Scarlett's BitchWith: Elizabeth Olsen
Also starring: Scarlett Johansson and Brie Larson
Chapter 1A shiny black stretch limo pulled up to the sidewalk outside the Los Angeles Convention Centre, drawing an excited gaggle of baying photographers. A number of A-list stars kitted out in custom-made designer dresses and costly-looking tuxedos posed for a further army of snapping shutterbugs. Others wandered slowly along the seemingly endless red carpet, stopping for countless selfies with gushing fans and scribbling their autograph on pictures, posters, cocktail napkins and everything in between until their hands went numb.
The front door of the limo opened and the driver climbed out, shooing away encroaching photographers as he strolled around to the rear of the vehicle. He opened the back door and the eager paparazzo waited with baited breath, lenses thrust out, fingers poised over shutter buttons as a pair of golden open-toed stilettos planted themselves on the paving slabs and a curvy blonde form emerged from the darkness within.
“Scarlett! Scarlett! Scarlett! Over here! Scarlett!”
A barrage of demanding voices hollered at Scarlett Johansson from every conceivable direction as she exited the vehicle, broad, toothy smile stretched across her face, manicured hand directing dainty waves at the sea of clamouring photographers jostling and jockeying for position before her. A litany of flashbulbs lit up the night sky as a troop of lensmen snapped incessantly, each one armed to the teeth with ludicrously expensive, state of the art camera equipment.
Several minutes and hundreds upon thousands of photographs later and Scarlett was ushered onto the red carpet. She followed her co-stars at a leisurely pace, chatting with fans, posing for an armada of iPhone screens and etching her John Hancock on a plethora of exotic items. Once she reached the building, Scarlett was met by a second barrage of photographers, a lightning storm of flashes starting anew as hundreds of priceless lenses were trained on her buxom frame.
After what felt like an eternity had passed, Scarlett was finally led inside, the excited chatter of dozens of conversations merging into one loud murmur of eager anticipation as she entered the enormous building. A team of waiters encircled the room, balancing trays of luxury hors d'oeuvres and glass after glass of vintage champagne. Crowds of beautiful and dashing Hollywood stars, important-looking producer types and smartly-dressed crew intermixed, interweaved and intermingled, chatting at length between glasses of priceless fizz.
Every one of them was dolled to the nines and Scarlett was no exception. In fact, the chesty blonde actress was perhaps the most glamorous of all, kitted out as she was in a custom-designed, hand-sewn sparkly silver dress that clung to her voluptuous form like a needy child. A miniscule, though absurdly pricey clutch bag was clasped in a jewellery-clad hand, her gorgeous, heavily made up face framed by the flow of her glossy blonde locks.
“Champagne, Miss Johansson?” asked a passing waiter, a tray of sparkling flutes held in her direction.
“Thank you,” she replied in her familiar husky tone. She fetched a glass from the tray, leaving deep red lipstick marks on the rim as she took a hearty sip.
“Scarlett!” came a voice from the crowd, the loud, harpy screech somehow soaring over the litany of others as her equally stunning, equally fair-haired co-star Brie Larson surfaced from the sea of guests.
Brie hurried towards her friend as quickly as her spindly high heels would carry her, the starlet’s own not insubstantial bosom jiggling wondrously under the thin covering of her silky pink dress.
“Brie!” Scarlett yelled back as they embraced, a squishing together of frames that every photographer fortunate enough to be ushered into the inner sanctum was literally diving across the floor to try and capture.
“Damn! You clean up well, don’t you, girl?!” Brie exclaimed, taking a step back to admire her co-star’s look in all its curvy hipped, shiny toothed glory.
Scarlett blushed. “Thanks, hon’. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Why, thank you, Miss Johansson,” Brie replied, playfully flinging back strands of her bottle blonde hair. “Hey, where’s Liz? She told me she was coming with you.”
“Oh, she couldn’t make it.”
“Couldn’t make it? To the friggin’
Endgame premiere? The biggest movie of her career. Heck,
anyone’s career. She ‘couldn’t make it’?” Brie gesticulated wildly, flinging splashes of priceless champagne this way and that as she made air quotes with her fingers.
