Arms

On shooting custom videos.

My camera’s set up, but I procrastinate with a cup of tea, leaning against the kitchen worktop in my pink yoga pants because once I press Record on my camera, I’m going to need to know how to talk dirty about amputated limbs. The customer has sent me helpful notes but even after 9 years of producing privately commissioned videos for my clients, some fetishes are still unfamiliar to me, which means there’s a reasonable chance that I’ll say the wrong thing in the video.

I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect that my saying the wrong thing might mean that my customer won’t be able to masturbate to my performance, which would negate the whole point of having paid me something between £100-£300 to bring the fantasy to life. Compared to being a heart surgeon for example, the stakes involved in my work are low, but I take my customers’ trust in me seriously, and I want to guarantee orgasms.

Fortunately for me, today’s customer doesn’t require me to pretend I’ve had my arms amputated, because I explained to him that this would require me to hire a camera operator, which would cost £100 more and would take longer to arrange. Instead, I’m going to play his girlfriend, who’s discovered he’s been fantasising about having his own arms amputated. My customer wants me to initially be disapproving and concerned, before confessing that I think the whole idea is quite sexy, and suggesting a variety of activities that would be rendered more interesting if he were to have his arms removed. This is very familiar territory — in fact it’s probably my most requested story-line. There’s something about being discovered doing/viewing something kinky by someone you fancy, who then wants to join in, that seems to appeal to people who’ve mainly kept their sexual tastes a secret in real life. I suppose it’s a thing we all want, to have our sexual tastes understood and accepted by a person we desire. I’ve just never tried to understand and accept this particular fetish before.

I always have two main worries when I’m preparing to improvise on the sacred territory of another person’s sexuality. The first is about coming across initially as too disapproving. One of the reasons I run this business is to make people feel less judged about their tastes, so it’s counterintuitive to start the video too harshly. But that’s very often what people want. “WHAT are you doing?” “How DARE you?” “Are they MY panties?” “Why are you sniffing my SHOES?”. I manage this concern of mine by segueing as fast as possible into flirty interest. “Ooooh, but you do look GOOD in my panties!” “I love it that you’re covered in golden syrup!” Sometimes, I’m concerned this may not be a terribly realistic character arc.

My second worry is about elaborating beyond what’s sexy for the customer. Today, that might mean describing the amputation process too graphically, or talking about the post-operative pain that would surely accompany any such procedure. My guess is that he’d like the fantasy to remain a cleaned-up version of what the truth would be, and that I shouldn’t mention anything (loss of earnings, the impossibility to going to the toilet alone, being stared at in public) that would introduce too much reality. But I might be wrong. Maybe he likes the idea of being broke. And that’s the problem — I don’t generally get to meet my customers so a lot of guesswork is involved.

In this story-line, we’ll be doing yoga together as I reveal my discovery of his fetish. Hence the bright pink leggings. And part way through the video, I’m scheduled to start licking my own feet, without making any reference as to my reasons for doing so. To my shame, I’ve not actually checked whether this is still something I’m physically capable of doing — I don’t find it necessary during a regular week. I’m just hoping I’ve remained flexible enough.

One of the challenges I especially enjoy when it comes to shooting custom videos is that so many of my customers have multiple kinks. That’s often the reason why they’re ordering bespoke porn at all — if all they wanted to see was a lady in stockings and suspenders, or a secretary being spanked, their tastes would already be represented on multiple websites. If you’re into amputees and self foot worship, you’re less lucky. So it’s very normal for me to be a schoolgirl with a snorkel, or a headmistress in a latex catsuit, or an estate agent dominatrix. All of this is similar to improvisation classes at drama school, except for the additional responsibility to be arousing. But if I’m honest, I was trying to be arousing throughout drama school. It’s just that people didn’t generally notice. I’m more skilled now.

I put my teacup down, and take a deep breath. The video is only twenty minutes long, and breaks down into five minutes of yoga with additional elliptical remarks about arms, then five minutes of confronting my boyfriend (the camera) with my knowledge and confessing my interest in the idea of him having arm-removing surgery. After that I’ll do five minutes of floor yoga during which I’ll incidentally lick my soles in between making plans for his surgery, and the final five minutes will be a more explicit discussion of how sex might work once he doesn’t have arms or hands any more. I’ll throw in some sexual positions at this point, just to make it as easy as possible for the customer to have an orgasm if he hasn’t already.

As always, this feels insurmountable before I start. As always, pressing the Record button makes everything OK. I press it. “I ALWAYS love this stretch, don’t you?” I ask the camera, bending over and touching my toes, looking at the lens from between my legs. “You know, I was looking at your laptop earlier!”

My character has come to life, and all will be well. Once I finish this movie, I’m going to squeeze in one more; a ten minute video in which I’ll be pretending to be a dog with a ball. The customer has asked for barking, growling and howling. I’ve left this video to last. I’m checking out of my accommodation tomorrow morning, so if anyone complains about the noise at least I probably won’t be asked to leave early. Though it’ll probably be fine. I was once a werewolf for 15 minutes in a hotel room at Birmingham Airport at 4pm, and no one said a thing.