Posted by Barbanne on January 11, 2001 at 21:58:44:
If you wondered what the actress was up to, here's actress 8. Actress 9, 10 and 11 are also written and will follow in time.
At last legitimacy.
What, I hear you say. You, legitimate. You, Vic's regular dead porn queen legit. What are you talking about?
Well, as a result of my sterling work in all of those pornos of Vic's I got a call from a network secretary one day asking would I be willing to take a minor role in a real drama series for the telly. I said sure and the girl on the line set up an interview. When I went along the series producer and two of his assistants saw me and told me they had a part calling for a girl to play a shooting victim and that there were some scenes requiring fairly intimate stuff with her corpse and they had had my work in Vic's pics (of course they would never have watched them themselves) bought to their attention and reckoned I was their girl as my major acting forte was horizontal and snuffed.
I jumped at it.
The show was an ongoing series about a detective and his dog.
In each episode he was faced with another crime puzzle and heaps of fans watched every week as he unravelled the clues and finally caught the villain.
My episode called for me to play a shop assistant in an expensive jewellery store which is robbed and then........but you can see it for yourself if you want to know what happens.
After some opening shots of the detective at home playing with his dog and his girlfriend, the action shifts to the store and there I am with another girl and we are both in character as shop assistants.
I was wearing a satin/lace bra and matching G-string panty briefs (you couldn't see them of course) and a silk georgette dress with a halter neck collar and the dress drops down at the front and then cuts away leaving my shoulders bare and about half of my back bare too. The dress was a basic green shade with a large floral pattern and the hemline was about four centimetres below my knees where it kicked out in a flounce that swished magically as I walked. (The dress was absolutely gorgeous and I hate to tell what happened to it but you'll find out) I had on strapped, mid height, wedge heels and no panty hose or anything just bare legs freshly shaved that very morning.
The bad guy came in dressed to look like a successful young businessman but he was wearing prosthetic rubber stuff to totally alter his appearance.
We shop girls were standing a few metres apart behind a counter and because it was a very expensive shop and because it was early in the morning there were no other customers.
The guy walked over to where the other girl was and put his bag (a sort of upmarket sports bag) on the counter and then produced a silenced gun that looked like a cannon and told her to fill the bag with the contents of the trays of really rich sparkling gems and stuff.
She gasped and I looked over and he waved the gun at me and I backed up and then I looked at the security alarm and he saw my eyes flicker and he said "Don't do anything stupid girl." The other shop girl was shovelling jewellery into his bag and he was watching her do it and I sidled over to the alarm button and reached for it and something caught the corner of his eye and he whipped up the gun and Kaphutttt!! a hot lead slug went ripping through the top of my lovely silk georgette dress.
I crashed back against a glass case and my mouth dropped open and a trickle of blood oozed out and my eyeballs rolled up and out of sight and I moaned and then pitched forward and fell face down onto the floor.
(The makeup was super professional and I thought how Julie would love to work here)
I ended up lying on the floor, face down with my arms away from my body, hands palm upward and fingers curled in a death spasm.
One leg was bent at the knee and the other was straight out, feet splayed.
Thick, red blood pooled under my body. My face was turned to look at my killer, eyes still sightlessly white and blood trickling from my mouth and nose. The bullet had missed my heart by a few millimetres only, but the huge trauma had killed me instantly.
The other girl screamed and fainted across the counter and tumbled to the floor and the robber grabbed his bag and ran out into the street.
A woman customer came into the shop just as the other shop girl was groaning her way back to consciousness. She rushed over to her and then she saw my body.
The other shop assistant said, "Help me please. Please," and then she lapsed back into unconsciousness. The customer, fighting down the urge to be sick as she looked at my bloody corpse, pulled her mobile phone from her bag and dialled.
Next scene cops and crime scene professionals everywhere.
Barb still dead in a pool of her own blood.
The other shop assistant is sitting dazedly in a chair being helped by para medics and a police woman. A photographer is shooting all around photos of my body. Two detectives, a man and a woman are waiting to one side with a medical examiner while the photographer finishes up making his record before disturbing the scene.
The main character comes in.
He crosses to where the photographer is just finishing and looks down at my face.
"Who is she?"
"Sophie Keefe," (my character's name) one of the shop assistants. Looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
(Now, I feel I must explain something so you will understand why I was good at this. When I say explain I am not sure that I can fully explain as I can only really describe to you my feelings. As a little girl growing up and being asked to play with both boys and girls there inevitably came a time when the game involved the killing of one or other of us. We were kids of a television generation and violent crime was ever present. Like all kids we didn't really understand or conceive of death as anything permanent. It was a cartoon experience in our minds. People died on the telly just as they ate meals and drove cars. It was part of the action. So, when we played someone had to get killed it was part of the playing. When it was my turn I went down in a heap, always something of a little actress even then and I lay there being just as "dead" as dead could be. Something clicked in the wiring in my brain and I found that I was liking the experience in a funny warm and slightly exciting way. Then when the game called for the other kids to handle my "dead" child's body I found that their touch caused a frisson of real excitement to burn through me and if their touch infringed on the erogenous zone of my emerging breasts the excitement was very palpable.
