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Alicia Silverstone: Just Like Hollywood
by Your Ghost (Ilikeknives@msn.com)

***

Alicia Silverstone is abducted and brutalized. (MF, nc, 
rp, v, bd, inc, oral, anal, ws, celeb-parody)

***

Alicia Silverstone walked confidently through the 
studio parking lot, her long blonde hair bright in the 
Southern California sun. She was wearing a snug white 
cotton blouse, a short black skirt, and sneakers with 
white ankle socks. She had a purse slung over her 
shoulders, sunglasses over her eyes, and an air of busy 
distraction. In fact, she was distracted; she'd just 
come from a meeting with one of the studio's producers, 
and this was on her mind as she walked. 

It had been a good meeting, but only in the sense that 
it wasn't a disaster; she hadn't gotten them to take 
the deal for her newest project, but at least they 
hadn't turned it down. She was trying to think of some 
way to get them to come across with the money, some 
hook she could throw them, or a bone, and she was so 
preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't see the 
man approaching her from between two cars.

"Alicia?" the man said suddenly.

Alicia jumped, startled, then focused on him and said, 
"What is it?"

"Um, hi," the man said. "My name is Martin and, um, I 
worked as a production assistant on your Clueless 
movie, five years ago. Do you, um, do you remember me?"

Alicia's first impulse was to tell the guy that she 
would have no reason to remember some nobody production 
assistant, but she checked it; one of the first things 
she'd ever learned in Hollywood was that the place was 
loaded with weirdos, perverts and losers, and she had 
to be careful. This guy could have been telling her the 
truth, but he could just as easily be trying to catch 
her off guard. 

So instead of just putting him in his place, she paused 
and pulled her sunglasses down, pretending that she was 
trying to recognize him. What she was really doing was 
committing his face to memory; that way, if he did 
anything creepy, she'd be able to pick him out of a 
line up.

Martin (if that was his real name) was in his mid 
thirties, about six feet tall, 200 approximate pounds, 
brown hair and eyes, a little bit pudgy, acne scars on 
his cheeks, blue work shirt and jeans, and thoroughly 
awash in a dork aura. Alicia suspected that even if she 
had met him five years ago she would have forgotten him 
about five seconds later.

"Oh, sure," she said, forcing herself to smile, "I 
remember you." It was best to humor these types. "What 
can I do for you, Marvin? Do you want an autograph?"

"It's Martin," Martin said. He was fidgeting slightly 
and obviously trying not to wring his hands together. 
"And, um, no, I don't want an autograph. Or, actually, 
that would be cool. But that's not why I, um, why I 
stopped you. I was wondering, Alicia, if you would 
maybe, um, like to um, go out with me."

It was all Alicia could do to keep from laughing in his 
face. Go out with him? Was he out of his mind? Did he 
know who she was?

"Gee, Marvin, I dunno," she said as she let her gaze 
drift to her left. She was looking for her car. "I 
don't usually go out with guys... well, like you." Oh, 
shit that was the wrong thing to say. "I mean, you seem 
nice and everything." Yeah, right. "But, you know, 
we're not really friends or anything. But I'd be glad 
to sign something for you. You know, your autograph 
book or whatever." 

There was her car. Her darling silver Porsche. It was 
already three years old and still worth more than this 
creep made in a decade. Unfortunately, it seemed a 
really long way away. Didn't this parking lot have a 
security guard?

"It's Martin," Martin said again, and the tone of his 
voice made Alicia return her gaze to him. He sounded 
pissed for some reason. Kinda looked it too. "And I 
don't want your autograph. It was nice meeting you, 
Alicia."

Martin turned and walked away, hands crammed into his 
pockets. Alicia watched him for a moment, wondering 
what that was all about, then she too turned and 
resumed walking to her car. She tried to get her mind 
back on the meeting, the possible deal, but for some 
reason she couldn't. The incident with Marvin had left 
her feeling unsettled.

There was definitely something not right about him. 
Fans usually didn't just leap out at you like that, or 
ask for a date right out of the blue. And they always 
wanted an autograph. Even stalkers wanted autographs. 
So, what was the deal with this guy? Had to be a very 
wrong number. Maybe she should plunk down the money for 
a bodyguard. Yeah, a bodyguard. That was a good idea. 
Nice big handsome body guard.

With that problem solved, Alicia was able to return to 
the dilemma of what to do about this new project. She 
recalled that, during the meeting, that one guy, the 
producer guy, she couldn't remember his stupid name, 
he'd spent most of his time working her tits over with 
his eyes. Maybe that was the key, she thought. Play up 
to him, flirt with him, let him think he's going to get 
some. Hell, maybe even give him some. He was a fairly 
good looking guy, despite that he was old enough to be 
her daddy.

