Little Ms Watson Gets Her Freak On

Notes and Disclaimers: As of this posting, Emma Watson is 20 years old and the story is meant to be set in the present momement. I say this because some of you, like I when a reader first requested this, will go to Google and type in "Who is Emma Watson?" and a girl who is, or looks, 13 will pop up because: a.) she is most famous for the "Harry Potter" films which started many years back, and b.) to this day she looks young. There is no pedophilia in this story.

Second, all acts and events in this story are completely fictional. I'm sure the real Emma Watson is a pure and lovely young woman and not a cum-craving sex addict as portrayed herein.

*

Emma Watson leaned down and forward to look at the photographs on the high resolution monitor. She absent-mindedly swept the locks of her silky light brown hair that had fallen forward into her face back curving them behind her ear. There was simple sensuality in the movement and to the light twist and tilt of her head that accompanied the act.

Jack, the photographer, wished his camera was in hand at that instant. Instead, he was waiting with bated breath to get some indication of whether preternaturally youthful starlet, known to most as Hermione Granger of the "Harry Potter" films, was happy with the photos he had shot. Jack was pleased when a smile broke across her previously expressionless face.

"Yes, those turned out lovely, don't you think? I wish I had a wee bit more up top in this last one." As she said the latter, she squeezed her pert breasts together to trap her sweater in a kind of pseudo-cleavage, and gave a coy smile. There was something about this young girl-next-door, who seemed so sweet and innocent, handling her, albeit clothed, breasts that made Jack's heart skip a beat.

"...Yes, I like how they turned out, and am glad you like them as well." Jack said, attempting to regain his composure.

"Can I trust you?" Emma said, leaning in really close to Jack.

The subtle sweet aromas of her intermingled perfume and shampoo are like ambrosia to Jack's senses. "Yes, of course... certainly."

"You see, I need another photo shoot done. This one would not be for the glamour mags. The shoot would take place in my home and the highest level of discretion would be necessary. So, can I count on you?" She punctuated the inquiry with a cute little smile that was compelling. The expression was impossible to describe. Suffice it to say, if she had said "Would you mind terribly jumping off this cliff?" with the same smile, seven out of ten men would walk right over the precipice smiling dumbly looking over their shoulder as they went. It was all part of her girlish animated bubbly charm.

"Yes, you certainly can. I am completely discrete." Jack said.

Emma's assistant, Claire, was next to her and began scrawling something on her notepad. Claire was about the same age as Emma, and was also quite fetching, but not so much in the sweet innocent girlish way. In fact, even in the quite professional skirt and jacket ensemble she was wearing, Claire emitted a bit of a slutty vibe. Maybe it was the long blond permed hair, maybe it was the plunging neckline that showed the nicely rounded tops of her two spectacular tanned breasts, maybe it was the penetrating eyes, or maybe it was just her essential nature. The two girls were probably friends from school, and the successful actress and model hired Claire because that is just the kind of angelic person Emma was - or so Jack thought at the time.

"Lovely. Then see you tonight." With that Emma spun about and walked off. Claire snatched the sheet of paper from the pad with a violent snap of the wrist like a dominatrix with a whip, and coarsely shoved the paper into Jack's hand. Then Claire, too, turned and left. As Claire left Jack watched her butt as she walked in her high heels on a line, as if on an imaginary tightrope.

He looked at the paper. It had an address for an apartment or condo in a trendy upscale London neighborhood, and the time of 19:00.

Jack arrived a little early because he wasn't that familiar with the neighborhood, had to find not only the building but also the proper unit, and did not want to be late. Finding Emma's flat turned out to be simple because on the floor of the high-rise in question, there were only two units. With his camera bag over his shoulder and a hard case in each hand containing lighting equipment, Jack awkwardly used his elbow to ring the doorbell.

A moment later the door flew open with the curt briskness that would be seen if the occupants were going to flee for their lives. However, it was just Claire standing there. Jack's jaw would have dropped had he not restrained himself with great effort. Claire had shed the business attire, and was now wearing only a sports bra - from which her shapely breasts strained to be free - and a pair of satiny gym shorts that Jack suspected, and moments later confirmed, were not long enough to cover the faint crease that demarcated the bottom of her butt cheeks. "Uhh...I'm..." Jack stammered.

