A Swift Beauty Meets a Slow Beast {darkest_fate&DeRe}

[darkest_fate]

So Taylor Swift was in a sexy cavegirl outfit on some unmapped tropical island. Even that sentence sounded ludicrous, and Taylor was the one who happened to be living that particular reality right now. She'd been told to leave her blonde hair in a sort of shaggy style, but there had still of course been some artful makeup. Bright blue eyes popped and looked oh so sultry and fetching from that beautiful face. Taylor had been working more and more recently at being "sensual" and "sexy." It was all part of image development, of branching forward and continuing the domination of the Taylor Swift brand. Be just sexy enough to sell, but not sexy enough to completely turn off the legion of teenagers who wanted to be just like Taylor. It had been a balancing act for ages, but now Taylor worked ever so hard at making sure that she entered womanhood and became a full adult pop star. Hell, there weren't too many people on the planet who dominated quite like her.

Yet there she was: dressed like some sort of cavegirl. To be more accurate, Taylor looked and felt like a porn star in a caveman based film. Admittedly a moderately decent budget, given the fabric that draped Taylor's lean form. The fur pulling her already perky chest nearly flat to her form felt almost real. The leather cinching her tight and drawing yet more attention to the slender hourglass figure definitely was. Same for the boots that extended nearly to Taylor's knees. Someone had even gone all out and made certain that Taylor wore a tiger-striped and fur lined thong to complete the package. She could feel the strange fabric splitting her tight ass cheeks almost too perfectly. The whole thing looked pretty sexy, in a slightly slutty sort of way.

"It's for a good cause," the pretty blonde told herself as she walked away from the little tent they'd set up for her to change in. her booted feet slid a bit on the sand as she walked along the beach. The island was beautiful: she had to give them that. Luxurious, the perfect temperature for this sort of thing. The only major building was this impressive French colonial manor that perched atop a slight hill, looking like it had been ripped from a not-so-distant past. The lush greenery around only made the place seem more paradisaical. It struck Taylor as a rather expensive locale for what amounted to a charity shoot but, well, she supposed if she was going to do this, she was going to do it all out.

And Taylor had definitely studied up on this. The doctor was apparently working with some sort of gene splicing therapy that was already making progress. The details were a bit fuzzy, but it apparently helped humans that would otherwise be deemed insufficient to be more... acceptable to humanity. Taylor read through a report that made it sound like it fought off mental deterioration and possibly even had something to do with virility. They were just in the final phases of testing and were looking for a spokesperson. Taylor had been looking for a cause and, well, here she was: dressed like a cavewoman.

"This is so taking advantage of the poor subject," Taylor mumbled as she walked back to where the arranger of this whole thing had the cameras and such set up. "I really should give them a piece of my mind," though right now her mind was focused more on keeping balanced in these "fuck-me" boots as she strutted. "I'm ready!" she yelled toward what looked like extra lights and cameras. There had to be at least a few people there somewhere. "You've got to be kidding me: this whole thing has been entirely too unprofessional. I should just call someone and get the hell off this rock..."

Except that there was no cell service, apparently. Taylor could send an email, she supposed. And if no one showed up soon, she was doing exactly that. She was supposed to be getting this shoot started already, meeting with her partner and getting everything together. Taylor never really liked this part of the whole being famous thing, and the outfit and the trip and just everything was really making her just want to get it all over with...

 

[DeRe]

Some way back from the beach, two shadows stood amid the flickering light of the jungle. They were watching the elegant figure on the sands surrounded by the camera gear, as she remained oblivious to their voyeurism. Each maintained the stillness of a watchful predator completely at home in their environment. Together they were as much a part of the jungle as the dead-eyed lizards crawling over the rocks or the gaudy parrots leering overhead.

The larger of the two was a burly man, his barrel chest and trunk limbs straining his old white cotton suit – now a malaised yellow through years of sweat. A battered panama hat and restitched pair of canvas shoes gave him almost the aspect of a caricature, like a Charles Laughton character from a seedy old noir. To a casual observer his ruffled appearance and distracted air made him seem like a dotty schoolmaster who had lost his students. But these affectations were deliberately contrived to disarm, and the true character of the man within was that of a practiced torturer and gleeful sadist.

Certainly, Dr Anton Prospero's face wasn't about to win him any admirers. His bloated, ranine features resembled a bilious frog – an image not improved by glassy round eyes that seemed to take in everything at once, and an unsettling habit of continually wetting his needle-thin lips. Nor was his saggy middle-aged physique impressive in any way, although he possessed an immense innate strength. But behind these flabby clay flaws was a brilliant mind, cold and clear as a diamond, which knew no boundaries of morals or ethics and insisted solely on his quest to perfect the human form.

For twenty-five years he had been one of the premier plastic surgeons in Europe, until he was forced to flee Europe after an outrage saw him made a hunted man. Having being slighted by a rival physician, he abducted the man's daughter – a stunning beauty to whom her father was devoted – and turned her into a veritable medusa through a horrific, irreparable operation. Abandoning his name of Moreau, he fled to a long-secured blothole and adopted the handle of Shakespeare's island-dwelling magician in a narcissistic touch of irony. Now unrestrained from the petty minds and backward peasants who had previously hindered his work, he began to truly bend the limits of species and race.

The second figure now crouching beside him was the result of these inhuman experiments. At a casual glance it seemed like a stocky small man in a very badly made monkey suit But further examination revealed the twisted entity was like some stunted, Neanderthal dwarf, carpeted in a mat of thick black hair. His flat nose, square head and ferocious facial hair all seemed to disappear alongside his black shining eyes, which burned with an animal intensity. A set of short, powerful limbs were like sinewy cords and his compact frame seethed with a constant furious energy. Around his waist he wore a rudimentary fur girdle, which did little to suppress the obvious bulge of his prodigious member. As the breeze shifted his nose twitched, tasting Taylor's youthful, sweaty body in the air and he pawed the dirt with a guttural moan.

“Easy, Caliban. Easy, my son,” said Prospero in a flat distracted tone. He was watching Taylor through a digital telescope, reveling in the sight of her lithe figure in the barely-there costume. “Mon Dieu, Botticelli never dreamed of a Venus like this washing up on a white sand beach,” he said with a sigh that was almost nostalgic. He ran the lens across her body like the practiced hands of a lover, taking every chance to savour her beautiful young physique. Languidly he drank in the sight of her bronze toned legs; the way her calves tapered out of the boots into her firm dancer's thighs. His eyes rode up to her high, firm ass, its gym-shaped contours perfectly accented in the cursory thong. Her drum-tight, sweat dappled chest and elegant waist shone in the sun, but the delicious promise of her two ripe, round breasts remained barely suppressed by the cavegirl bra. Finally he gazed at length on her aristocratic features, her bright pink lips pouting with arrogant impatience. Through the scope he could she her sapphire eyes blinking bright and troubled as the sea. “Miss Swift, it's time for your close-up,” he said with a soft chuckle. Pocketing the telescope he drew out his control device, a digital phone used to control the equipment on the beach. Flicking through the various functions he activated them all and began the recording. Then taking Caliban's hand as gently as someone would a child's, he intoned with mock formality “Come, my little friend! We've kept our lovely guest waiting long enough. Your big moment in the limelight awaits!” Together, they walked casually down onto the beach towards Taylor.

