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Make Her Break Her: Rachelle

123

Rachelle pulled into the driveway of the gated mansion, taking notice of the huge pool area. It was ninety-five degrees outside and after the shoot was done, she figured she'd have time for a dip. The owner of the house was away for the weekend so Jamie had the estate to himself. Unless he needed the pool for another shoot after hers, she doubted he'd have any problems with her stripping down for a swim.

Jamie was the owner of Backshotz Studios, and one of the hottest up and coming directors in the business. After he dropped out of film school, he took out a loan and got into porn. Rachelle didn't usually do business with upstarts, but Jamie made an impressive pitch when she agreed to meet with him. Though young, he'd researched the business well and unlike most newbie directors, he paid his talent above fair wage.

He was also very professional on set, as opposed to directors who were always trying to sleep with the actresses. That was one of her biggest pet peeves—people in the business who assumed they could get in her panties just because they set her up with a gig. Granted, she'd hooked up with a couple of directors and agents here and there, but it was always by her own choice and never under pressure. Rachelle only fucked who she wanted, when she wanted.

Her first two shoots for Jamie had gone surprisingly well. The first was a boy-girl with a hot 'cheating wife' theme. The second was a girl-girl with her friend Lexis for his 'Frenemies with Strap-ons' series. It wasn't just 'shake-your-ass-strip-and-fuck' with Jamie. He knew what the fans wanted and he came up with very provocative storylines. The comments sections on his site were full of praise for his imagination. Jamie also took the fan suggestions seriously and often worked their ideas into his scenes. Social media was redefining the porn game and Jamie was determined to use that to his advantage.

A lot of studios were losing money because of internet tube sites and piracy. Being a millennial, Jamie understood how to monetize his sites better than most. He used the best digital encryption to make sure his videos didn't get on the tube channels unless he wanted them to. That appealed to Rachelle's business side. She hated nothing more than seeing her hard work available for free download by any jackass with a WiFi connection.

Rachelle pulled to a stop behind a large, black SUV. She was scheduled to shoot with veteran male star, Kerry, but she didn't see his car and the chrome-rimmed SUV seemed a bit too flashy for his style. Jamie had sent her a text earlier saying everyone was there, so she figured Kerry had bummed a ride or maybe parked on the other side of the house. It was a massive estate after all. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to her friend Kendrah. They were supposed to meet up for drinks later.

RACHELLE: Might go for a swim after the shoot. You should hang out.

KENDRAH: Sorry babe. I've got a couple of cam shows for my site. We're still on for later right?

RACHELLE: Mos Def. C U L8tr.

KENDRAH: K

Rachelle cut the engine and exited the car. Walking past the SUV, she took a look inside and noticed a half-smoked joint in the ashtray. She figured one of Joey Ganz's friends must have stopped by. Ganz was the volatile lead singer of an alt-rock band and owner of the house. He also liked to date porn stars, so it was no surprise when he and Jamie became fast friends. When she heard Jamie was going to get the Ganz mansion for a shoot, Rachelle jumped at the opportunity. With its huge pools and outdoor Jacuzzis, the house had become legendary in porn circles for its rowdy pool parties and impromptu orgies. More importantly for Jamie, it was a step up from the cheap hotel rooms and flop houses some of the other fledgling studios had to use.

She walked up the marble steps and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Jamie's assistant and part-time fuckbuddy Nisa, opened the door.

"Hey girl." They hugged. Nisa stepped away and checked out Rachelle's body. "Sexy bitch. Love that dress."

"Thank you," Rachelle said, giving her a quick twirl. "It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why," Nisa said. "I would totally, like ... kill someone to have that body."

Rachelle was celebrated in porn for her toned form and nice tits, but it was her perfect, bubbly ass that was the true show stopper. It was her signature money maker and she always made sure to wear outfits that put those heart-shaped cheeks on center stage. She loved the attention from men—and women.

"I was going to wear some jeans, but it's hot as hell out here," Rachelle replied.

Nisa ushered her into the house. "C'mon in. Jamie's almost finished setting up."

"Sweet."

Rachelle followed the young, petite blond into the humongous living room. Ganz had nice taste in furniture, a nice mix of vintage pieces with modern décor. With him being a rocker, she'd expected leather everywhere, empty bottles on the floor and a stripper pole in the center of the floor. On the contrary, Ganz's house could have belonged to a politician.