I liked this very much.
I liked playing dead. So much so that I used to suggest games we could play and inevitably they involved me being killed by the others. I was too frightened to suggest the sort of things I would really have liked and had to hope that the other kids would come up with game plans that gave me the thrills I craved.
When I grew older and realised I had a fetish for playing dead I tried to work out why this was so. I thought that a childhood in which I suffered a lot of abuse from those who normally nurture and love and then the collapse of my family life at an early age and subsequent years when I was growing into puberty and sexual awareness in care but without love had maybe resulted in my having a lack of self esteem and had ingrained into my psyche a feeling of worthlessness which manifested itself as a desire to mentally cringe and grovel in front of my peers. In other words an irresistable need to be submissive. I should discuss this with a psychologist one day. And then again maybe it was just how I was wired inside my head. Whatever it was it meant that I got my most rewarding sexual arousal from being in a position of submissiveness and humiliation with my partner of the moment. This was hard to explain to others and most of my would be lovers were either repelled or took sadistic advantage of my desires and needs.
But the fantasies grew inside my head.
One of my most persistent and most erotic fantasies involved me being helpless in a crowded place and people would go on about their business without much of a thought for this victim amongst them. And what better way to be helpless than to be dead. A dead body didn't suffer guilt or embarrassment for its need to be dead. To just be dead and exposed and have people barely glance at me formed an overwhelming sexual need in my strangely set up head.)
And here was the ultimate realisation of my fantasy.
Here I lay, pretending to be dead and around me the business of the actors in the drama went on and around and outside them the business of film making went on. It was heaven for me and inside my head I went to a plane such as some mystics do where I was almost trance like and was no longer an actress playing a bit part but I WAS a dead girl.
Being dead and existing in my trance like semi-conscious state I nonetheless was acutely receptive to sensation and heard the actors around me repeating their lines and playing their parts as also I heard the unmistakeable sounds of the film crew at work and the directions spoken by one or another as they brought the scene to celluloid life.
When the actor playing the medical examiner touched my face my skin burned with erotic sensation and when he pointed out to the investigators the discolouration on the skin of my bare back where the bullet that ended it all for me had thumped through my organs bruising my internal flesh without penetrating the skin he traced his gloved finger over my skin and my body flared with erotic arousal.
But I showed nothing, no movement, nothing, just lying face down where and as I had been posed and in a state of seemingly suspended animation, my brain racing lazily and my body immobile.
When he pushed the back of my dress up and pulled the string of my panties out from where it nestled in the crack between my buttocks and slid it aside and inserted his thermometer for a post mortem rectal temperature reading it was as if I had been sexually penetrated by a cold mechanical lover and my fantasy exploded into my pussy and hot love oils leaked out of my engorged slit. I have read that a woman's clitoris is like a primitive remainder of the penis that existed in all humans before evolution sent the sexes on their different paths and that its thickening in arousal is like the hardening of an erectile penis. I am sure this is true because the rush of blood triggered by my extreme arousal certainly swelled my vagina to a tight hot slickness.
So I lay there playing dead and painfully but beautifully aroused.
I don't think you will get to see much in the finished episode other than glimpses here and there of my corpse being worked on in that scene, but it was filmed in great detail so that the final decision could be made by editors with everything at their disposal.
After the thermometer bit a heavy black plastic body bag was brought in and I was placed inside that with only my face left showing while the cast of actors played out the last of the crime scene action before I was fully zipped up and carried out to a waiting van by two guys playing medical officer's technicians.
My next scene. The Medical Examiner's morgue.
I am lying, shrouded in my thick black plastic body bag on a trolley onto which bodies brought to the morgue are transferred from the pick up vans before being wheeled into the mortuary and autopsy suite.
For all you could tell anyone's body could be inside the bag. You can make out from the shape that it is a body and that the body is female but otherwise it is hard to tell who is playing dead here. It is me let me assure you.
The bag is unzipped and there I am on my back and waxen faced, staring from white and sightless eyes at the ceiling of the morgue, my lovely dress covered in bright red patches of very realistic looking blood and still very much the dead victim of a shooting.
Two mortuary assistants lift me onto a freshly washed down stainless steel autopsy table. One goes away to tell the pathologist that number AGS-36890 is being prepped while the other guy dressed, as everyone here is, in green scrubs starts undressing my defunct corpus.