 

[darkest_fate]

"So where is everyone?" Taylor mumbled as she looked around. She expected someone to be there. People generally greeted Taylor Swift in crowds, if not crowds, than at least an entourage. The girl didn't want to say she expected to be treated like that or anything but, well, she had been invited to this and she was doing them a favor. You'd think they could at least go out of their way enough to actually have someone present at the shoot.

The striking blonde folded her arms over her chest as she studied the small area they'd set up. It did look at least vaguely professional; she'd give them that much. In fact, some of the cameras even looked more advanced than anything she'd seen. Taylor didn't perhaps have a great expertise in photography, but she'd had enough cameras pointed at her to recognize some of the parts and pieces. Whoever had set this up had at least gone through the trouble to get some high definition recordings. And they whirred to life as she looked, nearly making her jump. Taylor had to fight not to roll her eyes and berate herself. Honestly, she must look like the female protagonist in an old movie. Dressed up like a cavegirl and jumping at modern technology, of course all while looking almost like a wet dream pulled into reality.

"So.... where is everyone?" Taylor repeated again, tapping a camera. She heard some soft footsteps and turned. "There you are!" she took a few steps closer to the doctor and Caliban, managing to handle the long boots despite the fact that the ground kept sliding underneath. It almost felt like the location had been chosen because she couldn't walk on it or something. Taylor brushed the thought from her mind. "I was beginning to think that no one was going to--" she paused, mostly as she saw precisely to whom she spoke. There were two, and they were nearly ugly enough to be brothers. The first looked at least a little more human, if almost like the side-kick in some sort of horror film. Taylor didn't want to think of herself as judging people or anything, but he had to be nearly as ugly as she was beautiful. They formed almost a complete counter: sculpted features to round; dumpy body to slender; long and tall versus short and, well, dump came up again. The man beside him actually looked.... less like a man and more like someone had granted an ape enough intelligence to pass for one.

The disgust showed visibly on Taylor's face for several seconds. Her nose crinkled up, her eyes flashed with it, her lips even curling. The pretty blonde's expression turned outright ugly as she beheld the two of them. But the smaller.... uglier one (not by much) had to be the one she was shooting with.

"Is that... are you... my, ah," Taylor hesitated, "partner?" She didn't know how else to phrase it for this. She did force something of a smile but, well, she'd been hoping he would've at least looked... cute. there was nothing appealing about this, and the blonde was beginning to wonder if there was some way out of this whole thing.

 

[DeRe]

The soft susurrous of jungle sounds was broken by the crunch of Prospero's shoes and the ragged gasps of Caliban. Sweating fiercely in the oven-like heat, the warped little man took breaths like short stabs, his flat nose twitching uncontrollably at Taylor's sweet scent. Prospero gripped his clammy hand tighter, feeling the cuts and calluses dug deep into the flesh. "Easy now, my dear! We don't want to rush this! It has been some time in the planning, let us make the most of the entree before the feast begins, oui? This is no careless tourist who has washed up on the wrong beach. Today, we are hunting unicorns."

Caliban's curt, petulant grunt in reply was little more than an animal's emission to the untrained ear, but to his master and creator it was a veritable speech. Prospero could well understand his pet's lustful impatience. It had been over a year now since that yacht had become stranded on his island. The young, attractive crew had made highly appealing sport, and the last one had only just succumbed to her tortures a few months prior. But the thrill had been fleeting, and Prospero had been troubled by the peculiarly empty feeling that filled his bulbous frame afterwards. So he had begun to lay the designs for entrapping a prize that would be more than worth the effort.

Now that they approached Taylor, her tight young sweat-speckled body glittering in the sun like an idol, he felt that the effort was more than worthwhile. "If only grandfather could see such a Aryan amazon, eh Caliban? What a magnificent breeding specimen! Those legs alone are divine - not Canova - no, not even Raphael could do justice to them in marble. How strong they are! How hard they shall work!" A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth like a dying fish trapped on a hook. Looking down at Caliban, he could see how the apeman was ambling in a rolling gait - evidence his oversized member was swelling fast and hard, and literally making it difficult for the distended freak to walk.

The pair emerged onto the beach, eyes blinking quickly in the clear shimmering sunlight. "Miss Swift!" Prospero exclaimed softly, after she approached them. He noted with delight the expression of obvious disgust that suddenly covered her pretty face. Smiling like a lizard surveying a bug, he responded to her tentative query: "Yes, my darling! This is Caliban, one of our prize models. Perhaps not the Adonis you are used to, but a talent nonetheless, oui?" He took her hand with his free one and kissed it, quickly licking his tongue over the tips of her fingers before she could react. "And I am Doctor Prospero, esteemed artist. I apologize for the absence of crew, but, uh...is all about privacy, yes? This is will a most daring shoot, and we do not need an unnecessary audience. Just professionals, oui?"

All the while Caliban was ravishing her with his eyes. Barely a few feet away, his twitching and feverish excitement was quite plain. Gripping his hand tighter, Prospero continued. "Well then, let us begin, eh? A playful chase to start, perhaps. I can activate everything with my little magic wand here-" he tapped the remote in his pocket - "so you can just let your creativity unleash, alright? Lots of jumping and running, lots of jiggling, let's see your beautiful form in full flight. Then, Caliban will ch-...uh, Caliban will pretend to chase you. Okay? Now: Lumière... Moteur... Action!"

 

[darkest_fate]

Ugh, even the man's smile made him look repulsive. Usually people looked better when they were happy or something, but this guy looked like some sort of strange creature that had just been tickled or something along those lines. He introduced the, well, Taylor couldn't help but think of him as "creature" first. Her eyes flicked to the hairy man, running quickly over him, sizing him up. She had to be at least a foot taller than him, if not more. Taylor knew she came a few inches short of six feet, quite tall for a woman, and almost all of that in leg. She swore this strange little Hobbit-esque creature would've had difficulties reaching for her chest.

But no staring. Taylor forced her attentions upon her "host." She pasted a charming smile as he reached up for her hand. The smile turned into a grimace as he seemed to lick it. What culture did that? Taylor certainly couldn't think of any off the top of her head, besides one word that popped immediately to mind: perverts. He sounded polite, almost charming, but that made some sense. The man supposedly had an education, and he clearly had some money to put all this together. Doctor Prospero? The name sounded vaguely familiar to Taylor.

"I suppose that makes sense," Taylor allowed, again scanning the area, once more taking note of the various cameras. "I had figured there would at least be a skeleton crew. I'm going to need some people for, like, makeup and the like later..." she'd done the light touches on her own for this shoot. Just a little to make the eyes pop, to flesh out her striking cheekbones, add a bit of color. But surely they'd want someone more professional? No?

And was the, no, don't think of him as a creature. He had a name: Caliban. Was Caliban... staring? Taylor gave the little man a little smile, feeling like she should at least be friendly with it. The doctor continued. A chase. "That really feels very--" Taylor began, only to stop as he patted the remote and insisted on her utilizing her creativity. Taylor sighed: charity; it was all for a good cause. Remember that. otherwise she'd have already walked away at just how unprofessional this whole thing was. There were expectations for this sort of thing, particularly if you were going to invite someone like Taylor Swift to come pose for you.

And the way Prospero talked! You'd think he was directing a horrible "B" movie. Jumping, running, jiggling. What did Taylor even have that would jiggle? "We're just starting? Well, ah, alright then," she looked to Caliban again. This just felt so wrong but, well, she had her direction and all. Should she scream or something? no, think playful. Like, think of him like a dog, yes, that was it.

