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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1861752-Rachel-McAdams
Rated: XGC · Fiction · Adult · #1861752
An episode of "At Home" with Rachel McAdams. She shows off her beautiful, private home.
         "Good morning! I'm Pamela Nuback, at the Home of Rachel McAdams, star of Sherlock Holmes and other wonderful movies. Today, she has graciously allowed us to enter her home and see how she lives. Personally, I can't wait to see where one of the hottest, young, Hollywood starlets comes to wind down. Let's go inside."

         The door opened and Rachel McAdams stood in the threshold. She was wearing a black skirt, with black tights and a red sweater. She held out her hand welcoming the reporter and her cameraman into her home. The two entered, the cameraman, Roger, panning around to get every possible angle of her lavish entryway.

         The door led to the foyer, a massive, circular open area. The ceiling was a massive domed skylight, the sunshine pouring through the glass, illuminating the gold flecked marble underfoot. The cameraman was now about ten feet away from them. He dropped to one knee, steadying the camera and gaining a slightly upward angle of the two women.

         "Ms McAdams, thank you for graciously welcoming up into your home today. I was just marveling at your wonderful foyer here. Is this gold in the floor?"

         "Yes it is. I had the marble inlaid with gold flecks. It looks wonderful at sunset."

         "Oh, well, maybe if we're here we can get a nice shot of that later this evening."

         "Hopefully I can rope you into staying." Both women laughed. They turned and Rachel led Pamela into her front room, guiding her past the mix of antique and contemporary furniture and design.

         "Oh this is lovely! Such a unique setting. What you've done is amazing. Who designed this home?"

         "I did," Rachel said. "I have been planning the layout to this home since I was a child. I knew one day I would have a home like this and I wanted it to be perfect. I get very little time here at home, so when I do get the chance to relax, I want it to be someplace magical. My fortress of Solitude." Rachel was standing close to Pamela, closer than normally acceptable, even on television. Pamela looked at her cameraman.

         Rachel ushered the cameraman and Pamela into the next room, her kitchen. Again it was decorated in a sharp and hep manner down to the tiniest detail. The tour continued until they finally reached a small alcove and a stairway that led down. Rachel led them down the stairs, the fine artwork on the wallpaper was detailed in gold and studded with diamonds. Pamela ran her hand along it, feeling the texture under her skin as they descended the staircase. After twenty-two stairs, lined with a soft, microfiber carpet, they reached a landing with a door to the left. The door had markings on it that Pamela thought were beautiful and she directed the cameraman to get the details on films. Rachel smiled as they reached the checkerboard floor, her heels clicking against the shiny finish.

         "Behind this door is where I spend most of my time. I come here to relieve stress, kill time, celebrate, really anytime I need a pick me up or am in a good mood, I want to be in this room." Rachel reached into the collar of her sweater. She removed a necklace with a key on the end. It was long enough to slide into the keyhole without Rachel moving an inch. The keyhole was at eye-level, the click of the key entering it resounded up the staircase. Pamela turned her head and leaned forward to get a peek at this room that Rachel loved so much.

         The three entered the room, the lights were still off and there were no windows as this floor was below ground level. The door clicked behind them and Rachel flipped the light switch on the wall. As the fluorescent lights buzzed and hummed, the cameraman rotating, taking in every inch of the expansive, sub-level room. Pamela gripped the microphone tight, fearing that she would drop it to the hard, cement floor underfoot.

         The room was a fully furnished dungeon. Every wall was covered with sadistic tools of torture and pleasure. There were chains and shackles hanging next to whips and nylon rope. As the cameraman turned to face Rachel, she slapped the camera from his hand, the plastic and glass smashing onto the floor, and pushing him backwards to the floor. He scrambled to his knees and collected the pieces of the recording device in his hands, as if he could somehow push them back together. Rachel placed her hands on the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up over her head, revealing a leather bustier. She unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it and towards Pamela. Her tights were only thigh high, and he wore a black thong. Pamela looked in fright as Rachel grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and threw her to the ground.

         "I am Mistress Rachel. You are now my slaves. You will never leave this room again."

         Pamela tried to stand, her legs shaking as she pressed her hands to the floor. Rachel kicked her in the stomach, sending her back to the floor on her side. Pamela grabbed her midsection and cried out. Rachel turned and walked to a long, wooden crate against the East wall. She lifted the lid, retrieved a few items and carried them back to where she left Pamela on the floor.

         Rachel leaned down and snapped a leather collar around Pamela's neck and fed the bar of a key'd lock through the hole and clicked it closed. Pamela put her hands to the collar and felt it, pulling the leather and fingering the lock slowly. She looked around the room in fright as Rachel casually walked to her cameraman and did the same, locking his collar in place. The cameraman stood. He was a big burly man, more fat than muscular. He turned to Rachel and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her a foot off the ground.

         "Take this off my neck and stop playing games! Do you know how much that camera cost?"

         Rachel looked at him without even a hint of fear in her face. She smiled at him. "You have this one chance to put me down and kneel back on the floor."