“That’s what she said,” Scarlett replied, trying her utmost to stifle a smirk. “She told me she was a little tied up.”
*
How long the video had been playing for, I wasn’t sure. There wasn’t a single clock in the room…no, the dungeon I was thrust up in, and there was no time code on the expensive blu-ray player whirring along silently beneath the giant flatscreen TV. My expensive gold-plated wristwatch was affixed to my wrist. One small problem though; my hands were tied above my head- bound together with a complex slip knot and dangling from a bar some three feet above my person. And try as I might, no amount of struggling on my part was going to offer me even the briefest glance at its ticking hands. How many minutes, or even hours, of the homemade clip had passed, and how far it was into its total runtime, I was truly none the wiser. But one thing was for sure, ever since Scarlett had popped the disc in the player, given me a goodbye kiss and inserted my ball gag, I’d been treated to one hell of a show. The video, a seemingly never ending montage of self-shot clips, had started well and only gotten hotter from there. Indeed, Scarlett had barely crossed the hard stone floor of her dungeon and closed the door behind her, before a younger, though equally beautiful version of her was tonguing a woman to orgasm on the massive screen. And it wasn’t until this woman turned to look at the camera, face screwed in a fit of lust, that I realised who it was. Rebecca Hall. Scarlett’s co-star from The Prestige.
There was no date on the clip, but as familiar with my lover’s filmography as I was, I put it at around 2006, when Scarlett was 22. Actually, probably 21- given that she was born in November. And though I didn’t immediately place the woman in the clip, I did recognise the look etched across her face, for it was one I’d experienced many times myself. The impassioned throes of a rapturous, ScarJo induced climax. In fact, I’d hoped for that very treatment earlier in the evening when a message from Scarlett dropped into my inbox. She asked me if I’d like to go to her place for drinks before setting off for the premiere of our latest Avengers
movie, Endgame.
Naturally, I said yes, hoping beyond hope that ‘drinks’ was code for one (or more) of those toe curling, bone shaking orgasms that only the buxom blonde goddess and her magnificent long, wet tongue were capable of giving me. Now, I should probably take a minute here to introduce myself, right? My name is Elizabeth Chase Olsen. Lizzie to my friends. Perhaps better known as the Scarlet Witch; a character in the billion dollar grossing, blockbuster MCU flicks Avengers: Age of Ultron
and Avengers: Infinity War
, among others. OK, so now that you know who I am, I’ll go ahead and cut to the chase. I know what you’re all thinking; how did two world famous, exceedingly wealthy and
engaged women become involved in a passionate, romantic tryst behind their lovers’ backs and how long had it been going on?
The second question is easy enough to answer: since Tuesday, 12th April, 2016. The
Captain America: Civil War premiere. Three years and ten days, or 26,500 intense, bliss-filled hours ago. Give or take. Just after I started dating my fiance, Robbie.
The first will require a little more explanation. Myself and my co-stars were enjoying a glass of champagne after the roll of the credits, when some suggested we head to a bar to give the latest MCU movie the send off it deserved and welcome in the next one. My co-star Chris took us to the quietest place he knew in all of Hollywood; a dingy, whiskey-soaked dive filled with no one but a few old fellas who had no idea who we were and couldn’t have cared less.
Anyway, several old fashioneds later and my co-drinkers were starting to dwindle, leaving just myself and Scarlett propping up the bar, surrounded by empty glasses and half-melted ice cubes. Seeing away the remains of her drink, Scarlett asked if I’d like to head back to her place for a night cap.
Having long since sunk the volume of booze my slender, 27 year old frame was able to handle, I initially thought better of it. But there was something about the way she was looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes of hers that made me rethink. I had no idea that Scarlett was into chicks, but I’d been looked at like that countless times before and knew exactly what it meant. At the time, I didn’t know I was into chicks either, but I found myself loving the way those gorgeous green peepers stared into mine and shamelessly scoured my dress-clad frame. I said yes and we headed back to hers.
