didn't understand the various discrepancies between reputation and reality in society. Female celebrities slept with producers to become famous, made Category III films to earn large sums of money in a short time, and allowed hosts to harass them in front of the audience to boost their popularity. Think about it, aren't those movie stars just like the extremely restricted film actress in his arms? The former for fame, the latter for profit. Yet, ordinary people cast extremely restricted film actresses with disdainful and strange looks. Isn't that incredibly unfair? Can watching actresses posing seductively on television satisfy one's needs? Isn't it pornography that soothes the budding youth? Moreover, movie stars sleep with a privileged class, something they can't even see, while the actress in his arms is essentially having sex with the public. Isn't this what Max calls exploitation and technological monopoly?

"Huh?" He smacked his head hard, his thoughts spiraling out of control. "Where did my mind wander..."

She nodded again, agreeing to continue. He climbed onto the bed, grabbed her legs, and pressed his fingers to her bright red crotch—the spot he would penetrate. Her area was wet, glistening with light.

He didn't waste any foreplay, thrusting himself inside her in one go. He pleasured himself inside her, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. All women feel the same way when rubbing against that spot; it's just a matter of how much psychological pleasure their appearance, their figure, and their technique can evoke.

The warmth and moisture within her aroused him, making his erection even harder and more intense. The female student, surprisingly, made no move. She didn't tremble with the lack of sexual experience; her body seemed boneless, allowing him to pleasing her at will, much like a woman who had experienced countless sexual encounters.

He was surprised and momentarily lost in thought, slowing his pace. She awoke from her passionate embrace, as if forgetting something. She began to tremble again, covering her eyes with her hands, sobbing softly with tears streaming down her face. He was disgusted by this small gesture, and then, in a display of masculine strength, slapped her twice, shoving her hands away from her cheeks. She stared at him in astonishment.

He thrust into her fiercely, filled with rage, not allowing her to lift him to the heavens only to slam him down again. He became even rougher, even more violent. She could only lie on the bed, afraid to cry anymore, letting the thrusting and pushing make her moan.

Finally, after several interruptions, he released his fluids onto her thick, dark skin. But he felt numb, lacking the satisfaction of previous shoots. This time, it was merely completing a job. He had initially been annoyed by her antics and wanted to leave, but now that he had aroused himself, he had to release it, no matter how troublesome. Releasing himself on a woman was always better than masturbating in private, regardless of satisfaction or arousal. He

got up, turning his back to the female student lying on the bed with her legs spread. He buttoned his clothes, one button at a time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the director approach the female student, taking out a towel and covering her naked body. The director gestured and spoke in a low voice, indistinctly.

He didn't care; in the film, he only exposed his body—from head to toe. He knew that four hours had passed since he entered the room. This was the first time he had spent so much time working part-time. In the past, when he filmed with experienced actresses, including the pre- and post-coital showers, foreplay, and the most physically demanding piston-like movements, it would only take an hour and a half to finish. Then the group would go out for a late-night snack and then go their separate ways.

He glanced at his watch. "It's 3 a.m.... Oh well, I guess I won't take a shower."

He yawned.

"Ugh... what am I going to do? I have work tomorrow, and a date with my girlfriend after work. I'll be sleep-deprived all day..."

He opened the door and suddenly heard her blurt out a sentence, completely different from her previous sobbing tone: "What... so little money..."

He closed the door, vaguely hearing the director and cameraman's angry roars after realizing what had happened. The female student screamed several times, and the floor of the small hotel made a tremendous noise as they chased her. The sound of the bed when they forced her onto it was exactly the same as the sound he had made when he had been frantically ravaging her.

He knew what would happen if he angered them. No wonder they were angry. It turned out that this seemingly inexperienced female student had repeatedly interrupted his fun over the past four hours to raise her price, thinking that the director would feel embarrassed and give her more money for acting. The director would definitely give her more after they took turns using various toys on her for their own amusement. He found it amusing. He had long ago told the director to cultivate a dedicated group of actresses, instead of just randomly grabbing someone on the street and asking them. If they agreed to act, great; otherwise, forget it.

Making pornographic films was lucrative, and if you could make a porn star famous, it would be even more substantial. But the director insisted on their consent; if they wanted to act, they had to come to him—a truly strange professional philosophy.

The girl's piercing cries reached his ears. "Let her cry as much as she wants," he chuckled wickedly.

In this dangerous place, everyone was only thinking about self-preservation. No one would bother with a gang-raped girl. There were already enough violent crimes here; rape was commonplace in this decadent society; this was his assigned area; and as long as he didn't interfere, no one else would.

He walked down the stairs, yawning again. "Going home to sleep..."

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Director and female student

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