         "What!?!" the man shouted. He spun Rachel around and pushed her against the North wall. With a quick motion, Rachel lifted her arm and touched a cattle prod to the cameraman's stomach. She felt a slight jolt as he released his grip and she dropped back to the floor, landing perfectly on her five inch heels. The man crumpled as she pressed the cattle prod to his back, making his body convulse slightly. She walked in circles around him, poking his flesh every few seconds with the prod. The man's mouth was open, but no sound came out. He found himself unable to scream or even think about it though the pain of the electricity.

         "I gave you a chance, didn't I?" Rachel said, poking him once more with the prod. The man was crying, curled into a ball on the floor. She returned to Pamela, who was seated on the floor, watching the torture. "Get undressed." Rachel commanded.

         Pamela had seen the spectacle of violence and didn't want to test Rachel's patience. She unbuttoned her blouse and slowly slipped it from her shoulders, showing off her light pink, push-up bra. She stood and unzipped the side of her skirt and slowly maneuvered it over her ass and down her thighs. Her hips flared a little more than Rachel's did. She stood in front of Rachel, matching pink bra and high cut briefs, her legs covered in a pair of nude pantyhose. She wore blue heels that had matched her outfit. The black collar stood out against her white flesh and the soft color of her blondish hair.

         "Give me your clothes and the microphone." Pamela handed the clothes and the microphone to Rachel. She turned and walked back to where the man lie. His nose was bleeding slightly as he laid there sobbing quietly. Rachel picked up the pieces of the broken digital camera and carried all of it to the East wall. On the left side of the crate she had rifled through earlier was a hatch on the wall labeled, "Incinerator". Rachel pulled the metal handle on the wall and the hatch flopped out. She shoved all the objects she carried into the newly formed hole and closed the hatch again. She wiped her hands together and walked to the cameraman and stood over top of him, her legs on either side of his torso. As he lay there, breathing heavily, she could feel his shirt moving against her calf under the nylon. Rachel lowered the cattle prod to the man, keeping it a few inches from him and said, "Get naked, bitch. You have two minutes."

         She moved away from the man and he moved through the pain to his knees. His entire body ached from the high voltage of electricity that had pumped through him. Tears were still in his eyes as he pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. Rachel walked to Pamela, who was still standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her hands clutched in front of her panties. Rachel grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the south wall of the dungeon. She half-dragged Pamela to a set of pulley's hanging from the ceiling. There were two large D-rings separated from each other by about fifteen feet sealed into the cement floor.

         Pamela didn't protest as Rachel placed a leather cuff on each of her wrists and ankles, then took a few lengths of rope and tied them to the rings on the cuffs. She first tied the ropes around Pamela's ankles to the D-rings on the floor, allowing a slight amount of slack. She pushed Pamela's ankles out as far as she could, putting her off balance. When her legs were spread wide, Rachel reached over and rubbed Pamela's ass. She felt her skin through the nylon and lacy panties she wore, moving her hand lower and touching the back of her pussy. Then, without warning, she gave her twat a sharp slap, causing Pamela to yelp.

         Rachel continued with the task, winding the rope from Pamela's right hand through the pulley to the right and pulling tight, lifting her slightly off the ground. Pamela's toes could just barely reach the floor, but the heels on her shoes were an inch off the ground. She wished she had not worn her heels with the ankle strap today. Rachel did the same with Pamela's other arm, and tied the two ropes off to their respective D-rings on the floor. Pamela was spread apart, her limbs already starting to ache from being pulled to their limit.

         Pamela opened her mouth to speak, and was surprised to have it greeted with a bright red ball gag, forcefully shoved into her mouth. The ball was uncomfortable, pushing her teeth farther than she thought her mouth could open. As she started to speak through the ball, Rachel buckled it around the back of Pamela's head, pulling her hair up to keep it looking nice. Pamela was mumbling through the red rubber ball and Rachel walked in front of her. She placed her finger to The ball gag and said, "Shhh", then she walked back towards were the cameraman stood, naked and looking at the floor, covering his privates. Pamela tried to look over her shoulder to see where Rachel was going, but she was out of her line of sight within a few seconds.

         Rachel lifted the man's clothes and shoes from the floor and carried them to the incinerator, where she tossed them down the chute and closed the hatch again. She turned back and found the man right where she had left him, still staring at the concrete floor.

         "I don't even know why I haven't killed you yet," Rachel said. "I have a rocking hot body and can get dick any time I want. I don't need or have any desire to have a male slave. Especially not one who is as disgusting as you are." Rachel turned and looked back at Pamela. She walked back to the Southern area of the dungeon and placed her hands on Pamela's nylon-covered ass.

         "I think I'm going to let him fuck you," Rachel said, a sudden gasp coming from Pamela's gagged throat. She turned her head and tried to look at Rachel, to plead with her eyes for this not to happen, but Rachel turned and walked away from her. Rachel walked back to the kneeling man and hooked a leash around his neck. She pulled the other end and the man began to crawl behind her, keeping a few paces back as she walked to the southern end of the room and in front of Pamela.

         "Tell me," Rachel said. "Do you ever wonder what her pussy tastes like? Do you ever sit at home and masturbate, thinking about touching her?"