Yes, it was slutty, sleeping with the producer, but it 
wouldn't the first time. Not even the fiftieth. Sex had 
almost always been a bargaining tool for her. If you 
wanted to be a success in Hollywood, you had to face 
that reality. Sometimes you had to put out just to 
survive.

That was how she'd gotten that role on The Wonder 
Years, and also how she'd landed the starring role in 
The Crush (and lost her cherry, too). It got easier 
after that, especially after Clueless, but there were 
still times when she had to at least tolerate some 
creep trying to get into her pants.

Not that she didn't like men. She was straight (for the 
most part, anyway), she loved to fuck, and, if she was 
with the right guy, she could have totally mad fun. But 
"the right guy" was almost a myth in Hollywood. It was 
a world in which the assholes ruled, they lived in the 
woodwork, and they came out at the mere presence of a 
hot young chick. Sometimes they jumped out at you in 
parking lots.

*****

Alicia finally reached her car and paused to get her 
keys out of her purse. She was still somewhat deep in 
thought (as deep as she could get, anyway), and so 
didn't notice the man in the ski mask coming around 
from the back of the van parked in front of her 
Porsche. He came up behind her, walking almost 
casually, and without a word reached out and grabbed a 
handful of her bright blonde hair. He instantly yanked 
on it, hard enough to pull her off balance and sending 
her sunglasses flying. 

Alicia dropped to her knees and gave up a surprised 
yelp, but she had no time to make any other kind of 
noise before the man's fist smashed into her temple, 
causing her to fall sideways onto the asphalt. She 
managed to call out, "Marvin, help me!" before the man 
kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of 
her. Alicia doubled over, in part from the pain and in 
part from an instinctive attempt to roll into a ball. 
It didn't do her any good.

He kicked her again, then bent over and hit her several 
times with his fist, on the head, the shoulders, and on 
her arms when she brought them up to try to protect 
herself. She cried out again, but it was a low, 
frightened sound that didn't attract any attention. 
When he was done hitting her, the man grabbed her by 
the arms and seemingly without effort hauled her up to 
her feet. He wrapped one arm around her midsection and 
clapped a hand over her mouth. 

Alicia struggled feebly as the man carried her like a 
rag doll to the van. The side door was open and he 
easily tossed her through it. Alicia landed roughly on 
the carpeted floor, and a moment later the man in the 
ski mask was in the van with her and sliding the door 
closed.

Alicia, though stunned and disoriented, managed to get 
to her knees and crawl to the back door of the van. She 
grabbed the handle and pulled but found it locked.

"Help me!" she called out desperately. "Marvin, help 
me, please!"

That was all she had time to do before the man closed 
in on her, grabbing her by the hair again and slapping 
her several times across the face. Alicia cried out 
from the pain, and tears began to spill from her eyes. 
The man shoved her down onto the floor, jamming her 
lovely face down into the carpet, and for the first 
time spoke to her.

"Don't fight me, bitch," he told her in a rough voice, 
"or I'll beat you to death. You understand?"

"Please...." Alicia begged, "please don't hurt me. 
Please don't hurt me...."

"Too late for that, you stupid cunt. But if you don't 
wanna die, you'll keep your shitty mouth shut and you 
won't yell anymore or try to get away." The man hit her 
hard on the shoulder. "'Got it?"

"Yes....yes...." Alicia said, weeping now. "Just please 
don't hurt me anymore...."

"And no more goddamn talking." The man smacked her on 
the back of the head. "Now, lie down on the floor and 
don't move."

Alicia did as she was told, laying flat on her stomach 
with her arms out at her sides. The man in the ski mask 
went to a tool box against a side wall and opened it 
up, took out four items. He set them next to Alicia's 
prone body, then picked one of the items up. It was a 
roll of duct tape. He tore off a strip, then grabbed a 
handful of Alicia's hair and pulled, making her yelp. 
He slapped the tape over her mouth, then let go of her 
hair. 

Alicia let her face fall back to the carpet. The next 
item the man picked up was a pair of handcuffs. He 
grabbed one of Alicia's arms, yanked it behind her 
back, and secured one of the cuffs around her wrist. He 
did the same with her other arm, and now Alicia was 
handcuffed and laying flat on the floor, her breasts 
getting painfully mashed beneath her. She was crying 
now, loudly and desperately, but because of the duct 
tape the sounds were greatly muffled.

The next item was another pair of handcuffs. The man 
picked these up and hooked them onto one of the belt 
loops on his jeans, then bent over and grabbed Alicia 
by her arms. He roughly pulled her up to her knees, 
then dragged her over to a spot next to his tool box. 
There was a horseshoe shaped bar there, each end of 
which was welded to the wall. He forced her to sit with 
her back to it, then secured one cuff around the bar 
and the other around the chain between the two cuffs 
around Alicia's wrists. She was now manacled to the 
wall and completely unable to escape.

