Thread: The Growing up of Little Miss Watson {darkest_Fate&DeRe}

To all appearances Prince was concentrating on his phone, appearing to discreetly ignore the starlet undressing behind him. But the small screen in his hand in fact provided a perfect view of Emma's disrobing. The voyeuristic aspect of the whole thing provided a profound erotic thrill for Prince, and his desperate cock was already throbbing like an red-hot iron. Normally a girl of Emma's physique wouldn't have excited him that much he preferred his white meat more ample on the bone, enough to grab a handful of. But the nymph-like figure of the young Englishwoman was a refreshing change from the milk-fed Midwestern Homecoming queens he was normally offered up. She seemed like one of the marble statues Prince had seen decorating the gaudy fountain of a Hollywood mansion - impeccably pale, budding little breasts barely enough to make a fistful, every inch as tight and smooth as the skin of a drum. Most importantly he caught a glimpse of a pair of light pink, puffy nipples - which were practically his kryptonite. She was a perfect little package alright. As her modest casual outfit fell away it was like the shedding of some kind of cocoon, with a white-clad butterfly suddenly emerging. She turned back towards him and Prince reveled at the spectacular sight of her in the Ralph Lauren gown. Throw your stuff on the couch there, Prince said softly, 'Cept this, I'm keeping it as a souvenir. He plucked Emma's panties from her fingers and stuffed them in his trouser pocket. Might get you to autograph them later, eh? He gave his shark grin again, appraising her hungrily. Damn girl, that fits you like a second skin. Just as smooth, tight, and white as you are. Prince wanted to start pushing her now, testing the limits of her propriety, gently coercing her into bending her will to his. He wanted Emma to be shocked at how much she liked it. Now then, he drawled, taking up a pair of scripts from a nearby table. You're probably itchin' to know what this is all 'bout. He handed one of the slim volumes to Emma, watching the way the dress tightened around her with every slight movement. You ever hear of a movie called Mandingo ? Nah? Bit before your time maybe. Prince settled down into a chair facing Emma, enjoying the desperate schoolgirlish way she was focused on him. M'brothers and me fuckin' loved it back in the day, 'scuse my language. Anyway, Mr Weinstein is remaking it, only this time we's going to do a version that does right by the women and black characters. He grinned his cemetary row again, enjoying how much the crude appeal to her politics amused him. You'll be playing Blanche Maxwell she's just like you, a nice little English girl who finds herself in America, only she's married to this real asshole of a slaveowner. She hates him a'course, being all good 'n' feminist and down on the slavery, so she decides to get some revenge by seducin' one of his slaves, Mede. He reclined further in the chair, letting it engulf his bulk like a throne. That's yours truly of course. I got the honour of playin' one of the best black dudes from any movie, and if it all goes right I'll get the fun of having you...as my co-star. It was important to keep the naive creature unbalanced, Prince knew, because the more uncertain she was the more desperate the decisions she would make. He could almost hear her rabbit heart thumping hard behind those pert little tits, flushing her cheeks and cutting her breaths into short excited gasps. There was something erotically provocative about her slyph-like innocence encased in the pure white gown, radiating a sexiness she barely knew she had. This English muffin was such a different flavour to the American confections that Mr Weinstein brought before him B-list starlets so desperate for fame they were naked on their knees after barely an introduction. But this time - this time was so much different. As exciting as it would be to tear it off, he was going to make her keep that little outfit out when he fucked her. Better get into character, Prince said, removing his shirt and tie. A prison-sculpted torso was exposed, bedecked in all manner of streetcorner tattoos. After all, I'm topless in this scene, he giggled with a creepy impishness. Prince was well aware of this scene it involved Emma's character making some clumsy but increasingly aroused attempts to provoke his character into raping her, culminating with 'Blanche' presenting herself for just that purpose. Emma of course had been given no preparation for this. The carefully scripted scene had been specificially chosen so that the words she uttered could be used out of context in the special production that was planned for her. If nothing else, Prince was almost boyishly excited at the prospect of that dialogue dropping from Emma's sweet innocent lips - repeatedly calling him nigger he loved it went white bitches did that and offering up her ass with an ease she had never previously known.