"Come on Caliban!" Taylor said, smiling and motioning toward the little man. "See if you can catch me!" She raised a hand then, waving it before turning. The girl started running, her booted feet having trouble finding purchase on the ground yet again. At least she could lunge forward, and her impressive stride certainly helped. She didn't want the chase to end too soon: they had to get photos of it if nothing else. Taylor just wished she could quite shake this strange tingling she felt at the back of her neck, almost... almost like she was being watched or hunted or... or something.

 

[DeRe]

Prospero took a few careful paces back towards the jungle edge, all the while focused on the video remote in his hand. "Oui Miss Swift, when we get to the mansion later you will have makeup people..." And more besides, he thought. The afternoon's entertainment on the beach was merely the preliminary for more byzantine indulgences up at the Big House that evening. "But you look very beautiful right now, tres belle oui? Do not worry, Caliban thinks you are very pretty indeed!" Standing back now among the steel ring of lights and machines that fenced the beach, Prospero allowed himself a generous chuckle. "See how he pursues you!"

With the expert eye of a practiced pornographer Prospero covered Taylor with every possible angle, ensuring no delicious part of her exquisite whole did not have a camera on it. At the same time he was tracking Caliban with another set, in particular making use of the tiny video recorder he had installed in a bump on the creatures skull. This provided a point-of-view perspective that allowed some particularly choice shots. A ball mounted with lenses stood high overhead, covering the entire area of the beach with an all-encompassing perspective.

Taylor's eyes enraptured Prospero. They were as blue and striking as the crashing surf behind. Poets may have clumsily dubbed them the window to the soul, but in her case it was most definitely true. Nothing could be hidden within those bright intelligent orbs, every thought or concern on her mind flickering through them like stormclouds across a brilliant sapphire sky. As a skilled psychologist and a profoundly empathetic sadist, Propero could easily read the troubles that were clearly conflicting the gorgeous girl. Excellent, he thought; she would be producing considerable amounts of pheromones that would excite Caliban even further.

Watching Taylor cavorting in the sand made Prospero think of a beautiful young thoroughbred - perfectly trained and immaculately groomed, in need of whip, bridle and a demanding rider. Even when at awkward play she moved with the grace and ease of a dancer. Her gym-toned dancer's physique was a joy to watch in action, her perky young firmness well on display. Through a dozen lenses he watched her long legs strain, back arch and lips part as she struggled in the sand. Idly he wondered what kind of lover she was - if she surrendered herself with passion as her persona would seem to suggest, or if her uncomfortable lankiness suggested an equal discomfort with intimacy. He made a mental note to arrange a catalogue of her sexual history when the time was right.

Caliban looked on in awe at the golden goddess moving on the sand before him. The sound of his name on her wet ruby lips was the sweetest thing he had heard in a long time. For a few moments he was enraptured, as if stunned by the fragrance of an especially powerful rose. Then he lopped grinning after Taylor, gurgling with laughter and finding himself curiously playful. His normal moods of lustful rape frenzy or head-splitting delirium had lifted and his cloudy mind rediscovered the simple joy of play.

Running up just behind Taylor, he found his face just a few feet from her ass - the high, firm peaches quivering as she worked her powerful legs. The sweet musk of her sex was overpowering to his heightened senses, cancelling out even the staunch salt air. Closing his eyes and drawing in a deep long breath, he analyzed her scent with the precision of a hunting animal. She was ripe, fertile and had not had a man in some weeks. His recessed, dull eyes burst open again and he let out a loud hoot of delight. Curling a finger around the thin black strap of Taylor's thong, he pulled it back then released it with a flick. There was a sharp snap as the band slapped her hip, then - as she instinctively began to turn around - he landed a hard, full-hand slap on one of her rock hard asscheeks. Bounding back with a series of loud hoots, Caliban was totally unaware that his nominal fur 'girdle' had fallen away and he was now hunched fully naked, his elephantine erection waving like a fleshy red sword.

 

[darkest_fate]

More people, but in the mansion. Something in the way he said it... and his name and just... this whole setup felt slightly off to Taylor. She wished she could put her finger on it, actually come to some sort of conclusion instead of continuing to chase these vague notions that simply would not leave her mind. The doctor continued to at least be verbally polite, every inch the gentleman. Beautiful, the creature thought her beautiful, everything was beautiful. Taylor still felt a slight twinge to her smile, the worry coming into those clear blue eyes.

But for now: Running. She took off down the beach, loping as best she could, again cursing that footwear. Flashes of motion to the sides startled her at least once. The camera would catch an almost too-good shot of the starlet, eyes wide, lips parted with slight shock. It faded into a bit of a relieved smile as Taylor realized that she was simply being chased by cameras. If anything, that felt almost too natural. Just one more thing to make everything just a slight bit easier.

Then a turn, a call to the poor creature. Caliban seemed overjoyed at the sight, and Taylor almost wanted to laugh. Almost, for while there was still something infectious about laughter, that sinister edge yet again worked its way into view. Taylor felt another spike of fear, one that she found herself nursing a bit longer. Surely Caliban knew to only play, right?

He caught her, which wasn't that surprising, given his physique, her shoes, and this terrain. Much more surprising was how he reached under the slight skirt of her scandalous garb and looped a finger about the pantie. "Caliban! No!" Taylor said, moving back to swat at him. "We don't do that! That's--" her words became a sharp yelp that accompanied the swat. She didn't need to see her skin to know that a red handprint glowed upon one hard ass. Taylor found a hand going down, tugging the paltry garb a little further. "Caliban, we definitely do---" and again she paused, this time to stare at something bouncing from between her legs. It... it almost looked like some sort of... male genitalia. Except Taylor had seen a few (despite what the media would think it was only a few), and none looked like... like that. Her brain tossed up the information about virility, and she found her mouth opening.

No, she needed to control the situation. "Doctor!" she called to him, turning to look. "You do need to make sure that he's controlled, right? And, ah, it seems like his... parts, are showing," she flicked a few fingers at that, offering up a nervous laugh. They could all just laugh this off, right? No big deal.

 

[DeRe]

There was something disarming about Taylor's laugh that affected even the phlegmatic Prospero a little. It was a golden and luscious as the body it emanated from, a promise of summer afternoons and good friends. He felt it was a laugh of a young woman who had never known real grief or pain; only an adolescent pantomime of them. The sensation was not quite that of innocence, but rather her living disbelief that anything horrible could happen to her. Beyond the cheerful tinkle of that laugh lay a bottomless black chasm she had glimpsed and feared, but she had no comprehension of how truly deep the darkness was. Watching her seemingly so free and youthful made Prosperso think of a succulent moist rosebud being crushed in this fist, and the sensation was more exquisite than even his fevered imagination had conceived.

For a few moments he maintained a little trepidation about Caliban, hoping the hairy troglodyte would not ruin the game by forgetting his training and leaping upon Taylor there and then. Certainly, watching the blonde beauty in all her glory, he would have forgiven even a castrated monk's attempts to rape her, let alone the sex-maddened Caliban's. But Prospero's long, careful policy of carrot-and-stick was bearing a perfect fruit as the vile homunculus followed his master's earlier orders with studious discipline.

