(Disclaimer: This story is a work of fantasy; names and places are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull is the property of Lucasfilm Ltd. Please DO NOT repost without the author's permission)
Cate Blanchett: After Crystal Skull
It was an Australian military base closed long ago during a cost-saving spree, but one wouldn't know it now, fresh paint and large American flags giving it the look of something right out of 1957.
It was much the same with her, the thirty-nine-year-old, nearly five-foot nine-inch blonde wearing a dark wig and a form-fitting light blue uniform that clung comfortably to her athletic body. Australian, born in Melbourne, today she spoke with a strong Ukrainian accent, her shiny black boots and ramrod-straight bearing marking her as a stereotypical Russian soldier right out of a Cold War-era propaganda film. From her waist hung a large scabbard, containing a painfully heavy rapier that she couldn't wait to get off.
Thankfully, as if reading her mind, a group of soldiers speaking with bad American accents came walking around the corner, spying the unique beauty almost immediately.
"Hey!" someone shouted, hand going to his pistol. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, lady?"
To this Cate Blanchett said nothing. She merely turned her head, sunlight flashing off her fashionable sunglasses, and smiled. Her dark hair was bobbed at the chin and cut straight across the bangs, but despite the odd style she was almost hypnotically beautiful as she reprised her role of Indiana Jones villainess, the movie still in theaters even after all these months.
"Hey, lady, I'm talking to you! This is a working military base, not a tourist trap."
"Maybe she's deaf," another said, eyes roaming her curvy figure. "Not that it matters with an ass like that."
"I am no tourist," Cate said, her accent strong and very Soviet. "I am Colonel Doctor Irina Spalko, and you will help me find what I am after or you will die."
That was perhaps the wrong thing to say, the men drawing their guns. One scurried over and tore her sword from her waist, throwing it down before turning her around and giving her a quick but thorough pat down. Cate yelped when he reached between her firm thighs and gave her a hard rub.
"So," said the man in charge. "We have ourselves a real life Commie."
Cate frowned at that, her character at a loss as to why they weren't obeying. In charge of the Soviet Union's secret and experimental Psychic Warfare Unit, she fancied herself a self-taught mental warrior, able to bend any man to her will. It never occurred to her that they might have been doing her bidding simply because she was a beautiful and rather easy woman.
The men--nearly ten in all--gathered around, pawing at her chest and rear while they discussed what to do. It was the height of the Cold War in this pornographic scenario thought up by a reclusive Russian billionaire, and the Americans had been taught to hate the Red Menace with all of their hearts. That they were all sporting thick erections hardly mattered, the rather obscene phrase "hate fuck" coming to mind.
One of the men stepped forward and spit in her face, shocking the Oscar-winning actress. "Commie bitch, your kind killed my brother in Korea!"
"I am Ukrainian," Cate said, wiping the saliva from her face with a shiny black glove. "They were Chinese."
That earned her a slap that nearly snapped her head to one side. "Bitch, I ought to put a bullet in your head!"
Cate swallowed, suddenly very anxious. She had agreed to star in this private movie after a series of large checks began arriving in her mailbox, but that was when she believed it would be one or two scenes with a handful of men. Already there were at least fifteen surrounding her, with more arriving by the minute.
"I have an idea," the one in charge said, his grin lecherous. "Someone grab the Red and follow me."
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What was more shocking to the mother of three, her last child born just six months before, was not what was being done to her but how her husband of over a decade had reacted when she broached the idea of doing private sex movies for rich fans. Instead of getting angry and demanding she return the money, he had simply asked that she bring home the dailies for him to watch, his penis growing harder than she had ever seen it at the prospect of his famous wife becoming a celebrity pornstar.
If he could only see her now, bent over at the waist, hands cuffed behind her back while a large black man drove his cock deep into a pussy already dripping with the seed of a dozen men. Her dark hair was almost invisible beneath thick strands of semen, more being added every few seconds by a seemingly inexhaustible supply of virile young men; her makeup-streaked face a dark shade of red as she struggled to suck three different cocks in turn, the men using her ears to guide her from dick to dick.
"Oh god!" Cate cried, gasping for air as a meaty prick was pulled from her mouth. "Oh my god!"