The air conditioning felt like heaven. She'd only been in the heat for a few minutes, but her silky blue dress was starting to stick to her skin. She was beginning to think she should have worn something more like Nisa's outfit, a green tank and jean shorts. Of course there was the pink thong whale-tailing over the waistband.

Rachelle figured it would only be a matter of time before the twenty-year old got on camera. She knew Nisa had done some emergency fluffing and her eyes were wide for the business. She often talked about following in Jamie's footsteps and starting her own studio, but with a feminist perspective.

Nisa was idealistic. Rachelle knew the type. She'd seen tons of young girls get into porn with the thought of empowering women and revolutionizing the business. Rachelle knew the business. It didn't matter if you think of yourself as a hooker in an alley or the second coming of Gloria Steinem. At the end of the day, you're still getting blasted in the face with a hot load of cum.

"You can wait here," Nisa said, pointing to the couch. "You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I could use a cool down," Rachelle said.

"Champagne?"

"Sure."

"Coming right up."

Nisa's tight little ass swayed side to side as she barefooted her way into the kitchen. Rachelle heard men's voices in the back, one of them belonging to Jamie. He was probably prepping Kerry for the theme. Jamie didn't really use scripts. He laid out the main premise and trusted the actors to improv. That often meant a lot of reshoots of the opening, but it was better than reshooting the sex. Jamie felt that if the actors weren't worried about remembering lines, it helped the chemistry and led to more realistic scenes. Rachelle agreed. She rarely had orgasms on set, but to her surprise, she'd shuddered through multiple body quakes on both of the previous scenes she'd shot for him.

Nisa sauntered back into the room with two flutes of champagne and sat down on the couch next to Rachelle.

"So," Nisa asked. "You excited?"

Rachelle took a sip and chuckled. "Honey, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you don't get excited. You're just hoping the money's right and the dick stays hard."

Nisa raised her glass. "Amen to that."

They klinked glasses and sipped the champagne. Nina lowered her flute and stared at Rachelle.

"What?" Rachelle asked.

"It's just that I know you're a veteran and everything, but this is still a big deal right? This is going to open up a whole new fan base for you."

"I've got plenty of fans," Rachelle replied between sips. "This partnership with Jamie is mutually beneficial. I was the first mainstreamer to shoot for him. Even brought Lexis on board. His memberships have jumped way up and I'm putting out good scenes. Win-win."

"Speaking of the scene, that reminds me. Your co-star needs to know if there are any do's or don'ts he needs to be aware of ... finger in the ass, hair pulling, spanking ... mild slapping. I told him you're pretty much cool, but like he said, every girl's different."

"Really?" Rachelle scoffed. "Kerry knows me and my body like a book. I'm surprised he would even ask that after all the times we've teamed up."

"Oh." Nisa's eyes widened. "I thought Jamie had already told you."

"Told me what?"

"Kerry had to cancel," Nisa said. "You're shooting with Ares today."

Rachelle choked back a swallow of champagne. "No. He didn't tell me. And he knows I don't do blind shoots!" Angered, she set her glass on the table hard enough for some of the champagne to spill. "And who in the FUCK is Ares?"

"That would be me," said a deep voice from behind them.

Rachelle turned around. A tall, athletic black man stood posed in the doorway to the kitchen wearing red briefs. About nine inches of curled cockmeat bulged through the fabric. He was dangerously handsome, with amazing ab definition and a cocky smile. In any other circumstance, her panties would have been soaked. But Rachelle was notorious in the business for not doing interracial scenes.

"Oh fuck no," Rachelle said. "This ain't happening."

"Don't worry," Nisa said. "His tests are up to date."

Rachelle glared. "Fuck his tests. I don't shoot with black guys!"

She bolted off the couch and stormed toward the kitchen, heels clacking on the hardwood floor. Ares remained in the doorway, grinning and blocking her path.

"Move," she said.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asked, admiring her curves.

"I'm not your fuckin' baby. Now move. I need to talk to that prick Jamie."

Ares smirked and slid his hand inside the waistband of his briefs, retrieving his semi-hard cock. He stroked the thick shaft and stared into Rachelle's eyes. "If you're looking for a prick, I've got all you need right here."

