Emma Watson – Pool Slut #17

Emma Watson – Pool Slut #17

By ComfortablyDumb

Chapter 1

Celebrity: Emma Watson

MMM+f, drugs, nc, rape, oral, anal

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional. This story contains material only suitable for people over the age of 18 and must not be read by minors. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. All characters portrayed in this story are over 18.

Do not reproduce this story or parts of this story without my permission. This is my first submission to such a site and I would
welcome all feedback and constructive criticism. Please mail me at: Comfortably_Dumb_1985@hotmail.co.uk

Emma was led through the gauntlet of baying men, tottering on her 7-inch pink perspex fuck-me-footwear platform-heels. The few items she wore were designed only to confirm her role as a mere sexual plaything. Her pert, round buttocks were framed perfectly by the high-cut white rubber hotpants. The pink cotton vest hugged her slender torso, as if vacuum-formed. The slogan printed in silver across the back read “FAMOUS VIRGIN ASS” complete with an arrow pointing downwards. The writing across the front read “CELEBRITY SLUT”. This was beautifully distorted by her pert teenage breasts which pointed out in front of her, nipples erect. The vest finished a full three inches above her naval, her toned midrift exposed. The collar was clean white leather. The leash was fairly slack but gently guided her on. Her hair was pulled tight into a ponytail, but with a shock of hair allowed to sweep across her forehead as it had in her school days. The heavy purple eye-liner, thick mascara and cherry-red lip gloss gave her the look of a cheap whore.

That image was complimented by her surroundings. The club was dark and dank. The low wooden ceiling, like the floor and walls, was painted black. All around her men circled – all dressed in dark clothes and some with their faces obscured – leering and jeering, yet not touching. In the corners and at the sides more groups of men were huddled. At the centre of each group, a female servant flailed this way and that as the men pawed at her, thrusting their cocks into every available orifice. Had Emma been sober and sentient she would have recognised each of the young women, but on she stumbled, unknowing. Her drug-addled mind was no longer providing any resistance. Compliant, submissive and suggestive, she was at the mercy of her captors, her owners.

As her guide reached the small stage, he bowed respectfully to the compere and handed him the leash. The crowd which had been boisterous and lustful had fallen quiet with anticipation. The compere stood in front of a red leather ottoman, at the edge of the stage, looking down at Emma. He towered over the teenage starlet. One small upwards tug on the leash brought them eye to eye. A camera looked down on her from above and Emma’s face was projected onto the screen behind the stage. Emma’s eyes were unfocused but a fleck of displeasure flashed across her face. On the projector screen, the image of Emma’s face was interrupted as pictures of Emma – at movie premieres, scenes from Harry Potter, publicity photos – flashed intermittently. All showed a teasing, confident young woman. All contrasted with Emma’s confused and submissive expression, shown in real time, that interspersed them.

The compere looked from Emma to the crowd. “Gentlemen of the club” he began, “I present, for your pleasure, the rising star of British cinema, former jail-bait-in-chief, the up-tight teenage tease, the poshest piece of off-limits pussy, too good for everyone, until tonight… Miss Emma Watson!” Raucous cheering had broken out but he had silenced it merely by raising his free hand. “Some said that he could not secure her services, that she was unattainable, but know now that no-one is beyond the Master’s reach.” This time he did not attempt to temper the crowd’s reaction, but after a while he continued to speak and they fell silent again.

“So, without further ado, let us commence tonight’s main event! For the induction, Master has chosen a long-standing member” (he smiled sardonically), “often favoured for breaking-in new talent…a man who has but many a star-slut in her rightful place…” (there was palpable tension in the air as the compere paused for effect)”…member one-twelve.” Excited chattering broke out as the crowd to the left of the stage began to part. One man strode forward. He had the look of a prize-fighter approaching the ring; focused, intense. Member 112 was a giant of a man. He wore all black. A long coat did little to hide a powerful physique. The only features visible on his black face were the whites of his teeth, bared in a confident smile, and his eyes, which were wide with excitement.

