YOU are the Abusive Hollywood Producer

Please fill out the details to the right >> including the names of your 5 favorite actresses. Now we're ready to begin...

"Please Mr. Bobby. I want to gag on it today." Emma Watson stares up at you with needy eyes, kneeling before you, as you jerk your thick, throbbing monster at her.

"Is what you want important?" You snip.

"Of course not." Emma's voice trails off. Her eyes divert away from your glorious meat, as if she knows she's not worthy of it.

"Today I want you to wear my seed." You say, feeling yourself ready to burst. "All day."

She cracks a smile, feeling worthy again. That's quickly replaced by concern. "But Mr. Bobby. I have a press junket after this."

You lean in, overwhelming her with how imposing you are. "If I say you go to a press junket with my cum all over your face, that's what you do."

Emma nods wildly. "Of course, Sir. I didn't mean to suggest you were wrong, Sir." She says obediently, her eyes so conflicted, wild with desire, wide with concern, but mostly glassy with the best quality of any Hollywood cunt: submissiveness.

"Good. Now pull down your top." You say. You're a mean fucker, but you're practical. Emma is still valuable to your company. No point humiliating her at her junket. At least not yet.

She does what you say, pulling down her top, exposing her lovely tits and stiff nipples and you dump your jizz all over those. She seems relieved as she covers them up again.

Now whoever looks at you for the rest of the day, reporters, photographers, friends, family. They won't see it, but you'll know the truth. That you're fulfilling your most important role in this world."

"Yes sir." Emma says with a smirk as she composes herself to leave your office.

"Which is what?" You ask. You know she knows the answer. But does she believe it?

She looks at you, staring you in the eyes and responds with confidence. "Your cum rag."

This is Hollywood. Men are kings and cunts are commodities. This is how it has always worked and how it will always work.

Sure, some guys have gotten in trouble lately. But not because anyone wants anything to change. The men who run the town will always want power and pussy. And the sluts would always rather get their holes abused than do any real work. So when some reporters started sniffing around, a few old assholes who no longer brought in profits had to take the fall, to make it look like things were improving. But things are not improving. If anything, the elimination of some of the bigger power players has left openings that need to be filled.

This is where you come in.

You run a small production company. But it's growing. Last year, something miraculous happened. You had a hit. A huge hit. A four quadrant, 500 million dollar, winner of 6 Oscars massive fucking hit. Now everyone wants to work with you. (Including Emma Watson, the first big actress to knock on your door and offer her services, in the form of a wet, willing slit)

But you have higher aspirations and other fish in mind.

There's a knock on your office door and Cindy, one of your 3 young secretaries, a pretty redhead who, at 21 years old, hasn't figured out that she's already too old to make it as a star and her options are either go into porn or be a secretary for the rest of her life, walks in. Per office policy, she wears a short skirt.

"Mr. Bobby, Alexandra Daddario is here to see you."

What? Those other fish that you want to snag? This one is at the top of the list. But you're perplexed. Did she just show up?

"I don't have an appointment with her." You say. Of course you want to see her. But eagerness is a sign of weakness.

"She says you told her to stop by last night at the Governor's Awards."

"I don't remember that." You say, which is true.

"Sir..." Cindy is hesitant to speak because she knows what's best. But she's not that bright so she speaks anyway. "Sometimes when you're having whisky you don't remember things. Maybe you had some..."

"COME HERE!" You interrupt her. You're not really upset at what she's saying. Hell, she's probably right. But she should know better than to do this.

She walks up slowly, sheepishly. And you reach your hand beneath her skirt. She's not wearing panties (another of your strict policies) and you aggressively shove two fingers as deep as you can into her tight cunt.

She gasps.

"Are you calling me a fucking liar?" You ask.

"No Sir. I'm so sorry Sir." A tear rolls down her soft cheek. Maybe from pain and shame, but maybe from pleasure too. Most sluts in this town don't know the difference anyway.

You take your hand back. "Okay. Let her in."

And a few short moments later, the immaculate Alexandra Daddario is standing in front of you in a very tight black dress. She looks absolutely amazing.

"Thank you for asking me to come by." She says with a little smirk

"Sit down." You say. Sure it's polite to offer her a seat. But you're also giving her an order. Something she'll have to get used to if she wants to star in one of your movies.

She sits.

"Let's get down to it. What do you want? And what are you willing to do to get it?"

Alexandra takes a deep breath. She's probably not used to someone so direct. She's probably used to flirting around a topic. But you're not much of a flirter. "Well... I want to take my career to the next level. And I'm willing to do what it takes."

You give her a good look and suspect she doesn't get it. After all, if she did she'd already be spreading her way to the career she wants.

"By what you're willing to do, I mean..."

"I know what you mean." She interrupts you. That's an instinct you'll have to relieve her of. But all in good time.

"Okay." You say, looking her up and down, making sure she can tell that you're ogling her, objectifying her. "What do you mean by taking your career to the next level?"