Scarlett popped a bottle of champagne and we took to the couch; heels kicked off, legs curled up onto the shiny black leather, sipping and talking until a stray lock of hair fell from behind my ear and swept across my face. Scarlett saw her opportunity and pushed it back into place, trailing her soft fingers across my cheek on the return journey. I looked up at her and deep into those bright green eyes and the rest, as they say, is history. Scarlett started dating her fiancé, Colin, the following year but our relationship didn’t slow down, and we carried on behind both our guy’s backs all through the year and into the next, meeting up whenever one was out of town to tongue each other into ecstasy.
OK, so that’s that. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. So I arrived at her place half an hour before we were set to head off. Not very long, but time enough for a ‘drink’ or two, that was for sure. Scarlett greeted me and ushered me in, waiting until the door was shut to grab me and pull me in for a kiss, just in case I’d been followed to her house or the paparazzo were lurking outside. Not an uncommon occurrence, I can tell you. Especially on the night of a big premiere. She took me by the hand and led me through the house, stopping, to my surprise, outside the door to her basement.“Wanna try something a little different tonight, Lizzie?” she asked, her voice so sultry that I probably would’ve said yes if that ‘something different’ had been murdering newborn puppies.
“Sure,” I replied and the door swung open, Scarlett clasping my hand and leading me down a long, stone stairwell.There was a second door at the foot of the stairs, a much heavier and imposing-looking one, and Scarlett negotiated a complex sounding series of locks and bolts, opening it with a loud creak straight from a Dracula movie. She guided me through and a light bulb on each wall flicked on, illuminating what can only be described as a dungeon of sexual devilry. The floor was lined with all manner of exotic apparatus. Crosses, stocks, benches. Things I couldn’t even identify. And there were numerous items hanging from the walls; weird and wonderful things from blindfolds to ball gags, ticklers to floggers, whips to riding crops.
“Scarlett,” I said, dumbfounded; gazing around the room in disbelief, “what is this place?”“Uh uh,” she replied, in a stern, icy manner that I had previously only seen on screen. “There’s no ‘Scarlett’ anymore, Bitch. I stopped being ‘Scarlett’ the second I walked through that door. I’m ‘Mistress’ now and shall be referred to as such until we go back upstairs. Oh, and you’ll only speak when you’re spoken to until further notice. Understand?”
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Scarlett had always been the dominant one when he’d had sex but this was a side to her I hadn’t seen before.
“Yes...Mistress,” I stammered nervously, entirely unsure of what was to come. “Good.” She fetched a riding crop from the wall and tapped it against her hand. “The dress...lose it.”
“Hmm?” I replied, regarding my secret lover with a look that I’m sure gave whole new meaning to the word ‘gormless’.
Scarlett...sorry, Mistress struck the riding crop against her palm, generating a sound so loud and sharp that I almost leapt straight out of my skin.
“You deaf, Bitch? I said ‘lose the dress’.”I hurriedly started removing my designer dress, pulling it over my head until the tongue of Mistress’ riding crop pressing against my hands stopped me in my tracks.
“Haven’t you forgotten something?” she asked.
“Sorry, Mistress. Right away, Mistress.”
She grinned as I took off my dress and handed it to her, the domineering blonde beauty tossing the priceless garment across the room like a piece of trash. She fetched a collar from the wall and fastened it around my neck, attaching a thin leather leash. “Knees.”
I dropped to my knees, the frigid stone floor sending chills through my body as it came in contact with my flesh.
“Crawl,” said Mistress, tugging at the leash. She led me towards her choice of apparatus; the aforementioned bar thing that I was to find myself suspended from for damn near the entire evening.
I crawled behind her like a faithful lapdog as she guided me across the room.
“Up.”I stood.
“Stand there.” She pointed to the space beneath the metal bar.
I positioned myself where she wanted me. She returned to the wall and fetched a length of rope.
“Anything you want to say?” A sly grin played across her features so quickly that if I’d blinked at that precise moment, it would have gone entirely unnoticed. Breaking character was a complete no no; an almost unspeakable crime for an actress of her calibre. But, hey, everyone falters once in a while, right? She gestured to a sign on the wall behind her. It read; the safe word is banana.
Next to it was a plaque displaying two different hand signals.I put two and two together. “Oh...no, Mistress.”
