A Fallen Star (PM only)

[DeepBlue89]

OOC:

Note:

Thread closed for RipRian and I.


My character:

Name: Ashley Smith
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"
Bra size: 32G

..

IC:

July 10th
9 PM : Ashley's room​

"No, no no no no...."​

I was freaking out, calling my manager while I read through the comments left on my social media page. When I saw the first one appear early today, I thought that it was just a joke - a fan just poking fun at me, trying to illicit a reaction. But more started to appear, to the point where I was starting to get a little worried. His name, his Instagram handle...it started to catch up to the top three mentions and I was worried that this trend was going to keep up. My manager, when he finally decided to reply, told me that I had nothing to worry about. The contest was going for another three days and this was probably just his fan base trying to taunt me. Still, the live counter was sending chills down my spine.

...Right, I should probably start from the beginning...

Hi there, my name is Ashley Smith, although you might know me by my stage name - Ashley Star. I'm the up and coming singer, a pop sensation among the 12-24 demographic. I'm not going to say that I'm the next big thing, although I've been told that I have the potential to - having been relatively unknown (except to my fans that knew me back a couple of years ago, when I was just modeling on Instagram) until just a year ago. Now I'm twenty-three years old and had a six-digit salary. I recently got to tour across the United States, which was amazing. I'm actually from the UK, as many can tell from my accent, so it felt like some crazy adventure for me; touring overseas, I mean.

But while it was exciting, touring was absolutely exhausting.

Thankfully, I had a nice break to look forward to as soon as I was done and I was spending some time with my wonderful boyfriend, Oliver. We've actually been together for about three years now and he's been very supportive of my career. Unfortunately, my manager said that it was best to keep our relationship quiet - seeing as the latest study of my fans showed that they were split pretty evenly; 50/50 on men and women. Yep, there were many men who bought my merchandise online and they were some of the most devoted on my social pages...although not for reasons that you'd expect.

My male fan base were obsessed over my body.

AshleyStarr: "Just finished my tour and getting to enjoy SF before I leave. Thank you everyone! "

justdoit: come to seattle next pls
henry38: Babe I love you
dylan94: What a gorgeous body
benden: Turn around and show us your ass ​

Yep, it turns out that a lot of men find me incredibly attractive.

I'm not that naive, I always knew that I was attractive. It's just that I never would have thought that such a large portion of my fan base would be so...perverted. It seemed that no matter what picture I'd put up on my social media accounts, that I'd get a plethora of lewd comments asking for more...and don't get even get me started on my DMs!

It's not too difficult to see why men would try; after all I'm a tall brunette with a well toned body. I mentioned earlier that I did a bit of amateur modeling before getting my first real break and a lot of that modeling involved me working out. I've always been a sporty kind of girl, having been the captain of both the volleyball and basketball team back when I was in school. I suppose even back then I had my share of male fans, although they were probably watching me play just to see my G cup breasts bounce around, or the sight of my big ass jiggle around when I jumped to take a shot.

Among those male fans of mine, was Damian West. He was an older man, about twice the age of Oliver. I initially thought it was strange, having a devout fan among my followers, who was in his early 40s. It wasn't until I began to dive into his profile that I began to see what he was about; a scandalous lifestyle that he paraded all over social media - scantily dressed woman sitting on his lap or much worse. Honestly, he was all about some softcore porn on Instagram, just barely tame enough to not get banned. In short, he was a misogynist, lewd pervert and if I could, I wouldn't have blocked him the second that I noticed him following me. This was a couple of months ago and I would (maybe) have never heard from him...until my managers had asked me to take more revealing pictures on Twitter/Instagram.

I wasn't crazy about the idea. I'm actually a self-professed virgin and constantly telling young women to just be themselves and not be pressured by society. Therefore, I didn't think that it was appropriate of me to wear tight clothing and show off my curves to the world. It was actually then Oliver who told me that maybe I should listen to my manager - that being too much of a prude would somehow prevent me from growing professionally and that eventually cause my fans to leave. Maybe I bought into it because it came from my sweet heart, but regardless, about four months ago during my tour, I decided to take my first revealing picture for social media:

AshleyStarr: "Be adventurous and brave "

henry38: omg
dylan94: DAMN
bryan9_: tagging @damianwest so he can see this
thomas91: so big ​

The comments went up like crazy; news articles were written over how the innocent Ashley Starr put up a revealing photo of herself on social media. Many outlets, of course, went on to talk about my famously big rear and how I was finally parading it to the public. The attention it got didn't surprise me; my derriere was probably what attracted men most to my body, with constant stares and comments being said whenever I walked in front of a specific type of guy.

From then on out, I always saw Damien West liking my pictures before anyone else. I had to ask myself whether he had a computer program doing this, or had some intern do that to taunt me. Regardless, I ignored him and I thought that I'd never have to deal with him...until my managers came up with this brilliant idea for a contest.

My managers spent weeks urging fans to tag someone they want to spend a week with me - a live counter on my site would show who was mentioned the most and by the end of the week, the winner would be announced. They figured that it would have been a great way for exposure and get my name out there - desperate fans would be urging their families and friends to write on my social media pages, urging them to write their names so that they'd win a week's worth of dates with me. My team assured me that they would do their best so that Oliver, my actual boyfriend, would show up on top of the list. That it wouldn't even be close.

But...

Livecounter:
Oliver: 93 mentions
John: 70 mentions
Damian West: 60 mentions

"Oh come on!" I said out loud to myself, watching as Damian's name reached the top three mentions. I anxiously sat on my bed, phone in hand, when I got a private message from Damian - presumably to taunt me...

 

[RipRian]

June 13th, one month before competition end.​

"I look forward to working with you again!" I said waving goodbye to another bland hopeful, wannabe model after a photoshoot—the door closing behind her. Pretty face, non-spectacular body. She came in wanting something tasteful. Her agent sent her to me knowing—expecting—that I'd get far more from her, which is what happened. She laughed at my ribald jokes, and slowly she took down her top to reveal her b-cup breasts. Likeliest outcomes are she'll either give up and go back to her hometown before it gets too rough for her, or she'll end up on the casting couch of some porn producer. I don't care as long as I'm getting paid, or getting my cock sucked.

I walked back into my studio and sat at my computer desk to check my social media. My online presence—my reputation—is the thing which nets me most of my bookings. I also have a following of young men—acolytes of my philosophy of total, selfish indulgence—who follow my blog of my sexual exploits in the industry—a lot of which is made up—and buy my books, compilations of my blogposts flavoured with garbage self-help philosophy for sexually frustrated young men. "If I can fuck 'em, so can you!"

A private message pops up in the upper right.

bryan9_: Check the AshleyStarr Facebook and website. You aren’t gonna believe this, dude.

The announcement for a month long competition—the prize, a week with Ashley Star.

“Mother of fucking God…” I exhaled—the chance of a lifetime. Ashley Star has the body of Aphrodite herself—enormous tits, a fat arse, curves like the clouds on which Heaven is build. Doe-eyed and a bit dim—peace symbols, pouting, body positivity—the same dumb shit as every braindead, ditzy teenage to twenty something girl, but with a body like that, Ashley is something special. I followed her social media obsessively—a body like nothing I'd ever seen. No matter what girls I shoot—however sexy—none, in my mind, equal Ashley. I could jerk off to the fantasy of pinning her to the floor and fucking her prone bone—slamming against that fat arse—until my cock fell off. She recently started touring, and I stood at the back of one her pop concerts amid a bunch of teenagers and twenty somethings laughing to myself feeling every bit the old lecher as I stared up at her big arse strutting across the stage holding a microphone. The only thing she should've been holding is my cock.

bryan9_: Dude, you there? You gonna go for it?
damianwest: You fucking know it, and I'm going to win

I couldn't rest for the thoughts of making that bitch squeal—My God—I’m almost shaking with an incredible hit of adrenaline at the thought of rough-fucking her—old and experienced, maybe, but at least I can still feel the giddiness and horniness of a teenage boy. The thrill of dominating a pretty, over-optimistic girl with a body like that sends shivers down my spine, and that's precisely why people like Bryan—my fans—follow me, because they know I've got the drive and wherewithal to make it happen. "Women are cunts useful only for their cunts," a message preached loud and proud across every piece of social media. "The meaner you are to them, the wetter they become—the louder they moan." Ashley Star would be the capstone—the perfect, public conquest. I know what it could mean to them—the hot, popular girl at school, embodied by Ashley, brought down and humiliated—shown that she’s no better than anyone—and I know what it would mean to me, the opportunity to ravage an unbelievably sexy bitch.

I wrote my first Tweet.

@damianwest: Ashley Star is a fucking slut, and she needs to be treated like a fucking slut. Vote for me and that’s what will happen.

Crude but effective as the first flood of Mentions came in. Over the next few week, I was in a Twitter, Facebook and Instagram frenzy—making promises of what I’ll do to Ashley when I win—swearing on my reputation I’ll break the bitch—promising everyone will soon see her big-titted, big-arsed body naked and paraded.

@damianwest: Ashley Star is a stupid bitch. You think a stupid bitch like that can handle a week with me? Vote!

@damianwest: A vote for me is a vote to see Ashley Star get arsefucked!

@damianwest: Be adventurous and brave—vote for Damian West. Word is Ashley is secretly rooting for me!

July 6th, a week until competition ends.​

I started to get the attention of people.

henry38: U really think U can Fuck AshleyStarr? Ur Crazy.
damianwest:Try me, my dude. I’ve fucked plenty like her. The only thing that makes her different is her body. With a whole week, Ashley will be sucking my cock like a well-trained whore. If you think I’m lying, vote for me and prove me wrong.

Momentum was building, but I was only in fifth place, and with a week to go. At this rate all I will have accomplished is precisely what her management wanted—working for free to get Ashley exposure. The idea of losing, missing this opportunity, made me viscerally angry. I needed to fucking do something.

bryan9_: Wtf is going on? Who's Oliver?
damianwest: The competition is rigged—fucking blatantly rigged. I'm not worried. It'll be the biggest mistake her cunt management have ever made.

