It was with a hard sigh that the theater managing director Mister Benson paused the recording of their last drill, freeze-framing the star of the play mid-screen, one missy Scarlett Johansson. His dreary heart swivelled from the sieve to the high schooler sitting across from him on the couch as they had an after-school meeting in his office.

"Yeah, it's not your best, Scarlett. It's actually pretty bad."

The high school senior's shoulders dropped and her beautiful green oculus threatened rent. She barely heard her drama instructor as he started to plunk apart her public presentation, feeling dull and silent. The problem with her acting he was mentioning he couldn't possibly actually sense were job ! It was all so subjective !

Anyone else who didn't have her future in her manpower, she would have snapped back with a snarky comeback, or argued that he didn't know what he was talking about. But ... she knew she had to impress him, so she sat and listened.

Over the grade of the breakdown the a great deal honest-to-god teacher leaned closer and closer to the very busty teenager, sometimes resting his hand on the schoolgirl chick she was wearing. This kept happening often, until his script started brushing against the exposed bare skin of her leg that the wanna-be starlet Scarlett started feeling a churning feeling inside of her categoric tummy that something was legal injury, and she should get out of here.

Before she could do anything but loose and close her plush lips a few times like a fish, the instructor's eyes locked on the very stacked swelling of her button-up shirt, before travelling up to her angulate and perfectly formed brass. As if he had every right to do it, he slid his hired man deliberately up her skirt and rested his gnarled palm on her thigh.

He leaned forward, stroking and rubbing her thigh,"You're very fresh, Scarlett. You know you're going to need my help to get into that acting school in New York."

Scarlett Johansson felt like she was disassociating from her trunk, and she felt herself going limp. It was like she could keep an eye on what was happening from a distance, across the elbow room. His other hand grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into him, resting her head on his articulatio humeri. His handwriting was between her thighs, rubbing her pussy.

His moans were searing themselves into her mind, the case of moan where there isn't a doubt that the man is getting exactly what he wants. It was like watching a moving-picture show, the teen thought as in her distracted head she watched the view stretch out. Her pussy was soaked from her rubbing, and like a puppet on drawing string, she watched as she let him stand her up and tug her underwear to her mortise joint. During her repositioning, his peter had been reverberate gratuitous from his pants, throbbing and hard.

She could only barely feel the atmospheric pressure of the desk on which her titty rested as her teacher bent her over, and tried her best to block up out the feeling of his prick sawing against her ass and pussy. Scarlett watched the fit in her creative thinker, scoffing at how a good deal of a slattern the woman was until she remembered it was her, and she felt herself crashing back towards reality, all the while wishing she'd get up and run out of the room, never to see the creep again. Why was her pussy leaking ?

Was going to Lee Strasberg and becoming a famed actress worth this ?

As her teacher's cock slid inside of Scarlett Johansson's burning cunt, he whispered"piece of ass, oh piece of ass, oh fuuuuckkk,"right into her ear as she shuddered and twitched under him. She didn't move, she didn't help him get off, but he continued to fuck her into the desk for nearly xx proceedings, until his finger's breadth returned to her pussy in addition to the cock fucking her.

She began feeling dizzy, the world spinning in her mind as his grunt turned to central groan. Some insubstantial sentiency was building in her consistency like she'd never felt before, deep in her stomach. She started to shake back onto his lap, her body moving with every thrust he made.

The scream from her unexpected coming would own given them both away, alerted anyone else left in the school, if he didn't clamp his paw powerfully over her mouth as she convulsed with pleasure under him. He never let up through it all, infliction and terror setting in as he went hard and faster, until his own end came and, rich interior of Scarlett Johansson's tight teen pussy, he sprayed encumbrance after burden of cum.

When he slowly pulled from her, it was like he pulled a chew and the electrical energy went out. Scarlett was suddenly in her psyche again, no longer looking at this dispassionately, disassociating it from herself. She bobbed to the flooring and pulled up her underwear, and scrambled over the desk. She grabbed her haversack and practically ran out of the door to her car.

It was a furious, fast ride dwelling house, but she didn't find any comfort there. She didn't nap that night, instead she rubbed herself way Mister Benson did, trying her good to recapture the feeling of his breather, his grunt, his cutaneous senses. She came again, over and over, until her body couldn't orgasm any more.

In a good, just world that would have been their initiative and only showdown. Actually, in a good world a beautiful talented woman like Scarlett Johansson would never induce been raped by her drama teacher at all, but aliveness wasn't that way. As life-time isn't carnival, or just, she stayed after school at least once a week for extra acting example from her instructor. In the end, he kept his Good Book and she got an A+ in the social class, and got a personal recommendation from him to pay heed acting school day at the Lee Strasberg field & Film Institute.

From there the rest was chronicle, and the beautiful teenager would grow up and enter Hollywood, becoming the highest grossing woman actress of all fourth dimension.

The feeling of being raped never left her, not really. Recently she looked up Mr Benson to see if he was still teaching, and she saw that he was arrested six months ago for - what else - having sex with a student. That weight felt heavy on her. How many former womanhood would have been saved if she had spoken up ? Was having the aliveness she did, the career she did, worth it happening to her ? Or happening to all those girls she didn't love ? Would she do it again, if she knew what would happen ?

She didn't have those answers, and she hated herself for it .