tagNonConsent/ReluctanceViewer Discretion Advised

Viewer Discretion Advised

byGypsy in MI©

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED


Sara Parker studied her reflection in the mirror as the make-up artist fluttered around her. Her face, although not conventionally pretty, was attractive and her wide, pouty smile gave her a provocative look that most red-blooded American men found sexy, along with her carefully tousled "just fucked" blonde mane of hair.

"Miss Parker, you must be so excited about this scene. Any woman in the country would trade places with you, I mean, who doesn't want to be in bed with John Watson?" Angie giggled as she worked on Sara's eye make-up.

"I don't," muttered Sara under her breath.

But it wasn't like she had a choice. Andy Batuzzo, this episode's director, had made that perfectly clear after the first read-through. As usual, the cast had gathered around the breakroom table, Andy's cigar smoke hazing the air. Sara had given him a dirty look for smoking, but had received only a smirk in response. Flipping through some newly added script pages, she was stunned to realize that the episode now ended with a sex scene. A sex scene between herself and John.

When she was cast as co-star of cable tv's newest hit cop show, Sara had assumed she would be showing the ropes to the rookie, John Watson. John was good looking, surely, and well known as a former pro football player. But act? Hell, he'd never taken a single class, never slaved away in some off, off-Broadway dog of a show, or even paid his dues on a second-rate soap opera. He was a pretty face with a great body and Sara had immediately taken a patronizing attitude with him, even so far as finally going out to dinner with him after turning down numerous invitations. He'd gushed over her beauty and her acting experience and she'd blown him off at the end of the evening with a peck on the cheek, a "see ya, babe" and a quick getaway taxi.

Sara had been in for a surprise though. Who knew that so many women watched cop shows and who the fuck knew how many of them wrote fan letters to the network. Christ, within three weeks of the show's debut, John Watson was a star. People magazine named him "Sexiest Man Alive" and Sara found herself taking second billing.

She didn't like it much, to say the least. It didn't help matters that John remained as friendly and down to earth as ever. As his lines increased with each episode, hers were cut back. She bitched bitterly to her agent, to the producer, to her mother, to whoever would listen. This love scene was just too fucking much, she wouldn't stand for it.

"Andy, what the hell is this?" she demanded, pointing to the final page of the script.

"It's for sweeps week, darlin'" came the laconic reply through a puff of smoke.

"But our characters are partners, not lovers!"

"Sugar, we'll slaughter every other show in the ratings. The whole horny country wants to see you two get it on and believe me, we'll play it up with 30 second prime time spots the whole week before air." Andy leaned forward, leering. "And who knows, you might have a good time."

"There's not even any dialogue here," she continued complaining.

"That's because we're going to edit the whole thing over music, you know, a love theme!" the little bald director cackled. "Maybe we'll release a soundtrack!"

At the end of the reading, Andy had summoned Sara to his office. She was still fuming and plopped down into a chair, scowling.

"Now listen up, kiddo. The exec producer has been talking to me about you. He says the other cast members and even the crew is complaining about your lousy attitude. He's sick of it and sends you this message. If you give me any grief, balk at direction, or cause any shit whatsoever, he wants you to know that you can be written out at the end of the season. Cops get killed all the time, ya know."

Sara spluttered, "But I'm a professional, Andy. I studied at the Actors Studio, I've done commercials for dog food and douche, for crissakes, I've worked hard to get this far. This pretty boy quarterback comes along and steals my thunder and I'm just supposed to grin and bear it?"

"Yup," Andy chuckled. "Grin and BARE it, is right. You are going to be topless for this scene. Now I know we'll have to edit, but we plan on showing as much skin as we can sneak by the censors. Remember when that hot blonde showed her tits on NYPD Blue? Even in reruns, that episode kills."

"I don't do topless. I don't do nude scenes. Never have, never will."

The director stared at her, his expression grim. "You will if you want to keep this gravy job, Sara. You'll do it, and you'll do it cheerfully. Now get your sweet ass outta my office."


"Um, Miss Parker? I need to do your body make-up now?"

Sara blinked, and realized Angie had been chattering away for some time. Sighing, she slipped the robe off her shoulders and rose to stand beside the chair. Shivering, in just a thong, she hoped the hot lights on the set would alleviate her goosebumps.

The short and somewhat chubby makeup artist began patting the pancake style make-up on her arms and shoulders, moving down to her breasts. Sara gave an audible gasp at the sudden sensation of the sponge against her nipples.

"Did I hurt you or something?"