In the dark recesses of my mind, a plan was taking shape.

July 10th, three days before competition end.​

Nearly a whole month into my campaign—three days before the competition ends—to win the competition, and I'd manage to claw my way up to third place. Now, I thought—now is the time to start the execution of my plan. The Internet is nothing if not spiteful with a sadistic sense of humour, and whoever Oliver was, and however hard Ashley's management were working to make him win, if I could create a shitstorm—draw the attention of the Internet's sadists with drama, entertainment and humour—I could leverage the whole thing in my favour. I needed to bait Ashley into an argument.

I typed Ashley a private message. “Looking very sexy in your latest pictures, Ashley—like a very expensive whore. Are you going to show us that big fat arse again anytime soon? Not that I am concerned, of course—I’ll be seeing it, and much more, in person very soon thanks to your management for renting you out for free. The thought of what we’re going to do together—I’m sure it turns you on as much as it does me otherwise you wouldn't have gone along with prostituting yourself for a competition, right? Damian West.” Every word measured to ensure a reaction. What twenty-three year old girl can resist responding hysterically when pricked like that? And if I could get a response from her, any kind of a response at all, I could leverage it against her and her management. I clicked send and waited.

 

[DeepBlue89]

Damian West was a fucking pig.​

I don't know what else to call that old, lewd, dirty man. In my curiosity, before even opening his message, I saw his tweets from a few days ago - disgusting written messages about me, being broadcast to the world via Twitter. I knew (or at the very least, I hoped) this was all act, a desperate attempt to get gullible men to buy his self-help books to getting women to sleep with them...but even that small delusion could not get me to feel anything other than contempt for this pervert. Leaving the private message on hold for a bit, I first responded to a text from Oliver who seemed incredibly concerned. I mean, of course he was - some lewd freak was currently in third place for the contest, where the prize was a week of hanging around me. "Don't worry baby, listen my managers told me that there's virtually no way that you will lose..." I told him over the phone, my eyes glancing every so often back to my laptop, set up right next to my bed. The numbers looked stable, at least for now.

Still...I clicked on the new tab and reread some of those awful tweets that he had sent out a few days ago...

@damianwest: Ashley Star is a fucking slut, and she needs to be treated like a fucking slut. Vote for me and that’s what will happen.


@damianwest: Ashley Star is a stupid bitch. You think a stupid bitch like that can handle a week with me? Vote!

@damianwest: A vote for me is a vote to see Ashley Star get arsefucked!

@damianwest: Be adventurous and brave—vote for Damian West. Word is Ashley is secretly rooting for me!

My face blushed as I looked them over again, along with the various replies sent back. Quite a few were defending me, telling Damian that he stood no chance. But most were indulging him, putting up picture evidence that they had mentioned his name on my pictures. A badge of honor, showing that they were doing their best (at least in their own twisted minds) in seeing me get ass fucked by this pervert. "Jesus!" I cried out, seeing a "fan art" - a depiction of me, in all fours, getting fucked by a cartoon version of Damian. I quickly closed my laptop screen and groaned in pure frustration as I laid down on my cozy bed. Hesitantly, I opened up my phone and looked at the private message sent to me about five minutes ago now.

It was, of course, sent by Damian.

“Looking very sexy in your latest pictures, Ashley—like a very expensive whore. Are you going to show us that big fat arse again anytime soon? Not that I am concerned, of course—I’ll be seeing it, and much more, in person very soon thanks to your management for renting you out for free. The thought of what we’re going to do together—I’m sure it turns you on as much as it does me otherwise you wouldn't have gone along with prostituting yourself for a competition, right? Damian West.”

My heart raced like crazy - this fucker thought that he could humiliate me like this and get away with it?! I grimaced, my fingers going onto the keys and tapping hard, writing up my reply. Of course, in retrospect, I probably could have just ignored his message. There was no point in replying, besides feeding onto Damian West's ego.

Oh well...

"Omg, fuck off Damian. You won't be seeing anything because you won't win, I guarantee it! Now please just leave me alone you freak! And get your sick freaks of fans away from my page, seriously!! Consider yourself BLOCKED."

And so I did, right before going to sleep too.

..

July 11th, two days before competition end.​

About halfway through my day, I found myself glued to the screen. I was seemingly frozen in time, just watching the numbers on the live counter change in real-time. My phone was buzzing of course, messages from Oliver and a few close friends over the contest. There was two days left sure - but things were not looking good. My hazel eyes went over the intimidating line graphs depicting the votes, the chart going over the increase in activity and with it, the increasing number of votes. The line representing Oliver, my actual boyfriend and who I was rooting for, rose up steadily. But at the same time, so did that of Damian's...

Livecounter:
Oliver: 131 mentions
Damian West: 119 mentions
John: 79 mentions


The tweets didn't help either. Sure, I couldn't see Damian's messages, comments or tweets, but I did see those of his followers. At least, those that I didn't block yet.

@bryan9_: Damian is going to smash that fat ass!

@cynthia95: i heard that she has a boyfriend. is it secretly damian??

@henry38: @cynthia95 maybe i heard somewhere that she is secretly rooting for Damian

"UGH! Do I even reply to these?!" I said out loud, as if I was talking to myself...which I was. I sighed in frustration, hearing my phone buzz and vibrate some more. I was going to start blocking more people, but decided to rest my head a bit more. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry.

First things first, I messaged my manager - wanting to know if there was any way we could fudge the numbers a bit. I understood that the contest was a bit airtight, but no one needed to know if I somehow cheated things to make it so that Oliver won...right?

"Ashley we can't just change the numbers. People would notice." Mike, my manager, said to me over the phone. He was seemingly busy, bothered by the fact that I was calling while he drove downtown.

"But then what?! This pervert is going to win?!"

"Please don't freak out Ashley. Look...while we can't just smudge the numbers, I can tell you that we have people ready to cast more votes whenever Damian gets closer to Oliver's numbers. So just...don't do anything stupid okay? Just trust me."

"Ugh, FINE." I said, quickly dropping the call.

I sighed, laying down on my bed some more. Then, some curiosity began to dwindle in my head; I wondered just what Damian was up to? Granted, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with that pervert, but I thought that maybe it was a bit hasty of me to have blocked him yesterday. Now I couldn't figure out what he was saying about my body or what kind of stupid crap he was posting on my Instagram account. Who knew what kind of twisted stuff he was pulling - stuff that I deserved to know about.

So that said, I quickly unblocked him. Just for a little while.

At least, that's what I told myself.

 

[RipRian]

After a few moments waiting, my phone buzzes.

"Omg, fuck off Damian. You won't be seeing anything because you won't win, I guarantee it! Now please just leave me alone you freak! And get your sick freaks of fans away from my page, seriously!! Consider yourself BLOCKED."

I grin as I read it—hook, line and fucking sinker. The bitch is angry, just what I wanted—an angry person is an irrational person, and whatever her cunt management are pulling, Ashley is a hard variable to manage. What the ditzy bitch doesn’t realize is she’s her own worst enemy—and my best friend. Soon I’ll be ball-deep in her—my pelvis smashing against that fat arse—and she’ll have herself to thank for it—although she’ll be too preoccupied thanking me at that point.

“Don’t get cocky, Damian,” said aloud to myself as I stare at the screen. “You haven’t won yet.”

I’ll keep her private message to me private—for now. See what comes in the future—use them to boost my mentions at the very last moment if necessary. In the meantime…

@damianwest: I can announce that Ashley Star and I are, in fact, engaged, and she has promised if I win this competition she will let me arsefuck her on our honeymoon.

@bryan9_: who the Fuck is Oliver? A hacker maybe… We cant Let him win! For Ashley’s sake!!
@damianwest: @bryan9_: Truth. Only I have Ashley’s best interests at heart. She desperately desperately needs a good arsefucking.

@damianwest: The reason Ashley uploads pictures of her big fat arse is to tease us—because deep down she wants someone to come along and fuck her. Any true fan of Ashley Star votes Damian West.

@dylan94: Damian is a crazy son of a bitch. I'm voting for him just to see what happens.

@damianwest: Arse like that. Tits like that. Ashley was built for sex. Fulfill Ashley's destiny—Vote Damian West.

July 11th, two days before competition end.​

Livecounter:
Oliver: 131 mentions
Damian West: 119 mentions
John: 79 mentions

This means, I calculate, Oliver has increased 38 mentions since yesterday, and I’ve increased 59. If things carried on like that, which they likely won’t, I would end with 237 mentions and Oliver 207 mentions. My heart skips a fucking beat at the very real prospect of winning. I am so close to winning I can almost taste Ashley's cunt–sweet with a hint of cinnamon. I pull up the picture of Ashley’s big fat arse—be brave and adventurous!—and jerk myself as I fantasize about what it’ll feel like fucking her. Ashley is mine.

@damianwest: Ashley is a whore who NEEDS to be fucked like a whore. The only question is who can do it.

@damianwest: You think Oliver can make Ashley cum like I can make Ashley cum? Do the right thing. Vote for me.

Her management are plotting something—I can fucking feel it. I need every bit of momentum I can manage if I’m to pull this off.

“My God, I’m good,” congratulating myself on what a brazen, incredible bastard I am as I upload my latest effort to Instagram.

damianwest: Ashley needs to be Brave n Adventurous—and receive an arsefucking.
bryan9_: holy shit yes
icelander6x: image quality sucks shit but that ass is hot. go for it, damian.
justdoit: for the brotherhood. someone gotta be the one. damian has my vote.
jamhotxx: damian is the man! cant tell you how many times i fapped to that pic....
mollyringer97: this is gross and sexist…
bryan9_: stfu molly you sjw piece of shit

I decide I should see what more Ashley has to say for herself. She said she blocked me, but that's a lot of shit—the morbid curiosity—the itch of what horrible things are being said about you—and her apparent disgust are too great. Couple that with the very real, fast approaching possibility of my victory over her, she'll be so rattled she can't think straight—which is how I want her—and soon she won't be able to walk straight either. I type up a private message: "Ashley, you were very rude to me, and frankly, I don’t appreciate it. Do you have a father figure in your life? It seems to me you are in great need of some discipline, and I promise you—in two days time, that is precisely what I am going to give you. Can you deepthroat or is it one of the things I am going to have to teach you along with some fucking manners, you rude, uppity little bitch? Damian West.”