"She's in here. Follow me." Claire said. Again Jack found himself looking at the retreating spectacular backside of Claire. He went into the room, put the lighting cases down, closed the door and followed the young assistant.

The apartment's spaciousness was made to appear even greater by a minimalist approach to furniture and possessions. If anything, there was perhaps a subtle rainforest motif going on with all the hardwood and the few brightly colored paintings and pieces of pottery on display that depicted images reminiscent of Amazonia.

Jack was surprised to be ushered into a bedroom. Again the sparse furnishings gave the room a palatial feel. However, the back wall of the bedroom was glass, giving the room a feel that was both open and exposed. However, from the outside one could not see inside because the glass had a mirror coating. From the inside, however, it just looked like slightly tinted glass. The rest of the world fell away as Jack saw Emma in a short robe standing next to the bed talking to a tall black man with a smooth shaved head who had what looked like track starter pants on but who wore no shirt. Jack suspected the man was a friend or acquaintance from Emma's modeling work. He was lean and chiseled and had just the kind of facial features the men's magazines found appealing for models.

"Oh great. You made it. I trust you found the place without difficulty." Upon seeing Jack, Emma turned to face him and greeted him warmly. Her animated enthusiastic facial expression really made a person feel welcome. Her unbridled enthusiasm made it seem like she was meeting a head of state or a rock star. She had the politician's gift of charisma, Jack thought. Ms. Watson might have a promising career in politics ahead of her.

Jack blushed as he felt certain he had been caught staring at Emma's sculpted legs. She, however, gave no indication that anything was amiss. "No problem at all. I hope my early arrival isn't disturbing you."

"No, not at all. I'm eager to get started. Do you drink Scotch?" Emma asked Jack.

"On occasion, but..." Jack started to say.

"Claire, would you mind getting Jack a glass of Scotch." Emma asked.

"Certainly." Claire turned and moved off, without even inquiring how Jack took it.

"Sorry. Jack this is Andre, we've been friends since a shoot a couple years ago in the Bahamas. Andre this is Jack, I hope he'll be our photographer for the evening as well as engaging in the general merriment." Emma introduced us, and we shook hands.

"Jack, can I see you briefly in the other room about some of the boring business details?" Emma asked.

"Certainly." Jack replied.

Jack followed Emma out the bedroom door, and, in the hallway, Claire handed him a crystal tumbler of Scotch poured neat. They walked two doors down into what looked to be a study or home office. "Have a seat." Emma said, gesturing to Jack to sit on a loveseat. Jack sat the tumbler down on a coaster from a small stack of dark-stained hardwood coasters prepositioned on the end-table, and then complied.

Emma then rolled an ottoman into position directly in front of him. She sat down right in front of Jack and took each of his hands palm-down in her own soft small hands. It was an oddly intimate gesture, yet it was congruous enough with her charming school-girl appearance. "Jack, I'm going to ask something of you that you may find odd and shocking. So that this will make sense, I feel I need to first tell you something about myself. First, it will come as no surprise to you that I have a brand. The bad news about this for me is that I risk being type-cast, but the good news is that there is a popular kind of part, the sweet wholesome endearing girl or young lady, for which I have a lock upon roles I want. I go to great lengths to protect this brand because it helps support a nice living. My face and body are what they are, and there is no use trying to change that. That's why I don't go in for a lot of plastic surgery and other mucking about with my appearance." She said.

"You certainly don't need any plastic surgery. You've got a great body." Jack complimented her, feeling awkward as he did.

"Ohh. Thank you. You are such a kind man." She said with a smile rolling her eyes up in a "stop-you're-making-me-blush" kind of gesture that accentuated the naïve girl persona she worked hard to get across. However, then her speech began to become much more incongruous with her girlish demeanor, and this incongruity was both shocking and arousing. "So maintaining this brand can cause no end to frustration. Sometimes I'm just gagging to get shagged by, say, a Regiment of Royal Marines just back in country after a year without sex. Playing 'Miss-Fucking-Beauty-and-Sunshine' all the time has resulted in a deep-seated need for me to get my kink on once in a while. Playing the wholesome girl day after day makes me want to just be naughty,... very... very... naughty. Because I only get limited opportunities to really let this side of me roam free, I sometimes like to capture the moment so that I can use the images later. Do you know what I mean?" The last statement and the question were delivered in her normal tone, but her frustration showed in the tirade prior to it. During that part of her talk she sometimes gritted her teeth, and it seemed like she was ready to pounce on Jack or anyone else that walked in and give them the sexual experience of their lives.