He unstraps my shoes and puts them to one side in a plastic bag and into a heavy plastic bin receptacle for my clothing and effects. My dress is ruined, covered above the waist in huge gory blood stains and torn by the impact of the bullet. He produces a pair of large workshop scissors and starting at the lovely flounced hem, cuts the dress right up the front.
(I would never have let Vic ruin a dress this beautiful just for a film. He and Julie could have maybe messed it up some but nothing that couldn't have been washed out afterwards by little me so that I could have snaffled the dress for my own purposes. These TV dudes have way too much money and they waste it!)
The mortuary guy then filled in a cardboard tag identifying me as corpse number AGS- 36890 and after carefully checking that that was correct by comparison with his paper work, snapped a rubber band through the tag and wound it over my left toe. Taking up his scissors again, they were so big they were almost shears, he snipped his way through the front of my satin/lace panties and bra. These too were pricey stuff and I hated to see them go, but lying here on the slab, I was in my usual dreamlike state of teetering arousal and the feel of this guy cutting off my extremely intimate lingerie to expose my breasts and pudenda was not unlike being benevolently raped and my heart thumped and my skin tingled and I realised my pussy had thickened with excitement and was leaking inside. The guy put my bloodstained clothes into three more plastic bags and dumped them into the bin receptacle. Then he removed a necklet chain, two rings, my ear rings and a bangle that I had been wearing and placed them inside a plastic bag and dropped them into the plastic bin and taking a felt marker wrote AGS-36890 on the bin.
I was lying naked on my back on the table with a messy bullet hole stuck onto my left breast just on the inner down slope where it came toward my other breast to form such cleavage as I boasted. Dried blood streaked my skin around my goopy wound. My face had been carefully made up to look waxy and white and my black eye makeup (eye shadow and mascara) and red lipstick stood out in stark contrast against my otherwise convincingly corpse like face.
(unfortunately for those who find dead girls exciting, most of this footage ended up on the cutting room floor and the bits that did get shown were in glimpses of barely a second's duration. When the autopsy scene came and I'll tell you about that in a moment, I am only seen full length and nude in one brief shot and then its from a distance and slightly out of focus and then I am seen from above for another instant when the camera is in like the position of the autopsy table lights. In that shot though both of my breasts and my face and my umbilicus and just the tip top of my pubic bush and of course my bullet wound are seen. But otherwise, the actors play out the scene around my stretched out, naked body which is tantalisingly just below camera view.)
The autopsy scene was played out and involved several takes and most of one morning. The gist of what happens is the pathologist cuts out the bullet from my chest before going on to the dismemberment of my body. The pathologist has a first year resident doctor doing work experience or something and she is young, gorgeous and female. The mortuary assistant hovers around throughout and the detectives watch from behind a glass panel to one side. The bullet is held up, streaked with my blood and discussed before a decision is made to take it to forensics. All of this action is to help in determining the identity of my killer. When the autopsy is done there is another shot from above but angled so that the camera is looking slightly down, sort of under my chin and this shows the ridged unevenness of the roughly stitched Y incision that had opened up my inner secrets to the pathologists. This shot also shows my tits, nipples and the beginnings of my pubics but you mustn't blink or you'll miss it.
During the autopsy scene I had gone into my trance like state, something like self hypnosis where I was acutely aware of what was going on around me but in my mind I had convinced myself I WAS the dead body on the slab and this fantasising had put me into a state of very highly sensitised arousal of an intensely sexual nature. My skin warmed and tingled (and afterward the camera man asked me did I know I went pink in flushes from time to time which he had to work around. I of course said no, I wasn't.) My nipples erected and stayed tight and upright throughout. My vagina was hot, slick and tight and leaked throughout which I don't think anyone noticed.
But the best thing was.
In the scene the pathologist asked the young girl doctor to carry out most of the procedures and when this girl touched me softly and lightly in my most intimate parts, sliding her fingers over my straining nipples and lightly brushing my labial lips, it was like having sex with her. My body reached a level of arousal that was like bordering on a sweaty shaky orgasm but I didn't orgasm, just hovered there on the brink with my pussy making slippery juices all throughout that long session. My skin was electrified, my nipples and cunnie were erectile throughout and my mind was in its own fantasy heaven. I was dead in that scene and in fact afterwards the director complimented me on my acting skills in managing to be so convincingly corpse like. (despite the pink tinges)
I was really really dead and yet I was so alive!
When everything was done and filming was over I grabbed a gown and went to the girls change room and passed out and slept for something like an hour. The intensity of my emotional involvement in playing dead had so thoroughly drained me that I was totally, utterly and completely out cold and nobody was able to waken me until my body had recovered and recharged itself.
I absolutely loved it.
My part was done and I received a healthy fee for my work and went away thinking that being type cast as a corpse might have its limitations career wise but if I could get more of this work I was going to go after it with single minded determination whenever the chance came up.
From here on playing "dead" was going to be my career path!