         The man was looking at the floor. Rachel could see him blushing. "Yes," he answered sheepishly.

         Rachel walked to Pamela and grabbed her panties and hose with her hands, pulling them down under her ass. Pamela was near tears as Rachel smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the ball gag.

         "Who wouldn't? I'm sure that's why Ms. Nuback was hired by the company. Whoever brought her in thought, 'I could jerk off to this broad. Let's keep her around'. Then, eventually, someone said, 'The viewers at home would love to jerk off to her too, so let's put her on television.' So go ahead. Crawl over there, lean up, and start licking that pussy."

         The cameraman did as he was told, crawling forward and pushing his face against Pamela's bush. Pamela protested through her gag, shaking her head and trying to squirm in the tight bonds. Rachel knew when the man touched her with his tongue as Pamela's eyes went wide and she saw her muscles tense.

         Mistress Rachel walked to the crate against the East wall and removed a long bullwhip from it. She slowly walked back, testing the whip by pulling it in her fists. She stopped about ten feet short of Pamela's backside and cracked the whip, the tip lashing her left ass cheek.

         Even with the gag in, Pamela's cry was audible. Rachel didn't hesitate to lay down three more strikes with the leather whip as Pamela wiggled back and forth, unable to escape her torture pose.

         A few minutes later, when Rachel had tired of the whip, she walked back to Pamela's front and pulled the leash attached to the man's collar. He moved away from Pamela and Rachel pulled the leash up, signalling him to stand.

         "Would you like her from the front, or the back?"

         Tears were streaming down Pamela's face now. Drool was pouring from around the ball gag and running over her chin, dripping onto her large breasts as she sobbed with her head down.

         "The front," the man said, anxiously awaiting his chance.

         Rachel smacked him on the ass, encouraging him to move forward, then took her place behind Pamela, close to her, so the bound woman could feel her captors breath on her skin. The cameraman walked forward and touch Pamela's breasts. She tried to shrink away, but couldn't move more than a few centimeters. He leaned closer, pushing his hips against hers. She could feel his tiny, hard dick press against her pubic mound as he adjusted himself to her height. With one hand, he held his cock and positioned it, then put his other hand on her ass to maneuver her. It seemed so quickly that she felt his member find her hole, and then it was inside her.

         Pamela tried to take a deep breath, but the ball gag prohibited her from breathing through her mouth. The man held her close, his damp, hairy body rubbing against her soft flesh. He slapped her ass a few times, then put his entire mouth over her's holding the ball. He licked her lips with his slimy, soft tongue, and pulled her hair as he smashed their faces together.

         "Enough of the front. Come around here," Rachel said, pointing to Pamela's backside.

         The man took a few more thrusts, then exited her. He released her and Pamela shivered, her body not sharing the repulsion her brain was experiencing. He walked around behind her, feeling her ass and thigh as he did. He gave her ass a firm slap as her took his place behind her.

         The man lined up and Pamela took as deep a breath as she could, preparing herself for what was to come. As the man's cock touched her, she cried out as she realized he was about to put his dick in her ass. She tried to move her hips away, attempting to prevent the rape from going there, but she was totally helpless as she felt his head part her hole and slide in half way.

         The tears streamed faster down her face and she yelped with every thrust. The cameraman had no mercy on her, ramming his hips into her buttocks with all his might. Pamela's arms and legs were pulled tight as her body was pushed forward. The ropes didn't give at all, her joints aching as she was being violently thrown forwards and back in the man's large hands.

         Rachel took a step forward and unlatched the ball gag in Pamela's mouth. As the red ball fell down, she took a deep breath and cried out as loud as she could. This startled the man and he lost his rhythm for a moment, regaining it after a few deep thrusts.

         "Tell me you love me and all this will end. Say, 'Please Mistress Rachel, make me your slave, your devoted pet. I will do all you request. You are my Mistress.' Say this and all this misery will be over. And a new level of misery will begin."

         "Please Mistress Rachel, make me your slave, your devoted pet. I will do all you request. You are my Mistress," Pamela screamed, her words punctuated by the hard thump of the cameraman's hips plowing into her.

         Rachel lifted the cattle prod and pushed it to the man's temple. His body shook as the voltage surged through his body. Pamela could feel the electricity pumping through her privates and down her legs. She gasped for air in the pure agony of it. Blood began to pour from the man's eyes, nose and ears. He took a final breath and fell forward, pressing against Pamela for a moment before sliding to the floor on his back. Pamela gasped, her chin resting against her chest. Her hands were limp in the shackles on her wrists, her feet not even trying to hold her body up, just dangling in the heels, scraping the cement with the toe.

         Rachel grabbed the leash and dragged the man over to the incinerator. The hatch was plenty wide enough for the man's fat frame to fit through, and even though it took Rachel twenty minutes to lift the man up, shove him into the hole and push him far enough to slide over the edge and down into the fire, she didn't mind giving her new slave a break from punishment.

         After she had caught her breath, Rachel walked back to Pamela, dripping cum and sweat onto the stone floor.
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