The crowd was at a fervour. 112 was up on the stage in one step and, without the need for invitation, he had grasped the leash in both hands, violently pulling Emma forward. She struggled to keep her balance as she stuttered and stumbled forward and up onto the stage. She was pulled on to tip-toes before him, with his hand at the buckle of the leash. Gazing intensely into her face he uttered for her ears only, “You’re mine, princess.”

Her expression matched her mind’s confusion as she meekly responded “Uh-nerrr”. He dropped the leash and took hold of the back of her head, around her pony-tail. As he pulled her lips to his, his left hand had wandered down the small of her back and began to grasp and maul her perfect teenage ass. His tongue was gentle as he began to kiss her. Whether out of fear or some instinct, she was responding. Her tongue gently lapped at his.

“That’s it baby doll, the camera’s rolling and you look the part – time to play your role.”

He could feel her breath shiver as his hand entered her shorts. Despite the power and passion of his movements, he still marveled at the softness of her skin, and the firmness of her flesh. And his middle finger was running deftly over the dimple at the base of her toned lower back and in between her perfectly sculpted buttocks. And there it found the entrance to her ass and slipped inside. The yelp from Emma was not disagreeable. She was so tight, so warm, so responsive, so perfect.

And 112 was purely lust. The subtlety had left him as his desire took hold. He let go of Emma, and as she lost balance, his weight was deftly on her shoulders, forcing her to kneel. And kneel she did, dropping with a thud, wide-kneed and leaning forward, head bowed. “N-errr” she protested. As 112 retook the leash and sharply tugged upwards, again he looked into the confused face of Emma Watson.

“This is where you belong, princess.” he uttered, softly. “You’re a just a fine little fuck-toy now, and it’s my turn to play.” His left hand was pulling his belt free and he thought he saw a moment of comprehension on her face. His massive member sprang free. On the large screen, the camera had zoomed in. 112’s nine-inch black cock was lying lazily over the face of Emma Watson. The thumb of his left hand was resting on her chin encouraging her slack jaw to open. His right hand had pinched her button nose, closing the nostrils. Her tongue again betrayed her as it jutted-out over her bottom lip as she panted. At first he simply moved his cock over her face, rubbing it over her tongue. The camera relaying the pictures to the screen had changed. Now it was in the crowd, behind Emma, level with and focused on her perfect ass, sitting on the perspex heels. It zoomed out to show her held with her face to the ceiling, as 112 repeatedly slapped his cock down on her face.

Again he braced her head by taking hold of her ponytail. The middle finger of his left hand was into her mouth and sliding along her tongue coaxing her to suck. “Suuuuck, you little whore, ssuuuck!” he encouraged. And she responded, obediently sucking as he slid his finger in and out. He needed no further cue and, staring into her glazed eyes, he plunged his cock into her open mouth. Her eyes bulged with the sudden surprise, but he was gentle at first, allowing her time. As she again began to suck, he guided his cock further into her. He reached the opening to her throat and drove inside. She gagged, he held her. Her throat was closing around him. He was in ecstasy. He let her breathe and then pushed back in. She gagged, he held her. As her reflexes subsided, he began to build up a rhythm. She was drooling – lubricating her mouth, his cock and her throat. Both hands grasped her ponytail as he fucked her face. A thick gloop of drool was sliding from her chin, down her top and onto the floor. Her make-up was smudged all over her perfect features. She was a cheap whore. The furious rhythm – cluck…cluck…cluck…cluck… – was only punctuated with the occasional pause for a gasped breath, usually accompanied by the swing of an open hand and a hard slap across her face. Every time he leveraged his cock down her throat he coaxed her on “Yessss… slut!”, “Yessss… slut!”.