The man slapped Alicia's face once, then reached for 
the last item he'd taken from his tool box: a long 
sharp butcher knife. He held it up in front of Alicia's 
face, only an inch from her eyes, and told her, "You 
give me any trouble at all, you filthy whore, and I'll 
shove this up your cunt and fuck you with it till 
you're dead." Alicia moaned pitifully.

The man pulled the knife back a bit, and with his other 
hand he grabbed the front of her blouse. He yanked on 
it, snapping all the buttons and exposing her chest. 
Alicia was wearing a black lace bra, obviously designed 
to push her breasts together and make them look larger. 
The man grabbed at the bra, pulled it out, and sliced 
it between the cups with the knife. The bra fell open 
and Alicia's breasts spilled out into full view.

They were magnificent breasts, full and round, slightly 
pointed, and topped with small pink nipples. The man in 
the ski mask ogled them for a few moments, then dropped 
his knife and with both hands began fondling them. He 
was rough, squeezing and pulling and pinching them, 
causing Alicia to whimper with more pain. He ignored 
her. He continued to play with her breasts for another 
minute, slapped each of them a few times, then picked 
up his knife again.

Next he pulled Alicia's skirt up to her waist, which 
was a bit of a difficult task, since she was sitting on 
a portion of it. Once he had it up, however, he used 
his knife to cut away her panties, standard white 
cotton things with tiny pink flowers on them, like a 
little girl's underwear. He tossed the panties to the 
side, then jerked her knees open. Now he could see her 
cunt.

And it was a beautiful cunt. Full and womanly, slightly 
swollen lips (probably from getting fucked by every guy 
with money she came in contact with), and covered with 
a healthy bush of dark blonde hair.

"Wow," the man said to her, "you're a natural blonde. 
Imagine that." He jammed one finger into her, all the 
way up to his third knuckle, then pulled it out and put 
the tip of his knife up to her opening. Alicia squirmed 
and whimpered some more. "Just remember what I told 
you. You give me any bullshit, any kind of bullshit at 
all, and you get this up your snatch. Now, leave your 
legs just like they are. Don't close em."

He moved away from her, back to his toolbox, and took 
out a camera. He moved back in front of her, but as far 
to the other side of the van as he could get, then took 
several pictures of her as she sat there, handcuffed 
and weeping, tape over her mouth, tits hanging out, and 
her cunt exposed like a golden treasure.

When he was done with the pictures the man in the ski 
mask returned the camera to his tool box, then knelt 
down in front of Alicia and told her, "Don't go 
anywhere."

He slapped her across the face once more, then moved to 
the front of the van. He got in the driver's seat, 
started the engine, and began driving.

*****

Alicia was sore all over. Her head and face, mostly, 
where the man had hit her the most, but her arms and 
legs too, her back and shoulders, her stomach where 
he'd kicked her. Her breasts too. He'd squeezed them 
and slapped them so hard she was sure they were bruised 
now. She understood, though, that the pain she was in, 
the possible damage he'd already done to her, was the 
least of her worries. As she sat there in the back of 
the van, handcuffed and cramping up in the darkness, 
she knew that there were worse things in store for her. 
Much worse.

He was going to rape her, of course. The way he'd 
looked at her after he'd pulled her bra off, the way 
he'd stuck his finger in her cunt, those things made it 
clear that rape was a certainty. Probably beat her up 
some more, maybe even torture her. But as terrible as 
those prospects were, what was worst was that he hadn't 
done any of those things as soon as he'd gotten a hold 
of her; he was actually taking her somewhere. Probably 
out into the desert, or up into the mountains, some 
secluded middle of nowhere place where he could leave 
her when he was through with her. Where he could dump 
her body.

I could die today, Alicia told herself, and she 
shuddered with the thought. She'd managed to stop 
crying some time ago, but now that the specter of death 
loomed over her, she felt the sobs trying to return, to 
burst out of her. It took all she had to keep it 
inside; the man might hear her and stop the van and 
come back to make her shut up. To kill her.

I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die. Please, God, 
don't let me die. Just don't let me die. But she knew 
her God wouldn't hear her; she'd never paid him much 
attention in her life, she'd abandoned her Jewish 
religion when she was twelve and she'd had to suck some 
creep's cock just for a part in a stupid television 
show, and she was sure that He was abandoning her now. 
It was up to her to survive this if she could. She'd 
have to give in, be submissive as possible, do whatever 
he wanted . Give it up for the right to live. Just like 
in Hollywood.

*****

The man in the ski mask drove for more than two hours, 
long after the sun had gone down. He drove primarily on 
the Riverside Freeway, until he reached the turnoff for 
the San Bernardino mountains. He then drove north, up 
into the mountains and toward Big Bear Lake. 

