You take her advice

Throwing caution to the wind, you latch on to her other nipple with your mouth. You suck on her breast, and bite on her nipple and extend it away from her chest, all the while your other hand it manipulating her other nipple. "Ah, ah. Ooh." You can hear her moan, but never does she once say "no".

You continue for far longer than is needed. Finally, you get up, satisfied. "Okay, let's go."

Miss Watson's hand again shoots to her pussy, but Harper stops her. "Wait, your nipple is wet. Can't have that in the scene." He rubs her chest, both nipples, for some reason. It is cheap and gross, but you are in no position to criticize. "Okay, go now." He says, looking at the actress's pussy.

Emma Watson blushes. Finally, her hand makes it past her pubic hair, and she begins rubbing her pussy. Carla walks toward the table, with her camera catching the movement of Miss Watson's hand. Miss Watson almost throws a frightened look at the camera, but her impeccable training stops her. Carla is walking along the length of her body, taking in her hand, her hardened nipples, and then finally her face. She rounds the table above her head, and begins the downward journey.

"Pinch your nipples." Carla instructs the starlet. Miss Watson gasps incredulously, probably at who was commanding her. But one look at you, and she complies. With her free hand, takes hold of her left nipple. As she begins manipulating her nipples, she closes her eyes. The motion between her legs increases. Her finger makes to seek entrance into her hole.

"No, don't put your fingers in just yet." Carla giggles. Emma Watson gives a whimper of frustration and blushes, and compensates by flicking at her clit. "Get between her legs," You tell Carla, "Good, now, Miss Watson, put your fingers in."

Through the fog in her mind, she notices the plural. Or maybe she just wanted two fingers in her pussy by now. She gasps as she inserts them inside her vagina, first to the second knuckle, then to the base. "Press your thumb on your clitty." Carla says. Miss Watson shoots her a hateful glare, but does as she is told, and is hijacked by the pleasure coursing through her loins.

There is something coursing through your loins too. Your mouth is dry, and you can't decide where to look. To the blur of hands between the feminist icon's legs splitting her lips open, her hand pinching her nipples, or her mouth, open to the ceiling as if begging for a cock. "Get her face." You manage to gasp at Carla. "No, not just her face," You say when she jerks the camera up from her pussy to her face, "her pussy, her boobs, and her face. I want everything." Carla gives you an evil smirk, and on the table, Miss Watson's moaning increases.

When she reaches the orgasm, the shrieks bring in Oslo, the security guard. "Everything okay in here?" He asks, and Miss Watson, just getting down from the orgasmic high, shrieks and falls down from the table in her attempt to curl up into a ball and cover up. Harper goes to help her up, and you rush as well.

"Everything's all right here." Carla says to the old man, who is staring bug eyed at the famous actress. "We are busy here," Carla continues, "come in and close the door behind you."

Miss Watson shoots her an incredulous look, but she has bigger worries. Yours and Harper's hands are roaming on her body, throwing her off balance as well as preventing her from getting up. Finally, after getting a handful of her breasts and shoving your hand into her wet bush, you help her to her feet. She shakes free of yours and Harper's grasp, her face red from anger again, and tries to cover up. But the words that come out aren't that of condemnation, even if the tone is.

"Can I get dressed now, or do you want to see something else?" She half snarls, half asks, cringing away from the security guard.

Your mind is a blank. You never thought this day would turn out like this.