I laugh to myself at the unfolding pandemonium, and it hasn't even fucking begun.

 

[DeepBlue89]

You know how they say that ignorance is bliss? That's exactly how I felt, the very second that I unblocked Damian West, I immediately regretted it. Going through his account led me to the most depraved degeneracy that I have ever seen. Comment after comment, I was led through a sick, twisted, perverted view of my life and the people who commented on my pictures. What really shocked me is that some of these people liked my pictures in the past. For example, that bryan9_ guy was one of my earliest followers when I became a singer. Somehow, seeing this stranger communicate with Damian in such a degrading way, well it made me feel sick to my stomach. Were these my male fans? Were they never interested in my music, but only on my body? Enough that they would stoop to this level, the second that the opportunity raised up? It honestly made me want to go ahead and block every single male follower I had and make sure to leave a long winded message condemning every man who had fantasized about me in one way or another.

And this was before I saw that disgusting image - a trap which I fell right into.

mollyringer97: stfu! you should be ashamed smh
pat32: This made me vote for you lol
lukex: i'll donate 100$ for your channel if you manage to get property of damian written on her ass lol
icelander6x: go damian go
AshleyStarr: OMG stop!

I was shaking, feeling completely cornered with no way out. The votes were too close for my liking and some part of me wanted to take the contest down - even if I risked getting sued by a complete sociopath like Damian. Not only whether to call Oliver, Mike or the fucking police, I picked up my phone and saw that I had an unread private message, from Damian no doubt.

"Ashley, you were very rude to me, and frankly, I don’t appreciate it. Do you have a father figure in your life? It seems to me you are in great need of some discipline, and I promise you—in two days time, that is precisely what I am going to give you. Can you deepthroat or is it one of the things I am going to have to teach you along with some fucking manners, you rude, uppity little bitch? Damian West.”

I was in near tears, seeing all these disgusting words written about me with no real way to defend myself. I could have, maybe, done what Mike said and cool my head. Maybe trust my manager and not lay a finger on my phone. Maybe I would have, had I just kept blocking Damian. But now that I saw all the lewd stuff he wrote about me, I felt that I had an obligation to write something back. I needed to put him in his place. I needed to tell him off!

"Fuck you, you fucking perverted asshole. I don't know what kind of contest this is, but you're not getting any of those sick fantasies fulfilled you jackass. Get this through your thick skull...YOU. ARE. NOT. GOING. TO. WIN. end of story. I'm not going to spend a fucking second with you and you can go to hell."

I was legitimately crying, but quickly wiped my eyes thinking of some way out of this. I knew that some of my male fans were perverts, but at least I had fans like mollyringer97 defending me, even on Damian West's page. So, if he was so fond in making fun of me like this on his page, why not take the fight to him? I could have maybe contacted Mike for this, but I figured that he'd only get in the way and tell me to calm down - with no idea what the fuck I was feeling right now. With a huff, I took out my phone and began typing on my Twitter account:


@AshleyStarr: I don't know about the rumors being passed around, but Damian West is a jackass. Don't believe a word from him.

@AshleyStarr: There's someone special in my life who's counting on all of you, so please vote for anyone BUT Damian.

@AshleyStarr: @bryan9_ no I'm not rooting for Damian. Not in the slightest. I hate that man and all of his idiot followers. If you follow him, then you're a rotten human being.

@AshleyStarr: @cynthia95 no I'm not dating him. Stop spreading rumors!

@AshleyStarr: STOP TWEETING THAT I LIKE DAMIAN! OMG

My Twitter feed was filled with Tweets, talking about how Damian was my boyfriend behind the scenes and how this was all an act, about how this contest was all about getting my honeymoon with him, how I wanted to get fucked by Damian in the most disgusting ways imaginable. I don't know if my tweets there made things worse, but my page was crawling with stuff like this and I just couldn't take it. My phone buzzed again, this time a message from my manager saying:

"ASHLEY STOP! You're making things worse!"

But I couldn't.

I felt as if by not doing anything at all, that I was only feeding more into this weird cycle of rumors and depraved humor. I ignored Mike, before going back to Damian's page. I actually went back to that sick, disgusting picture he put up of my ass and decided to have a heart to heart with my male fans that might have been there:

AshleyStarr: guys if you have any fucking heart, you'll stop voting for this man.
AshleyStarr: if you're a fan of mine, vote for Oliver. Anyone but him.
AshleyStarr: but if you're some sick fuck who wants to see more content like this
AshleyStarr: then continue to support this loser and be a disgusting piece of human garbage!!!

After this, I tossed my phone away and jumped right on my bed, covering my face with my pillow and yelling right into it.

 

[RipRian]

My phone buzzes.

"Fuck you, you fucking perverted asshole. I don't know what kind of contest this is, but you're not getting any of those sick fantasies fulfilled you jackass. Get this through your thick skull...YOU. ARE. NOT. GOING. TO. WIN. end of story. I'm not going to spend a fucking second with you and you can go to hell."

She’s certainly angrier than before—at breaking point? I smirk. Her screed is proof—proof that she feels there’s a very real possibility I might win. Whatever her cunt management are plotting, she at least doesn’t have complete faith in it. I could really, really win this thing. I feel a tightening in my testicles—the thought of winning this thing is enough to get me fully erect.

In the meantime I am occupied with a late-night photoshoot—I still have a living to earn. A pretty, young, blue-eyed blonde—another insipid piece of driftwood going nowhere. “Get on your knees and stick out your tongue. I guarantee this shot will make you famous.” I can’t even think about trying to facefuck this one—my usual favourite activity in this situation—my thought are so wound up with Ashley Star. “You’re going to become a star,” I tell the blue-eyed blonde as she leaves—my mind thinking I want to be cumming on Ashley Star—and that I very soon might be.

The second I look at my phone I see every piece of social media I have is absolutely fucking exploding. I know straightaway—the shitstorm has come. Ashley, you dear, stupid little fucktoy, you have no idea what you have done.

bryan9_: Dude...

I trudged through the swamp of shit—King of the Filth—this is my dominion.

Instagram first.

Scrolling through the comments on the picture I made of Ashley’s arse.

AshleyStarr: OMG stop!
lukex: it hasn’t even started yet lol
epicwinner1488: bet U cant wait 2 get fucked, bitch
icelander6x: ashley my turn after damian
pat32: damian damian damian damian damian damian

Laughing hysterically and I hadn't even got to the best bit.

AshleyStarr: guys if you have any fucking heart, you'll stop voting for this man.
AshleyStarr: if you're a fan of mine, vote for Oliver. Anyone but him.
AshleyStarr: but if you're some sick fuck who wants to see more content like this
AshleyStarr: then continue to support this loser and be a disgusting piece of human garbage!!!
epicwinner1488:: fuck U bitch ill show U a disgusting piece of human garbage stuck up cunt
martin22freemand: hey ashley fuck you. damian is awesome.
larryflynt99: more content like this??? YES!!!
jamhotxx: you used to be cool ashley now youre stuck up. fame gone to your head. bitch.
bryan9_: Oliver is her boyfriend. Competition is rigged. Ashley flaunts her ass and calls US disgusting.
bryan9_: Fuck Her!!!! Vote Damian!!!!
icelander6x: VOTE DAMIAN U WANT MORE CONTENT LIKE THIS!! FUCK ASHLEY IN THE ASS!!!

She'd started fucking preaching to them—My God—I nearly broke a rib from laughing as I read it. The poor, dumb, naïve bitch had no understanding of the Internet or the male psyche whatsoever. She called men who wanted to fuck her—or see her fucked—disgusting pieces of human garbage when they were, in a very real sense, a major part of her fanbase Was she so unbelievably stupid she didn't realise men only liked her because they wanted to fuck her? Telling them to vote for me if they want more content like this? She must be as stupid as she is sexy.

Adding, as I laugh, my own comment to the mix.

damianwest: You heard Ashley—vote Damian West if you want more content like this!
damianwest: Ashley has become a selfish, stuck-up brat. Why does she think people like her?
damianwest: She shows her arse off and calls you a disgusting piece of filth for wanting to fuck it.
damianwest: Teach this bitch a lesson.

I clicked on Ashley's instagram. To my amusement—it was absolutely infested.

justdoit: damian is gonna grind that brave and adventurous meat lol
pat32: damian damian damian damian damian damian
justdoit: is she fucking retarded
thinkingman2: we're disgusting pieces of human garbage???? hypocritical slut makes me lol
seinfeld_kid: rotten human being here for more content like this
jamhotxx: lying stuck up bitch only good thing about her is her body
epicwinner1488: damian damian damian damian damian damian damian
icelander6x: posts pictures like this then calls us disgusting lmfao stupid slut

skeeter9: when did you turn into such a bitch
henry38: i fucking HATE this CUNT. cant wait to see damian punish her.
epicwinner1488: damian damian damian damian damian damian damian
dandysandy44: who tf even is this slut
mark_oo7: kill yourself

Twitter, when I clicked on it, I saw was even worse—it was on fucking fire. Inexplicably and beyond belief, #arsefuckingforashley had started trending. I couldn't even begin to sort through the messages or notifications there were so many. There are moments in life that make you believe in a higher power—and at this moment, the way everything was coming together in absolute perfection—I knew some divinity was on my side—God wanted to see me fuck Ashley Star.

@AshleyStarr: I don't know about the rumors being passed around, but Damian West is a jackass. Don't believe a word from him.

