Set Days Pt. 8

Jazmine found herself navigating through the next couple of days in a haze of conflicting emotions. The encounter with Jared had left her shaken, questioning herself in ways she hadn't in a long time. Despite her best efforts to bury it beneath the façade of Jazmine Jade, the memories crept up at unexpected moments, stirring up a whirlwind of doubt and frustration.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was Kyle. Their encounter, raw and unfiltered, lingered in her mind like a persistent dream. For once, she had felt a strange kind of liberation, even though her mind was still at war with her body's reactions. The way he kissed her, touched her—it was different from Jared. With Kyle, it almost felt like she had a choice, a semblance of control over her desires.

That night, alone in her room, she couldn't shake the thoughts. She slid off her clothes, her fingers lingering over the familiar contours of her FemmePro. It was as much a tool as it was a barrier—a reminder of the choices she made and the ones she couldn't bring herself to face. The dildo inside, a silent witness to her conflicting desires, offered a strange solace in its familiarity. She moved slowly, letting the sensations build, the muted pleasure of the prosthetic echoing the complexities of her mind. And when release finally came, it was a fleeting moment of relief amidst the storm.

The following days brought a routine she clung to: shooting days filled with scripted passion and rehearsed lines, interspersed with moments of solitude where she grappled with her thoughts. Off-set, she indulged in mundane tasks—a coffee run with Clea, a quiet coffee alone in her trailer—anything to anchor herself in the present, away from the tumult of her inner turmoil.

Today, as they drove to set, Clea beside her with their customary coffees, Jazmine sipped from her cup, the warmth seeping into her veins like a bittersweet comfort. The special brew that Clea had introduced her to—she knew now its secret, its subtle effects on her body. It had become a ritual, a silent acknowledgment of the blurred lines between Jazmine and Jackson.

Clea, ever the enigma in her eclectic fashion sense, wore a flowing dress today, a riot of colors that somehow managed to complement each other in a whimsical harmony. Her hair was tied back loosely, strands escaping to frame her face in a carefree cascade. Jewelry adorned her wrists, a subtle glint that caught the light with every movement.

Jazmine, in contrast, opted for simplicity, a fitted blouse in a soft pastel shade that accentuated her features without drawing unnecessary attention. Her jeans hugged her curves comfortably, a deliberate choice to ground herself amidst the chaos of her thoughts. Underneath it all, the familiar weight of the FemmePro lay hidden, its presence a constant reminder of the role she played, the lines she blurred.

Silence enveloped them as they neared the set, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Jazmine glanced at Clea, a silent acknowledgment passing between them—an unspoken understanding of the roles they played, the secrets they kept.

"I wonder what they have in store for us today," Clea mused, breaking the silence as she turned to Jazmine with a knowing smile.

Jazmine nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Guess we'll find out soon enough," she replied, her voice a quiet reassurance in the midst of uncertainty.

As they pulled into the familiar lot, the bustle of the crew greeted them like an old friend. Jazmine took a deep breath, steeling herself for another day in the spotlight, another day of navigating the complexities of Jazmine Jade.

Jazmine arrived on set early, her mind still swirling from the events of the past few days. The familiar routine of preparing for a scene helped ground her, even as she grappled with the complexities of her emotions. Today, she was shooting a solo scene for the rom-com movie, a moment of respite from the interpersonal dynamics that had left her unsettled.

In the dressing room, Jazmine slipped into her character's costume—a breezy, floral sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The fabric felt light against her skin, a contrast to the emotional weight she carried. Beneath the dress, she wore a delicate lace bralette and matching panties, chosen to complement the soft femininity of her character. Each piece was meticulously selected to enhance the illusion she embodied on screen.

Adjusting the straps of her dress, Jazmine checked herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back, a blend of nerves and determination. She took a deep breath, letting the character's persona settle over her like a second skin. This was her escape, her sanctuary within the chaos of her own conflicting desires.

On set, the crew bustled around her, fine-tuning lights and adjusting cameras. Jazmine stood in the carefully constructed set—a quaint café scene adorned with vibrant flowers and whimsical decor. As the director called for quiet on set, Jazmine took her mark, feeling the weight of her character's romantic yearning settle upon her.

