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Candid Calendar	By : TheBigLove126 Category: Celebrities - Misc > General Views: 13885 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: The following is a fictional story involving a real celebrity (Emma Watson) that I do not know. No money was exchanged for it's creation.

Chapter List
- 1-Candid Calendar
- 1
“Ms. Watson, Greg Wilcox will see you now,” the receptionist said.
Emma Watson was visiting the office of Mr. Wilcox, the creator of the ‘Feminism Plus Calendar’ series, a series of calendars starring famous fem-fighters. Emma had participated in a photoshoot a month earlier. Unlike most calendars with half-naked women gracing the pages, this one featured the twenty-five-year-old dressed in long dresses, business attire, nothing more risqué than a one-piece bathing suit. She was very proud to participate in something that many other women would be taking part in. She had not seen or heard anything about the other ones but today, she got to see her finished product.
The currently-brunette Brit walked into the room dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a black t-shirt covered by a long white coat. As she approached the chair, she peeled the coat off and folded it up, resting it next to her while she sat down. Emma played around with her shoulder-length hair as Mr. Wilcox, dressed in a cheap suit with his long, red hair in a ponytail, walked in with the calendar in hand.
“Hello Mr. Wilcox,” she said in her beautiful accent.
“Call me Greg,” he said, shaking her hand. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m good, just eager to see the calendar,” she responded as she rested her folded hands on the brand-new table.
“You are going to love this Emma,” he said, laying it down on the table. “I can call you Emma, right?”
Emma nodded as the man showed her the cover. The picture that as chosen as the lead shot was one of her with a flower-print dress that fell to her ankles. On her feet were a pair of black heels, her wrist covered in various bracelets and her hair done up like a princess.
“That’s damn pretty,” she said. “I loved that dress.”
“Yes, well we determined that it was the best shot of any outfit we had,” Greg explained. “If you loved that, you will love what is inside.”
Greg lifted the page to show a four-month page for the end of 2015. All four pictures surrounded a picture of her sitting in a board room, at the head table with her feet up on the desk. She was dressed in baggy jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, a glass of wine in hand.
“I remember that wine, it was shit,” she said with a chuckle. “I look pretty good like that, though.”
“I think you look really good in the next picture,” Greg said as he turned the page to January.
The look on Emma’s face changed from enjoyment to horror. On the page was not a picture from a photo shoot. It was not even a picture she had taken willingly. The brunette stared at a full-color, high-definition picture of her naked in the shower at her Los Angeles condo. She was facing the camera, which looked to be hidden in the corner of the ceiling. Her shaven pussy was in clear view, soap dripping down her body while her hands were thoroughly cleaning her b-cup breasts.
“The hell is this!?” she screamed. “Is that…where did you get that?”
“We have our ways, Emma,” Greg responded as he flipped to February.
The picture for February featured an equally-as-nude but not nearly as wet Emma, sitting on the toilet, her hand pushing down on her pussy while she did her business. The girl had a huge smile on her face in the picture.
March featured a shot of Emma shaving her legs, her bare ass and the lower end of her pussy lips clearly visible. April showed her admiring her nude body in the full length mirror, her hands pushing her breasts together, giving herself a temporary big cleavage. May showed her squatting on the tile floor, looking for something under the sink, her breasts in clear view.
“Enough! This is fucking bullshit!” she said, slamming her hands down on the table.
Greg ignored her and flipped to June. This picture was clearly from a different day as she was sitting on the closed toilet lid, spread eagle with a hairier cunt on display. She held a razor in one hand and a can of shaving cream in the other. July and August both showed her shaving while September was the most horrifying picture for the woman.
September featured her immediately after she shaved, still holding the razor but holding the handle against her clitoris, her eyes closed and her lower lip between her teeth. October had the razor almost all of the way inside of her cunt. November had a capture of her orgasming, taken in mid-spray. She had her eyes wide open and her tongue hanging out as she watched the spray shoot out of her pussy. The misery came to a close with December, a picture of her sucking on the razor win her right hand while the left was tow-knuckles deep in her cunt.
Emma was almost crying. She was both extremely angry and extremely horrified at what she had just seen. She had just been forced to watch her most private moments in high quality photographs. Slowly, her brown eyes, stained with tears, looked up at Greg. She wanted to jump across the table and choke him to death but was frozen.
“Why? Why this? Why Me?” she asked quietly.