He didn't go as far as the lake, though; about two 
miles from there he turned off onto another, smaller 
road, and followed it as it wound around the mountain. 
Once it leveled off he turned again, onto yet another 
road. This one led through a stand of pines to a small 
cabin on a ridge. There was a fairly large parking area 
in front but he chose to drive around to the back and 
park directly behind the cabin. He stopped, shut off 
the engine and the lights, then sat there in the 
driver's seat for a few minutes, smoking a cigarette 
and staring out the windshield at nothing.

Finally, he stubbed out his smoke and made his way to 
the back of the van. Alicia sat there, handcuffed and 
frightened, helplessly waiting for whatever he would 
do. The man slapped her face, then reached into his 
shirt pocket and pulled out a set of small keys. He 
used one of these to unlock the cuffs that were holding 
her to the horseshoe shaped bar. Alicia immediately 
fell over on her side, but she made no attempt to 
escape. The man knelt down next to her, grabbed her by 
the hair, and said, "You're gonna come with me now. And 
you're not gonna try to get away, you understand?"

Alicia nodded. The man reached under her, grabbed one 
of her breasts and squeezed, and Alicia cried out in 
pain. Then he stood up and looked down at her for a 
long moment before slowly reaching up and removing his 
mask. Alicia gasped in surprise through the duct tape 
over her mouth. It was Marvin.

"That's right, slut," Martin said. "It's me. I got my 
date with you anyway. Except, instead of the nice 
romantic date you would have had if you hadn't been 
such a stuck up cunt, you're gonna get the really bad 
version. I'm gonna show you what happens to snotty 
little starlets who think their smelly pussies are too 
good for me. You're gonna learn your lesson, you rotten 
tramp."

Martin smacked her again, then turned and left the van 
through the side door and came around to the back. He 
unlocked that door, opened it, then reached in and 
grabbed Alicia by one arm. He roughly pulled her out, 
letting her fall onto the ground, her naked breasts in 
the dirt. He shut the van door, then bent down, grabbed 
her again by one arm, and pulled her up to her feet.

"Walk toward the house, cunt."

Martin held onto the handcuffs that still bound her 
wrists together as Alicia stepped and stumbled toward 
the house. She tried to look around as she went and 
Martin told her, "Don't bother looking around, whore. 
You're out in the middle of nowhere, so even if you did 
manage to escape, you wouldn't have anywhere to go. 
Just keep moving."

They came up on a porch and Martin went ahead of her to 
open the door. He held it open and told her, "Get 
inside, slut," and she went inside. There was a tiny 
washroom with a washer and dryer, and immediately to 
the right was a doorway that led into a kitchen. Martin 
turned on a light, blinding Alicia for a moment, then 
guided her through the kitchen and into the living 
room. 

He didn't stop there, but continued on through the 
living room to another doorway. There he stopped, 
reached into the room and flicked on the light, then 
pulled her though the doorway and into a bedroom. There 
was a large bed against one wall, a nightstand next to 
it, and a chest of drawers along another wall, but no 
other furniture. There was a bathroom to the left and 
Martin guided Alicia to it.

He turned that light on too, then told her, "Go ahead 
and piss, or shit, or whatever you have to do, but do 
it now, because you might not get a chance later on." 
Alicia looked at him with wide beseeching eyes, 
obviously not wanting to be watched as she performed 
such a private act. Martin slapped her face and said, 
"Do it, whore."

Alicia reluctantly went over to the toilet, let Martin 
pull up her skirt, then sat down. She pissed, the sound 
reverberating loudly against the bathroom walls, and as 
she did so tears spilled from her eyes and down her 
cheeks. Once she was finished Martin tore off a large 
wad of toilet paper and efficiently wiped her cunt, 
then flushed the toilet.

He pulled Alicia back to her feet, then took her back 
into the bedroom and pushed her toward the bed, telling 
her, "Lay down, pussy."

Alicia clumsily crawled onto the bed on her knees, then 
just as clumsily lay down. Because of the handcuffs she 
was forced to lie on her side. While she did this 
Martin opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and took 
out a steel chain, approximately three feet long, with 
a set of handcuffs attached to each end. He secured one 
set to the handcuffs around Alicia's wrists, and the 
other set he secured to an iron eyebolt that was 
screwed into the bed's oak headboard.

"There," he said. "Now you I know you won't be running 
away on me. Miserable fucking cumbag."

He went to the dresser again and brought back a large 
hunting knife. He used it to cut Alicia's blouse, the 
straps on her bra, and her skirt, then removed all of 
these items, along with her shoes and socks, leaving 
her completely naked. He put the knife down on the 
nightstand, then placed one hand on Alicia's shoulder 
and pushed her over onto her back. Her arms and hands 
were stuck under her now, forcing her to arch her back, 
and the handcuffs were digging into her wrists. 