The scene began with a gentle breeze, the café door swinging open as her character entered with a wistful smile. Jazmine's gaze softened, embodying her character longing for a chance encounter with her lost love. She strolled through the scene, her steps light and graceful, each movement imbued with a sense of hopeful anticipation.

As she approached the table set for the scene's pivotal moment, Jazmine's heart quickened. This was her character's moment of vulnerability, a fleeting chance to reconnect with her past. She sat down, fingers tracing the edge of a teacup, her eyes conveying a blend of nostalgia and longing.

Behind the façade of her character's romantic whimsy, Jazmine grappled with her own tumultuous thoughts. The scene's script echoed in her mind, each line a reminder of the delicate balance between illusion and reality. She poured herself into her character's yearning, drawing on her own experiences to infuse the character with depth and authenticity.

As the scene progressed, Jazmine's gaze lingered on an imagined figure across the café, a projection of her desires and fears. She spoke her character's lines with a tender sincerity, her voice a gentle melody in the hushed atmosphere of the set. Emotions swirled beneath the surface—love tinged with uncertainty, longing tempered by resignation.

The director called "Cut," breaking the spell cast over the set. Jazmine blinked, stepping out of her character's world and back into her own. The crew applauded softly, acknowledging her performance with murmurs of appreciation. She smiled faintly, a mixture of relief and introspection coloring her expression.

Jazmine returned to her vanity, thinking she was alone and finally able to gather her thoughts after a taxing day on set. As she settled into her chair, the quiet of the room was suddenly shattered by the sound of the door locking behind her. Startled, she turned to find Jared standing there, his expression dark and stormy.

"You really did a number on me out there that day," Jared said sharply, his voice dripping with anger and frustration. "I didn't think you were such a bitch."

Jazmine felt a pang of guilt and defensiveness rise within her. This wasn't the Jared she used to know when they were roommates as Jackson Steele. He seemed different now, more intense and confrontational. She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to diffuse the situation.

"I... I'm sorry, Jared," she began tentatively. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. It just... things got out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Jared scoffed, pacing the small space. "You made me look like a fool out there! Do you even care?"

Jazmine hesitated, her mind racing. She knew how important a role in a movie like this was for an actor of Jared's popularity. She also knew arguing wouldn't help. Instead, she needed to find a way to make things right, or at least smooth them over. Swallowing her pride, she met Jared's gaze squarely.

"You're right," she admitted quietly. "I messed up. I should've handled it better."

Jared's expression softened slightly at her admission. "Damn right you should've," he muttered, though his tone was less harsh now.

Jazmine took a step closer, feeling the tension between them palpable in the air. "Look, Jared," she said, her voice steady but cautious, "I'm sorry. Truly. I know you think I embarrassed you, but you crossed lines, too. I overreacted, and I'm...sorry for playing hard to get. I was just trying to do my job."

Jared studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her sincerity. Finally, he exhaled heavily and stepped closer to her. "I knew it," he said, a smug smile creeping onto his face. "You just needed to admit it. Now, let's get back to where we left off."

Jazmine's heart sank. She knew there was no out in this situation. Jared wanted to have sex with her again, just like the other day. She had to play along. Steeling herself, she nodded. "Okay, Jared. I understand. Let's just... get it over with."

Jared's smile widened. "That's more like it."

He moved closer, his hands gripping her shoulders before sliding down to her waist. Jazmine's mind raced, but she **** herself to remain calm. She knew what she needed to do. As Jared began kissing her, she didn't resist, but she didn't actively participate either. She let him take control, knowing this was the only way to avoid further conflict.

Jared's hands roamed over her body, groping her tits, their artificial size enhanced by the boob job, and then moving to her all-natural ass. He pulled up her sundress, his touch rough and demanding. Jazmine kept her mind distant, refusing to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was enjoying it.

He moved her panties aside and positioned her, his grip firm on her hips. "Turn around," he ordered, his voice a mix of command and anticipation.

Jazmine obeyed, facing away from Jared as he positioned her in doggy style. She felt his cock pressing against her, and with a rough thrust, he entered her. The sensation was the familiar muted pleasure through the FemmePro. She blocked out any thoughts of enjoyment, focusing instead on the need to get through this.