Rachelle's mouth opened involuntary, as she found herself gawking at the size of the monster pole in his hands. A thick vein split the girth leading to a swollen mushroom at the top. With each stroke, it appeared to grow another inch. Her pussy clinched with a mix of desire and fear. When she realized she was starting to salivate, she closed her mouth and flashed him a defiant glare.

"Stick that up your ass and get out of my way."

"I'd rather stick it up yours."

He reached around her waist and palmed one half of her famous bubble-butt. His hand felt like polished stone as it slid over the thin fabric of her dress and gave her juicy ass a firm squeeze.

When he lifted the hem of her dress, Rachelle slapped his hand away.

"Hey!" she said. "Keep your fuckin' hands off me. I'm not playing."

Ares grinned and stepped away with his hands raised. "Didn't mean to offend you, Princess."

Rachelle rolled her eyes.

"Heyyy." Jamie appeared behind Ares, with a handheld camera. "Rachelle. My muse. You look amazing, Babe."

He was wearing cargo shorts and no shirt or shoes. His brown eyes were sort of glazed and there was a faint whiff of marijuana in the air.

"Cut the shit, Jamie," she said. "We need to talk."

"Sure. Sure." He patted Ares on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, dude. Just gonna talk shop with Rachelle for a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

"Alright," Ares replied. "I can do that."

"You good?" Jamie asked. "You need anything? Drink? Smoke? Bagel?"

"Nah, I'm good." Ares stared at Rachelle, licking his lips while he tucked his mammoth cock back into his briefs. "I'll just hang out with Miss Nisa, until the princess is ready to shoot."

"I'm not—" Frustrated, Rachelle scoffed and took a step forward. "Just get out of my way.

Ares stepped aside. "Sure thing, Your Majesty."

Rachelle marched past him into the spacious kitchen to confront Jamie. The young director backed away, pointing the camera at her chest.

"Seriously?" Rachelle said. "You're fuckin' filming?"

"Just getting some establishing shots for the BTS," he said.

Rachelle folded her arms across her chest and glared down at him. She was already a couple of inches taller than Jamie without heels. With them, she towered over the director.

"Put that fuckin' camera away."

She reached for his arm, but he was able to avoid her.

"Calm down," he said, grinning. "Why so stressed?"

"Stressed? I'm fucking pissed. What the hell are you trying to pull? You know I don't do interracial."

"Honestly, didn't think it would be a problem. Ares is a good performer. You saw his cock. Let's go make this money."

"You couldn't pay me enough."

"Seriously though, what's the deal with you and black guys?"

"That's none of your business," Rachelle said. "Now since you're new to the game, I'm gonna explain something to you that I shouldn't have to. You don't pull this kind of crap on your performers if you wanna stick around."

"I may be new," he said, "but I understand the way this business is trending. If you wanna stick around, you need to catch up."

"I'm doing just fine," Rachelle said. "And my fans aren't complaining."

"Well my followers expect groundbreaking content. They can stream you fuckin' white guys anywhere. This is your chance to break the internet." He glanced at her body. "And the timing is right. You're still hot. Don't wait until you're chunked up with cellulite and no one wants to see it."

"Listen to me." Rachelle jammed a finger against his chest. "Who I fuck and when I decide to fuck them, is my decision. Not yours!"

"I get it," Jamie said. "You're feeling ambushed. Why don't you have a snack ... another glass of champagne? I've got a kick-ass spread out in the dining area. Let's just take a minute to cool off and then we reset."

"Fuck your spread. Just pay me so I can go."

"What's the hold up?" asked a burly, black man who'd just made his way into the kitchen from the dining area. "Why ain't she out there takin' cock?"

Rachelle faced him. "And who the hell are you?"

"People call me J.T."

J.T. was 6' 5" and barrel-chested, with tree trunks for arms and covered in tattoos and jewelry. He stuffed a cracker and a square of cheese into his large mouth. The room filled with the sound of crunching and his smacking lips, while he stared at Rachelle like he owned her.

Rachelle composed herself and cleared her throat. "Well nice to meet you ... J.T., but you can go back to setting up the lights or guarding the food or whatever Jamie pays you to do around here. This is a business conversation."

J.T. grunted. "Any business you got with him, you got with me."

Rachelle placed her hands on her hips. "Is that right?"

"Uh ... Rachelle," Jamie said. "J.T. is sort of like a silent partner in the company."

"That's right," J.T. added. "But seeing as how this production ain't moving along on schedule, I think this is one of those times where I don't need to be so silent."

