Thread: A Swift Beauty Meets a Slow Beast {darkest_fate&DeRe}

Prospero let Taylor's incandescent anger roll over him like a brilliant, blinding sunset. Her impotent fury amused him to no end, and he was fascinated to watch her studied contrivance fall apart as her situation worsened. As she trembled and seethed, her tousled crop of blonde hair sparkled with the particles of sand and semen now sprinkled in it. Returning her gaze he drank in her burning blue eyes like they were a pair of ice-cold pools, as she tried to flick the mess from them. She waved one skinny fist imperiously like a princess throwing a tantrum, while the other arm tried to cover her delicious little bosom. But Taylor was heaving so hard that her attempts at modesty revealed more than they hid, and Prospero - as well as his cameras - received a generous look at the pert pouting delights of her bust despite her best efforts. He could not suppress a loud, natural belly laugh when she threatened him. Her petty illusions of power seemed all the more ironic, coming from a topless semen-splattered girl who had nothing over Prospero but height. Despite all her assumed maturity she was so childish and obtuse, living in a realm where she was queen and everyone else a minion. But the flash of fire in her sapphire eyes was like the first tinge of a warning. The more instinctive, primal Taylor Swift was emerging, and with it his control of events became that much more tenuous. He did not want her to become desperate and inclined to take risks that would affect his little drama. As her options and reservations disappeared he could no longer maintain the pretense that this was just some bizarre photoshoot. Oh I would definitely dare, Miss Swift, said Prospero softly in a calm but ominous voice. I would have the whole world ravish you, at just the click of a button. As she stomped out into the waves she looked to Prospero like an inelegant gazelle, cautiously observing the two predators that flanked her at either end. Such passion! Prospero chortled. If only you had shown such enthusiasm in the bedroom, perhaps you would not be always wanting a boyfriend, non ? Placing his hands on his hips in an affected pose, he continued with a patronizing leer, Right now you and Caliban are very much the nymph and the satyr, eh? You know your classics, Miss Swift? I say, you two are like the very image of an ancient Greek vase. With a smooth, reptilian grin, he cocked his head slightly and watched her awkward attempts to clean herself with a rapidly hardening erection in his tight trousers. The sight of water breaking over Taylor's supple body - beads of light sparkling all over her as she washed - pushed Prospero to a place he had rarely experienced. The way she hunched in obvious discomfort, her proud and fearful expression as she watched both him and Caliban, and her angry feistiness all combined to create an intoxicating impression. It was time to turn the dial up, he reflected to see where one more push would take her. After waiting a minute for her to get properly wet, he spoke in a voice that was almost grandfatherly in its softness. You have two choices now, Miss Swift. You can surrender your panties to me and we will continue the shoot with you in the nude, after which you will be permitted to leave. Then he glanced over at Caliban, who was gazing fixed at Taylor and remained so still in the surf that he could have been a stone gargoyle. Should you choose to decline, then I will unleash Caliban on you, and we shall enact the ancient dance of the nymph and the satyr. He stared at her, hard as steel, his fishlike eyes cold and dead.