@henry38: fuck you ashley ur a hypocritical slut fuck u vote damian #arsefuckingforashley

smithers_s: ashley gonna git it lol #arsefuckingforashley

@drhouse_md lying lying lying lying lying bitch #arsefuckingforashley

@AshleyStarr: There's someone special in my life who's counting on all of you, so please vote for anyone BUT Damian.

bryan9_: Oliver is Ashleys Bf. It's obv. Competition is bullshit rigged. Calls us disgusting. Shows her ass. Lies. #arsefuckingforashley

MarkyMarkfan3: some1 special counting on u is ur ass n that is y i vote damian #arsefuckingforashley

justdoit: Hey Ashley im counting on you... to see you get assfucked #arsefuckingforashley

@AshleyStarr: @bryan9_ no I'm not rooting for Damian. Not in the slightest. I hate that man and all of his idiot followers. If you follow him, then you're a rotten human being.

bryan9_: Says not to believe Damian but she lies. Has a bf. Rigged competition. Shows ass off n calls us rotten? hypocritical bitch slut #arsefuckingforashley

@dylan94: guess im rotten lol... does anyone even like her??? #arsefuckingforashley

dragonballz22 U Wanna C Ashley Star git fuck? damian west! #arsefuckingforashley

@thomas91: stuck up slut needs to be taught a lesson #arsefuckingforashley

@AshleyStarrcynthia95 no I'm not dating him. Stop spreading rumors!

@AshleyStarr: STOP TWEETING THAT I LIKE DAMIAN! OMG

bryan9_: Mmmm....The lady doth protest too much....I think she want to get assfucked?? #arsefuckingforashley

6actionman9: U sound like a HS girl wit a crush lol "nooo i dont fancy him!!" #arsefuckingforashley

Blown away–I stare with utter disbelief at the screen as I read comment after comment. The righteous little slut had incurred an enormous backlash, and now an overwhelming part of her fanbase were baying for her blood. It was exactly as intended–exactly as planned–but I didn't imagine it would get this huge. I couldn't even calculate what this meant for site-hits, book sales, my photography business—and in fact, my mind was elsewhere—on Ashley's fat arse and big tits.

I load the Livecounter.

Livecounter:
Damian West: 2,918 mentions
Oliver: 149 mentions
John: 84 mentions

"Un-fucking-believable," I shout at my computer screen. There is no way her cunt management can rig this one without the accusation of blatant rigging. It's bigger than that even. Ashley, if she had any sense, would realise this threatened to destroy her career—although with her remarks calling men disgusting and rotten for wanting to fuck her she's proved she's dumber than a box of rocks. Her cunt management, however, will realise. Ashley is concerned.

I look at the message she sent me again.

"Fuck you, you fucking perverted asshole. I don't know what kind of contest this is, but you're not getting any of those sick fantasies fulfilled you jackass. Get this through your thick skull...YOU. ARE. NOT. GOING. TO. WIN. end of story. I'm not going to spend a fucking second with you and you can go to hell."

Usually ever so eloquent in my torment, I let the situation speak for itself.

"Lol."

Clicking send and then laughing to myself—God, I'm good.

I realise I better make a showing on Twitter. I am, after all, the spearhead of a movement now.

@damianwest: Ashley has been attacking me since the competition started #arsefuckingforashley

I provide screencaps of Ashley's two messages to me.

"Omg, fuck off Damian. You won't be seeing anything because you won't win, I guarantee it! Now please just leave me alone you freak! And get your sick freaks of fans away from my page, seriously!! Consider yourself BLOCKED."

"Fuck you, you fucking perverted asshole. I don't know what kind of contest this is, but you're not getting any of those sick fantasies fulfilled you jackass. Get this through your thick skull...YOU. ARE. NOT. GOING. TO. WIN. end of story. I'm not going to spend a fucking second with you and you can go to hell."

@damianwest: Oliver is her boyfriend, and the competition is rigged #arsefuckingforashley

@damianwest: She GUARANTEES I won't win. #arsefuckingforashley

@damianwest: She calls us, her fans, sick freaks, disgusting pieces of human trash, rotten human beings. She NEEDS to be taught a lesson. #arsefuckingforashley

@damianwest: I promise to restore Ashley Star to the sweet, humble girl she once was—before fame went to her head. #arsefuckingforashley

@damianwest: Instead of fame going to her head, she will be giving me head. #arsefuckingforashley

@damianwest: The lying, hypocritical, psychopathic bitch deserves everything she gets. #arsefuckingforashley

With that, I shutdown my computer and wander to bed, spreading and resting in luscious luxury—a quick, furious masturbation to the thought-image of Ashley's head bobbing up on and down on my cock, or her big fat arse bouncing...

 

[DeepBlue89]

Livecounter:
Damian West: 2,918 mentions
Oliver: 149 mentions
John: 84 mentions

I screamed when I saw the results.

I kept refreshing the page - as if what I had just seen was a horrible dream. It wasn't, and I found myself nearly crying from the sheer amount of comments and tweets that were coming at me. My cell phone was buzzing, with concerned texts coming both from Oliver and my manager. I ignored them, logging into my account and deleting as much of those lewd comments as I possibly could from my pictures...before getting quickly overwhelmed by the number of them. It seemed that for every inappropriate message that I deleted, another nine would show up. Many people were going onto my page to view the spectacle, what with the massive surge in viewership on my social media accounts. While my managers might be happy with that, I sure wasn't - not only was going to have to spend a week with this fucking perverted lunatic, but his idiot fans had the power to ruin my social media accounts by badgering on my fans and filling my Instagram with all sorts of fucked up shit. Tears ran down my face as I began to realize that there was no escaping this - never mind being sued by Damian (if he chose to), the backlash from stepping out would make me the number one target for online hate and had the potential of ruining my career. And judging from Damian's response to my private message...

"Lol."

He knew the exact same thing.

Seeing an incoming call from Mike, I decided to answer it. "H-Hello...?" I answered back in a sad, nearly defeated tone. What I heard quickly shocked me - it was the sound of Mike trying to contain his laughter. I quickly snapped out of my depressed mood and felt some legitimate anger. He was my manager and somehow found this funny? Before I could say anything that could make this situation worse, Mike said:

"Jesus this is bad...and good at the same time."

"What the HELL are you talking about Mike? Can't you see what's on my page?"

"Yes...I know. But hear me out; this is actually a golden opportunity to turn things around. At the end of all of this, you might end up with even more popularity."

"Wh- What?"

Mike went on to tell me that these people, commenting all this messed up stuff, were probably male fans that felt wronged by the supposedly rigged results of the vote. That a lot of these comments were their way of acting out, using the somewhat anonymity Instagram offered to spam angry, belittling messages. He comforted me in saying that this was all temporary and they would get over it, especially after they see that the votes were not rigged. Of course, this sort of ruined my plans with Oliver - a week that should have been spent with him will have to be spent with Damian instead. But in doing so, I might gain more fans from his side and this whole ordeal will probably be picked up by the news, granting me more exposure and thus, even more popularity.

"B-But I don't want to spend a week with that guy! Look at his posts! He's such a pervert, I can't even - "

"Ashley...don't worry. Come on, you have to realize that this is all an act."

"I don't know about that, he feels genuinely messed up and perverted..."

"The man sells self-help book for losers. Of course he's going to act this way on social media. I guarantee you that he won't be anything like this in real life."

"I don't know...What do I even need to do for this contest anyway?"

"Just a week hanging out, taking social media pictures together. That sort of thing." Mike then said, with a big laugh "His fans are going to be immensely disappointed."

"But Oliver..."

"Look, Ashley. I'll try to get him more votes but...I can't just get two thousand people to vote right now. It has to look organic, otherwise this backlash will be here to stay. I can't promise you anything, but worst case scenario you'll spend a week hanging out with some social media superstar. It's not that bad."

"Okay, fine..."

"And Ashley, please don't do anything else. You're good at a lot of things, but maybe social media management isn't one." he said with a laugh, one that we shared this time, before he hung up.

Still, I needed to break the bad news to Oliver.

...But I just didn't feel like doing that now.

Instead, I simply texted my loving boyfriend "Don't worry about it baby, it's just a bunch of fucking idiots on the web. It'll cool down tomorrow. Talk to you tomorrow? luv u" just I fell on my bed again, simply staring at my phone with my heart still racing from earlier. What a terrible day...

..

July 12th, 12 hours before competition end.​

The following afternoon wasn't any better. Not by a long shot.

"Oh come on, what's going on?" I asked myself, typing into my keys furiously. It's been over half an hour and I couldn't log into my own Twitter account, although I was one hundred percent sure that I was typing my password correctly. I would have thought that it was a glitch, or even Twitter itself being down, if it wasn't for the fact that I received a phone call from my very concerned manager. I was about to go off and ask him if he changed my password to prevent me from potentially making things worse when...

"Uh...Ashley. You should view your Twitter feed."

...​

@AshleyStarr: First of all, I want to let everyone know that I'm sorry about everything yesterday. I didn't mean to insult or belittle anybody.

@AshleyStarr: I guess that I'm still stressed about everything since touring, so I acted out a little. I apologize about that.

@AshleyStarr: Truth be told, I'm actually a huge fan of Damian. A lot actually. I've had a HUGE crush on him for a while.

@AshleyStarr: @justdoit Yep I wanted him to notice that selfie. #BeAdventurousAndBrave

@AshleyStarr: So anyone who voted for him, thank you. It'll be a pleasure being around him for an entire week.
@AshleyStarr: @bryan9_ lol, I guess that picture turned me on a little. Can't believe THE Damian West posted that. I might even vote for him myself after that.


My heart was pounding in my chest, while I desperately tried to find a way to log in. Unfortunately, whoever hacked my account, managed to change everything that was on it - including my email that I used to sign up. I never bothered to put up two factor authentication, which meant that I couldn't get on my account using my cellphone. Slowly, after hanging up on Mike, I began to cry again. After all, I was feeling so messed up as I watched someone else steal my online identity. That is, until I panicked and decided to check Instagram; now if someone gained access to that, they could very well ruin me.