Alicia made a plaintive noise to communicate her 
discomfort but Martin ignored her. He grabbed a handful 
of her hair and lifted her head, slid a pillow under 
it, then let her hair go. Next he grabbed both of her 
feet and pushed them closer to her butt, causing her to 
bend her knees, then took hold of her knees and moved 
them in opposite directions, making her spread her 
legs.

"There," Martin said, staring down at her completely 
exposed cunt. "Perfect." He bent over her and very 
carefully removed the duct tape from her mouth. Alicia 
parted her lips as if she was about to speak but he 
held up one finger. "Don't talk. I'll hit you again if 
you talk. But feel free to cry, or to scream, or 
whatever else you feel you need to do."

He stepped back from the bed and began to undress. 
Alicia closed her eyes and turned her head, staying 
that way as Martin silently removed his shirt, his 
shoes, his jeans, and his underwear. Once he was naked 
he crawled onto the end of the bed. Alicia continued to 
keep her eyes closed and her face turned away as he 
moved up the bed, up between her outstretched legs. He 
settled himself on top of her, placing his hard cock 
right up against her cunt. He slid one of his hands 
under her, holding her like he would a lover, and 
kissed her cheek. His other hand moved down between 
their bodies, gripped his cock, and positioned it so 
that the head was touching her pubic hair.

"You're gonna like this, you sloppy slut," he said, 
then pushed his hips forward.

His cock nudged up to her cunt lips, then pressed past 
them. It slid slowly but easily into her; she obviously 
wasn't that tight. Martin groaned with pleasure as he 
buried his cock all the way into Alicia's cunt. Alicia 
began to cry, soft girlish sobs accompanied by tears 
spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. Martin 
didn't care; he simply pulled back out of her about 
halfway, then pushed into her again, then pulled out, 
then pushed in, grunting and groaning as he slowly 
fucked her. 

He continued to kiss her as well, on her face and neck, 
and brought one of his hands out from under her to 
caress and squeeze her breasts. As he fucked her he 
increased the speed of his thrusts, but he never 
reached the point where he was pounding into her or 
treating her harshly in any way, remaining gentle and 
relatively slow in his sexual use of her. When he 
finally reached the point of orgasm, he groaned softly 
and pressed his cheek against hers, thrust himself into 
her one last time, and came.

When he was done Martin continued to lay on top of her, 
catching his breath, his cock still inside of her. 
Alicia was still crying, though her tears had slowed 
and her weeping had become more of a self pitying 
murmur. Martin kissed her again, on the cheek, then 
touched her chin and forced her to turn her face to 
him. He kissed her once more, this time on the lips, 
then softly told her, "Should have saved some of that 
crybaby shit for later, cunt. I was being nice this 
time, but from here on out it's no more Mr. Nice Guy." 
Then he spit in her face.

*****

Alicia stood in the shower stall, trying to focus on 
the warm spray of water and to ignore Martin's hands as 
they roamed all over her body. When he'd brought her 
into the bathroom, telling her "You need to clean your 
dirty ass," she'd hoped he would take the handcuffs off 
and let her do it herself, but instead he chose to 
leave them on, and now he was cleaning her. He spread a 
lather of soap over her shoulders, down her back, over 
her butt, then over her breasts and belly. 

Not surprisingly, he lingered over her breasts, 
squeezing and pulling on them as he soaped them down. 
He passed over her cunt, though, moving on to her legs 
and feet. When he was done he took the shower head down 
and rinsed her all over. Alicia wondered why he hadn't 
cleaned her between her legs, thinking that maybe he 
was one of those sickos who liked a woman to be dirty 
down there. She didn't know if she should be thankful 
for that or not, but even so her heart sank when she 
saw him reach into the cabinet below the sink and pull 
out a douche bag.

Oh God, she thought, he's going to try to use that on 
me. She felt herself near tears again, but she knew she 
wouldn't cry; this wouldn't be nearly as bad as what 
he'd already done to her.

"Spread your legs, whore."

Alicia moved her legs as wide to each side as the 
shower stall would permit her and Martin bent down, 
brought the nozzle of the douche bag up to her cunt, 
then carelessly pushed it into her. Alicia felt a jab 
of pain, but only for a moment, then the sensation of 
the water being squirted into her from the bag. After 
about ten or fifteen seconds Martin pulled it out of 
her, took the nozzle off, and used the shower spray to 
fill the bag again. He douched her a second time, then 
repeated the filling process.

"Now, turn around," he said, "and bend over, cunt."