112 reached down to pull her vest upwards. As it rolled up, level with her armpits, her small but magnificent breasts were freed. He reached down with one hand; cupping, kneading, pinching. And still he thrust back and fore. Emma was gagging-come-gargling, desperately trying to breath. His cock was so long, so invasive, that she was compelled to lean forward in an attempt to open her aching throat. Her palms were flat on the ground, her back arched, as she braced herself against his onslaught. His balls slapped a beat against her chin as he powered in then out, in then out. Each time, her throat contracted around his weapon and his arousal was building to a crescendo…

But this was just the beginning. And suddenly he had stopped and thrown her from him and down onto the floor. She lay sprawled face down with her ass in the air. He gloried over her for a moment, breathing heavily, rampant with lust.

112 scooped down and lifted her easily into the air. As he stood near upright, her back was held to his chest with her head lolling back onto his shoulder. His left arm had reached round and had hold of her right breast. Her ass was pressed to his groin with his cock rested in the valley between her ass-cheeks, pressing upwards into the small of her back. His right arm had traveled from her chin, collecting her natural spit-lubricant, over her smooth stomach, into her shorts and between her legs. As he glided his finger into her, both man a girl let out a gasp. She was so tight, so moist. It nearly shocked him to orgasm and he found himself grinding his cock back and forth against her ass. But, with the control of a man practiced in such arts, he held himself.

From the side-angle on the big screen, the beauty of Emma Watson’s young body was startling. Slender yet shapely, tort yet nubile. She had the beautiful lean muscle-tone that only young girls were blessed with. 112 began to slip one, then two fingers in and out of Emma Watson. She began to moan softly, perhaps in protest, but perhaps not. He was licking at her ear and began to whisper.

“You’re a fine little fuck-toy, princess. I’m gonna turn you into the hottest cum-addict this club has ever seen.” And she was trying to respond “n-uh-hurrrh.” 112 lowered Emma Watson face-down onto the ottoman. Her arms drooped over each side, with her ear resting on the leather, her face turned to the crowd. Her legs were still half-standing and her ass was perfectly elevated. 112 was looking to the audience and then down to his prize. He reached down with both hands, cupping both ass-cheeks, kneading them with his thumbs. With a swing of an open right hand he spanked her twice, causing her to yelp faintly. Again he looked to the crowd, smiling triumphantly. With their roars of approval ringing in his ears he slipped his fingers under the hem of her rubber hotpants. Pulling apart the thin rubber, he tore the back from her shorts, then threw it to the crowd. She was open.

“Ready, princess?” 112 asked rhetorically as he positioned his cock at the entrance to her snatch. Her gaze was wide-eyed as a part of her mind realised what would follow. “You were born to do this, baby,” 112 goaded her “you ain’t no actress or model anymore, you’re just a hot little whore and hot little whores get fucked!”

With that last word, grasping both her hips, he pushed himself into her, as Emma yelped loudly in shock. Heaven on Earth. He had never felt such a stirring of his loins as Emma Watson contracted around every inch of his cock. He ached for her. He slowly glided out of her, then in he thrust. He was building a gentle rhythm, burying every inch into her, savouring the feel of Emma Watson’s teenage pussy. Gradually, he began to pick up the pace. He reached down with his right hand to roughly pull her head back by her pony tail. Her back arched, she writhed like an animal and yelped loudly as he fucked her. “Yeah, that’s it princess! You’re a real little cock-slut now!” encouraged 112.

He continued furiously driving into her, pulling her hair for leverage. He subtly ran his hands over her nubile young body – her taught stomach, her firm young breasts – as he whispered encouragements and insults to her ear. He had always liked to play with his food. He would lick at her face, dunk fingers into her mouth, again coaxing the young girl to suck, and he would always throw in the occasional spank for sport. But this was just sport. This was a gentle introduction to Emma’s life in the club. And 112 new it was time to move on. His pace slowed and a smile spread across his face. He let go of Emma’s hair with a gentle push, sending her head downwards to rest on the ottoman. As the onslaught stopped, 112 stood still, with his cock unmoving, though still buried fully in Emma Watson. Emma’s movements calmed as a tired tranquility spread over her face. The sweat on her svelte young body was glistening in the flicker of the reddish lights. The camera focused in on her face. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth gaped open, drool running down from her mouth, onto the ottoman.