... Thankfully, my account was intact. I must have thanked God about a thousand times.

Once I began to calm down a little, I realized who was behind this. Maybe he wasn't directly involved, but I knew that Damian - that sick twisted fucking pervert - was behind this. But I couldn't throw him an angry message again - I needed to take a cooler approach and get my Twitter account back. Maybe I could play the sympathy card. If he wasn't a complete monster, I'm sure that he would understand.

So, I began typing a private message to Damian:

"Damian, I know that you have something to do with my Twitter account right now. Please, stop. Look, what do you want from me? Just, please, please just give me back my Twitter account. That thing is basically my life."

 

[RipRian]

July 12th, one day before competition.​

Everything went as planned—Ashley’s angry, irrational outburst condemning men for their sexual desires—sexual desires which were a bedrock of her career—sexually desires which she had exploited—stirred an hornet’s nest. I became the embodiment of raw, honest, male vitality, a fist with which maledom could punch the encroaching matriarchy of ditzy, braindead bitches who paraded themselves across social media but sneered prudishly at the primal, sexual response it elicited from men.

I cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day and the rest of the week. This was more important—personally and professionally. While Ashley’s career was descending into chaos—mine was ascending to new heights.

Smirking, I stared at the screen—a new twist.

@AshleyStarr: First of all, I want to let everyone know that I'm sorry about everything yesterday. I didn't mean to insult or belittle anybody.

@AshleyStarr: I guess that I'm still stressed about everything since touring, so I acted out a little. I apologize about that.

@AshleyStarr: Truth be told, I'm actually a huge fan of Damian. A lot actually. I've had a HUGE crush on him for a while.

@AshleyStarr: @justdoit Yep I wanted him to notice that selfie. #BeAdventurousAndBrave

@AshleyStarr: So anyone who voted for him, thank you. It'll be a pleasure being around him for an entire week.

@AshleyStarr: @bryan9_ lol, I guess that picture turned me on a little. Can't believe THE Damian West posted that. I might even vote for him myself afte

My eyes-widening followed by realisation and then hysterical laughter.

Bryan, you glorious bastard—you absolutely glorious bastard. I knew straightaway it was him. An IT engineer scorned by women, he’d started following my blog a few years ago, and slowly he’d gone from seeing himself as the nice guy perpetually friendzoned to a bitter, angry sadist and an acolyte of the Damian West philosophy of life—“women are whores, treat ‘em like whores.”

The response were even better.

@thomas91: @AshleyStarr sluts gonna slut lol

@drhouse_md @AshleyStarr Prolly a stunt so she can fuck damian behind oliver’s back, tbh. women are whores.

@mollyringer97 @AshleyStarr You like damian west? This has got to be fake, right?

@bryan9_: @mollyringer97 Women are all whores deep down, lol. Try it. U might like it.

@smart_mouth1: @AshleyStarr runs a competition just so she can get dicked lol crazy

@larryflynt99: @AshleyStarr ashley star is a sick fuck disgusting piece of human garbage just like us lmfao

I added my own, of course.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Very brave and courageous of you to admit what you want and need, Ashley. It won't be long now.

Time to see how the Livecounter was coming along.

Livecounter:
Damian West: 4,105 mentions
Oliver: 236 mentions
John: 92 mentions

"ha-ha-Ha." It had turned into a feeding frenzy. Ashley at this point was more famous for the scandal and shitstorm than she was as a popstar—her name and mine were synonymous with one another, and the Internet was out in force rooting for the perverted representative of wounded male pride against a stuck-up prude pop star. I felt righteous and glorious—especially looking at the Tweets Bryan had put on Ashley’s account. A lot of gossip websites had picked up the story—

“Ashley Star and…Damian West?”

“Ashley Star’s HUGE crush on THE Damian West!”

“A New Side to Ashley Star?”

Some speculated they were fake, the product of a hacker, and ones with more integrity had contacted Ashley’s agency, but the story was too big—too outrageous. We were post-truth, and whatever Ashley said didn’t matter—she belonged to me.

bryan9_: You like the Tweets, dude?
damianwest: You’re a glorious bastard, Bryan.
damianwest: When I’m world famous, you’re my go to guy. All the groupies you can handle.

While discussing plans for what to do with her Twitter, a message pops up—from Ashley

"Damian, I know that you have something to do with my Twitter account right now. Please, stop. Look, what do you want from me? Just, please, please just give me back my Twitter account. That thing is basically my life.”

What a stupid cunt. She calls me a sick fuck and a jackass, my fans idiots, rotten and garbage, and then messages me like I am going to do her any fucking favours. What is she—fucking retarded? Then, maybe this is a sign that Operation Break the Bitch is nearing completion—"what do you want from me?" submissively asked. My God—hadn’t I made that clear through the past month—the past few days especially?

“Ashley, the last time you had access to your Twitter you called me a jackass and told people not to vote for me. Very rude, very disrespectful, very unfair—look how much you've upset your fans. You are in need of some very severe discipline. I will tell you what I want from you—To start with, an apology, and then I want you on your knees, your tongue glazing my balls with your saliva, and then running up the length of my shaft—your lips wrapping around my cock, and then another apology—while gagging and choking on my cock for you to say sorry for a what rude cunt you've been. I get what I want. Damian West.”

damianwest: Go hog wild, Bryan.

@AshleyStarr: I know I’ve been naughty, and I deserve to be punished. I am a bad girl. I need a real man who can do that. I need Damian West.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Do you think you'll be able to take this cock, Ashley—all of it?

@AshleyStarr: @damianwest I will try...Sir.

@AshleyStarr: Reason I was so mean to Damian is because I want him to punish me...

@AshleyStarr: I don't want him to be gentle. I want to feel it hard and rough. I've been bad.

There was, I think it was plain, no way Ashley could go back to her good girl and role model act as before. Her reputation—she was now known for this scandal and shitstorm. I don’t know if she realized it—probably not—but she could either try to shy away from it, acting above it, in which case this nightmare would haunt her for the rest of her life, with trolls and fans never forgetting, or she could embrace it. If Ashley couldn’t see that, I’d have to help her along—in her best interest, of course.

“Second thoughts, Ashley—I will help you. I don’t have your Twitter, but I know the person who has hacked it. I’m not giving it to you—you’ve been mean to me and you’re still in desperate need of some discipline. Give me your management’s contact information and I’ll discuss it with them—along with my prize. Be a good girl. Damian West.”

I know the industry well enough to know management only give a shit about one thing—the bottom line. Just please, for fuck’s sake, don’t let it be a woman.

 

[DeepBlue89]

“Ashley, the last time you had access to your Twitter you called me a jackass and told people not to vote for me. Very rude, very disrespectful, very unfair—look how much you've upset your fans. You are in need of some very severe discipline. I will tell you what I want from you—To start with, an apology, and then I want you on your knees, your tongue glazing my balls with your saliva, and then running up the length of my shaft—your lips wrapping around my cock, and then another apology—while gagging and choking on my cock for you to say sorry for a what rude cunt you've been. I get what I want. Damian West.”


"NO!" I said out loud, as if Damian could hear me from across the web. I covered my face, trying to keep myself from reading those disgusting words - the depraved thoughts of a perverted old man. I whimpered, hearing my phone vibrate with the texts of numerous concerned friends, no doubt having read the titles from various gossip magazines. It seemed that all within the span of a couple of days, I found my career taking a nosedive towards something really lewd and I didn't like it a single bit. I didn't bother responding to Damian - instead focusing my attention on the filth going on my Twitter account right now.

@AshleyStarr: I know I’ve been naughty, and I deserve to be punished. I am a bad girl. I need a real man who can do that. I need Damian West.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Do you think you'll be able to take this cock, Ashley—all of it?

@AshleyStarr: @damianwest I will try...Sir.

@AshleyStarr: Reason I was so mean to Damian is because I want him to punish me...

@AshleyStarr: I don't want him to be gentle. I want to feel it hard and rough. I've been bad.

"NO! No no no no no!" I began to whimper at the sight, trying desperately to find some contact information of the company. Maybe I could get in contact with an administrator, someone who could clear this out. Then again, I began to panic at the thought of having to explain all of this to my fans. What was Mike doing right now? I prayed that he was trying to come up with a solution, something...anything that could help me through this huge fucking mess.

And just then, I got a private message from Damian:

“Second thoughts, Ashley—I will help you. I don’t have your Twitter, but I know the person who has hacked it. I’m not giving it to you—you’ve been mean to me and you’re still in desperate need of some discipline. Give me your management’s contact information and I’ll discuss it with them—along with my prize. Be a good girl. Damian West.”

It was a trick. It had to be something really degrading and stupid, something that would destroy my career and ruin my name everywhere online. I wanted to tell Damian off again - contact my lawyers and sue him for slander or...something. But I knew that at the end of the day, he had more money than I did. He would probably counter sue me in some way and out of spite, try to ruin my life even more. God I felt so hopeless - so fucking helpless.

With a whimper, I replied:

"Okay just please delete those tweets! Here, here's my manager's phone number XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just please fix this. PLEASE"

Meanwhile, my eyes went to all those tweets - the hashtags with #arsefuckingforashley and the depraved messages that went with them...

 

[RipRian]

She responds almost straightaway. I feel my cock engorging at thought of the panic-stricken, ditzy bitch with a hundred thousand horrible thoughts running through her head—her big tits bouncing as she anxiously paces her bedroom floor.

"Okay just please delete those tweets! Here, here's my manager's phone number XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just please fix this. PLEASE"

Ah, good. The silly little fucking bitch was learning her place, and she was learning some manners too. We were a million miles from her calling me a “fucking perverted asshole,” although that, I know, is what I am, and she knows it too, and she knows the week with me is going to happen now—there is nothing she can do.