He got an absolutely perfect shot of Taylor's tight little peaches as Caliban played with her pantyline and slapped the firm flesh. Despite a carefully toned tan his vivid red handprint stood out against her ivory skin, rarely exposed to the sun this much. A peal of spontaneous belly-laughter rolled out of Prospero at Taylor's shocked expression, and her sweet little yelp sent an electric tingle through his crotch. The flabby fiend was impressed at her sang-froid, especially as Caliban's abhuman penis suddenly swung into view. She was ever the professional, he reflected; maintaining consummate self-control even in these trying circumstances. How long shall she last, I wonder, he thought with a giggle.

"Oh mon dieu, Miss Swift!" His giggle was girlish and embarrassed, yet also forced and unnatural. "It seems your colleague is a little too enthusiastic about working with a natural beauty like yourself! Such a fine specimen you are! Yes, he is controlled. Do not be afraid of his 'parts' as you so demurely call them! They are no danger to you!" He intoned "Not yet, at least," under his breath.

Caliban leaped up onto a nearby flat rock, a bright yellow lizard scurrying away as the little man jigged on the hot stone. His bulbous, veiny sex swung about almost like a snake with a mind of its own, and his dark burning eyes remained fixed on Taylor's, every cell of his stunted being focused on total self-control. Scratching so rough on his thigh he drew blood, Caliban felt like his loins were burning coals and began trembling slightly. Like a primed weapon, he was about to explode at the merest touch.

"Please be a dear, Miss Swift," said Prospero in an oily voice, "and replace Caliban's fur for him. You see, his arms, they are much too short. Kneel down before him there and tie it back on, now. Will make a great picture!" He made sure every angle of the pair was covered - he did not want to miss a single frame of this. "Please quickly now, we have a few more pictures to take!"

 

[darkest_fate]

The laughter of the doctor irritated Taylor further. She supposed that this should be laughed off, just the antics of someone who couldn't think further than a child's level. Still, there was just something about the whole scenario that struck Taylor as being very much unfunny on the whole. Perhaps it was the slight sting on her pert cheek that angered her a little further, or the continuing unprofessionalism of the people involved.

The man did try to wave it off: enthusiastic, along with some more compliments toward her appearance. Taylor almost wanted to roll her eyes, though, well, could she really blame the creature that much? The vast majority of straight men would probably feel stirrings in their crotch looking at Taylor in an outfit such as this (and quite a few of the lesbian women as well). Certainly Taylor wasn't naive enough to believe that there weren't men out there stroking themselves to various glamour shots of her at this very moment, or using them for who knows what sort of sexual fantasy. Could she really expect any better from a creature such as poor Caliban? It seemed almost unfair to hold him to some sort of loftier standard. And the doctor kept insisting he was harmless, even if Taylor's slightly stinging rear sang a slightly different tune.

Nonetheless, she still watched that swinging truncheon with some weariness. It just looked so inhuman, and Caliban looked almost too eager to use it. Taylor almost wanted to suggest that he go somewhere and... "calm down" before the shooting. It seemed almost necessary, particularly with how riled up he was getting. Yet again the doctor insisted, and yet again Taylor found herself sighing.

"You really should have someone around to do this," she pointed out. Still, she walked, slightly unsteadily, toward his... loincloth. Delicate fingers plucked it from the ground and Taylor's nose wrinkled slightly as the sheer odor wafting from it. She swore she could see wet spots along the front, and she definitely didn't want to consider it. "Hold still now, Caliban," she said, cooing softly. She moved and knelt down before the creature, pulling up the loincloth and holding it forward like some sort of feeble shield. She leaned as far forward as she dared, glad her arms were long enough to toss the thing around him and hopefully get it in place before he got... excited. Again.

 

[DeRe]

Taylor's ready obeisance was quite satisfying to Prospero. She was always the attentive daughter, eager to please, loathe to offend. He also suspected a fair amount of self-interest motivated her; a narcissistic desire to be seen working for charity that excused any number of inconveniences. The minx had all the makings of a proper slavegirl, thought the Doctor with satisfaction as he traced his tongue along his non-existent lips. It would just require the right conditioning - a careful mix of patience and pressure until that elegant blond body broke.

The images and footage he had already garnered would have been salacious enough for a public long denied a look at her half-naked flesh. Taylor's reaction when Caliban slapped her was almost girlishly coquettish, and the drumskin-tight quiver of her rock-hard buns would be enough to inflame any heart with lust. But the luscious display continued, and Prospero found himself sweating hard as he kept his gaze fixed on her. When Taylor cautiously dropped to her knees before the rock Caliban was on, her pert backside was displayed to spectacular extent. A small pair of back dimples set slightly above her dancer's ass excited one of the doctor's peculiar preferences. "You look very good on your knees Ms Swift..." he said in a flat, controlled voice. "It is a pose that flatters your figure."

Caliban was shivering in pure excitement. His blood was nothing but adrenaline, his massive heart pounding like a churning furnace. The doctor had unleashed him on many women before, but even in his animal heart he recognized this one was something different. Her conciliatory manner and soft tones suggested that she was offering herself as a mate, and her behavior seemed to be signalling her willingness to submit to him.

As she inched the fur closer, the back of her hand brushed ever so lightly against the knot-like head of Caliban's penis. Although barely above a feather touch, this was more than the wretched creature could take. With a guttural groan of ecstasy, he fired a thick, hot jet of semen like a shotgun from his engorged member. While some of it was taken by the fur she held in front of her, the majority lashed across Taylor's face like the slap of a whip. A splattered mess matted in her hair, while a sticky globule hit just below her eye and dropped across her perfect cheek. A few drops splashed across her breasts as the spurt suddenly ceased, and Caliban began howling in incredible pain.

"Oh mon dieu, oh non!" shrieked Prospero in mock-despair. He was well aware what was happening, but knew he could allow Taylor no time to think. "He has the blockage in the testicles - mon dieu, this could kill him most painfully in minutes! Please Miss Swift, save him! Work his member to relieve the pressure before he dies of the hemorrhage!" Fighting hard to suppress a laugh, Prospero continued: "I beg you for his sake, quickly please - use your hands, use your mouth, use anything! Just empty his testicles as quick as you can!"

 

[darkest_fate]

The comments regarding the pose very nearly had Taylor stopping. It wasn't simply what the doctor said, but the near leer she could hear in his voice. The desire to turn around and start telling the pudgy man off rose within Taylor, nearly impossible to stop. Except... except she wanted to actually be the professional one here. What argument would she have if she fell into some sort of diva trap and started making demands and so forth? Far better to simply act the professional and then to argue after the fact. That didn't stop her from tugging her outfit down a little more to better cover anything that might be on display, however.

Just a light touch as Taylor reached up, again trying to be as workmanlike as possible as she drew the loincloth back over the throbbing erection. She felt her hand just touch something and she winced at the sensation, very nearly outright retching. No sooner had she touched, however, then the flared head exploded. Reaction kicked in as Taylor jerked the cloth down around the spewing rod, as if to hurriedly wrap the scepter. Reaction also made her let out a sharp gasp of surprise. Taylor's lips parted just enough to receive a few dollops of Caliban's seed between them. She immediately turned to spit it out, jerking hands up to try and stave off a few more. Already she could feel some sticking in her hair, hitting her face, painting her. She pulled hands up to immediately start wiping at the stuff, fighting the urge to vomit with each passing moment.