"No, Ange… it's just been awhile since anybody touched me, you know?" Sara laughed, a little bitterly. "I've been so busy with shooting the show, I just haven't had time for anything else. I'm not even sure what happened to my last boyfriend; I think I must have misplaced him somewhere."

"Oh, Miss Parker, I hear that more often than you think. Makes me glad I'm just the lowly makeup girl. I have LOTS of time for my boyfriend!" she glanced up at Sara, a very self-satisfied smile on her face.

As Angie moved to kneel in front of her, Sara gritted her teeth at the extremely pleasant sensation of the makeup being patted on her long silky legs and her midriff. She rotated slowly, so Angie could do the backs of her thighs and her exposed buttocks.

"Geeze, Miss Parker, you sure must work out a lot. Your butt is rock solid!"

"I figure I've been up and down the Empire State Building a million times on the Stair Master. I just never planned on showing my ass on film."

"Oh I figured something was up with them bringing Mr. Batuzzi back as the director special for this episode. He used to direct porn movies, you know."

Sara blinked. "No, I DIDN'T know."


As she made her way onto the set, Sara spotted John in a huddle with the director, speaking barely above a whisper. She felt an internal alarm; her stomach flipping over with sudden dread. But as John turned to her with a warm smile, his dark eyes dancing, she scoffed at her fears. She knew her craft, she could handle this, and besides, she was an attractive woman. She should be able to wrap him around her little finger.

"Okay, kids, now here's what I want. No rehearsing! We're just gonna start rolling and we'll cut when I think we have enough for a hot scene. We'll start with both of you in the bed, the sheet pulled up enough to cover your underwear, but everything else possible should be hanging out. I want to see a lot of passion in the kissing, that makes the women viewers cream their panties!"

John chuckled at the director's crudeness as Sara shuddered. "Now Andy, don't forget you're going to clear the set."

"Oh, right… just the skeleton crew. I wouldn't want Sara to be embarrassed."

'Thanks, John," she mumbled, surprised at his thoughtfulness.

Moving to the bed on set, Sara tossed her robe out of camera range and quickly slipped under the sheet. She couldn't help but notice John's body as he did the same. Wearing a barely existent Speedo, his body was lean and muscular. He hadn't needed any body makeup, his naturally dark coloring looked great on film without it.

Andy walked over to them, and artfully arranged the soft white sheet so that their crotches were covered but very little else. "Sara, make sure your legs are visible. That looks really sexy."

Moving to his chair, he called "Action" and before she had time to breathe, John was kissing her fiercely. His tongue was invading her mouth but remembering that her job was on the line, she forced herself quickly into character. His lips left hers and he rained kisses all over her face and neck.

"John, you need to grope her tits. We can probably get some of that past the censors if her nipples aren't showing," the director called.

Immediately John began fondling her breasts, his palms grazing her stiffening nipples. She moaned in response and as he nuzzled her neck, face hidden from the camera, he whispered to her, "Like that, do you?"

Turning her head towards him and arranging her face into a fake smile, she whispered back, "I'm acting, you moron."

John moved to lie on top of her, his body insinuating itself between her thighs. She clearly felt the considerable bulge of his cock pressing against her panty clad pussy. He ground into her as he continued his onslaught of kisses, reaching down to pull her right thigh up against his body.

"Wait, wait, wait, " Andy yelled, obviously annoyed. "I can see the side strap of your thong, Sara!"

"Oh, God, Andy," Sara groaned, "can't you just edit it out or something?" She was desperate to hurry up and get this scene finished.

"Nah, we don't have that kind of time. Just take it off. You'll still have the sheet on."

The actress started to protest, but one look from the director stopped her cold. Silently, she reached under the sheet and pulled the tiny excuse for panties off with trembling fingers and pitched them offstage. For a moment, she thought she felt John stirring around under the covers as well, but reassured herself that it must have been the mattress rolling with her movements.

"Alright, that's better. Action!"

John began kissing his way up her body, his lips soft and warm, and Sara closed her eyes with almost feigned pleasure. She didn't want to admit to herself that it felt fantastic. This guy was a great kisser and seemed to know his way around a woman's body. As he slipped back up into the traditional missionary position though, she suddenly froze. She was sure she felt his cock, his naked cock, brush against her thigh.

"Sara, could you at least ACT like you're enjoying yourself?" the director called.

Dutifully, she moaned and began stroking John's strong back, sliding her fingers ever lower. She confirmed her suspicions as her fingertips met only flesh. Plastering a smoldering sultry look on her face, she hissed at him through gritted teeth, "Where's your Speedo?"