The FemmePro, designed to look and feel incredibly realistic, made the experience all the more disconcerting for Jazmine. The prosthetic allowed for some sensation to seep through, a constant reminder of her situation. Her real cock, hidden away in a small space next to the opening, was separated by a thin wall. This thin barrier both protected her secret and made the act feel disturbingly real.

Jared fucked her hard, his pace relentless. She could feel his hands gripping her hips tightly, pulling her back into each thrust. It was rough and demanding, but she played along, her body moving in rhythm with his, even as her mind remained detached. Each thrust sent a shudder through her, the FemmePro transmitting a dull, muted pleasure she tried desperately to ignore.

"That's it, Jaz," Jared groaned, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You know you want this."

Jazmine kept silent, biting her lip to stifle any sound that might betray her true feelings. She didn't want to give him any indication that she was enjoying this, even though the physical sensations were undeniable. Her mind remained focused on the end goal: getting through this and moving on.

Jared's thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on her tightening as he neared his climax. Jazmine braced herself, knowing it would be over soon. She could feel the tension building in him, each thrust becoming more forceful, more ****. The roughness of it all was almost too much, but she stayed composed, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.

With a final, deep thrust, Jared came, his grip on her hips almost painful as he rode out his orgasm. The sensation of him filling her up, the way his body shuddered against hers, was a stark contrast to the emptiness she felt inside.

Panting, Jared pulled out and stepped back, leaving Jazmine to straighten up and adjust her clothing. She kept her movements deliberate, avoiding eye contact as she fixed her sundress and smoothed her hair. She could feel the stickiness between her legs, a reminder of what had just transpired.

Jazmine's mind raced as she pulled her panties back into place, feeling the dampness from Jared's cum. The FemmePro made it feel all too real, the sensation of his release inside her sending a shiver down her spine. She hated that she felt anything at all, despising the prosthetic for the way it simulated pleasure.

Jared watched her, a satisfied smirk on his face. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Jazmine **** a tight smile, her mind already distancing itself from what had just happened. "No, it wasn't," she replied quietly.

Jared nodded, seemingly appeased. "Just remember your place, Jaz, and we could definitely do this again."

She nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing.

As Jared left the room, Jazmine allowed herself a moment to breathe, her body still trembling from the encounter. She knew this wasn't over, but for now, she had managed to navigate the situation. It was a small victory, even if it left her feeling hollow inside. Well, feeling full, actually.

As he left the vanity, she sank back into her chair, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She knew this was her life now, a constant battle between who she was and who she pretended to be.

And as she sat there, alone once more, she wondered how much longer she could keep up the act.

---

Clea walked towards Jazmine's vanity, her sharp heels clicking against the tarmac. She was carrying a folder of notes for the scenes of the day and a coffee for herself. But as she approached, she heard muffled yelling from inside the room. Curious and cautious, she paused just outside the door, staying out of sight.

Her keen ears picked up the angry, frustrated tones of a man's voice, although she couldn’t make out the exact words. She bit her lip, inching closer to the doorframe, trying to remain hidden while gathering as much information as possible. The yelling stopped abruptly, followed by some moments of silence. It was soon replaced by a different, unmistakable sound—the rhythmic clapping of skin against skin.

Clea's mind quickly pieced together the scene. She could vividly imagine Kyle in there, taking Jazmine doggy style, her ass jiggling with each powerful thrust. The image stirred something within her, an unexpected arousal mingled with the frustration of the situation.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Clea whispered to herself, imagining Jazmine bent over, her curves on full display, taking every inch Kyle had to offer. The scene in her mind played out like one of the many pornos Jazmine had been trained on. Clea’s own breath hitched, a flicker of heat pooling low in her belly. She imagined Jazmine’s whimpers, her body submitting to Kyle’s rough handling, and felt a pang of possessive jealousy mixed with professional pride.

But the pace of the clapping picked up, growing more erratic, more ****, and then stopped suddenly. Clea snapped out of her reverie, her sharp mind switching back to the present. She stayed hidden, waiting, as the door creaked open. And to her surprise, Jared walked out, not Kyle.