“Good,” she replied, demeanor stern as ever. “Arms up.”I raised my arms above my head and kept them there as Mistress wrapped the rope around my wrists several times, then tied it to the bar. The rope was soft and didn’t burn my skin, no matter how hard she tied it. By the time she was done, my arms were bound together with the rope and fastened to the bar in such a manner that Harry Houdini himself couldn’t have broken its hold. Mistress rested the tongue of her riding crop against my chest and guided it slowly down my midriff; between my breasts, over my taut little tummy, right down to my crotch. I felt my pussy purr as the tongue brushed against it through the thin lace of my panties. I didn’t think any tongue other than Mistress’ was capable of doing that (yep, that’s including my fiancé’s), but I guess I’d been proven wrong.“Slutty little panties,” said Mistress, inspecting my black lacy smalls. “Did you wear these just for me?”
“Yes, Mistress. Just for you.”
“Hmm,” she grinned, pulling the waistband from my groin with the tongue of her crop then letting it ping back into place. “You are a good pet, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress.”Mistress squatted before me and inched down my panties.
“And I see you shaved for Mistress, too,” she observed, pausing to take a look at my cunt. “What a good girl you are.”
She lowered my panties the rest of the way and slipped them past my heels. She brought them to her nose and sniffed at the lace; not showing it, but clearly enjoying my scent.
“You’re wet for Mistress aren’t you, Bitch?”“Yes, Mistress. I’m soaking wet for you.”
Mistress stood and held the panties to my nose. “Smell yourself.”
I inhaled deeply, the pungent smell of my arousal tingling my nostrils.
“You smell good, don’t you, Bitch?”
“Yes, Mistress. All thanks to you.”Mistress grinned. My responses were clearly pleasing her.
She balled up my panties and held them to my mouth. “Open.”
I parted my lips and she stuffed my worn undies inside. She checked the time on her silver plated wristwatch (a gift from yours truly).
“The car’s gonna be here in 15 minutes. Just enough time for me to eat this sweet little pussy out, wouldn’t you say?”
“Mmm!” was about all I could manage with a mouthful of lace, but my desire for her mouth was evident all the same.“Of course you do, you little slut,” Mistress replied with a wicked smirk.
She returned to her previous position and peered at my snatch, now glistening with my flowing arousal.
“Wow! This pussy really is wet for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress,” is what I said. “Yush, Mushtis,” is how it came out.Without a single word of warning, Mistress dove in head first, wrapping her lips around my twat and practically engulfing the entire thing right off the bat. Her tongue shot out and immediately found my clit, lapping at it with long, purposeful strokes.
“MMM!” I moaned through my lacy gag, almost firing my panties across the room involuntarily as her skilled tongue went straight for my pulsing bud.I looked down and saw my juices smear across Mistress’ lips as she ate me out; my blonde queen returning my eye contact with a deep, unwavering stare of her own. She lapped at my mound with a fierce intensity, a second set of muffled groans escaping her busy mouth and joining mine as she scoffed at my burning cooze. She had me on the verge of orgasm within minutes, as she often did; my dripping twat quivering in her beautiful, skilled mouth. My nipples tingled and my legs started shaking. I felt the thunderous quake of orgasm rise up from deep within me, a wave of satisfaction longing to be unleashed. My gagged mouth mewled incessantly. I clamped my eyes shut, trembling arms tugging at the rope as I readied myself for the sweet release of orgasm. And then...nothing.
I opened my eyes and looked down at the floor. Mistress grinned back up at me, sticky fluids dripping from her chin- a chin that was separated from its rightful place by a good twelve inches of empty space.“Wuh thu huh?!” I barked through my now spit-drenched panties. I struggled against the rope, wanting more than anything to grab the back of her head and hold it between my thighs until I came all over her face.
It wasn’t the most eloquent of complaints, but to Mistress it came through clear as day. What the hell?!
She struck my pussy with a firm, hard strike, making the sopping mound ache more than my denied orgasm already had.“Umm!” I yelled, a mixture of pleasure and pain as her hand hit my twat.
“Did I say you could speak?”
“Nuh!”
“No, what?” She slapped my pussy again, harder this time; the forceful strike making me cry out anew.
“Nuh, Mushtis!”“Better. Well, I’m sorry, Pet, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to finish you off,” she declared as she rose to her feet. “I’ve got a premiere to get to.”