Kissing and nipping at her tender bottom lip, he replied, "I lost it. Wanna tell the director on me?"

Then she knew. John was somehow aware of her tenuous position with the show. And oh my God, he intended to take complete advantage of that fact. Her mind reeled; surely this could not be happening.

As he began subtly moving his hips, his cock pressed more insistently against the lips of her cunt. She knew she was dangerously close to screaming and bolting from the bed. The tensing of every muscle in her body signaled her impending action to John who swiftly captured both her wrists in one strong hand and imprisoned her arms over her head.

"Oh no, you don't," he murmured into her ear. "You're not going to lose your job; I know you don't want to go back to Alpo commercials."

The swollen head of his cock was now slipping more fully into place; her pussy was becoming slick, betraying her. Poised above her, John pushed and gained another inch.

"You goddamn bastard. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sarah was becoming increasingly more frantic at this unbelievable situation. She rolled her eyes toward the director; surely he would put a stop to this madness.

Andy was leaning forward in his chair puffing on his cigar and gazed calmly back at the actress. "Sara, move your ass. God, nobody likes a dead fish in the sack!"

"Oh my God, "she moaned and reluctantly began slightly pumping her hips upward. It was all John needed to sheathe his thick cock deeper and deeper into her. When he was in to the hilt, he pulled away from licking her breasts to stare directly into her wild eyes for what felt like an eternity.

"I'm going to fuck you, Sarah. I'm going to fuck you like a whore and it will be on national television. And every time this episode gets shown, you'll remember how you got it good and hard for half the country to see. They won't know it was real, but we will."

Andy HAD to have heard that! She glanced over at him again and received a smug smile in return. Her heart sank. Her salvation would not come from the director. Wriggling his fingers at her, he indicated she had better resume moving something, anything.

And then the fucking started in earnest. John pounded into her, still pinning her hands to the bed. With each thrust, she grew more slippery and the wet, sucking sound their bodies made slapping together was embarrassingly arousing. She had never been a prude, but then she'd never really been that into sex either. Although if she'd ever been ravaged quite this way before, her attitude might have been a bit different.

He let go of her hands at last and reached for both of her thighs, pulling them up and back against her chest. Rising to his knees, he angled into her to bang against the sensitive spots she'd forgotten her body possessed.

Clutching at his arms, she moaned with real emotion. Shockingly, she felt her orgasm start to build. "No way," she told herself. She had become a master of faking it, rarely being able to come during sex. She rolled her head from side to side, "No, no, no," she moaned.

"Oh yes, yes you are, you're going to come, Sara," John's whisper with soft but intense. "And so am I. Oh, God, so am I!"

And with that, he lunged forward, taking possession of her mouth once more, stealing her breath completely, and stifling her scream. She felt his cock spasm, the warmth flooding her pussy as her internal muscles milked him dry.

Later, she would swear she blacked out. Or maybe she fainted. Because the next thing she remembered was Andy tossing her robe to her and John had disappeared. Struggling to cover herself, she rose from the bed on shaky legs and made her way back to her dressing room. Trembling, she sat in her chair and gathered her wits as her body recovered, her sex still throbbing and hot.

"My God, you slut, you'd like to fuck him again, wouldn't you?" she said to her flushed reflection.

"Damn right I would," replied her mirror image.

In the director's office, John, already showered and dressed, was cheerfully handing Andy a thick envelope.

"Here, buddy, please pass these season tickets on to the writers for me, would you? And there are some NFL cheerleader's phone numbers in there for you."

The sleazy little troll chuckled, his beady little eyes lighting up. "John, man, you are the best! You took that snotty bitch down a peg or two."

The handsome young actor's expression clouded, but only for a moment. "Yes," he said softly, "it went exactly as I planned. I better be going, though, so take it easy, Andy."

Making his way through the studio, John turned a corner and suddenly came face to face with Sara. Studying each other, neither spoke for a moment.

"Ummm, John?" she stuttered, "would you like to go for a drink or .. something?"

After a sickeningly long pause, he shook his head. "Sorry, Sara, I have plans." He swiftly leaned forward and pecked her cheek. "See ya, babe."

His footfalls echoed in the hallway as he walked away from her toward the exit. "Paybacks ARE hell," he thought, "a hell of a lot of fun. Now we're even."

Sara watched as his tall broad-shouldered form disappeared from view. "You bastard, I'll get you back for this," she thought, fluffing up her hair. "You'll be begging to fuck me again before summer reruns start."

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