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Bharani Elangovan’s heart pounded like a jackhammer as she pushed open the heavy wooden door leading into the dimly lit studio. As a successful serial heroine, she was used to being the center of attention, but something about this casting call made her uneasy.

The casting director, a middle-aged man with a greasy comb-over, eyed her up and down like a piece of meat. Bharani felt her cheeks flush as she fought the urge to cover herself with her hands.

“Ah, Bharani, so glad you could make it,” he said, extending a sweaty hand. “I’m sure you’ll do great in this role. It’s a bit…risqué, but I think you’re up for the challenge.”

Bharani forced a smile, silently praying that she wouldn’t have to do anything too outrageous. She had always been careful to maintain a certain level of professionalism in her career, and the thought of doing a nude scene made her stomach turn.

“Great, let’s get started,” the casting director said, clapping his hands together. “First things first, let’s get you out of that dress.”

Bharani’s eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me?”

“We need to see your body for the role,” the casting director explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a photographer here to capture everything.”

Bharani felt her heart sink as she realized she had no choice. She slowly began to unzip her dress, feeling the weight of the casting director’s gaze on her back.

As she stepped out of the dress and stood there in her bra and panties, she couldn’t help but feel exposed and vulnerable. She had never felt so small and powerless in her entire life.

The photographer, a young woman with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, stepped forward and began to set up her camera. Bharani watched as she attached a long lens and adjusted the settings, feeling her anxiety grow with every click of the shutter.

“Okay, let’s start with some close-ups of your breasts,” the casting director said, gesturing to the photographer.

Bharani felt her face burn with embarrassment as the photographer moved in closer, her lens just inches away from Bharani’s chest. She felt the woman’s hot breath on her skin as she adjusted the focus, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

The photographer’s fingers brushed against Bharani’s nipples as she adjusted the straps of her bra, and Bharani felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. She couldn’t believe she was getting turned on by this humiliating situation, but she couldn’t deny the wetness growing between her legs.

“Okay, now let’s see those nipples,” the casting director said, his voice low and gravelly.

Bharani hesitated for a moment, then reached up and slowly pulled down the cups of her bra, exposing her hard nipples to the cool air. She felt a shiver run down her spine as the photographer captured every moment, every detail.

The casting director stepped closer, his eyes fixated on Bharani’s breasts. She could see the outline of his dick through his pants, and she knew he was getting off on this too.

“Now let’s see that pussy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bharani’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what he was asking. She had never been this exposed before, never been this vulnerable.

But something about the situation, the taboo nature of it all, made her want to push herself further. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slowly began to pull them down, revealing her shaved pussy to the photographer’s lens.

She felt a rush of adrenaline as the casting director stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to touch her. But before he could make contact, Bharani grabbed his wrist and pushed him away.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said, her voice firm and confident.

The casting director’s face fell, and Bharani could see the disappointment in his eyes. But she didn’t care. She had taken control of the situation, had proven that she was more than just a pretty face.

As she dressed and gathered her things, Bharani couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She had pushed herself beyond her comfort zone, had experienced something new and exciting.

And as she walked out of the studio, her head held high, she knew that she would never forget this casting call. It was a moment that would stay with her forever, a reminder of her strength and resilience.

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Preethi Sharma was never shy about her body. As an actress on the popular Malar TV series, she was no stranger to nudity and sex scenes. However, the director of the show, Ravi Patel, had always been respectful and never pushed her too far.

That changed when a new director took over. A man known for his provocative and boundary-pushing work, he had a reputation for getting the best performances out of his actors by any means necessary.

“Preethi, I need you to slip off your saree for this next scene,” he told her during a photo shoot. “I want to see that beautiful blouse cleavage of yours.”

Preethi hesitated. She had never been asked to do something like this before. But the director was insistent, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

She slowly began to slip off her saree, revealing her blouse and the ample cleavage that the director had requested. She could feel his gaze on her, and it made her feel both uncomfortable and excited at the same time.

“Now, Preethi, I need you to tear your blouse,” the director said, his voice low and husky.

Preethi’s heart skipped a beat. She had never done anything like this before. But the director was insistent, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She hesitated for a moment, then reached up and tore her blouse open, revealing her lacy bra and the curves of her breasts.

The director’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “That’s more like it, Preethi. Now, I need you to remove your bra.”

Preethi’s heart was racing now. She had never been asked to do something like this before. But the director was insistent, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the ground.

The director’s eyes were glued to her breasts now, and Preethi could feel her nipples hardening under his gaze. She felt a sudden surge of arousal, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the director had in mind for her next.

“Now, Preethi, I need you to spread your legs,” the director said, his voice low and husky.

Preethi hesitated for a moment, then did as she was told. She could feel the cool air on her bare skin, and she knew that the director could see everything. She felt vulnerable and exposed, but she also felt a strange sense of power.