I prepare what I'll say to Ashley's manager in my head—writing a series of bullet points. If I can win this bastard over—and please God let it be a man—I will be closer to fucking Ashley than ever before. Again, I feel my erection at the thought of Ashley's big fat arse, her big tits, those wide hips, the dopey look on her face. My God. I ring the number. Thank fuck—a man’s voice.

“It’s Damian West. Don’t say anything until I’ve finished. Let me speak—“ a power-play asserting dominance and control. Not everything in my self-help books is garbage. “Ashley has created a fucking shitstorm, and it’s a shitstorm that continues to grow. Her male fans—a large chunk of her fanbase—are fucking furious with her, and unless she does something they are going to stay furious. She cannot—she absolutely cannot—maintain this stuck-up prudery. Things have to change if Ashley’s career is to continue—and in fact, thrive. This is a golden opportunity. You know me. You know what I do. I’m Damian West—King of the Filth. I've won this competition fair and square—despite your efforts to rig it for Oliver—and it's a golden opportunity for you. I specialize in sexualizing young girls—it's what I fucking do—and with a week I can rebrand Ashley." A long pause for dramatic effect—let the words sink in. "I know who has her Twitter, and I can have it returned, and of course I will. Tell her, however, it's under the condition at competition close—as a way of announcing that I have won—she write "property of damian west" on that big fat arse. Explain to her the gravity of the situation, and that her career is in very, very real jeopardy of ending—with her forever more a victim of trolls—unless she drop the hypocritical puritan bitch routine and win her male fans back. You are her manager, and she'll listen to you when you explain to her as rude, offensive and perverted as she thinks I am, I am the gatekeeper to 50% of her fanbase right now, and unless she goes along with this then that's it for Ashley Star—It's back to being plain old Ashley Smith." I sit with the awed, baffled silence on the other end. "Well—what do you think?

Mike is sitting in a restaurant out for a meal with his family—first time in a long time—when the phone rings and grave, withered voice announces: “It's Damian West. Don’t say anything until I’ve finished. Let me speak—“ beginning a barrage. “Excuse me, honey, I have to take this,”—excusing himself as the barrage continued. This was insane. Of course, what Damian was saying made sense, and he was right, but he was insane. Mike had struggled with Ashley’s sensibilities—her reluctance to post even the picture of her ass—but to hand her over to a creep like this? Then, Ashley had done it to herself, and Damian has won the competition.. "Well—what do you think?” Mike wants to tell him he thinks he’s insane, but instead: “What you’re saying makes a lot sense, and in truth, you’ve won this competition. My intention was to let the situation die down, and I can’t say one way or the other whether that’ll be the case. You assure me it won’t, and you make a convincing argument. I’ll go along with what you say. Text me the Twitter details and anything else you have to say instead of monologuing it at me like a mad man. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am having dinner with my wife and children.”

Mike hung up. I grinned. Some reluctance, yes, but he understood the score. He was on the level. A family man though—so likely not one to approve my sexual antics. I’ll keep an eye on him, but for now, I think we’re onto a winner.

I was feeling an impatient excitement as drew nearer the end of the competition.

damianwest: I need the details to Ashley’s Twitter. I’m giving it back.
bryan9_: Wtf. Why, dude? U going soft?
damianwest: Don’t be an idiot. Have I ever been soft in my life? Just give me the details.

I text Mike the new Twitter password along with some elabouration. “Make sure Ashley is a good girl. No more calling me a jackass. She’s caused enough controversy. If she wishes to win back her fans, you must explain to her I am the gatekeeper. She has to be nice to me —expressing her appreciation of my work—expressing excitement at my victory—under no circumstances deleting or denying her previous Tweets—telling me how glad she is I am the winner—that she was rooting for me all along—apologizing for her rude and hypocritical remarks and, above all else, promote the image of herself as a sex kitten, which she is to use her imagination for. Under that condition the Twitter account is returned, but more important, that is how she will turn this shitstorm into a boost for her career and not the termination of it. Damian West."

Mike’s phone buzzes—Damian West. It buzzes again—Damian West.

"A further condition is that she keep the changed password—not changing it herself—so I maintain access to the account. Tell her if necessary it is you, and you are keeping an eye out to prevent her from stirring up more controversy. Damian West."

Mike shakes his head. Damian West is already a headache and the competition hasn’t even ended yet. How was he going to explain any of this to Ashley? Writing “Property of Damian West” on her ass? Expressing her appreciation for Damian’s work? Acting like a sex kitten? Damian was—Mike repeated over and again to himself—utterly insane.

After his family meal, Mike writes Ashley a message explaining what has gone on. A longer, more in depth discussion will be in order later on, but best to lay the groundwork now, he thinks.

“Ashley—It’s Mike. Damian somehow got my number. I expect you gave it to him. Thanks for the heads up.” Did he sound passive aggressive? He was feeling passive aggressive. This nightmare was her fault. “He’s given me the Twitter account details, and to be honest, he’s made a number of points along with it. Point one. You’ve alienated a huge part of your demographic with your actions, and upon receiving your account back, you need to start mending bridges. Damian has become the representative of your male audience—“ Mike did not like the look of those words, but they were true. “You need to establish a good relationship with him. He’s won the competition, and you’ve no one to blame for that but yourself—I’m sorry to say it. Point two. You need to grow up. It had to happen sooner or later, and this has just forced the hand of fate. Damian says upon the close of the competition—when he, inevitably now—wins, you are to write “Property of Damian West” on your ass cheeks and upload it to Instagram. I don’t like the idea, frankly, but it’s what your male audience want, and since this scandal began, the male visitors to your social media have swollen 5x—eclipsing the female half. It would hurt for us to drop you from the agency—you have incredible potential, Ashley—but you’re immature. Damian says your future Twitter activity with him you’re to show support for him, an appreciation for his work, and I think he has a point. A lot of your fans are huge supporters of Damian, and when you insult him and his fans, you're only sabotaging yourself. Point three—not really a point but something he said. He’s threatened to re-take your Twitter account if you delete or deny the previous comments made on it—take that however you want. You can look to them as a kind of inspiration. This is an opportunity to grow as an artist—to mature. I can’t force you. At the end of the day, Ashley, it’s your decision, it’s your career, and Damian is right when he says this fiasco threatens to destroy it. Do what you think is best.” He clicked send. The idea didn’t sit well with him but there was no alternative. In the next day they’d be making arrangements for Damian to come over and spend the week with Ashley, and if she didn’t reconcile herself to the idea now, what the fuck were they going to do then? Ashley was an annoying, stuck up prude—the comments were right—but Damian was an insane headache.

In my studio, I click on the Livecounter in the last few hours. Grinning—This is fucking incredible.

Livecounter:
Damian West: 8,445 mentions
Oliver: 306 mentions
John: 101 mentions

She's more famous now than she's ever been—ungrateful bitch.

Ashley should have her Twitter back by now. Lets see if she has learned a lesson.

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: I can't wait to see how you're going to announce the winner, Ashley. I heard a rumour...

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: Are you as excited as I am, my little sex kitten?

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: What do you have planned for us—exotic travels or maybe we'll stay in bed for the full week? #arsefuckingforashley

 

[DeepBlue89]

During my entire conversation with Mike, I was completely and utterly speechless - unable and unwilling to utter a single word. I didn't know what to say; Mike was seemingly pissed off at me, which now that I think about it, probably had to do with the fact that I didn't give him any sort of warning. But I panicked; I thought that he had known me well enough to not get mad at me over the phone... I don't know, I felt like there was no escape for me, no way out besides either destroying my career or leaving it outright. But then what? I would be with no education (seeing as I dropped out of college to pursue my career) with a tarnished name and reputation. Then I thought about my loving boyfriend, how he helped me throughout my entire career and has been with me since senior year of high school. What would he think? Hesitantly, I looked at my phone and called him; immediately crying over the line, bawling my eyes out, while he desperately tried to calm me down.

"Babe, don't cry. It's a stupid contest and doesn't mean anything."

"But aren't you upset?! This was all my fault!"

"No, it's not. Mike should have done better..."

As a good boyfriend, he did his best to help me calm down, even if it meant putting his own feelings aside. We quickly judged the props and cons of doing this; indulging Damian in his perverted fantasies, I mean. In the end, Oliver convinced me that this was all a show and that once we "hung out", that Damian would not be anywhere near as bad as this. Personally, I didn't know if that was the case, but I so desperately wanted to keep my career afloat that I sort of accepted Oliver's words as if they were fact. Oliver prormised me that after the week passed by, that I'd be able to distance myself from the pervert and tell the truth to all my fans.

In short, Oliver and I thought that it would be best for me to...go along with Damian's demands.

I stood in front of a mirror, slowly pulling down my black tights below my ass, with each big cheek resting on top of the waistband that I held. I stood there for a moment, realizing that writing on my ass was probably the hardest thing I had to do during my career- not just because I needed to carefully write with a non-permanent marker on top of my own plump cheeks, but also because of how utterly degrading it was. Thankfully, my loving boyfriend got me to stop crying, otherwise I don't think I would have been able to finish it properly. My heart raced like you wouldn't believe, seeing my body reflecting back at me from the mirror, "property of damian west" branded on my ass - my fat ass as Damian would call it - as if I were a piece of well...property. A whimper escaped my lips, as if I were pleading with myself to stop, as I aimed my phone towards the mirror and took the picture, before pulling my tights back up.

- BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM -

My heart pounded in anticipation as I sat down and logged onto my Twitter account. True to his word, my password was restored and I was able to log in. Just in time to see both the Livecount and Damian's lewd messages:

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: I can't wait to see how you're going to announce the winner, Ashley. I heard a rumour...

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: Are you as excited as I am, my little sex kitten?

@damianwest @AshleyStarr: What do you have planned for us—exotic travels or maybe we'll stay in bed for the full week? #arsefuckingforashley

"I can't do this..." I whimpered again, covering my face as I eyed all the messages and the lewd remarks coming from Damian. My heart pounded as my fingers typed on my keyboard, reluctantly giving into his desires...

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: Check out my Instagram I think you'll like it!