The creature's cries nearly had Taylor falling back onto her rear. She stared up at it, her mouth twisting slightly in fear. A... a blockage in his... seriously? She turned to look at the doctor, disbelieve taking over where fear had been. Her brow furrowed. "You're kidding, right?" came out before she could even stop it. "That sounds like something you make up for a--" she stopped as she realized the proximity the flailing cock had to her body. A hand reached to grab the loincloth, still partially thrown about the thing, and pulled, jerking it away, trying to force the covering down. "This is just---completely unacceptable," she had to said, shaking her head, reaching up with another hand to yet again wipe at her face. "You should've made sure that he was ready for this!"

And the thing in her hand felt almost too large to control. Her fingers didn't seem quite capable of closing around it properly and Taylor swore the movements were going to pull the cloth free. "He needs to hold still!" she ordered, getting ready to back away very quickly if need be. This was quickly unraveling even faster than she would've anticipated.

 

[DeRe]

Prospero beamed in pleasure at Taylor's jittery outrage. She had an almost girlishly innocent look of bewilderment, which she flipped between him and the drooling Prospero with equal disbelief. Her face was shining from smeared semen, a few creamy droplets still sparkling across her sweat-dappled chest. She was panting soft and fast from exertion and anxiety, sweat coursing across every part of her bronzed body. Her little ass bounced as her knees dug deep in the white sand, her powerful thighs straining to keep her upright. Yet even as her blue eyes burned with clear discomfort, and her lower lip quivered all pink and moist, he marveled at how she continued to press on with the task and fight all reservations for the sake of not making a scene. Such a pliant, obliging girl, Prospero thought, with all the satisfaction of a patriarchal teacher viewing a budding student.

He airily ignored her trembling entreaties and still encouraged her further, oozing "You are doing perfect Miss Swift! Yes, like that! It is urgent you relieve the pressure. You make a most able handmaiden!" Chortling to himself, he began to slowly leave the circle of camera and lights and plod across the sand, shading the remote with his hand. "You can hear Caliban is most relieved thanks to your assistance," he shouted cheerfully, relishing every moment. "Clearly, you are naturally skilled in handling a man's member!"

For his part, Caliban's stocky frame was so racked with spasms and convulsions of delight than he could barely remain balanced on the rock. Taylor's awkward attempts to wrap the fur around his bouncy red snake were exciting him to a point that even his bestial urges could barely contain. It was rare for him to be looking down on a woman, especially one who had towered over him so; and the sight of her semen-splattered face looking up at him with anxiety was simply beyond his stunted little body's ability to endure.

Growling he pulled the fur from her feeble grip and cast it far aside into the crazy surf. He stood - or rather hunched - on the stone over the kneeling Taylor, his giant throbbing phallus hovering like some hideous slug just inches in front of her trembling lips. As she instinctively began to pull back he suddenly came once more, this time delivering a direct load into her parted mouth and unblinking eyes. She reeled backwards, rolling onto her butt in the soft warm sand and reflexively bringing her hands up to wipe the mess away.

"Hourra!" shouted Prospero. "You have done it Miss Swift, you saved him!"

Caliban sprung down from the rock like a leaping spider, landing with a solid thud next to Taylor. As she struggled to clear the salty, stick mess from her face, he seized her bikini top and pulled it away in a swift jerk. There was the sharp snap of elastic as the cord broke free, and the hirsute troll waved it overhead while hooting in triumph. Taylor's pert little breasts now thrust free and pouting from her sweat-stroked chest, their bright pink nipples standing out against the glare of ivory flesh. Caliban leaped over her with a bounding jump and raced into the surf, turning and waving the bikini top at her in a mocking invitation to chase him.

"Ooohh la la," purred Prospero, who was now only standing about ten feet away from the struggling topless Taylor. "Such a pair of ripe little apples! You know, we French are not as modest as you Americans. We shall do this scene with your pretty, petit boobs in full camera, oui? Now, go try and get your top back, girl."

 

[darkest_fate]

"What? No, I'm not trying to--" Taylor sputtered with disbelief, staring from the doctor to his creation. Her eyes were wide, further communicating her utter bewilderment. How precisely had this happened? Why was the doctor allowing it to? Why, for that matter, was Taylor? And she thought she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, one of the photographic devices moving about and catching the action. Surely the doctor couldn't think to actually include this in his photoshoot?

Before Taylor could protest, she found herself distracted by her "partner." Caliban had pulled at the cloth, yanking it from her hands as easily as if she were a child. The young woman lunged for it for a moment, nearly colliding with the impressive cock in the process. She just managed to pull away at the last moment, instead coming up to hover just of front of the foul, stiff wormy thing. "Don't you dare--" she began as he pulled back, not giving her enough time to say or do anything more. Taylor's partially opened lips provided almost too tempting of a target. She felt the seed slide in, hitting the back of her throat with almost ridiculous amounts of accuracy. Within moment she found herself falling backward, gagging and retching. White hot semi-liquid sprayed across her pretty face: Taylor could feel more joining its brethren on cheek and chin, even some landing on her nose. One blue eye found itself glued shut as a particularly powerful jet lashed diagonally across it.

The gasping starlet's hands went wide for a few seconds, disbelief again her chiefest emotion. She spent some time working to try and get it off, rubbing her hands into the dirt. She had nothing to work with besides that, and it simply wouldn't do for her face. Makeup smeared between dirt and seed, but Taylor still rubbed. She needed a cloth or a towel or something and--

--and she heard the man landing. Taylor whirled, already moving into a semi defensive position. "I've had just about enough--" and his hands went down, pulling at the top of her outfit. She felt it literally rip away, the tough fabric not able to withstand the creature's might. It pulled her partially upright as it went, and Taylor gasped at the pain. Her newly opened lips meant a bit more seed, which meant a bit more sputtering, which left her guard lowered for the thing finally pulling free, baring her apple-sized breasts to the air.

Stunned, disgusted, irritated, Taylor sat down, hands wiping at her face like a frustrated child. She heard Prospero and looked up at him. "You!" she said, anger warbling her voice. "You can't honestly--this is entirely unacceptable behavior!" Her anger was so intense that it literally pinched off words. "You can't treat people---can't treat me this is just---I did not sign up for this!" she tried to push herself upright, her longs legs seeming troublesome. "I demand something to wipe clean with, and we're obviously going to need to reshoot. Any footage that you've taken is to be destroyed," Taylor wiped at her face, still not even able to get an eye open. She felt like screaming and whirled toward the doctor, anger blazing in the one still opened, clear blue eye.

 

[DeRe]

With a measured, steady pace Prospero took a few more steps towards Taylor as she sat in the sand. Placing the remote in his pocket, he turned to study her face in person. Her eyes were like a summer storm racing across a flawless blue sky, passion and rage clearly seething as they shone bright and angry. Watching her rub her hands across his face he noted the quivering shudder of her now free-swinging breasts; the supple little bulbs as sweet and inviting as a pair of cream tarts. Pink and pouting, they seemed made for sucking and nibbling like ripe berries.

Her righteous outrage and offended propriety amused Prospero to no end. There seemed something so archaically proper about this girl, despite her intensely modern manner. It was like an aristocratic sense of order which came as an innate part of her love of control. It was time to twist the dial a little further, he thought.