I made an objection that was too indecipherable for even Mistress’ seasoned ears to understand. She’d been doing a remarkable job up to that point. I clearly wasn’t the first person to be bound and gagged in her presence. She removed my panties from my mouth.
“What was that, Pet?”
“Aren’t I going with you?” I asked, panting heavily. She glanced up at my restricted arms. “Doesn’t look like it, does it, Bitch?” she grinned. “It’ll take me a good couple of minutes to untie that rope, and I’m running late as it is. Nope, sorry, Pet. Looks like you’re staying here.”
I gulped nervously. Mistress, or Scarlett as I still knew her at the time, had told me I should drink lots of water and have a pee before she opened the door to the basement. I found it a little odd but didn’t think a lot of it. Now it was starting to make sense. I was here for the long haul.
“But don’t worry, Pet. I won’t be leaving you empty handed.”Mistress strolled across to the far wall and slid open a drawer on an antique cabinet, returning with what appeared to be some kind of sex toy. It looked a bit like her Hitachi wand. She’d used that on me before. It was the same shape but looked to be more hi-tec and had a number of buttons down the side. Mistress placed the big, round head against my pussy and tied it in place with a rope, looping it several times around my thighs. Yep, she had definitely done this before.
“This toy is controlled by an app on my phone, so relax, Pet. Mistress will be with you in spirit and I’ll make sure that big freakin’ head buzzes against your little pussy real good while I’m watching the movie. And talking of movies, I have a little viewing material for you.”She squatted before her giant TV and rooted through what appeared to be a rather extensive blu-ray collection- a mixture of professional pornos and blank cases, which I now know to be her own homemade efforts. She selected one of the cases, removed the disc and popped it in the player, hitting play on the remote control. The video began, starting with the image of Rebecca Hall sprawled out across a bed while just-old-enough-to-drink Scar...Mistress went to town between her thighs.
Mistress took a pink rubber ball gag from the wall and returned to me. “Lick me clean,” she said, my sticky juices still evident around her lips.
I stuck out my tongue and licked obediently around her pretty mouth, being sure to lap up every last drop before she went on her way. “Adios, Pet,” she said, giving me a kiss and affixing my ball gag. “Be a good girl for Mistress while she’s gone, won’t you?”
I nodded. She took one final look at me, grinning mischievously as she took off across the dungeon. Her heels clicked on the floor. The door opened and closed. Then came the complex locking system. And with that, she was gone.
*
“Tied up?” asked Brie, the bottle blonde starlet still wondering what on earth could be so important that their friend and co-star would even
consider missing the premiere of her biggest movie to date on its behalf.
“Yep,” said Scarlett. “I mean, that’s what she said.”
“But…” Brie replied, looking downright befuddled by the mysterious conundrum.
But before she could protest further, the heavy doors to the screening room were thrown open, a young usher in a neatly pressed tuxedo addressing the waiting crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way into the screening room. The show is about to begin.”
“Hear that, girl?” asked Scarlett, hurriedly finishing her glass of champagne and taking Brie by the arm. “We’ve got a movie to watch!”
*
Watching the video with arms tied above my head and that toy poised teasingly against my pussy was agonising. Agonising. How long Mistress was going to wait before she set that thing abuzz, or whether she was going to at all, I wasn’t sure, but what I did know was it was nothing short of tortuous feeling it press against my still rock hard clit without experiencing its delightful hum. My cooch was still sodden with a cocktail of my juices and Mistress’ sticky saliva, and only grew wetter as the video kept running. Clips came and went. A-list star after A-list star felt the wondrous delights of Mistress’ mouth on their twat, before she came and was replaced by another. Natalie Portman. Penelope Cruz. Cobie Smulders. Sofia Vergara. Every one of them had experienced the pleasure of my Mistress’ tongue rooting around in their innards, and as the celebrity roll call continued to rise, the subject material grew naughtier and naughtier with each passing clip. Soon, famous women found themselves bound to her headboard with ties or handcuffs, thrashing around the bed like women possessed as she licked them to climax. There was no sign of the dungeon yet but, hey, the night was young (at least I thought it was). Who knew how long this video would go on for and what unspeakable acts it was yet to impart?*
Scarlett sat front row centre in the enormous screening room, gazing up at the giant screen, sound booming from countless speakers as the soon to be blockbuster movie ticked over into its second half hour. The busty actress had been trying her level best to follow it but it was proving to be one heck of a challenge. She knew the plot like the back of her hand by this stage, of course, having read through the script a hundred times over, but seeing the finished product all stitched together should have made for quite the spectacle.
