A Big Scoop

Grace walked as quickly as her heels would allow to the office of Earl Lancaster, the paper's editor-in-chief. She peaked through the glass to see if he was alone or giving it to one of the interns before opening the door, storming through.

"Oh no, I'm not busy runnin' the paper or anything, by all means come on in!" he said sarcastically. She threw the pages on his desk before crossing her arms and staring into his eyes. He huffed and picked it up, sliding his glasses up his red, bulbous nose. He was a large man with a bit of a gut, but plenty of hard earned muscle from his time as a war correspondent. He wore a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a plain red tie and brown tweed trousers that didn't quite cover his Argyle socks and penny loafers. The ever present, unlit cigar bounced in his wet mouth as he chewed on it. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he said, sitting bolt upright.

"Hollywood Star Nabbed in Secret Stadti Sex Cult." he said aloud, pulling the cigar from his mouth and whistling. "Diesel City police report that Oscar winning director Alan Chadwick was picked up on an anonymous tip that led to a raid onboard a cargo ship in Diesel City Harbor..." he continued.

"I want this story, Earl." she said with a stern expression. His chest rose with a single "Ha!' "I'm serious, Earl. This is entertainment news, and that's MY story to write," she said, her jawline set firm and arms crossed over her chest.

"It's a national security story and that's how we're gonna run it. This is treason we're talkin' about here. Get back to your desk and finish up your piece on that rich floozy you are assigned to," he said, his eyes glaring back. "Besides, I thought you said you didn't wanna do field reporting anymore..." Grace blushed, remembering the argument they'd had after her first field assignment to the set of "Bombs Away!", a Joe Bradford war epic, to score an exclusive interview with the star.

Grace was fresh out of the bullpen on her first real assignment. She'd endured the uses of her coworkers in the bullpen long enough to earn a shot at a big story. She arrived at the studio bright-eyed and beautiful with her cream-colored, deep cut blouse and navy blue short pinskirt with matching high heels. She watched him do a few takes where he was spanking a nurse in a foxhole before the director yelled "Cut!" She walked over to him, introducing herself and extending her hand. He smiled politely and retrieved his glass of bourbon, sipping it as he invited her into his trailer. She naively thought her press credentials would shield her from use as reporters enjoyed the "freedom of the press" clause in the Unified Military Code that prohibited the use of a reporter while they were conducting official business, which was what attracted her to the profession in the first place.

The buxom, raven-haired dame cringed at the memory of him drunkenly approaching her, eyes bright and expecting a story as she sat on the hardwood chair. He leaned over, breath smelling like expensive whisky, and tried to kiss her. She remembered pushing him away, citing her credentials. "You don't think they sent you for your writing skills, do ya honey?" he said to her in a nasty tone. "Besides, play your cards right and I might be able to get you a walk-on roll..."

She had stood to leave, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. "No one walks away from me!" he said, aggressively kissing her neck as his other hand encircled it. Her lovely eyes went wide as he held her in place, the hand **** her occasionally roaming her ample chest as she squirmed and whimpered. He reached into her blouse and pulled her heavy breasts out, slapping and squeezing them until they were a tender red as she tried to break away. There, in that trailer as he tossed her face down onto the cot and ripped her panties off, she realized that the realities of the job were a bit more complicated than what was promised.

"Please, mister Bradford, don't..."she said, struggling as she felt his thick cock against her shapely round ass as his fingers probed for her vaginal entrance. He grunted as he attempted to stick his cock into her desert-dry pussy. He forcefully rolled her over and straddled her chest, rubbing his thick head against her dark red lips.

"Suck it, or I'll slug ya." he said. She teared up as she saw him ball up his fist. She reluctantly opened her mouth, taking it in. "That's better..." he said, working his cock deeper into her throat until it was coated in saliva. He quickly dropped between her legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Grace looked up, gasping as cock slid up and down her smooth, puffy pussy lips, the tip spreading them as her body responded shamefully to the stimulation.

He drove it home, his size painfully stretching her silky smooth walls as his hands roughly fondled her tender breasts. She clamped her lips shut, tears welling up in her eyes from the booze on his breath and the shame of what was happening to her. "That's it...take it just like that.."he slurred as his dick slid in and out of her, the **** of it shaking on of her shoes loose.

"Please, Mr Bradford, just stop or I'll..." she said, earning her a smack that stung her face and caused her to gasp.

"You'll what, tell? Tell em what you want. Who's gonna believe a whore like you over Hollywood's biggest star?" he said, hammering his cock into her trembling body. He fucked her faster and harder, the liquid slap of her violation and her **** whimpers filling the trailer. "Coulda been a star, honey!" he said through gritted teeth as he pulled out of her and stood up, jerking his cock as he did so. He grunted like an animal as his cum erupted from his cock; covering her lovely blouse and pretty little pinskirt with his cum. "Now, you're just a walking cum rag." he said, blasting her face with semen and pressing his head to her dark red, quivering lips before forcing it between them and into her mouth. He spurted a final time, and finished his bourbon as he held her by the back of the head until Grace was **** to swallow, both his cum and her pride.

She sat up, her hands shaking as she retrieved the notepad from her purse. She sniffed and wiped a glob of cum and a tear from her eye. "Now then, Mr Bradford...the studio..the studio says that they are expecting this movie to do well..."she said as the cum soaked into her clothing. She wiped a strand of it from her cheek before it could drop on the page, ruining her notes. He sat in his chair, smiling at her discomfort and his victory as she looked around in a daze, trying to find a place to wipe her hand off so she could keep writing...

"You really wanna do this?" Earl asked. "Its gonna be rough. Lotta danger workin' on something like this. Some powerful people will want to keep this quiet, and the field work, well..." He said, holding his hands open and giving a "you know the deal" type of expression.

Grace took a couple deep breaths. She knew the dangers. Maybe he was right. Then again, when was she going to have this big of a scoop land on her desk again? She'd never get out of entertainment if she didn't take risks..