112 began to yell out, but this time not to Emma. “1-0-9!” he shouted, “1-0-9!!”. And rushing from stage left came a smaller black man. Without a moment’s delay his cock was in her mouth and down her throat. They stood facing each other. Between then, Emma Watson writhed as they fucked her. 112 had lifted her hands back behind her and upwards. 109 had hold of leash and ponytail. He was vicious in his throat-fucking and reached down to maul Emma’s young breasts, “Yeah, bitch, that’s the shit!” The drugs were proving effective: Emma Watson’s mind was only semi-conscious but her body was truly alive. As the two men continued to roast her, an orgasm erupted inside her causing her to tremble as a primal scream escaped from her throat, punctuated by 109’s furious rhythm. The pace was relentless as the two men pumped in and out of her. 109 was more than making up for lost time as he attacked her throat with gusto.

For 112, Emma Watson’s tight teenage pussy was total perfection, and he wanted nothing more than to continue to ravage it. However, Like the watching crowd, he new that the induction lacked his signature, and he was about to put that right. “You ready for some tough love, Princess cum-slut?” he asked rhetorically. The pace of the two men had slowed in anticipation for what was coming. 112 withdrew his long cock and, with a tug of Emma’s hair, had pulled her to a near standing position as 109 looked on, grinning and nodding. Her head rocked back, her back was arched, and her ass stuck out. 112 had positioned his rock hard cock at the entrance of her perfect ass. As she lent back, 112 pulled down on her pony-tail and pushed down on her shoulder. He forced himself into her. Emma’s scream rent the air. Out he pulled then back into her. 109 tugged her leash, bringing her head down, and, as she screamed, 112 thrust into her again blocking her wind-pipe and muting her cries.

Again both men pumped away in ecstasy but Emma’s responses had changed. There was pain and terror on her face and a steely clarity in her eyes as 112 raped her virgin asshole, and 109 attacked he throat. Her hands had clasped the ottoman and her nails dug in.

“56!” shouted 112. Emerging from the crowd, 56 might well have been this man’s age, but his cock was already out and was jutting up like that of an 18-year-old. He was white, tall and well built with his head shaven. Emma’s eyes seemed to bulge as he approached her. He lay beneath Emma on the ottoman and the two black men lowered Emma’s dripping snatch onto him. The big screen had chosen a wide angled shot. As three men began pumping into Emma Watson, Her face was a picture of confused emotions. Tears were flowing from her eyes, but slowly she was beginning to buck with their movements and began to yelp once more. “arrhuugh, Ye-arrghh”. Another orgasm flushed through her. And the three men were spurred on. Their timing seemed to synchronise as they drove into her, and pulled away. Gradually the frequency increased until it was all out attack. Emma bucked and gargled and screamed and yelped as orgasm after orgasm rifled through her. 109 would occasionally pull out, allowing her to breath, slapping his cock down on her face in the mean time. Her face was covered in a thick slime and he roughly spread it over her features with his cock, defacing her.

109 drove back into her throat. He could not believe how compliant she was. He looked on with elation as she bucked her body to the rhythm of the man beneath and the man behind. Her tongue was still working like a pro, a natural, a slut. 109 was a frenzy, with elation etched all over his face. “I’m gonna hose this whore!” he shouted and pulled sharply on her ponytail arcing Emma Watson’s head back. Her eyes were wide with lust and humiliation as 109 pointed his cock at her face.