Scarlett, however, was miles away, and no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the movie flashing and blasting and roaring its way into her consciousness, she couldn’t take her mind off the gorgeous actress thrust up in her basement. She slipped her phone from her clutch bag, dimming the screen as not to draw attention from those beside her. She opened the app that controlled her toy, grinning mischievously as a punch of her thumb sprung the device to life.
*
Hayley Atwell was cuffed to Mistress’ bed, blindfold over her eyes when I finally felt the toy buzz against my clit. It was a soft hum to begin with; the vibration so minimal that it barely registered on my aching pussy. But it grew steadily and before long the whirring wand was buzzing away like a swarm of bees; the powerful vibrations rumbling against my bud with little mercy. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as Mistress straddled the buxom brunette; their curvy bodies bucking and grinding against one another as the buzzing toy thundered against my pussy. A steady slew of muffled, high-pitched coos escaped my smothered mouth as I trembled from head to foot, writhing in my restricted stance. The images on the screen combined with the incessant thrumming against my clit had me on the brink of eruption in no time at all; my urethra stewing a blast so forceful it would probably snap the ropes in two and fire the toy across the room like a bullet from a gun. I clung to the ropes above my head for dear life as the climax of a lifetime primed itself for release, mewling, groaning, quivering until…
Silence. The buzzing came to a sudden, abrupt halt. I wept. Actual, literal tears of hopeless frustration flooded down my cheeks as I was clawed yet again from the precipice of orgasm. I screamed into my ballgag, biting down into the pink rubber with such force that I’m surprised I didn’t chomp straight through it. Mistress had clearly done this before too. She knew the exact moment to switch off the toy; denying my orgasm at the very last second before I blasted like a fireman’s hose. Talk about a sixth sense! I thought I was supposed to be the witch around here!
After Hayley, the video looped and I was forced to watch the whole thing through a second time with the toy once again sitting dormant against my dripping snatch. Two clips in and the device buzzed to life once more, its rampant thrumming again ceasing before I could emit my bubbling juices. Another clip, and it did it again, and again and again; my evil Mistress shutting the toy off each time and keeping my now raging orgasm all to herself.*
The credits rolled and the audience gave a standing ovation; applauding and whooping rapturously as the premier viewing of
Avengers: Endgame came to a close. Bodies rose from seats and flocked to the open doorway, flooding out into the lobby in wait of a post-credits drink. Scarlett and Brie distanced themselves as best they could from the hustle and bustle; the rigorous handshaking and boisterous toasts to another cinematic triumph.
“So, what are you doing after this?” asked Brie, swigging from a glass of champagne.
“Not sure,” Scarlett replied. “Colin’s out of town, so probably not a lot.”
“Ah, yeah. I noticed you checking your phone a lot. A little textual intercourse, was it?”
Scarlett grinned, her friend blissfully unaware of how accurate that statement truly was. “Something like that.”
“Well, if you don’t fancy going back to that big empty house just yet, we could head to a bar?” Brie suggested. “I hear it's something of an Avengers tradition.”
Any other night and Scarlett would have leapt at the chance. She’d been pondering ways to coax Brie into her bed for some time now, and her fellow blonde co-star had just given her the perfect in.
“I’d love to, but…” Scarlett began, stopping herself dead in her tracks as a particularly naughty thought sparked in her whirring brain. Sure, she had her new pet tied up in the bowels of her home, but who’s to say she had to keep her all for herself? Like her mother had always said; sharing is caring. “Actually, Brie, why don’t you come over to mine for a bit? I’ve got something I think you’ll enjoy.”
End of Chapter 1
Topic: Scarlett's Bitch (Elizabeth Olsen) (Read 11960 times)