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: Yes sir

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: We'll figure it out later

I had to add those smilies, otherwise I was afraid that Damian, the asshole that he was, would take it as an offense if I wasn't incredibly enthusiastic about this whole ordeal. God, I felt so sick to my stomach about this...especially when I finished up the selfie, the photograph that Damian wanted so badly...

AshleyStarr: "damian west. The man I've had such a HUGE crush on won. I can't wait to spend the week with him! I hope he likes the picture of my HUGE ass "

henry38: omg so the rumors are true?
dylan94: DAMN
mollyringer97: omg...

While my phone was buzzing non stop, presumably because I just got a surge of likes and comments on my Instagram picture, I felt the need to announce it on my Twitter page - unless I wanted a flood of worried tweets, wondering on whether this was real or not. Believe me, there was no pleasure in doing this - I felt at my lowest point, knowing that I had lost to this fucking asshole...

@AshleyStarr Damian Damian Damian


@AshleyStarr Damian West is the winner of the competition. Fooled you all about Oliver


It was like a knife through my heart.

 

[RipRian]

July 12th, 10pm, 2 hours before the competition ends.​

Cum-encrusted tissues fill my bin—My God, it’s been a busy day. Ashley’s Twitter hijacked—Ashley’s cunt management dealt with. The final day was the cincher—the homestretch in which you either win or you lose, and by God, I was winning—especially staring at my computer screen.

@smart_mouth1: Ashley n Damian R actually dating? Wtf I thought this was a joke

@MarkyMarkfan3: i read ashley is obsessed with damian??? lucky!!!

@mollyringer97: Fake News! Ashley was hacked! Ashley isn't like that!

@matthewmcnaughty: U seen Damian’s website? Lol. No wonder Ashley wants him.

@bridget_skylark: Idk what is going on wit Ashley, but this is bullshit.

@bryan9_: @bridget_skylark: Ur bullshit. Ashley is a woman, and like ALL women, wants to get fucked. U got a problem wit that? Lmfao, dyke.

July 12th, 11pm, 1 hour before the competition ends.​

Ashley finally responds—

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: Check out my Instagram I think you'll like it!

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: Yes sir

@AshleyStarr @damianwest: We'll figure it out later

Like a puppet on a string—my big arsed, big titted bitch is dancing for me. She knows who’s in charge—she knows what’s good for her—she knows what’s going to happen. I feel jittery and nervous as I read—“Check out my instagram,”—though. Has she actually fucking done it? I load up the page.

She has.

AshleyStarr: "damian west. The man I've had such a HUGE crush on won. I can't wait to spend the week with him! I hope he likes the picture of my HUGE ass

mollyringer97: omg...
bryan9_: Told you Molly, U stupid bitch.
jamhotxx: Lol, Ashleys big. fat. ass. belongs to damian. take a mortgage out on that thing.
kevin_spaceman: property of damian lmfao
icelander6x: HOLY FUCKING SHIT this is epic
lukex: shit... i just lost $100
pat32: THIS IS WHAT TRUE DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE
the_mad_fapper: i think i just broke my dick

"Property of Damian West"—My God, that bitch had no idea how true that was going to become. Like the_mad_fapper, I almost broke my dick masturbating to that big fat arse with my name branded across it. I can almost hear her sobbing as she wrote it as I ejaculate it and throw another cum-tissue in the bin.

Of course, I add my perspective.

damianwest It's true. Ashley's arse is my personal property. I won it fair and square.
damianwest:I'm going to spend the next week taking FULL ownership.
damianwest: My cock is to become a permanent resident within it.
martin22freemand: dude, ur fucking epic

July 13th, 12am, the competition ends.​

@AshleyStarr Damian Damian Damian

@AshleyStarr Damian West is the winner of the competition. Fooled you all about Oliver

Mike decides to check Ashley's Instagram and Twitter upon the end of the competition—see if she'd handling it as Damian instructed, as Mike recommended—or if she'd decided, no, given the ultimatum—either she grows up or her career ends—she could try to retreat, shut down her computer, close her social media. Although Mike doubted she even could do that. It was an addiction for these girls. To be honest, to think she could maintain a celebrity based on men's sexual attraction to her body while acting superior to it was hopelessly naive. She had to grow up. Mike didn't like that Damian was the conduit, but as the Twitter and Instagram loaded, Mike saw that Damian's methods, as disgusting, manipulative and cruel as he may be, worked. Mike text her: "You've made the right decision."

In the studio where I've been for the last three days glued to a computer screen—exhausted from masturbating—impossibly, tantalizingly close to those enormous fucking titties—It's the greatest aphrodisiac in the world, and my testicles are shriveled and dry. I see the announcement of my victory... One final Tweet maybe—To express my gratitude.

@damianwest: #arsefuckingforashley #BeAdventurousAndBrave

Damian West is the Winner​

When I wake up the first thing I notice that catches my interest is some cunt journalist for a gossip rag—although a popular one. I laugh at the questions in my inbox. "Is it true you and Ashley Star are dating?" "Ashley Star says she has a huge crush on you. How do you feel about that?" I shoot back a response—heck, why not?

"No, it is untrue Ashley and I are dating. In fact, we've never met—not properly. I have been made aware that she has a huge crush on me yes—anyone who has seen her Instagram knows that. Ashley is a very beautiful young lady, and as the competition has ended and her fans have decided that I should be the one to meet her—perhaps they knew how badly she wanted to meet me?—we will find out what our true feelings."

In a few hours the headline appears—

"FANS FIX IT FOR ASHLEY TO GET DREAM DATE!

Mike sits in a Starbucks trying to arrange concert venues for his other two clients, but constant interruptions from gossip magazines wanting a scoop. "No comment," over and over again, and the phone rings—Damian's number—"please please please not another insane monologue"—clicking answer. "Hey, Mike. We're on first name basis, right? We're a lot alike I feel." How is one man so creepy? "Sure, Damian. You won the competition I hear. We're arranging to bring you out on a first class flight to San Francisco right away. There shouldn't be any problems." "Right, sure. Good. That's why I was calling. You better not try to fucking scam me—I know plenty of good lawyers. By the way, you did a good job talking to that bitch Ashley. She listened to you. Keep it up and we could both make a lot of money." "Ok, Damian. We'll talk another time." Mike hangs up before Damian can say anything else more disgusting or insane.

Mike phones Ashley to explain the situation—She'll need time to prepare. "Ashley—It's Mike. I just got off the phone with Damian. He's excited to be coming, and you should prepare. We haven't made any plans yet since we were expecting Oliver to win, so we'll just sort of have to wing it. He might make your skin crawl, but be nice to him. Remember—Your career depends on it."

I pack my bags—condoms, sex toys, some booze—everything I might need—although hopefully not the condoms—definitely not the condoms—fuck it, I'm not packing the condoms. One last look through social media, and then—Be Brave and Adventurous, as Ashley says—and by God, I will be, Ashley—for your sake, or that sweet, fat arse's sake.

@bryan9_: Damian is a God among men. His books are the real deal. Who else could do this? Dude is awesome.

@henry38: i feel fucking retarded tbh. didnt think he could fuck ashley star and SHE'S the one who wants to fuck him??? wtf

@bridget_skylark: Ashley must be crazy. Damian is a nutcase borderline rapist. Smdh.

@icelander6x: Lol, this bitch wants it so bad. U can see it in her eyes and on her ass

@epicwinner1488: ashley is still a stupid cunt but a stupid cunt who knows her place is better than one who doesn't

@dylan94: Why tf did she act like such a prude for so long? Y r the hot ones always so fricken crazy?

Ah, to give my acorns what they crave so one day they may grown into a mighty oak tree like me.

@damianwest: I have my ticket. I have my whiskey. I have my cock. And soon I'll have my piece of Ashley Star's arse.

@damianwest: Which vibrator is best for Ashley–8inch, 10inch or 12inch? I'll pack all three in case, and we can work our way up.

I also can't resist firing one last message off to Ashley before I leave. i am not, I don't think, going to charm her into fucking me. Brute force and manipulation has brought me this far, and brute force and manipulation will take me the whole distance.

"Ashley, my sex kitten. I was just remembering when you said I wouldn't win–You guaranteed it, remember? End of story you said. Get that through my thick skull you said. Not a single second you said. It makes me laugh how wrong you were. Don't ever forget who that arse belongs to, Ashley—Property of Damian West. You wrote it. It's the truth. i am going to slam you until you squeal—Until your pussy is creaming on my cock—Until your eyes roll into the back of your head as you lose yourself in orgasmic trances of pure pleasure. If you think a single word of this is untrue, don't forget—You also guaranteed I wouldn't win this competition, and yet here I come—On my way. Damian West."

 

[DeepBlue89]

"FANS FIX IT FOR ASHLEY TO GET DREAM DATE!

Once I settled down from my back and forth pacing, I went on my computer and looked at the latest news involving my name. I saw this title and winced at the sight. Everyone was going to see this and think that I actually had a crush on Damian West. They had every reason to believe that; after all, the news came from a very reliable source...me. Not that I actually wanted to say these things of course; I found myself essentially being extorted into playing along with Damian's bizarre fantasy and with a lot of anxiety, found myself staring at the screen while talking to Mike. My manager told me that I had made the right decision and that I was very brave for following through (although he sounded nearly apathetic). Although we both hated to admit it, Damian had control over the majority of my fan base, at least for the moment being. It's funny, at least in a very morbid way - although both Oliver and Mike reassured me over the phone that I was making the right call, I wasn't so sure anymore. Damian was an unpredictable perverted lunatic and while I wanted to reassure myself that he wouldn't be anything like this in person, I somehow doubted that. That excuse just felt like wishful thinking to me; after all if it was all a show for his followers, why send me private messages? I thought of this, snapping back to reality by hearing my phone buzz with an incoming call.