Out in the sea, Caliban had ceased to prance about when he saw Taylor sit down. Sullenly, he hunched down again in the surf, watching her like a cat waiting for an incautious mouse. The soft rolling water broke around him in a foamy mess, cooling his sweaty flanks and prompting slow long groans from deep within his barrel chest. He appeared coiled as tight as dangerous as a loaded spring, just waiting for a moment to leap from the water upon Taylor. All pretense of play had vanished, and he was now every inch the predatory animal.

Taylor's covering of sand and sweat, combined with the ragged thong, gave her more of an appearance of a feral cavegirl than even before. Prospero stood close to her now, blocking the sun as he loomed over the reclining girl. His thick black shadow fell over her like a oily cloak. "Oh Miss Swift, you look very much the castaway now! All desperate and wild, with only that little rag to cover your modesty!" His laughter was more free than before - no longer a contrived chuckle but instead a genuinely disturbed giggle. "Already I have enough footage to make you a porn star. Your faceful of Caliban's seed, your lovely bosom? At the press of a button I could send these images onto the internet, into a million people's homes."

He let this words float on the air a moment then slowly sink into place. "Perhaps, you could go clean yourself in the sea, over by Caliban there," he gestured with a flick of his flabby chin. "And we will continue this little performance. What will it be, Miss Swift? Shall it be the world who sees those delicious little boobs smeared with semen, bouncing in the sun? Or will that sight only belong to us here?" He fixed her gaze firmly, all illusion of gentlemanly courtesy gone. "Now is the time you decide how much you want to keep your fame, mon belle putain."

 

[darkest_fate]

Taylor almost felt the shadow before she saw the man. Her head tilted upward, for once actually looking up at the doctor. This didn't diminish her anger, nor did it take away that twinkle of rage in her still clear blue eye. The anger flashed all the fiercer as the man chortled, insisting that she looked even more the part of the castaway. The parts that followed had Taylor bristling even further, scrambling upright, rage making every muscle in her body taut. The urge to succumb to the primal and just outright punch this seedy little man nearly overwhelmed the starlet. She could feel one hand bunching into a fist already, bits of sand squeezed out to land on the ground below. The other moved to pull up as much as she could to cover her chest. Anger had caused her to start heaving, her bosoms almost seeming to follow some illicit paperback's script.

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed into the silence that came from Prospero's pause. "you'd be---" she paused, mostly as he talked over her, acting as if her rage were of no concern to him. The starlet quivered all the more, taking another step toward him. He'd continued, talking oh so smugly about his position, about her "performance" such as it was, effectively blackmailing her. The blonde stood there, glaring, meeting his gaze with her own.

Would she keep her fame? She could sue him for breach of contract, she knew that much. She'd win the lawsuit as well, handily. The man would be completely and utterly ruined. However, much of Taylor's carefully cultivated image would go right down with him. She had little doubt that he'd fulfill his threat. The footage would hit the internet, and recent history had shown there would be no retrieving it, not fully. Taylor had felt begrudging sympathy for her fellow starlets who'd so recently suffered a hack. Their pictures had been saved to harddrives and copied to image hosts and would likely float forever. Footage of Taylor Swift dodging a splatter of semen? She'd be fortunate if TMZ didn't air it on a twenty-four hour loop.

"You will keep that footage to yourself," she threatened, pointing at him with the hand not covering herself. "If that so much as leaks you'll find yourself in jail so fast you'll be wondering what happened. See how much fun getting sprayed with someone's semen is when it's your pudgy face getting the full blast."

Taylor then turned, stomping out to the ocean, careful to angle herself in such a way that she wouldn't be heading directly toward the creature. She would clean herself; they both apparently wanted that. She bent carefully by the water, looking over at Caliban, watching him wearily. Her hand dipped and she quickly worked to splash at her eye, blinking furiously, wanting to make sure that came first. In actuality all Taylor wanted was to dunk her head underneath the waves and shake it all off until she felt clean again. Something told her that losing sight of her... tormentors for any length of time would be a bad idea. So she was stuck on her knees, hurriedly splashing herself while eyeing Caliban and fighting the urge to shoot more glares at Prospero.

 

[DeRe]

Prospero let Taylor's incandescent anger roll over him like a brilliant, blinding sunset. Her impotent fury amused him to no end, and he was fascinated to watch her studied contrivance fall apart as her situation worsened. As she trembled and seethed, her tousled crop of blonde hair sparkled with the particles of sand and semen now sprinkled in it. Returning her gaze he drank in her burning blue eyes like they were a pair of ice-cold pools, as she tried to flick the mess from them. She waved one skinny fist imperiously like a princess throwing a tantrum, while the other arm tried to cover her delicious little bosom. But Taylor was heaving so hard that her attempts at modesty revealed more than they hid, and Prospero - as well as his cameras - received a generous look at the pert pouting delights of her bust despite her best efforts.

He could not suppress a loud, natural belly laugh when she threatened him. Her petty illusions of power seemed all the more ironic, coming from a topless semen-splattered girl who had nothing over Prospero but height. Despite all her assumed maturity she was so childish and obtuse, living in a realm where she was queen and everyone else a minion. But the flash of fire in her sapphire eyes was like the first tinge of a warning. The more instinctive, primal Taylor Swift was emerging, and with it his control of events became that much more tenuous. He did not want her to become desperate and inclined to take risks that would affect his little drama. As her options and reservations disappeared he could no longer maintain the pretense that this was just some bizarre photoshoot.

"Oh I would definitely dare, Miss Swift," said Prospero softly in a calm but ominous voice. "I would have the whole world ravish you, at just the click of a button."

As she stomped out into the waves she looked to Prospero like an inelegant gazelle, cautiously observing the two predators that flanked her at either end. "Such passion!" Prospero chortled. "If only you had shown such enthusiasm in the bedroom, perhaps you would not be always wanting a boyfriend, non?" Placing his hands on his hips in an affected pose, he continued with a patronizing leer, "Right now you and Caliban are very much the nymph and the satyr, eh? You know your classics, Miss Swift? I say, you two are like the very image of an ancient Greek vase." With a smooth, reptilian grin, he cocked his head slightly and watched her awkward attempts to clean herself with a rapidly hardening erection in his tight trousers.

The sight of water breaking over Taylor's supple body - beads of light sparkling all over her as she washed - pushed Prospero to a place he had rarely experienced. The way she hunched in obvious discomfort, her proud and fearful expression as she watched both him and Caliban, and her angry feistiness all combined to create an intoxicating impression. It was time to turn the dial up, he reflected; to see where one more push would take her. After waiting a minute for her to get properly wet, he spoke in a voice that was almost grandfatherly in its softness.

"You have two choices now, Miss Swift. You can surrender your panties to me and we will continue the shoot with you in the nude, after which you will be permitted to leave." Then he glanced over at Caliban, who was gazing fixed at Taylor and remained so still in the surf that he could have been a stone gargoyle. "Should you choose to decline, then I will unleash Caliban on you, and we shall enact the ancient dance of the nymph and the satyr." He stared at her, hard as steel, his fishlike eyes cold and dead.

 

[darkest_fate]

Taylor didn't care about his calm voice or his not so gentle threats. She could and would ruin him if he kept going. She certainly treated him to another glare as he spoke about he passion with his grandiose teasing voice. that last comment had her rising up, stepping forward, yet again ready to start launching into violence. Rumors had always been flying about her and her relationships. She went through guys too quickly, she fell for them too fast, she just ran through a checklist of popular names. The painful reality of her just being someone who succumbed to her emotions in a few parts of her life seemed not to matter to people. It didn't seem to matter to Prospero, who clearly enjoyed teasing her about it.