“Because I am sick of you feminist fuck-heads thinking you matter in this world,” he said, slamming the calendar closed. “Who the fuck is going to buy a calendar of a hot bitch dressed in suits and long dresses?”
“People who don’t see women as object!” she yelled back, her voice cracking as she wiped a tear away from her face.
“Fuck that, you ARE objects! People want softcore porn as their calendars,” he said. “This will sell MUCH more than the piece of shit you wanted.”
“You are not going to sell that!” she screamed.
“Like hell I won't!” he yelled back. “The whole world will see the real Emma Watson.”
“I’ll sue your ass!” she said, standing up.
“People won’t un-see this,” he responded. “When people see the name ‘Emma Watson’, they won’t think of Hermione Granger, they will think of the girl who gets off from shaving her twat!”
Emma looked at him with disgust and grabbed her coat. She started towards the door when Greg stood up. Pulling the handle, Emma learned that the door was locked. She pounded her fist on the door, yelling for someone to let her out.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Greg said as he walked up behind her, slapping his hand over mouth.
The man picked Emma up as she tried to kick herself free. He carried her over to the table and roughly slammed her down. The Brit groaned in pain as she landed tailbone-first on the hard wood. While she was temporarily vulnerable, Greg hauled off and slapped the young woman across the face as hard as his shoulder would allow three times. Emma immediately grabbed for her face and winced.
Emma felt Greg’s hands trying to pull her boots off. The feisty girl started to kick at him but not before he had pulled her footwear completely off.
“Get away from me!” she screamed.
Greg grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and started to violently shake her. The back of her skull bounced off of the table several times, adding to the pain she was already feeling. Eventually, the cotton tore, making it easier to remove the shirt and leaving her upper body covered only by a baby-blue bra.
Emma started to fight back again as she felt her belt unbuckle and be torn away. Greg hooked his finger in to the waist and roughly pulled down both her jeans and panties at the same time. As fast as her legs were kicking and as loud as she was screaming, nothing stopped her lower half from being fully exposed.
“I guess those shaving pics aren’t recent,” he said, seeing her cunt hair and assuming it had been two weeks since grooming.
“Piss off, you cunt!” she screeched.
Greg reached over and wrapped his hands around Emma’s slim neck. He choked the girl hard, hating hearing an insult thrown his way. The actress gasped for air as she stared up at the man. He could feel her toughness being drained out of her as she unsuccessfully tried to kick him away. As the light started to fade from her eyes, Greg let go and allowed her to catch her breath.
“See, I could kill you that easily,” he said as he ripped her bra off, exposing her perfectly round breasts and leaving her completely nude, on her back. “Call me a cunt again, I dare you!”
Emma was too busy coughing and gasping to even hear his words. He scoffed at her bright-red face as he grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide. He stared down at her pussy, salivating as he felt her rapid pulse in her legs. He let go of one of her legs and started to slap her cunt, causing her to flinch and groan.
“No! Stop!” she yelled, her pleas falling on deaf ears.
After a few more slaps, Greg held his hand on her pussy and moved it up and down, his middle finger bumping into her clitoris very hard. Emma’s eyes shot wide at the first touch of her most sensitive nerve bundle. Any fears she had had before were being answered; this man was seriously going to rape her.
Emma once again tried to kick herself free but stopped when Greg dug a sharp fingernail into the center of her clitoris and ripped it back, trying to cut the nub open. It was the most painful touch that Emma had ever experienced and she was in excruciating pain. While she was distracted, the man wedged three fingers into her pussy and pushed them in as far as he possibly could. Once half of his hand had disappeared into her, he placed his free hand on her stomach to hold her in place and rapidly moved his hand back and forth an inch, getting her damper and allowing more of his hand to slide in.
After two minutes, Greg could not see anything past his wrist. For the first time in her life, and likely the last time, Emma had a full hand inside of her, fist-fucking her. Her teeth were clenched hard enough to break a diamond as grunts of discomfort exited her voice box. The young British actress sounded more like she was giving birth than having sex. He pumped his fist into her for about a minute before violently pulling out, giving her a combination of relief and more pain.
Emma sprawled out on the table, her legs dangling off the edge with very little life in them. She tried to regain her composure but had no idea what she could do. Her fate as sealed by a door lock. Nothing and no one could save her. When she heard the sound a zipper sliding down, she simply closed her eyes and cried.
