A short post about porn industry

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Pink Flower by Mayank Chhaya

As I approach my 2000th post on this blog in the next two weeks, it occurs to me that it has been a fairly eclectic collection even by my eclectic standards. I have written enough for me to able to forget most of it. For instance, this short piece about the porn industry that I wrote this January. I had forgotten about it until this morning when I saw someone had searched for it on Google. I republish it because like porn, this too does not get dated.

Here is a tongue-in-cheek short on the porn industry, although the expression tongue-in-cheek in their profession has a completely different meaning. Their tongue is always in someone else’s cheek. (I had to slip it in).

I empathize with porn stars. They all lead such a hand to mouth existence. More often than not they have to be on their knees and all fours begging for more.

They get slapped and pushed around on a daily basis. The more they scream the more intense the slapping and shoving becomes, rather than less. Many of them even get chained and shackled and whipped and scraped. And yet they go on because they have to survive.

They don’t get proper clothing and whatever they get is often so short and tight that it climbs up their orifices. But for a helpful hand from a fellow porn star they may never be able to remove ropes that pass off for underwear painfully wedged deep inside.

They are handcuffed without ever having been mirandized. The only right they have is the right to be gagged. They are often thrown into narrow cages and left at the mercy of prison guards wielding leather whips and generously using them.

The contortions they are subjected to earn a decent buck would be classified as torture in any other profession. There is a whole class of them who have to endure piercings in places where the sun never reaches.

Contrary to all norms of civility, their ordeal is also filmed with proper lighting and several cameras. It is then viewed around the world, often free and always in violation of international conventions prohibiting the parading and filming of captives.

And through this unspeakable ordeal, they have to look inexplicably pleased and pleasured, moan and shriek in joy and invoke god every step of the way. What is worse is that at the end no one helps them put their clothes back on. They just stay there naked, smiling for the camera until the picture fades. Who knows what happens when lights are off?

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About chutiumsulfate

South Asians can infer from my name what I am. View all posts by chutiumsulfate

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