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Princess Up in Harlem (PREVIEW)
Author: Closet FetishistSynopsis: Reese is the starring submissive in her first fart porn film with Princess and company. She better be up to the challenge or suffer the consequences.
# of words: 3,808
$6
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“Okay, we all ready?!” Katherine, the director, calls from the front. “Sound?”
Reese panics a little; maybe she could just wing it, god forbid she fuck this up though. She knows she’ll get it and then some from Princess, on and off set.
“Yeah!” Princess says, already on the urban alleyway set with Monica and Sheila.
“Speed,” the boom operator affirms as Emma, the camera operator, starts rolling.
Reese looks out to the big open studio doors on her left. There is, potentially, freedom on the other side, were it not for Princess’ burly guards blocking the gap and staring right at her. She’d never get by them, and they’d all but destroy her for trying.
“And action!” Katherine commands.
Reese inhales deeply, composing herself; she walks out into the alleyway set where she’s briefly blinded by the bright stage lights in her eyes, and nervous to see the silhouettes of the entire crew watching her.
From downstage, Princess and her gang block Reese’s path; they’re dressed like Black Panthers, in leather jackets and slacks. Princess also has on a glittered black beret that sparkles when the lights hit it; she holds a wooden bat that she tauntingly taps against the palm of her hand.
“Looks like we got a little lost white girl here; you on the wrong side of town missy,” Princess says with a bit of jive talk intonation.
Reese stares at Princess fearfully, her eyes go wide; she looks at the bat, wondering if it’s real. When no one speaks, Reese realizes she must be forgetting a line, “Uh...oh, I’m just...” she stammers pitifully.
“Cut!” Katherine calls out.
Princess’ face instantly turns to rage and she stabs the bat roughly into Reese’s gut; she doubles over in horrific pain. “I’m sorry,” she groans out. Princess grabs her on the back of the neck and throws her to the ground; Reese’s face smashes against the hard cement floor of the studio, “I just got the script!” Reese insists.
“You only have one scripted line, bitch! You’re improvising the rest because I know how method you are with your slavery,” Princess laughs. She grabs Reese from the floor by her collegiate sweater; it rips noticeably as she’s lifted up.
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