"Yes, Ms. Watson, you can count on my complete discretion in this matter." Jack said.

"Yeah..., that's where the odd part of my request comes into play. You see, I think you are a nice lad and I want to trust you. The fact that you are such a kind and likeable chap - and a handsome man- is why I chose you. However, just relying on trust presents a little bit of a difficulty because I think you have no idea what the tabloids would pay for evidence of my wild side. If the public knew what kind of freak I am in the sack, they wouldn't see me in the same light, and I might lose my cache. Have you seen Lindsey Lohan in a movie recently?

"However, I've come up with a plan that will allow me to kill two birds with one stone. That is, if you consent. It will allow me to build confidence that you will not betray me to those paparazzi-bastards while, at the same time, it helps my dear friend Claire. You see, Claire, though I love her dearly, does not have much talent for acting, but desperately wants to get into the field. She thinks she can get her foot in the door to B-movies by doing some soft-core porn. She'll never be Hollywood. I suspect she knows that as well as anyone. A production company is willing to give her an audition, but they want her to do some extreme hard-core in the audition even though the movies they promise she will be making will be the soft stuff. They say that it's the only way to see if she can show a range of emotion and not just moan like a whore. More likely, it's just how they get their rocks off, but that's the entertainment business. So what I suggest is this. You act out a rape against Claire. I know. It's a weird request, but then we each have something on the other, and I can rest easy that won't turn on me, and you don't have to worry about me because you could always retaliate if I betray you. On the bright side, Claire is a beautiful girl, and you get to shag her as rough as you like. If that's not enough enticement, after words you'll get some quality time with me as well." Emma punctuated her last sentence, which was delivered in a seductive tone of voice, by letting Jack's hands go and putting her hands on his thighs while rubbing the inside of his leg.

"So will you help us out?" Emma asked in the same sexy tone and eyelash-batting facial expression that pretty women use to unabashedly manipulate men.

While there was part of Jack that nagged at him that this was not a good idea, that part was pummeled to death by the part that was not about to give up the opportunity to fuck the fine blond Claire and the hot starlet Emma in one night. "Yes. Certainly." Jack said.

"Excellent." Emma stood, shrugged off the robe, and turned to walk back to the bedroom. The girl was leggy and had a butt that was sublime. Her skin was flawless. She was lean, svelte, and nubile. Jack's jaw dropped and he just sat watching the tight round buttocks walk away. "Well... Are you coming?" Emma said as she noticed Jack was not following.

Jack got up and rushed to catch up. She reached a hand back out behind her. He took it, and they went hand-in-hand to the bedroom. It was innocent schoolgirl gestures like this that accentuated the disjoint between the affable girl-next-door Emma and the slutty kink-show that resided in the same body.

When Jack and Emma entered the bedroom, Claire was twirling the ends of a few strands of hair while talking to Andre. She looked like she was enamored with the athletic black man.

"Alright. I think we are ready to go." Emma spoke up, as if she were directing a movie. In some sense she was doing just that, but a movie that all parties concerned hoped would never be seen by the outside world. Andre took a hand-held video camera in his palm, snapped the lens cap off, and checked all the settings. Claire took a deep breath and tried to get into the proper state of mind. Jack was nervously reconsidering his decision, but, despite the ill feeling of stage fright, was not willing to miss this opportunity.

"Jack, your line is: 'I want some pussy, bitch!' to which Claire responds: 'In your fucking dreams, wanker.' It's not exactly Shakespeare, but it'll do. Jack you then grab Claire by the hair and haul her over to the bed. You push her down and have your way with her. Remember, be aggressive and mean. Think about the worst woman you ever dated and how she treated you, and make Claire that woman. Claire, remember that you're being raped. Try to look pathetic and not horny. Are we ready, then?" Emma asked, after giving her direction.

A chorus of affirmative grunts rang out.

"Great. Jack, strip to your underwear. Claire, take the shorts off. You do have panties underneath?"

"Yeah, cute ones." Claire jettisoned the short-shorts to reveal a pink silk thong. Jack was slower to get to his tighty-whities and "wife-beater" undershirt.