Clea stormed up the steps and burst into the vanity room, slamming the door behind her. Jazmine, sat in her chair in dismay, looked up in surprise and then fear as she saw Clea’s expression.

“What the fuck was that?” Clea hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “You let that piece of shit Jared fuck you in here? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Clea, I—” Jazmine started, but Clea cut her off.

“Shut up! You fucking slut,” Clea spat. “You turned into a girl for fame, but all you’ve become is a cock-hungry whore. A goddamn sex-hungry piece of shit!”

Jazmine’s eyes filled with tears, but she tried to explain. “Jared thought I wanted him. It was a misunderstanding, and I had to play along. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Bullshit!” Clea shouted. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You love getting fucked, don’t you? You’re pathetic. Do you think I’m doing all this for you to ruin everything by being a goddamn whore?”

Jazmine shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, Clea, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I had to make him believe it, or he would’ve—”

“Or he would’ve what? Tell everyone you’re a lying slut who’s fucking her way through the set?” Clea sneered. “If Kyle Rittenhouse finds out his beloved rising star girlfriend is cheating on him with a C-list actor like Jared, you’re finished! Your career will be over before it even starts.”

Jazmine felt trapped, torn between her actions and the reality of her situation. She had thought she was doing the right thing, but now, she wasn’t sure. The shame and confusion were overwhelming.

Clea took a deep breath, her anger simmering just below the surface. “You think you can keep fucking around and still have a career? Think again. Maybe we should just drop this acting bullshit and put you in porn where you belong. At least there, you can be the cock-hungry slut you are without fucking up everything we’ve worked for.”

Jazmine sobbed, feeling the weight of Clea’s words. “I’m sorry, Clea. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Clea’s expression hardened. “You’re damn right you didn’t know. And now, we have to clean up this mess. Jared is going to have to go. We can’t have him around, fucking up our plans.”

Jazmine’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Jared is getting recast. He’s out. We can’t risk him running his mouth or causing any more problems,” Clea said, her tone final.

Jazmine stared at her in shock. “But… what if he talks? What if he tells everyone?”

Clea’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t. I’ll make sure of it. But you need to get your shit together, Jazmine. One more fuck-up like this, and you’re done. Do you understand?”

Jazmine nodded, feeling utterly defeated. “I understand.”

“Good,” Clea said, her voice cold. “Now clean yourself up. We’ve got work to do.”

As Clea turned to leave, she suddenly stopped, a wicked idea forming in her mind. She spun around, her eyes glinting with malice. "Where did he cum, Jazmine?"

Jazmine hesitated, her face flushing with shame. “Inside,” she whispered.

Clea's face twisted in disgust. “You let him cum in your pussy? God, you’re even more of a slut than I thought.” Jazmine opened her mouth to explain, but Clea cut her off. “Shut up. Maybe he didn’t ask, but I don't care. You should have known better.”

Clea stepped closer, her voice low and menacing. “Stick your fingers in your pussy.”

Jazmine’s eyes widened, but she obeyed, trembling as she slid her fingers inside herself. She felt Jared’s cum coating her, warm and sticky.

Clea watched, her expression one of contempt. “Now, pull them out.”

Jazmine did, her fingers slick with Jared’s seed. She looked at Clea, unsure of where this was going.

“Lick them clean,” Clea ordered.

Jazmine hesitated, the humiliation overwhelming. But she knew she had ****. Slowly, she brought her fingers to her lips and began to lick them clean, the salty taste of Jared’s cum filling her mouth.

Clea sneered. “That’s the taste of a cheating, cock-hungry slut. That’s the taste of a whore who can’t keep her legs closed, even for her boyfriend. Your pussy should never, ever taste like that again.”

With that, Clea stormed out, leaving Jazmine alone in the room. Jazmine slumped into the chair, tears falling freely. She felt like she was losing control, her life spiraling into chaos. The weight of her double life, the constant pressure to perform, and now this latest disaster with Jared—it was all too much.

As the taste of Jared’s cum lingered on her tongue and leaked from her FemmePro, Jazmine knew she had to pull herself together. But at that moment, she felt completely lost. The future seemed uncertain, and she didn’t know how much more she could take.

But one thing was clear: she had to find a way to keep going, no matter what.