Alicia reluctantly did as she was told. Martin placed 
one hand on her waist, and with the other he pushed the 
nozzle of the douche into her ass. Alicia cried out at 
the pain and closed her eyes as tight as she could. 
Martin squeezed the bag and warm water shot up her ass, 
then began to leak out. As soon as the bag was empty 
Martin pulled the nozzle out and tossed it onto the 
floor of the shower stall, then grabbed Alicia by her 
hair and pulled her up to a standing position.

"Just wanted to make sure your asshole was clean," he 
said. He smacked her face lightly with his other hand. 
"Asshole. Now, come on."

Martin pulled on her hair again and she clumsily got 
out of the shower. She stood still while he toweled her 
dry, then followed him as he led her by the hair back 
into the bedroom. He pushed her and she fell onto the 
bed. Martin roughly turned her over onto her back, 
pushed her legs apart, then got on top of her and 
shoved his cock into her. He fucked her hard, hurting 
her as he jammed his cock into her again and again. 
After a few minutes, he suddenly stopped and pulled out 
of her. He got to his knees, grabbed Alicia by her 
hair, and pulled her up to a sitting position. Then he 
was shoving his cock against her lips.

"Open up, cocksucker," he ordered.

Alicia opened her mouth and he shoved his cock inside. 
He was large, and his cock immediately slid all the way 
to the back of her throat, making her gag. Martin 
pulled it back as if he hadn't meant to choke her, but 
then shoved it in again just as far. Alicia gagged 
again, and gave up a small cry of protest. Martin 
either didn't notice, didn't care, or both. He kept 
shoving his cock deep into Alicia's mouth, fucking her 
just as hard as he'd fucked her cunt, and Alicia had to 
struggle to breathe. 

After almost a minute of this he suddenly stopped, 
jamming his cock into her one last time, and groaned as 
he came. His sperm flooded Alicia's mouth, pouring down 
her throat and spilling out past her lips and down her 
chin. She pulled her mouth away from Martin's cock, 
turned her face, and made a retching sound as she spit 
out his come. Martin still had a hold of her hair and 
yanked on it, shouting, "Get your cocksucking mouth 
back over here, bitch!" He shoved his still hard cock 
back into her mouth and told her, "Now, suck on it!" He 
hit her on the head with his fist. "Suck on it, 
goddammit!"

Alicia began sucking on Martin's cock, not the way she 
usually performed oral sex, but literally sucking on it 
like a straw.

"That's it, whore," Martin said. "Suck the last of my 
cum out like the cheap little cocksucker you are."

Alicia continued to suck, tears once again streaming 
from her eyes. After about fifteen seconds Martin 
pulled his cock out of her mouth and rubbed the tip of 
it all over her face. He started with her lips and 
chin, where some of his sperm still lay, and smeared it 
onto her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids. He smeared 
some onto her nose as well, and even tried to push some 
of it up her nostrils.

"There we go," he said. He pushed his cock back up to 
her mouth. "Now, lick the rest of my cum off my dick, 
slut."

Alicia, crying now, dutifully licked his cock clean. 
Once all the cum was licked up Martin pulled his cock 
away, slapped her face, then got up off the bed.

"That's all you get for now," he said. He secured the 
handcuffs on her wrists to the set fixed to the 
headboard. "It's getting late, and I need my sleep. You 
were a good fuck, bitch. But next time you suck my dick 
you better act like it tastes like ice cream."

*****

Alone in the dark, Alicia lay on her side, curled up in 
a fetal position, and cried. She wanted to go home. She 
wanted this to end. She prayed to God to save her. She 
apologized, to God, to Martin for having been mean to 
him. She asked for her mommy. She even asked for her 
daddy, even though she hated him. Even though he'd done 
that awful thing to her. As awful as what Martin was 
doing to her now.

She'd been sixteen then, and had just come home from 
court, where she'd had herself legally emancipated. 
She'd done it so that she could work longer hours for 
the movies she was working on. Daddy had opposed the 
idea from the start, had accused her of abandoning her 
family. She might have changed her mind, but she knew 
that what he was really mad about was that she didn't 
intend to share any of her new wealth with him. He just 
wanted her money. And when she'd come home and 
announced that she'd gotten a favorable decision in 
court, he'd gone into one of his typical rages. 

But instead of just storming around the house and 
threatening to disown her, he'd dragged her into his 
bedroom, thrown her onto the bed, torn her clothes from 
her body, and shouted at her, "You wanna be a movie 
star, you goddamned whore? You wanna get fucked by 
every man in Los Angeles? Then here, let me join the 
crowd!" And then he'd fallen on her, shoved his cock 
into her, and fucked her. Alicia had begged and pleaded 
for him to stop but he wouldn't. He just kept fucking 
her and calling her a whore and a slut until he came 
inside of her. Afterward, he'd left her there on his 
bed, telling her, "Now you can say you've fucked every 
man in Los Angeles. And you won't call yourself my 
daughter anymore. From now on you're just a common 
whore, and God will destroy you like he did Sodom and 
Gomorrah." 

