Rising Star Lawful Execution
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Rising Star - Lawful Execution free porn video
I think I told you that my agent, Flick Caterham, had landed me a part in a new tv series called ‘Lawful Execution’ to be directed by Chesty Morgan, real name Cassandra, with whom I’d worked before when I was much lower down the food chain.
So there I was in my dressing room getting ready for my first big court scene. I was playing the part of a barrister which, for those whose legal system is more sensible than ours, is a lawyer trained to represent others in court. For reasons totally unknown to me they wear wigs and black suits with a black gown like a graduate’s gown over. Top barristers are ‘Queen’s Counsels’ and are said to have ‘taken silk.’ Don’t blame me for this crap, it’s probably something to do with Henry VIII or something.
I had donned a white silk shirt under a black skirt suit with heels, black stockings and a silly little collar they wear. My dresser came in, Veronica or Ronny, a woman of about 45 and butch in a feminine sort of way. Don’t ask me to explain, you either get it or you don’t. She bore my wig like I was about to be crowned. She had a wicked sense of humour and, like me, was as gay as you like and in her words ‘loosely attached’ to a woman who lived in America but quite often ‘pops over for a bit of work and a lot of pussy from time to time.’
“Fuck, you look hot.”
I smiled. “I feel a complete tit.”
“Wait till I’ve put the fucking wig on. You’ll feel a complete cunt then.” Not one to mince her words. “Want to feel one now? We’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Behave.”
She ceremonially placed the wig on my head then spent a few minutes buggering about getting it straight. She stood behind me, hands on my shoulders as we examined the apparition in the mirror. “There, see what I mean?” I did. She kissed my ear and said, “Keep the wig on when I fuck you later?”
“Just the wig?”
“Eventually.” She had a grin like a wolf spotting a lamb.
Ronny had joined me a while before and we’d developed a ‘loose attachment’ rather like that she had with her American friend. She wasn’t someone ready for domestic bliss but she was great in bed or wherever else she decided to have her wicked way and I found it delightful. I actually wanted a long-term relationship but that had not, so far, been my lot.
Her hand slipped up under the skirt of my black suit and she slipped her finger between my thighs. “I am going to give you such a seeing to tonight. Now, go and act.” Ronny was not one who treated so-called stars like they were superior.
I went onto the set and received a few wolf-whistles and a smattering of applause. The scene was a courtroom replete with judge, other barristers, defendant and jury and I was giving my closing speech as the fearless prosecutor determined to get the villain locked away for the rest of his life. I’d learned the speech and could recite it verbatim even though I had it written in front of me. I’d watched real barristers for hours and realised the power of their oratory and wanted to replicate that so I went for it.
It is rare that a scene is filmed successfully in one take but, to more applause and a rather violent slap on the back from Chesty, I did it that time. I felt elated and drained. I’d spoken for about eight minutes but it had felt like eighty.
There was a break while the next scene was set up and I went back to my dressing room to change into the clothes for the next scene. Ronny helped me undress. Well, when I say helped, she watched, licking her lips. She’d taken my wig off and put it in a tin like a cake tin and then sat as I undressed down to my knickers.
“Who do you get to kill?”
“A politician. She’s a closet gay and I meet her in a bar then lead her down a side alley and bump her off.”
“You get to murder a politician? God, I wish I could.”
“I also kill two lawyers and an airline pilot.”
“Everyone should have a hobby. Talking of which.” She stood up and placed her hand flat on my breast. “Am I coming to yours tonight?”
“Can you stay over?”
“I might be persuaded. Got any pyjamas I can wear?”
“You like to wear pyjamas?”
Her other hand went between my legs and she stroked me through the flimsy, moist silk. “Sometimes. I’m inclined to different moods. I might want to wear them or I might wear leather. Which would you prefer?”
“There’s something about you in leather.”
“Leather then. But make sure you have some pyjamas too, just in case.”
I dressed and did the next scene. Fortunately I have a mind that holds lines easily so I could leave the dressing room, a little breathless I admit, and get into work mode and slaughter a politician.
Ronny had left by the time I finished so I tidied up, called my driver (one of the many perks) and had him drive me home. I sent Ronny a text to say I was home after I’d stopped off and bought a pair of black silk pyjamas for her (just in case). They had red piping and were for a man so had a fly. She favoured a strappy so, again, just in case. Well, as she had said, everyone should have a hobby.
I had a house in the country with a housekeeper and driver/gardener but I lived alone in my London apartment. I did have someone to come in and clean but usually not when I am there. I took a couple of ready meals from the freezer in case she was hungry then went to my bedroom and stripped off and took a shower. I put on a long, flimsy skirt and a similarly filmy blouse and poured myself a substantial g+t. The entry-phone gurgled and I went to it and saw Ronny’s face in the cctv screen so I let her in.