“Now, Preethi, I need you to touch yourself,” the director said, his voice even lower now.

Preethi’s heart was racing, but she did as she was told. She reached down and began to touch herself, feeling the wetness between her legs. She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan, lost in the moment.

The director watched her, his eyes dark with desire. He could see the wetness on her fingers, and he knew that she was ready for him. He stepped closer to her, his dick hard in his pants.

“Now, Preethi, I need you to take off my pants,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Preethi’s heart was pounding now, but she did as she was told. She reached down and unbuttoned his pants, letting them fall to the ground. His dick sprang free, hard and ready for her.

The director stepped closer to her, his dick pressing against her wetness. Preethi let out a soft moan as he entered her, filling her up. He began to thrust, hard and fast, and Preethi could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly, she felt herself falling over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She cried out, her body shaking with pleasure. The director continued to thrust, harder and faster now, until he too reached his climax, filling her up with his warmth.

They stood there for a moment, panting and sweating, their bodies still entwined. The director looked down at her, a satisfied smile on his face.

“That’s a wrap, Preethi,” he said, pulling out of her.

Preethi looked up at him, a wicked smile on her face. “I think we can do even better next time,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

The director’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “I can’t wait,” he said, his voice filled with desire.

And with that, the photo shoot was over, but the real fun was just beginning.

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Anjali Varadharajan, the old actress, had worked with the TV serial director before, and they had a mutual attraction. But she had never given in to his advances.

Until now.

Anjali found herself in the director’s hotel room, dressed in a traditional saree, feeling both nervous and excited. The director, a man in his late 30s, had always been a professional, but there was an undeniable chemistry between them.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the director moved towards Anjali, his eyes filled with desire. He reached out and gently touched her saree, running his fingers over the fabric. Anjali felt a shiver run down her spine as his touch sent waves of pleasure through her body.

“You look beautiful,” the director said, his voice low and husky.

Anjali smiled, feeling her cheeks flush. She had always been self-conscious about her age, but the director made her feel desired and attractive.

Without warning, the director reached out and grabbed the end of Anjali’s saree, pulling it off in one swift motion. Anjali gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as she stood there in nothing but her blouse and petticoat.

The director’s eyes roamed over her body, taking in every curve and contour. He reached out and cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently. Anjali felt a surge of pleasure as he tweaked her nipples, her body responding to his touch.

“Take off your blouse and bra,” the director commanded, his voice firm.

Anjali hesitated for a moment, but the desire in the director’s eyes made her comply. She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, revealing her ample breasts encased in a lacy bra.

The director’s eyes widened as he saw her breasts, his face filled with disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Anjali asked, feeling self-conscious.

“Your boobs are sagging,” the director said, his voice filled with disgust. “I thought you were a real actress, but you’re just a fake.”

Anjali felt a wave of shame wash over her. She had always been self-conscious about her body, and the director’s words cut deep.

But then something inside her snapped. She was tired of being ashamed of her body, tired of being objectified and judged.

“Fuck you,” Anjali said, her voice filled with anger. “I may not have perfect tits, but I’m still a damn good actress.”

The director’s face fell, and Anjali could see the regret in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean it.”

But Anjali was already stripping off her bra, revealing her loose, hanging breasts.

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice filled with defiance. “I’m proud of my body, and I’m not going to let you shame me for it.”

The director watched in awe as Anjali stood there, her breasts on full display. He reached out and touched them, feeling the weight and softness of them in his hands.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “You are a damn good actress, and your body is beautiful.”

Anjali smiled, feeling a sense of liberation wash over her. She had stood up for herself, and she had won.

“Now, let’s make a real movie,” the director said, his eyes filled with desire.

Anjali nodded, feeling her body respond to the director’s touch. She was ready to give herself to him, to let him explore every inch of her body.

The director led Anjali to the bed, his hands roaming over her body as they went. He pushed her down onto the bed, his body hovering over hers.

Anjali felt a surge of pleasure as the director’s lips met hers, his tongue exploring her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as they kissed.

The director’s hands were all over her body, touching and caressing every curve and contour. Anjali felt herself growing wetter and wetter as he explored her, her body responding to his touch.

The director’s fingers found their way to her pussy, and he began to stroke her clit. Anjali moaned, her body writhing in pleasure as the director brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

Just as she was about to cum, the director pulled his fingers away, leaving Anjali wanting more.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice filled with desire. “I want to make this last.”

Anjali nodded, her body trembling with pleasure. She was ready for whatever the director had in store for her.

The director spread Anjali’s legs wide, exposing her pussy to his gaze. He leaned down and began to lick and suck her clit, his tongue driving her wild with pleasure.

Anjali moaned, her body writhing in pleasure

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