Less than a month later she missed her period and had 
gone to the doctor and learned that she was pregnant. 
She hadn't been a virgin when her father raped her, but 
neither had she been with any other man around that 
time, so the baby had to be his. She'd gotten an 
abortion as soon and as secretly as she could, then had 
carried on with her career as if nothing had happened. 
It had been the most terrible time in Alicia's life, 
even more terrible than what she was now going through, 
so in that respect at least, she believed it was a good 
thing that she could recall it all, and remind herself 
that things could be worse.

Still, as she finally cried herself to sleep, her 
daddy's words echoed in her mind. She knew he'd been 
right, not in raping her, not in making her pregnant 
with his incestuous child, but in his prediction of 
what would become of her: she was facing her fate now, 
her destruction, and in some respects she deserved it.

*****

Martin woke her up by repeatedly hitting her on the 
head, shoulders and back. At first Alicia didn't know 
what was happening, had no way to respond but to try to 
get away from the pain. The handcuffs kept her tethered 
to the bed, though, and all she could do was try to 
roll up into a ball.

"Wake your shitty ass up," Martin said. "Time for 
breakfast." He bent down and unlocked the handcuffs 
that were securing her to the bed. "First, though, you 
gotta go to the bathroom. Don't want you pissing the 
bed."

He led her roughly into the bathroom and stood and 
watched as she used the toilet, then wiped her cunt and 
her ass with large wads of toilet paper. He brought her 
back into the bedroom and shoved her onto the bed, 
secured her to the headboard again, then left her alone 
in the room for a minute. When he came back he had a 
plate of bacon and scrambled eggs, along with a cup of 
coffee. Martin helped her to sit up, then sat on the 
edge of the bed and fed her the food. Alicia ate 
eagerly, and carefully sipped the coffee when it was 
offered to her. As soon as she was finished with the 
food Martin took the plate and cup away, returning just 
a few moments later.

"Time to go to work, whore," he told her, then grabbed 
her by her ankles and pulled her down near the end of 
the bed. Alicia's arms were wrenched upward behind her 
back, the handcuffs cutting into her wrists, and she 
yelped with the pain. Martin slapped her face, then 
fell on her and started fucking her hard. As he shoved 
himself into her he whispered in her ear, "Dirty 
fucking slut. Got all that money and fame by giving up 
your ass to any slimeball with a cock, didn't you? You 
fucking whore. You know the only thing I regret about 
all this, bitch? I don't have a dog. Cause if I did I'd 
let it fuck you silly. Then I'd make you suck its dick 
and swallow it's come. Filthy goddamn stuck up whore."

After another minute or so, Martin stopped and pulled 
his cock out of her. He turned her over onto her 
stomach and commanded, "Get your knees under you and 
stick your ass up in the air, cunt."

Alicia dully complied, seeming to not even care what 
was happening to her anymore. When she was in the 
position he'd demanded, Martin grabbed her by the hips 
and shoved his cock into her cunt again. He slammed 
into her repeatedly, showering her with more insults 
and accusations, until once again he pulled out of her. 
A moment later he shoved his cock into her ass, hard 
and deep, and Alicia screamed into the mattress. 
Instinctively, she tried to get away from the pain 
invading her body, but the combination of the handcuffs 
and Martin's strong grip on her kept her in place as 
Martin fucked her in the ass.

"I don't know what you're crying about, you fucking 
slut," Martin said as he continued to slam his cock 
into her. "You're tight, but you're not that tight."

Alicia continued to cry and moan into the mattress as 
Martin raped her. Finally, after about half a minute, 
he shoved himself into her one last time and groaned 
with satisfaction as he shot his come deep into her 
ass.

Immediately afterward he pulled out of her, slugged her 
hard in the middle of her back, and said, "I gotta go 
clean your dirty shit of my cock now, bitch. Don't move 
or I'll cut your tits off and shove em down your 
throat."

He got up and went into the bathroom, cleaned himself 
thoroughly, then returned the bedroom. Alicia lay where 
she'd left him, still with her face in the mattress and 
her violated ass up in the air, crying and moaning. He 
ignored her as he quietly got dressed, then once again 
unfastened the handcuffs from the headboard. He pulled 
her by the arms and threw her onto the floor at the 
foot of the bed.

"Time to get up now, sleepyhead," he said. He kicked 
her in the left breast and Alicia let out a yelp of 
pain. "We're going on a field trip."

Alicia tried to get to her feet but she couldn't quite 
manage it. Martin leaned down, grabbed her by the arms, 
and hauled her up. Once she was standing he grabbed one 
of her breasts and pulled on it, leading her out of the 
room. He led her out in the opposite direction that 
he'd brought her in, through the living room, the 
kitchen, then the washroom and out onto the back porch. 
The van was in the same place it had been before, and 
the rear doors were open, waiting for her.