"Excellent... and Roll!"

"I... want some pussy..., bitch." Jack's delivery was slow, monotone, and his nervousness was reflected in his inability to remember the line at first.

"Cut! Jack, can I have a word with you." Emma said, and guided him just outside into the hallway for a private discussion. She leaned in to speak into his ear. "Jack, do you want to fuck me?" Emma said in a soft sensual tone of voice right into Jack's ear.

"Yes." Jack asked.

"Good. Very good. All that stands between your nice hard cock and my wet willing pussy, is you doing this favor for us, and doing it well." As she said this, Emma stroked the already engorged member through Jack's underwear. "Now I realize this is new for you, and it's not an easy thing to do. You are a nice guy and find rape morally abhorrent. But, still, haven't you ever wanted to throw a woman down and just shag her inside-out? This is your chance, and, the beauty is, it's not really rape. Claire is a bit of a bitch, and it shouldn't take any great effort to imagine her as, say, a very nasty girl who spread rumors that she was going to fuck you for sport until she saw what a little dick you had. She's the girl who poisoned you with all the other girls, just for her own personal shits and giggles. You are a nice looking guy, but, let's face it, if you asked her out in high school or college she would have ridiculed you in front of all your friends. Now, can you do this for me?"

The pep talk was working. Jack thought of one girl in particular who had dumped him with a brutal coldness, and, as it happens, she did share a lot in common with Claire. She was hot, arrogant, and had a chip on her shoulder.

"Let's try this again." Emma said as she walked back into the room. Andre readied the camera. Claire put her game face on, and Jack just keep working on the proper mindset and telling himself to ignore the nagging part of him that wanted to put the kibosh on the entire thing. "Action."

"I want some pussy, bitch!" Jack said as he pulled out and stroked his erection for emphasis.

"In your dreams, wanker!" Claire responded.

This time Jack took two steps forward and lightly but substantially slapped Claire's cheek. It was just enough to cause an instant of stunned shocked. While Claire was turning back from the slap and before she regained composure, he stuck his hand right into her hair and clenched a clump of her curly blond locks. He pulled her over to the bed. Claire struggled to stay on her feet, so swift were Jack's actions. By now Jack had forgotten about the camera that Andre was panning around the bed in slow arcs with or Emma, who, if he had looked back he would have noticed, was clearly getting turned on by the events at hand. Instead, he was in his own world.

Jack shoved and tossed Claire onto the bed and she bounced and rolled to the middle. She came to a seated position wide-eyed and with a thrilled look on her face.

"Claire, dear, pretend like you're enjoying this a little less." Emma said.

Claire changed her facial expression so she looked scared and pathetic, or, more precisely, like a poor actress trying to portray scared and pathetic. Jack continued. The momentary glimpse of how much Claire was enjoying this was enough to renew Jack's enthusiasm for an activity for which he might have otherwise lost his stomach. He hopped up onto the bed and lurched over to Claire and began to straddle her by sitting on her hips. "Let me see those jugs." Jack said as he yanked the sports bra top down under Claire's tits. He then grabbed them roughly cupping them tightly and pinching the nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Please don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want." Claire said, hamming it up a little.

"The first thing you can do is get that cakehole open so I can put my cock in it." With this Jack walked on his knees still straddling Claire's body to the point at which he was able to lean forward and shove his engorged member into her mouth. As soon as it was in and she wrapped her lips around it, Jack began to thrust away. Jack face-fucked Claire with vigor; putting his hand against the wall so that he could lean into it. Claire produced some incredible suction, and, at times, it almost hurt. Yet, overall, it was insanely pleasurable.

Then Jack heard a strange muted set of sucking sounds almost in stereo to those emanating from Claire. Jack turned to see that Andre had turned sideways filming Jack and Claire awkwardly looking over his shoulder. His odd positioning was employed so that Emma could suck Andre off while still looking out of the corner of her eye at Jack and Claire. Emma's small soft hands wrapped around the shaft and stroked as she sucked Andre's cockhead like a lollipop. Emma broke contact with her mouth, and gave Jack a little wave by putting her palm up in his direction and wriggling her fingers while her other hand continued to stroke Andre. Then Emma motioned for Jack to turn back around.