Patty Jenkins' New Direction

"Action."

Patty Jenkins sighed. The script was lousy. The delivery of its lines, wooden and flat. Try as she might to improve this clusterfuck of a film, her efforts could only go so far with her direction limited by oversight and the talent coming from a sleazy producer's casting couch. She had ****, though, because at the end of the day she had a contract to honor... even if it meant shooting a cheap and trashy porno.

All it took was one box office bomb. Granted, it was the biggest box office bomb in Warner Brothers history, but rarely did a single failure after a string of critical and commercial successes lead to this kind of steep downgrade. Deep down, she knew the reasons. Back when she fought for feminist themes and a salary equal to her male counterparts, she had the coattails of Wonder Woman for a solid support. Once that fell out, nothing stopped those executives from delivering what they saw as payback with a vengeance.

That's why Patty found herself sitting in her director's chair, watching the most gaudily made up newbie porn star stumble through her performance like a kid in her first school play.

"Oh my, such a big peepee!" the porn star exclaimed. "Do all pizza guys have big sausages?"

The porn star stuck her hand down the pizza guy's pants, and that's when Patty simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Cut, cut, cut!" Patty shouted. Hopping from her chair, she walked over and pushed the porn star aside. "The people that might watch this film need it to be sexy. You need to convince them you want this dick, and do it without making them laugh. If they're laughing, they're not horny. Watch."

Getting down on her knees, Patty faced the pizza guy's crotch and reached up to the zipper. Taking it down and unbuttoning, she fished out his typical massive porno dong and held it in her hand. She gently squeezed. Back and forth, she slowly glided along his shaft while massaging his balls.

"You want a firm but soft grip. Remember, you're not trying to **** it. If it turns purple, you're doing it wrong. Treat it with care. Your goal is to get what you think of as his sweet nectar into your mou-"

Patty wasn't prepared when the pizza guy suddenly shot his load. It blasted her face. Every pretty feature received a slick coating. It slid around her chin to her neck, it blinded her with thick wads over her eyes, but most importantly, it went down her throat with an angle perfect for silencing her. She started coughing, and only between breaths did she hear an ignorant production assistant.

"Ah, I see the slut's already fully in character. We're running behind on time, so we'll just have to get her ready and in position as she is."

Patty wanted to protest, but with all her energy devoted to wheezing through jizz, she had none to resist as the assistant and costuming ripped off her clothes. They shredded her tanktop and bra, leaving her girls to pop out and spread for the whole crew to see. Several flicks to her tiny pink nipples hardened them for proper shooting. The baggy pants went down and off her ankles, exposing her hairy bush that lasted seconds before a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and slammed it onto an upraised dildo. Handcuffs bound her into that position. Right as she opened her mouth to get a few words out, the assistant stuffed it with a ball gag.

She was complete. On her knees, with jizz running down her cheeks and chest, nipple clamps digging into her tits and a stiff one buried in her snatch, Patty tugged on her bindings in vain. Her thrashing changed when the dildo started vibrating. Pleasure shot down her thighs while she fought it for some control. A jerk on the chain connected to her clamps put an end to it. Then she heard the fateful words, tensed up and froze.

"Action!"