“You…Fu…cking…Slut!” he cried out, almost shocked. Streams of cum lashed her face. The first trailed across her nose and into her mouth. On the big screen, stream after stream painted her face, hair and back. 109 wiped his cock on her tongue and, despite herself, she was grinning.

112 continued to drive deep into Emma Watson’s ass, but 56 had already rolled himself off the ottoman and now stepped in front of 109, knocking him back. “Open up, little girl” said 56 as he guided himself into her mouth. Her tongue worked furiously and 56 had taken her right hand and started to guide it back and forth along his shaft. He too took hold of Emma’s ponytail, forcing her to look up, her mouth gaping. Into her mouth he dunked his balls, with her hand still pumping away on his cock. At the last moment, as his face contorted, he pointed his cock at her open mouth. The first jet of seamen caught her nose, filling her right nostril, but the torrent found her mouth. As 56 came and came, he buried himself back in her throat. “Drink it in, baby-doll!!” he barked, and her throat was working away, swallowing. 56 stared open mouthed as his orgasm faded. Exhausted and bewildered by her compliance, he simply took a step back, to watch with reverence as the show continued.

112, again, had Emma Watson all to himself. He was gliding in and out of her ass, and still it contracted so beautifully around his cock. He had reached a state of sexual bliss he had not thought possible. He had hold of her ponytail, and was using this to leverage himself into her. his right hand swung down, spanking her. Her yelps were high pitched and full of emotion. Occassionally he would skillfully pull out of her ass for one or two strokes into her snatch, before burying himself back into her ass, barely losing his rhythm.

Again, Emma Watson was wracked by an orgasm. With one hand at her ponytail and one hand at her hip, curving her spine backwards, He impaled himself deep within her with blistering rythmn. Her head was snapping back, cum flying from her chin. Finally, 112 felt his whole body torten. A complete sexual nirvana was overpowering him. His first shot of cum filled the depths of her bowels, but he knew the crowd demanded more degradation. He pulled himself out of Emma Watson and grabbed hold of her leash. He pulled her to her knees before him.

“Yes Emma!” he called as she gazed upwards into his eyes, her tongue out lapping at his cock as it spasmed over her face. The first shot hit her square in the right eye and endless waves of cum plastered her face. She was radiant. Cum was dribbling down from her chin, between her breasts and down her flat stomach. As the torrent of cum subsided she took hold of his cock and guided the tip into her mouth and sucked the last of his seed out of him. They looked at each other, Emma was winking with one eye plastered shut, but her clear eye was crystal clear. “Good girl, good girl” he told her, now praising and encouraging, not degrading her.

The compere was back on stage and he was slowly applauding. His gaze had moved between the two exhausted support acts, then to 112 as he nodded his approval, but his eyes finally rested on Emma Watson. “I think” he said “she’s done.” He looked up at 112 who was nodding, in a trance, staring down at Emma who still stared back. “See you later, princess” 112 whispered.

“Open Season!!!” shouted the compare. The projector screen now showed Emma’s face, panting and soaked in cum, with the words “Emma Watson: pool slut #17!” flashing across the top. The mob rushed forward. Hands were grasping leash, hair, body: whatever they could reach. Lifted off her feet, she was carried away by the crowd. Emma looked at 112, scared and pleading. 112 looked back with a trace of real sympathy on his face.

109 and 112 looked to each other, both still had a look of shock on their faces. “Fuck.” said 109. “You fucking own her. Probably the best since Britney?”

“Better,” said 112, “Much better.”

“Do you think it’s the new drugs?” asked 56.

“Yes” said 112, “at the start definitely…but by the end, some of that was her. I give it two months – then she won’t even need the drugs”

112 knew that the perfect moment had been and gone, but he smiled ruefully – he knew that he would see a lot more of Emma Watson. The compare had just handed him a small bronze key-fob. Engraved upon it were the words “PS#17 Custodian Trainer.” A wicked grin spread across his face. It would take a lot of work to make her fully complient but there were, he thought, worse jobs to be given.

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