Martin picked her up like a groom picking up his bride 
and carried her over to the van. He tossed her onto the 
carpeted floor, then climbed in and secured her 
handcuffs to the bar welded to the wall.

"Don't move," he told her, then shut the doors of the 
van and climbed into the driver's seat. He started the 
engine, and in the next moment the van began to move.

*****

This is it, Alicia told herself as the van rocked and 
bumped along the road. He's going to kill me and dump 
my body somewhere. They probably won't even find me 
until I'm nothing but bones. She didn't want to die. 
but there was no way out of this for her. Martin had 
complete control of her, her body, her fate. It was so 
unfair. Yes, she'd done some bad things in her life, 
made decisions that she shouldn't have made, walked a 
path that would not bring redemption from her God. All 
this pain, all this misery and terror, the rapes and 
the beatings, she deserved them, but she didn't deserve 
to die. Why was God making her die when she was still 
so young that she could turn things around, right all 
of her wrongs? She still had time.

The van suddenly slowed, then stopped, and Martin shut 
off the engine, and Alicia thought, No, you don't. 
You're all out of time.

*****

"Last stop," Martin said. "This is where you get off 
for good, cunt."

He unfastened Alicia's handcuffs from the bar and 
pulled her toward the door of the van. He slid the door 
open, then grabbed her by her arms and threw her out 
onto the ground. She landed and rolled onto her back, 
and when she looked around she saw that she was in a 
secluded area surrounded by trees.

Martin jumped down from the van and grabbed her again, 
pulled her up to her knees. He slapped her face, then 
yanked open his jeans and pulled his cock out. He 
shoved it up to her lips and Alicia opened her mouth.

"I'm not gonna fuck your mouth this time, shitbag," he 
told her. "This time, you're gonna suck me off just 
like you do all those assholes in Hollywood. Show me 
what a good cocksucker you are."

Alicia complied, leaning forward and slipping her mouth 
over the end of his cock. She began to suck him as 
earnestly as she could, moving her head forward and 
back as she did so. 

"Oh, yeah," Martin said, grabbing a handful of her 
hair. "That's good, bitch. You really are a good 
cocksucker. You better swallow all my come too, or I'll 
shove my knife up your ass."

Alicia continued sucking until Martin groaned and 
pulled her head forward by the hair, forcing his cock 
to the back of her throat, and came. Alicia choked and 
gagged, but she managed to swallow most of his come. 
When he was done, Martin pulled his cock out of her 
mouth and slapped her again, knocking Alicia down onto 
her butt.

"One last thing," Martin said. "The one thing you 
deserved to have done to you all this time." He was 
still holding his cock, and now he pointed it at her 
and began to piss all over her. Alicia moaned in 
disgust and humiliation, and she reflexively turned her 
face away, but she didn't offer up any other resistance 
or protest as Martin's warm piss splashed all over her 
hair, her face, her breasts, her stomach and legs. When 
he was done, Martin grabbed Alicia's hair again and 
forced her to look up at him. He wiped the end of his 
cock all over her face, then put it back in his pants.

"Well, that's about it," he said. "I did all I planned 
to do." He turned away as if he were going back to the 
van, then stopped. "Oh wait. Just one more thing." Then 
he turned around and delivered a savage kick to 
Alicia's face. She fell over onto the grass and Martin 
was immediately on top of her, beating her brutally 
with his fists. He hit her repeatedly on the head, the 
shoulders and back, then turned her over and began 
pummeling her face and breasts. He beat her until she 
was unconscious.

When he was done he got up, breathing heavily, and 
walked over to one of the nearby trees. He picked up a 
large rock and brought it back, stood over Alicia's 
prone body, hefting the rock in his hands.

"I oughta kill you," he said. He stood there for 
several more moments, considering, then finally dropped 
the rock on the ground and said, "Fuck it. If you live, 
you live. If you die, you die. I don't care anymore."

He turned and went back to his van, got in and started 
the engine, and drove away, leaving Alicia lying on the 
grass, nude and bruised, her hands still handcuffed 
behind her back.

*****

It was by chance that, only five hours later, a couple 
hiking in the woods discovered Alicia Silverstone's 
nude body. They thought she was dead at first, and 
reported it that way to the local authorities, and 
because of the confusion that was what was initially 
reported on the news that evening. But Alicia was still 
alive. She was taken to a hospital and eventually 
recovered from her injuries, but she never uttered a 
word about what had happened to her or who had done it. 

She kept it to herself. Because in Hollywood, if you 
wanted to survive, you sometimes had to put on a pretty 
big act.

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Celebrity Parody Archive