She kissed me but not before I’d had a chance to have a good look at her. She looked edible. She had chosen a white cotton button down which was tucked into tight leather trousers which were in their turn tucked into black boots with four straps around each ankle and heels like nails. She had a small leather rucksack which she shrugged off and hung on a chair’s back.
“Good job I have a decent carpet. Those heels would destroy a wooden floor.” I took a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured her a glass. She didn’t like gin but then, nobody’s perfect.
“You look better than you did in the wig.”
“That’s a relief. There’s a present for you in the sitting room.”
“Oh good, I love presents.” I followed her through and she fell upon the rectangular parcel, untying the ribbon and lifting the lid. She pulled the tissue paper aside and looked up at me and smiled. “They are gorgeous,” she said as she lifted the jacket out.
“They’ll suit you.”
“I’m going to try them on but not just yet.” She came to me and took me in her arms. “Did I mention I was going to fuck you tonight?”
“Possibly, I cant remember.”
Ronny turned me around so she was standing behind me and licked my neck. Her hands moved over my breasts through the filmy top, cupping each breast, rolling each nipple as her tongue did something special to my ears and neck. She squeezed my nipples, slowly increasing the pressure and I laid my head back on her shoulder. I tried to turn but she hissed, “Stay still,” and continued to squeeze as she licked my ears. She lifted the top and cupped my naked breasts, raking her fingernails along the sensitive skin underneath them. I felt her hand leave my breast and run up my thigh.
“Why the long skirt?”
“It makes me feel sexy.”
Ronny’s finger traced the crack of my arse then slithered round the front of the skirt and her nail dragged along my lips, almost pushing the light fabric between them. “You do feel sexy. Want Ronny to fuck you?”
“I’ve got nothing else to do.”
Her nails bit into my nipple. “I’ve got plenty to do if you’re going to play cool with me. I’ve got a cute little librarian from RADA who likes me to fuck her,” she paused as her finger left my cunt and went behind me and pushed, none to gently, against my arse. “She likes me to fuck her a lot.” She bit my ear and gathered my skirt up slowly between her fingers until my arse was exposed. “She just loves my cock here.” The finger slithered between my wet lips and then slowly back and up a fraction until, slick and wet she pushed it against my arse, “and here. If you don’t tell me you want me to fuck you I’ll go and see her and phone you while I’m fucking her.”
“Does her tongue do as much for you as mine does?”
“More.”
“So why are you here?”
Her finger pushed past the resistance of my muscle and into me, about a knuckle deep. “Because she likes me to tell her how I fucked a film star.”
“Well, you’d better fuck me so you’ve got something to talk about.”
Ronny turned me round. “I’m giving you one last chance, Millerton. Ask me nicely or I’m off.”
I started undoing the buttons of her shirt. “Please, Ronny, would you mind awfully giving me a good seeing to?”
She grinned. “That’s better. I’d be delighted.” She whipped my top off and threw it aside as she bent to lick my nipples and bite them quite hard, hard enough to make me groan. Her fingers went to the waist of my skirt and pulled it down as she squatted and licked beneath my tits and down over my belly. She looked up.
“Get your arse into the bedroom and wait for me.”
I was wet, eager and hungry. Naked, I almost skipped to the bedroom and laid on the bed, legs apart, knowing that no matter what she wanted it was going to be fun.
Her pale blue cock poked out from the black of the pyjamas. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and smiled at me. “Do they suit me?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Finger yourself.”
I sat up, legs apart, my back to the padded headboard and started to stroke between my lips. Lifting my knees I made a show of it for her, pushing my finger a little way in then running it over my clit.”
“Finger your arse.”
I pushed my finger deep in my cunt then rolled onto my knees and, reaching down between my thighs and lifting my arse, I pushed my finger into my backside. The bed dipped as she clambered aboard and she slapped my hand away. Hands on my waist she hefted me up and back so my face was down on the pillow and my arse high in the air. She entered me, no foreplay (I’d done that) and pushed her cock deep into my pussy, her hands on my hips. She stayed like that, motionless and stopped me from pushing back onto her then pulled out and drove back in. Repeating this several times had me groaning like a bitch and I knew how much she liked me to be her bitch.