Rachelle felt the tension building in the room. Jamie looked nervous. J.T. looked like he wanted to stuff her in his mouth and swallow her whole.

"Look," she said, "whatever arrangement the two of you have, has nothing to do with—"

J.T.'s nostrils flared. "The arrangement is ... I'm the one who loaned him the money to get this thang started. And you messin' with my investment right now."

"I'm not messing with anybody. Once he pays me what he owes me, I'll be out the way."

"You'll get your money after you get some dick," J.T. said. "Now I was told you was a professional. So bounce your professional ass in there and get to work."

His glare was evil as he took a step forward, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

"You know what?" Rachelle said, stepping backwards. "Keep the money. I-I'm just gonna leave."

J.T. shook his head. "Nah. You on the clock, bitch. Time to get to work."

Rachelle turned and walked out of the kitchen. Once in the living room, she looked toward the couch. Ares was sitting with his legs wide and a death grip on the back of Nisa's head as she slurped on his glistening cock. When he noticed her, he flashed a sly grin. Rachelle shook her head in disgust and headed for the front door.

She'd made it halfway across the room, when she heard J.T. shout, "Get that bitch!"

She picked up her pace, almost tripping in her heels. She reached for the door handle. A hand locked around her arm and pulled her back. She turned around and Jamie was staring her in the face.

"Let me go!" she said, struggling to free herself.

"You need to calm down," he said. "You're just gonna make things worse."

"I'm leaving. Let go of me!"

"You can't leave, Rachelle. Not until you shoot the scene."

"I'm not shooting any—"

Jamie grabbed both of her arms and shoved her against the door. "Calm ... down."

He wasn't the Jamie she knew. His eyes reflected a sinister gaze and he held her in his grip as if she were a prisoner.

Maybe she was.

J.T. snapped his fingers at Ares. "You ready, man?"

Ares grabbed a fistful of Nisa's hair and yanked her off his cock. "Always."

He shot off the couch and bounded across the room, his stiff pole bobbing in front of him like a steel beam. Rachelle recoiled against the door.

"What the hell's going on?" She stared into Jamie's eyes. "What are you doing?"

"It's gonna be great," he said. "You'll see."

Ares appeared in front of her, stroking ten plus inches of shimmering black cock. "You're about to shoot your first interracial, Princess."

J.T. handed the back camera to Jamie. "Let's get to work."

Jamie released her. Rachelle tried to go for the door, but Ares slid his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor. She flailed, kicking, screaming, begging him to put her down. He carried her to back to the living room and dropped her on the couch. She landed on her stomach and tried to scurry away, but he dropped a knee on the center of her back, pinning her in place.

"Stop!" she said. "You can't do this!"

Ares grinned and lifted her dress, exposing the black thong splitting the center of her lovely ass. He massaged her cheeks, molding her shapely butt with his strong fingers. Rachelle twitched under his touch.

"Nice," he said.

"Get your hands off m—"

Ares smacked her ass. She gasped. He smacked it again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Rachelle screamed. Ares continued striking her cheeks while she twisted and contorted under him, with one of her long legs dangling off the couch. She reached up and grabbed the top of the couch, trying to pull herself away from him. Ares pressed her face into the sofa cushion with his free hand and loaded up another vicious ass slap.

"Aghhh!!"

Rachelle's cheeks crackled with fire. Ares was relentless with his assault. Jamie moved into position with the camera, zooming in on her tear-stained face.

"Please," she said, sobbing. "Please stop. Please. No more."

"You gonna get plenty more," Ares said.

He grabbed the neckline of her dress and yanked it away from her body until it began ripping apart. Rachelle clutched as much of her garment as she could, but the threads continued popping until there was nothing left but torn fabric and her nakedness. Ares snatched what was left of the torn dress out from under her body, balled it up and tossed it over to Nisa.

Rachelle tried to get up and run. Ares grabbed her at the throat, holding her in place. She clawed at his hands, but his grip was airtight. He guided her back to the couch and pushed her down. She looked up at him, raining tears.

"Don't do this to me," she said.

He fisted his cock and presented it to her. "Suck it."

Rachelle shook her head. "No. I won't do it."

Ares cupped the back of her head and slapped her face with his meat. "Suck."

Rachelle glared defiance. "Fuck you."

123
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