I followed Mr. Hols to the main set. We were shooting in my office, which had been rearranged and upgraded by Monet’s crew.
The office set was incredible—mahogany desk, sweeping panoramic view backdrop, and high-end cara cranes. The lighting was already calibrated for maximum drama, bathing the room in a sharp, expensive glow.
Dickslayer was waiting inside the room, already positioned for the first take. She was wearing a blindingly white, crisp button-down shirt that was tied just above her waist, revealing a sliver of her taut midriff and the start of her serpent tattoo.
The shirt was paired with a black, short, tight leather skirt that looked ready to split with every movent. Red-bottom stilettos completed the look, making her legs look impossibly long and powerful, elevating her to the perfect image of a demanding, high-stakes client—or, as the script now demanded, an ambitious, lust-driven employee.
She looked absolutely captivating—sexy, professional, and dangerous.
Mr. Hols went behind the monitors, wearing a headset and looked like a ticulous surgeon.
I walked onto the set, the bespoke CEO suit making feel like a predator entering the cage. Dickslayer’s eyes tracked , reflecting the intense anticipation of the cara and the scene.
"Mr. Hart," Hols called out, his voice sharp and professional. "We are ready for the opening shot. Rember, Lisa here is an employee of yours who’s been crushing on you for so ti. She’s decided to take a bold step and act on her lust. Allow her to seduce you."
He turned to Dickslayer. "Give lust, give desire, give passion. Show that slut in you. I want to see if you can really live up to your stage na."
Lisa nodded and looked at . She wasn’t nervous at all. She looked ready to slay my dick.
I didn’t break eye contact with Dickslayer. My maxed Swagger was fully engaged, channeling the aggressive dominance of the CEO character.
"Are you ready, baby?" I said to her, my voice a low, commanding growl.
"I was born ready," she said, her eyes flashing, her body language already shifting into the role of the aggressor.
"Action!" Hols yelled.
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I stayed out of the cara range as Dickslayer took a seat on the table, her leather skirt stretched taut over her thighs. She began typing on a laptop prop.
After a full minute of silent acting, during which Mr. Hols’s cara crew captured several dramatic angles of her legs and focused concentration, he signaled to go to the table.
I breathed in, channeling the character, then walked over to the table. Dickslayer’s eyes, magnified slightly behind her prescription-less, professional glasses, followed , radiating sexual tension.
"Good Afternoon, Mr. Hart," she said in a tone laced with seduction, the corporate formality fighting a losing battle against pure lust.
"Hi, Lisa," I said, maintaining a professional tone, and took my seat behind the mahogany desk. I was playing the CEO who was trying to resist the temptation but failing.
"How was your lunch hour?" she asked, leaning forward just enough to hint at the power of her chest.
"It was hot," I said, eting her suggestive energy with a double entendre of my own.
"Not as hot as in here," she countered, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
I followed the script and ignored her for a few monts. We sat for a few more minutes, pretending to be working, the silence heavy with unacknowledged desire, all captured ticulously by Mr. Hols’s caras.
I cleared my throat. "Can you get a glass of water, please."
Dickslayer smiled, a predator’s grin. "Of course, Mr. Hart. Anything for you."
She stood up slowly, giving the cara a full, stunning view of her figure, and sashayed across the set to the water cooler, ensuring her movents maximized the sway of her hips and the exposure of her legs.
As she reached the water cooler, the cara focused on her, and I focused on the crisis outside the set.
She returned with the water glass, placing it right on my side of the desk.
"Anything else, Mr. Hart?" she murmured.
"No, thank you, Lisa," I replied, my voice now deeper, laced with the character’s surrender to the tension.
She placed the glass on my side then she deliberately pushed the glass with her hand so that it fell on , wetting my cock area and lap.
"What the Fuck, Lisa!!!" I yelled in fake shock, playing the CEO surprised by the boldness.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Hart.... I’m so.. so sorry. I didn’t an to...." She said, following the script perfectly, her eyes wide with feigned apology.
"You have ssed up my pants for fuck’s sake," I said.
"Sorry, Mr. Hart. It’s all my fault. Can I be of any help? I can try drying your pants for you," she said, her eyes naughtily staring at the growing wet spot on my crotch.
"Help ? And just how are you gonna dry my pants?" I said, leaning back as if trying to keep distance.
She took a step closer. "I have been noticing the way you’ve been looking at , Mr. Hart. You want as much as I want you...."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about?" I said, trying to wipe away the water from my pants with my hand. I could feel my cock getting harder, a genuine reaction blending seamlessly with the scene.
"Oh co on, Sir. I know you want . Just let dry your pants for you?" she said, inches away from my face.
I could feel her breath and the nice sll of her expensive perfu, the proximity raising the sexual heat in the room.
She reached her hand out, touching the wet area of my lap, her fingers cool against the wet fabric. Then she moved up to touch the bulge of my cock, tracing the outline of my erection.
"You can’t resist , Mr. Hart. Deep down you want to fuck . Well, I want to fuck you too," she said, her voice a husky invitation.
"This isn’t professional, Lisa...." I said, the words heavy with faux resistance, knowing the audience was eating it up.
"Shhhh!!!" she put her finger on my mouth. "No one will know...."
She giggled. "This will be our little secret, boss."
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