The image comparison he continued with had Taylor looking over at Caliban. "Except the nymphs were attracted to the satyrs on some level," she replied, before giving Prospero another hard glare. She immediately splashed some more water, that desperation to get an eye free higher than nearly anything else. It worked; most of her upper body actually ended up soaked. The dirt and sand had been more or less washed away by her efforts, and most of the semen her face and upper chest had been dealt with. The blonde had elected to put off cleaning her hair: she didn't want to lower it that long or delay any further.

She'd just risen again when she heard Prospero again speaking, demanding. Give up her panties. For some reason, Taylor still felt a small burst of surprise. It didn't live long: reason quickly pointed out that this was not the designs of a man who intended to stop halfway. He'd get her naked one way or the other; either his creature would rend her garments from her or he'd get her to willingly strip. The invocation of the myth made that all the clearer.

Plus, Taylor noted that he hadn't said she had to strip off the outfit in its entirety: just the thong. She still had the admittedly very tiny quasi dress. Enough creative sliding and it would be nearly impossible to actually get shots of what lay between her legs. Her height would be something of a detriment, but at the same time, she had a lot of leg to get in the way. It seemed almost too easy, and Taylor had to pause to wonder. There had to be a trick here; he had insisted that she shoot nude even as he spoke of just her panties.

"Fine, you can have the panties. I'm keeping the rest," she said. Taylor reached down, fingers carefully slipping the thong. It took a little wiggling to get them to drop, but she managed to do so without having to bend over all that much. A light kick put them forward onto the sand, while her hands moved to tug the remaining cavegirl outfit down slightly, turning to flash a tight smile toward the doctor as she did. She'd agreed, but she'd also clearly scored a tiny victory here, and she fully intended to celebrate.

 

[DeRe]

The gentle surf caressed Taylor's legs as she washed in the white churning foam. Once again Prospero's vivid imagination could not help drawing a comparison to Botticelli's Venus. The bouncing gold locks mirrored her exquisite face much like the depiction of that Roman goddess, and Taylor's perfectly formed little boobs were the very match of the paintings'. Even her somewhat demure pose mimicked the work - although Taylor's face, wild with burning rage and proud impudence, was no reflection of Venus' serene gaze. Every camera along the beach was searing the image of the topless, water-dappled beauty, photographing her freely swinging breasts from every angle as she assiduously wiped them clean. With the sun now high overhead, her taunt stomach, petite ass and gym-sculpted figure were displayed to full glorious effect.

Caliban watched on in steady, silent awe. His small black eyes focused on the shimmering beads of water which ran the delectable length of Taylor's body. The stunted little man was hypnotized by the way she washed her breasts, gently kneading and stroking the firm little mounds. Her met her furious glances with a blank but nonetheless sinister expression. Like a cat coiled just a few inches from a bobbing bird, he appeared to poised to leap upon her at any moment. With tiny, almost unnoticeable movements, he began to lower himself further into the waves and disappear beneath the blue surf.

Taylor's arrogant defiance exhilarated Prospero. She was everything he had hoped her to be - no wilting weeping damsel, but rather a prideful creature made for taming, completely self-assured in her ability to control events. That presumptuous delusion was exactly why Prospero had gone through the exacting procedure of prising her from luxury and having her dumped alone on this isolated beach. Never, in her mind's perfect world, could something horrible ever happen to her. This made the doctor's anticipation of her impending misery all the more electrifying.

He watched her carefully remove her panties with a broad, undisguised leer of lust. You smug little trollop, he thought with delight. "Such the coquette, Miss Swift!" he cooed. Despite her best efforts at modesty, there was nothing she could do about her reflection in the bubbling water, and a properly angled camera managed to capture a long juicy shot of her most intimate quarters as they were mirrored in the bright surf.

Propero studied her tight, triumphant little smile with glee. "It appears you are much more the minx than you made out, Miss Swift!" he said in a bubbly tone. "Naturally, a little bit of cloth is more erotic than full nudity. How clever of you to emphasis the glory of your sex this way! I did not think that perfect little behind could be improved, but sans thong it is even more delectable!"

He allowed his words to float on the air, then spoke in a colder voice. "Of course, the deal was you would now continue the performance. a nude photoshoot no less." He crouched down a few feet ahead of her, and scooped up the thong lying in the sand. Keeping his reptile eyes fixed on hers, he bunched the wet fabric into a ball and held it to his nose like a pomander, taking a deep breath to inhale the salty scent of her sex. Oozing the words like treacle, he said "You will play the stranded cavegirl now - drop to all fours and crawl towards me. And yes, keep that beautiful look, your petulance makes you so much sexier. Quickly now, crawl to me, or perhaps Caliban will...Caliban?" Looking around, Prospero suddenly noticed the lecherous dwarf had apparently been swallowed by the sea. Only a small dark shape moving beneath the water at speed gave an indication of his whereabouts. Chuckling softly, Prospero turned back to Taylor and said "Now then Miss Swift, time to keep your end of the deal."

 

[darkest_fate]

Once more Taylor found herself glaring down at the doctor, her eyes hard enough that the blue seemed to turn to ice. Her meager garb did little to hide her lithesome body. Long legs still extended into the surf, where the soft waves lapped at the long boots that at least offered some protection. Taylor's arm could only cover so much of even her relatively small breasts. She took some solace in that standing in a certain position would at least prevent too many upskirt shots from getting what they truly wanted. Her sex would be well protected by thighs and by skirt, though a very well trimmed bikini line of soft golden hair might be visible from time to time. There was also little Taylor could do to guard her bare ass. The two almost perfect cheeks, formed by hours of dancing on the stage, would be quite visible. The damn cavegirl outfit meant that if she wanted her sex fully covered a bit of her ass would likely have to show at all times.

And the doctor acted as if this all pleased him. Once more the urge to violence rose up within Taylor, and she already swore to make sure this man never worked with anyone again. He'd rue the day that he thought to drag Taylor Swift out and attempt to humiliate her in front of his strange little creature. It certainly didn't help that he clearly had some intelligence, pointing out his own loophole in their little deal, one that made Taylor grimace.

"You could try to be a little less disgusting,' she pointed out as he scooped up her undergarment. She almost openly retched when he took the sniff, looking away. "If you think that you're going to get--" she began, only to pause as he continued. Petulance? The man had his creature strip her then insisted that she dance around in the surf and she was the petulant one? His creature had at least wandered off for the time being.

It was obey or suffer the consequences. That much was quite clear. Taylor sighed and gave him another glare before sinking down to her knees. The starlet tugged at her lower garb, attempting to figure out how to maximize coverage. She knew the lower parts of her ass would surely be on display. And there was no way to crawl and keep her breasts covered, not unless she dipped low and did some strange army crawl toward him. If she didn't think he'd enjoy her slithering on her belly far too much, she likely would have started doing that then and there.

Instead Taylor started to crawl forward. She kept her head up, eyes on Prospero the whole time. If he was looking for seduction in her movements, he would be sorely disappointed. For Taylor was clearly not willing to play along in the slightest. She didn't even alter her expression from disgust. She simply moved forward, moving on her hands and knees one bit at a time. The only consideration toward his command was her speed: Taylor took her time, mostly because she wanted to make sure to expose as little as possible with each movement, sliding her legs in such a way as to make viewing her sex virtually impossible. "I swear, you're going to pay for this in so many ways," she hissed up at him, clearly ready to launch into an assault at any moment.