“I like it when you make a noise.” I felt her bend over me and knew that her jacket was open because her nipples, which were amazingly long when aroused, were pressed against me. She reached down and under me to squeeze a nipple. She squeezed it hard and I yelped but the mild pain was mixed with enormous pleasure as a finger of her other hand started to stroke my clit. I was in heaven; her mouth was on my shoulder, her fingers on nipple and clit and her hips rocking rhythmically and increasingly quickly but gently. Ronny could be rough sometimes but it was almost as if she read my mood, my need and responded to it. I came. There was no way I could have prevented it even if I had wanted to. I lost control and the orgasm rolled over me; my ears ringing, my mouth screaming, my nipples aching and the fire between my legs combining to obliterate all external awareness. I didn’t even know that Ronny had climaxed almost at the same time.
“You always seem to know what I need.” We were lying facing each other. I stroked her face and, if I am totally honest, I felt I loved her but knew if I said it I’d never see her again.
“Horses,” she said, enigmatically. I knew she wanted me to ask so I didn’t. After a few moments to give me the opportunity to blink first she grinned and said, “When you ride a horse it cant tell you how it feels so you have to develop a sense of what’s going on in its head. Once you can do that you get the best out of them.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m like a horse.”
She kissed me then said, “Sort of, yes. You could say you wanted me to do this, that or the other,” as she said this her fingers did a little tour of my erogenous zones, “but that’s no fun. If I can feel what you want, what you need and give it to you then the fuck gets better and better.”
“Should I whinny?”
“Screaming and writhing will be perfectly adequate, thank you.”
I pushed my thigh between her legs and rubbed. I knew she liked to cum on me like that so I kept going, kissing her and stroking her until she had a calm orgasm, peaceful like an exhalation.
“I think you have the riding skills too.”
“I had to learn for my first ever film part.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “Uncredited, I was one of a number of women riders in a battle scene in some shitty film that never made a penny for anyone. I was paid £50 and got a bacon roll, a coffee and a broken ankle.”
She was giggling now. “How did you break your ankle?”
“How do you think? I fell off the fucking horse. That was the last time I ever rode one and I’m buggered if I ever will again.”
“Now there’s a thought,” said Ronny, turning me so I had my back to her.
*
Back at the studio Chesty was preparing to film a scene in which Lorna McVey, an almost exact contemporary of mine in age and at a similar stage in her career, was taking me to bed. She was the controlling female airline pilot, domineering rather than dominant, rude, egotistic and callous but, on the plus side, hot as hell and when I murdered her nobody would care.
Lorna and I were in dressing gowns and we sat, the three of us as Chesty explained how she was going to shoot it. “Don’t get all coy on me. Lorna, you have to lead, guide Faye. You don’t give a fuck about her you just want to use her to please yourself. Push her where you want her. Get me?”
Lorna smiled. “Faye’s the expert. I’m sure she’ll help me out.” She grinned at me. We’d worked together a few times, she had no leanings in the sapphic direction but we were mates and often got together when circumstances allowed. “She might get the wrong idea if I’m too enthusiastic.”
Chesty laughed. “She’s a professional, darling. Now, get shagging.”
Professional we were but sex scenes develop a dynamic all their own and it’s totally unpredictable. I’d filmed one with a guy called Billy Preston who was self-obsessed and a ‘method’ actor. Between you, me and the gatepost I find method actors a pain in the arse. They tend to be so far up their own arses they can see the back of their teeth. Billy kept moaning that he needed an erection to ‘feel’ the part, to ‘experience’ the moment’ but my larking about prevented it. Yeah, right. Billy wanted to fuck me so he could tell his mates he’d fucked a dyke. I’d told him that instead of moaning he ought to act and I’d try to do the same just as long as nothing moved anywhere near my cunt. That had brought the pains on and the director, a lovely guy called Walter who had a gentle demeanour and a great sense of wit, had to take Billy to one side and calm him down.
With Lorna the scene soon collapsed into farcical chaos. We simply couldn’t stop laughing and once you start it’s impossible to stop. It kicked off because Lorna had decided she’d pull my head to her tits when I thought she was going to pull my face to hers. The upshot of this was my open mouth, prepared for a passionate kiss, swallowed the crucifix dangling from a chain around her neck and her nipple poked me in the eye. Chesty yelled at us to “shut the fuck up and get on with it.” She had decided that she’d just shoot as much as she could then edit out the crap. Fat chance, hysteria took over and we ended up rolling off the bed and knocking a light over.
It got worse when I was under the duvet supposedly giving her a good tonguing when Lorna lifted the quilt and said, “Put your back into it,” which was actually in the script and I replied, “It’s not big enough,” which wasn’t and we were off again.
Chesty is patient but not that patient. She told us, me in particular, that it was like working with a three year old and she’d see us in the morning and was going to get pissed. She grabbed the sound engineer and told him he was going with her since she needed a good fuck to stop herself killing me. Lorna and I got pissed too. The following morning the sound man asked me if we could mess it up again since he’d had the time of his life with Chesty.
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