Greg grabbed hold of his thin, seven-inch cock as he let his cheap pants fall to the ground. He loosened his tie and pulled his shirt open, making her look at his hairy chest. She looked up at him and wanted to vomit as the man started to slap his hard cock against her swollen, abused pussy.
“I’ll save you the pleasure of sucking my dick,” he said. “Fucking feminists don’t even know how to do it right anyway.”
Greg shoved his cock in her pussy, causing her to jump, still trying to fight the inevitable.
“Naaaaah! Gaaaah!,” she screeched incoherently.
The feeling of his cock sliding against her already-abused vaginal walls was more painful than pleasurable. She was certain that permanent damage was done by his fist, not knowing that fisting was a known sex act. It had been the worst her vagina had ever been stretched so it was throbbing in pain before his dick had entered. The penetration was only making things worse.
Greg pulled Emma’s ankles up to his shoulders and pulled her closer to him until her ass half-hung from the edge of the table. The sounds of her moans of pain were quickly covered over by a mix of his pleasurable grunts and groans and the sound of their thighs slapping together every half-second. Greg started to laugh as the reality of the situation set in for him. He was raping Emma Watson, one of the biggest names in entertainment. He had her naked on a table, almost killed her and has violated her most private area with very little effort. He felt a great rush of pride seeing the salty tears slowly drip from her eyes, into her hair or onto the table top.
The man continued to fuck her in this position for a minute before he pulled his dripping, wet cock from her beat-red, swampy snatch. He roughly flipped her onto her stomach, her feet touching the carpeting below. She tried to kick a foot up into his crotch but did not have the strength to get up high enough. Greg slammed his body into hers, forcing her pelvis into the protruded edge of the table, instantly leaving a bright red mark across her, directly above her cunt hair.
Emma prepared for her pussy to be abused once more but did not feel his cock head against her abused hole, instead the member had found a different hole to tease.
“Maybe a good ass-raping will put you in your place!” he yelled as he pushed forward into her virgin hole.
The blood-curdling screaming that he had been used to hearing returned as his head passed her sphincter and dug deep into her rectum. Emma tried to dig her painted-red fingernails into the wood but just left ten red streaks instead. Of all the things that had happened to her inside this room, her anal invasion was by far the worst. Her anal tubing was not meant to stretch the way it was stretching around this man’s cock.
“Oh fuck yes!” Greg exclaimed as he felt the curvature of her ass press against his pelvis.
With his entire length in the screaming woman’s ass, Greg pulled back almost all of the way out before violently thrusting forward once. He repeated this action of only one hard thrust at a time for nearly a minute before his natural urges took over. After slapping each ass cheek as hard as he could, he grasped onto them and began fucking her with the pace he had abused her pussy.
Emma buried her head in the table, ignoring the strands of dark hair that were entering her mouth, nose and eyes. The woman who had fought her entire life to be a strong woman was defeated. There was no will left to fight in the slender Brit’s body and soul. She lay there like a ragdoll while Greg abused her asshole for several minutes.
After a long raping, the semen mixture forming in Greg’s hairy balls were ready to serve. He gave a few more violent thrusts into her ass before pulling out and walking to the side of the table. Emma was facing him, a glazed look in her eyes and her mouth slightly agape. She watched as he moved closer, his wrist whipping up and down his cock. She sighed and closed her eyes as she saw a giant white blob heading towards her.
Greg painted the side of Emma’s face in cum while she held her mouth and eyes closed. She whimpered louder with each warm spray onto her. She found enough strength to put a hand up and block the last bit from hitting her but it was too late. Once the last drop fell, Greg walked back behind her and wiped his cock off on her ass cheek. He grabbed her by the hips and violently pulled her onto the ground.
“Clean yourself up, your worthless tramp,” he said as he fastened his shirt back up. “You were an okay fuck. Someone that hot should do better.”
Emma lay emotionless on the floor until she brought herself up to her feet, her entire lower body sore and pulsating. Greg grabbed the calendar and shoved it into her chest.
“There’s your gift,” Greg said. “Now put your coat on and get the fuck out of my sight.”
Emma pulled her coat over her abused body, put her shoes back on and grabbed the calendar before going to the door.
“It’s locked,” she quietly said.
Greg walked past her and pushed the button on the handle, unlocking the door.
“I guess you aren’t as smart as you think,” he said before spitting in her face and shoving her out of the office.
Emma went straight to the bathroom instead of leaving the building. She went into a bathroom stall, sat in the corner and cried while gripping the calendar for nearly three hours.
- 1
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Candid Calendar