 

[DeRe]

Prospero could not contain an moan of pure ecstasy as he watched Taylor crawl towards him across the sand. Her awkward attempts to preserve her modesty merely aggravated his excitement all the more. As she tried to find a compromise between revealing her sweet small breasts - hanging like soft white cones of cream and streaked with sand - and the perfect curve of her swinging sculpted ass, she revealed more than even the most provocative pornstar. He mumbled an oath to himself in French, almost in disbelief at the splendour of Taylor's display.

He held her livid gaze long and longingly. If the ice in her burning blue eyes were real, he reflected, it would freeze the whole island like a glacier. Clearly, she had never known such a fury in her short pleasured life. He breathed in deep, almost as if inhaling the scent of such a pure feeling so obviously rendered. It was all he could do not to have her right there; to drop his yellowed trousers and thrust his red, engorged member right into her covergirl face. But restraint and anticipation were everything for him, so Prospero just shifted slightly to ease his erection - quite obvious through his tight trousers, and while hardly the match of Caliban's, still of prodigious size. "Good girl, gooood girl," he purred. "Yes, be mad. Be angry. Show me how much you hate me. You want to fight, mon belle putain? You blue-eyed bitch?" He was edging backwards slightly, trying to keep her focused forward, paying attention to nothing but him. "That pose is quelle naturale for you, yes? It is natural for you to be like this, is it not? Grovelling like an animal, waving your sweet hole to all who can see?"

While this psychodrama played out on the beach, Caliban poked his head among the long waves of the surf like a frog in a pond. He saw a sight barely a few men - or women - had ever been privileged to see - the slender pink fold of Taylor Swift's pussy, as tender and pink as a budding rose. Equally glorious was his perfect view of her ass as her long thighs worked like pistons, the firm round curves shining as white in the sun as the endless sand. An intoxication of delight shook his whole form like a fit; clearly she was presenting, and this was what his master had spoken of that morning. With a guttural groan he released the last of his trained inhibition, and began to move speedily from the sea towards Taylor. Scuttling and racing like a energized crab, his vision closed to a tunnel centered on Taylor's inviting sex and he propelled himself forward with a hoot.

Prospero continued his berating of the writhing girl, who was now just a few feet in front of him, his face glowing with exertion and anger. "Tell me Miss Swift, what do you want for the cover of this nude portfolio we are producing? Your face as you took Calibans' seed; the incredible animal sensuality of your current position; or you and Caliban rutting like the primal beasts you are?" He glanced quickly at his warped creation as he closed on the crawling Taylor, then back at her. "It seems the pastorale is over - it is now time for the furioso!"

 

[darkest_fate]

From her unique position, Taylor almost directly faced the bulging part of Prospero's pants. She could see something straining against him, and it didn't exactly take much to determine what likely lay tucked within there. Her stomach churned, the desire to gag welling up so strongly within her that she very nearly gave way to it. His words pushed disgust down, replacing it with anger almost too quickly. Bitch? "You need to stop, now," Taylor said, her body trembling with anger. She could feel the tremble causing her breasts to jiggle ever so slightly, and she at least took some solace in the knowledge that their relatively small size meant they wouldn't look like a pair of gelatin cups attached to her chest.

Anger also made her lose a bit of that carefully sculpted control. Her legs didn't quite part far enough to look too coquettish, but they certainly showed enough for that tight slit to become just visible from time to time. Said legs sawed with slightly more speed as the anger added to Taylor's motions, making her go closer and closer to him. All she could see and focus upon was the gloating doctor. Each time her hand hit the sand her nails dug within, grit sliding beneath an expensive manicure. She could picture them sliding into his soft flesh, perhaps gouging an eye, perhaps raking across his smirk to draw more lines. That viscous image drove her forward.

Between her own rage and Prospero's taunts, Taylor didn't quite pick up on the hoot or the beast moving behind her. "You're going to destroy these photos," she said, more of her ordering, commanding tone entering her voice. She thought that her rage didn't hamper this at least, simply giving the words an edge that would've better suited a hard rock singer than pop chanteuse Taylor. "I'd also really recommend cutting back on all the insults. I've destroyed people for far less. In fact, you should totally consider just ending this whole charade sooner rather than later. Maybe I'll just have my lawyers take a little of your money instead of your little pet."

Which did put the pleasant image of said pet reaming the little man. Taylor smiled at the thought of the gross little monster just humping away, plowing into the smirking man from behind. The image very nearly served to turn Taylor on, though revenge wasn't quite something that would prove that arousing. No, far more exciting for her was that she was getting closer and closer to the fat doctor. Just a little more and maybe she could physically threaten him as well. See if he's quite so smug when he had some sculpted nails pointing at him.

 

[DeRe]

Caliban padded across the sand with strides almost long as he was high. His footfall was silent and steady as he raced at Taylor, hands reaching out like hairy little spiders. This was his moment, and for once his unbalanced mind and bestial instincts fell together into a singular focused harmony. His swinging, fleshy lance was as rigid as an iron rod and so engorged it seemed to be visibly throbbing. With the precision of a martial artist or well-disciplined athlete he made a small leap to propel himself upon Taylor, in a move he had employed on numerous women before.

His stubby, callused feet landed on the backs of Taylor's knees, pushing them deep into the soft sand and pinning her long bronze legs to the ground. He grabbed the soaking cavegirl skirt around her waist like a pair of reins, wrapping his hands around the strap several times to get a firm grip and to better hold Taylor in place. Emitting some kind of weird sound between a hiss and a gurgle, he angled himself as carefully as a drunk sliding a key in a lock. The glowing bulb of his cock pressed up against Taylor's soft pink pussylips, and for a few moments he savoured the tension. Then, using the full force of his considerable strength, and pulling hard on the skirt strap for leverage, he slowly but forcefully penetrated Taylor's quivering little slit.

The soft velvet fold of her sex, lubricated by the sea and her furious excitement, yielded to Caliban's thrust. His member was equally wet but also coated in sand, giving each of his strokes an extremely abrasive effect. Never had he known a woman so tight. Her pussy clamped down on his oversized dick with sheath-like perfection, stretched and moulded by the thing driving hard between her legs. Even his gentler thrusts reached a place she could never had known existed, let alone had been touched there. It was like driving a nail into a piece of firm yet soft wood - her fresh young passage surrendering to each thrust as willingly as it fought back against it.

Three, four, five inches...in it went, inexorably, slow enough to make every millimeter count. Six, seven, eight inches...keeping one fist tight on the skirt strap, Caliban leaned back slightly shifting his full weight into his lower back, while reaching his other one around Taylor's elegant waist to begin tickling and rubbing her tiny clit. Nine, ten, eleven...twelve! In to the hilt, Caliban immediately started screwing Taylor with short, hard thrusts like the jabs of a knife. He was like a demented, hairy jockey on the back of a gorgeous golden racehorse, riding her rough and wild.

Prospero was in peals of laughter at the sight. He seized Taylor's hair in one pudgy little fist, and drawled "How does that feel, you stroppy little bitch?" With his free hand he began undoing his belt, and whacked Taylor across the face with a flick of the buckle. "Now, you will beg me for my dick, oui? If you beg to blow me, I will call off Caliban. So plead, plead to suck me!"