"Ashley—It's Mike. I just got off the phone with Damian. He's excited to be coming, and you should prepare. We haven't made any plans yet since we were expecting Oliver to win, so we'll just sort of have to wing it. He might make your skin crawl, but be nice to him. Remember—Your career depends on it."

"I know, I know..." I responded back to my manager, sighing as I glanced away from my computer. "I don't even know what to prepare. Where exactly am I meeting him? What do I do if he gets...handsy?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

I sighed before hanging up. While I agreed to play along with Damian over the internet, I wasn't planning on letting him get his way with me in real life. I was sure though that maybe I'd be able to get him charged with someone if he did... After all, there was a line but I was sure that he was well aware of that and wasn't going to do something incredibly stupid that would work in my favor. Ugh, he made me so fucking angry. The thought of having to spend a week with some disgusting man instead of my loving boyfriend - it sent chills down my spine. With a frustrated sigh, I found myself reading my Twitter account and replying to every couple of messages or so. Better me than whoever it was that hacked my account for Damian.

Just when I thought that I was beginning to be okay with all of this, I got a private message from Damian. I was hesitant, not knowing whether to open it or just ignore it. My heart raced, beating like a loud drum. While I wanted to go with the latter, I knew that it could potentially be a very bad call. "I can't, I just can't..." I whimpered, my hand slightly trembling before reaching for the application icon. What I got was a lewd disgusting message that sent a chill down my spine.


"Ashley, my sex kitten. I was just remembering when you said I wouldn't win–You guaranteed it, remember? End of story you said. Get that through my thick skull you said. Not a single second you said. It makes me laugh how wrong you were. Don't ever forget who that arse belongs to, Ashley—Property of Damian West. You wrote it. It's the truth. i am going to slam you until you squeal—Until your pussy is creaming on my cock—Until your eyes roll into the back of your head as you lose yourself in orgasmic trances of pure pleasure. If you think a single word of this is untrue, don't forget—You also guaranteed I wouldn't win this competition, and yet here I come—On my way. Damian West."

"Oh god..." I said in a high pitched, almost wounded like tone. I immediately dropped my phone on my bed, as if it were burning hot.

He was right. Thus far, no matter what I said or did, it seemed to backfire on me. I told Damian that he wasn't going to win, but that didn't work out in my favor - even with so many tools and resources at my disposal, I couldn't beat him in my very own contest. That being said, I worried about what was waiting right around the corner. Could Damian be this good? Could he really get what he wanted - me? I didn't like him and I was a faithful girlfriend, but Damian was a manipulative, sociopath pervert. He got me in this predicament with no problem...so my mind went towards the thought of him doing what he just mentioned. Was I going to be forced to have him take my virginity? Was I really going to be squealing in a few days, with Damian slamming into me as if I were some kind of pornstar? Was I really going to betray not only Oliver, but myself as well? I began to panic some more, realizing that the fact that I was worried that somehow Damian would have his way with me, made his comments all the more true. He was getting inside my head...

I panicked, reaching for my phone before calling Oliver.

"Baby I don't think I can do this! I can't do this, I can't!"

..​

Meanwhile...​

Mike was pacing back and forth outside his home, having to deal with Damian. He wasn't anxious, not like Ashley was - in fact, the best way to describe Mike right now was fed up. This whole ordeal was keeping him away from his family and his wife was not at all pleased with that. If it weren't for the fact that Damian had a point - that if this were done properly, then Ashley would have a surge in fans and popularity - then he would have told the old pervert to go fuck himself and abandon Ashley as a client for the amount of trouble she caused. He had only clients too and if it weren't for the fact that he could potentially be the manager of a much bigger celebrity after this, he wouldn't be dealing with such a twisted human being.

"Look, I don't care. You can't be staying over at Ashley's place." he said, his tone seemingly more and more fed up. He couldn't even believe that this freak thought that somehow, it was even possible to have him stay the week at his client's home. "Your hotel room is already bought and paid for an entire week, Mr. West. As for tomorrow's activity, I was thinking maybe you two could eat at a restaurant. Take it nice and easy, with no fuss."

He took a breath from his cigarette, remembering to hide that from his wife. This whole fucking thing was one big headache. If only Ashley kept her mouth shut, everyone would have been happy right about now.

 

[RipRian]

July 13th​

4pm: Airport​

I am lucky to get through security with my raging erection—this thing should be considered illegal contraband—as well as my bag of lotions, handcuffs, vibrators, dildoes. The looks on the faces of security amuse me—I don't give a shit: I am on my way to meet and fuck Ashley Star, the biggest titted, biggest arsed piece of fuckmeat in the San Francisco area. Mike, her management, seemed an incompetent, uninterested idiot, so I am certain I could bypass him whatever his ethical concerns. Speaking of, before boarding the plane my phone rings—Mike's number. The bitch better not have backed out.

"I'll be waiting to pick you up at the other end. Any delays?" Mike sighs. "Fuck that. Where's Ashley?" Mike expected this. Ashley was docile and compliant more or less, somewhat annoying, but Damian West was one long headache. He pitied Ashley having to spend time with him—He pitied himself having to spend time with him. "She isn't coming—not straightaway. Give her some time to adjust. I'll take you to the Intercontinental hotel, and the first day of your week with Ashley will begin tomorrow, July 14th." "A hotel? Tomorrow? This is dogshit. This is absolute fucking dogshit. I should be staying with Ashley. I won this competition. You're screwing me." "Look, I don't care. You can't be staying over at Ashley's place." "Fuck this and fuck you. At least let me get my own hotel. I don't want to stay in some swanky piece of shit. I'll find somewhere sleazy and dirty for myself where I feel comfortable." Mike felt repulsed—The extent of how much Damian embraced his own degeneracy, depravity and perversion gave him incredible momentum, but it was insidious—a grown man in his 40s, successful, intelligent and without any sort of restraint—the very embodiment of the Freudian id Mike mused, the conversation lulling into silence for a second. "And what do you even have intended for activities? Holding hands on the fucking beach?" "Your hotel room is already bought and paid for an entire week, Mr. West. As for tomorrow's activity, I was thinking maybe you two could eat at a restaurant. Take it nice and easy, with no fuss." "Yeah, whatever, you fucking dipshit. I've got to get my plane." Mike hangs up shaking his head—That's all he can take of that man for now.

A plan, it seems to Mike, is coming together—Damian and Ashley will be introduced at a fancy restaurant, a secure environment, with pictures taken for social media, and maybe, Mike thinks, the element of class might make Damian behave himself—"Fucking unlikely..." then stubbing out his cigarette and going into his house to explain to his wife he'll have to set off to pick-up this demented pervert in a couple of hours, although not, of course, using those terms.

At the airport I get off the phone with Ashley's manager—an unbelievable shithead. I won this competition fair and square—Ashley is mine. Instead I get a night at a fucking hotel and a fancy meal at a restaurant? "Cunt," I exclaim in the airport my thoughts on the possibility this manager might cockblock me. Other travelers, some with children, scowl at me. "What you fucking looking at?" Ashley and her cunt manager can get fucked. I've come this far, and nothing is stopping me now. I pull out my phone and type a quick message before having to board.

damianwest: Bryan, you there?
bryan9_: Yeah, dude. What is it?
damianwest: If I give you Ashley's manager's number, can you spoof it?
bryan9_: Easy as piece of piss.

July 13th, 6pm​

Mike phones Ashley to explain what's going on. "Ashley—It's Mike. I'm off to pick Damian up from the airport. I'm taking him to the Intercontinental hotel. No, you won't have to deal with him today. I've arranged a meet-up at a restaurant tomorrow. You'll have to wear something nice, something—" he hesitated slightly as he pictured Ashley and Damian sat together, "sexy. This is about your public image. It's probably best for Oliver to stay far out of sight. If Damian finds out about him and says the runner-up is hanging around you as well social media is liable to go insane. I shouldn't have to keep reminding you—You need to build bridges with your male fans. This has done a lot of damage. We'll talk later."

I get off the airplane and see a haggard-looking, tired-eyed man holding a sign—"Damian West"—and greet him. "I know that look. New baby?" He nods, greets and escorts me to the car. Good—His attention will be too riven to get in my way too much. In the car I can feel his revulsion palpable. Well, I don't need you to fucking like me, you cunt. "What's happening with the meet-up with Ashley?" "Tomorrow, like I said. I have a table at a five star restaurant booked—Something that'll look good." "You remember the conversation we had—about me rebranding Ashley's public image?" "It's Ashley's decision how far she's willing to go." "Yeah, sure. Whatever." Fucking cunt.

I'm dropped off in a hotel. A nice suite with a big bed, wifi, a free bar and every possible amenity I could want. Except the one thing I do want—Ashley's big fat arse grinding on my cock. I pull out my phone—Shoot off some Tweets and let's see how Bryan is coming along.

@damianwest: I'm in a hotel scheduled to meet Ashley Star tomorrow.

@damianwest: I am certain she's as excited to meet me as I am her—She's said as much herself. Maybe she's nervous?

@damianwest: It's just like managers to get between a girl and the cock she wants to fuck #arsefuckingforashley Jealousy maybe?

bryan9_: Ready?
damianwest: Go for it, my man.

A message is sent to Ashley, ostensibly from Mike. "Ashley—It's Mike. I've spoken to Damian and he is actually very reasonable, to be honest, and I think you might actually like him—at least personally. He's explained that as much as he does find you irresistibly attractive, image is everything, and he is exaggerating his own personality for the sake of publicity and attention. You can see how well it's worked for him. I think you really need to go for it. Embrace what has been given to you and start exaggerating the same as Damian—The sooner the better. The huge influx of attention to your Twitter posts right now is an opportunity to consolidate your career and establish yourself permanently in the public mind. If not for yourself, do it for me, and I promise, you'll enjoy tomorrow."

bryan9_: U don't think we overdid it?
damianwest: We'll find out soon enough.

 

[DeepBlue89]

"Ashley—It's Mike. I'm off to pick Damian up from the airport. I'm taking him to the Intercontinental hotel. No, you won't have to deal with him today. I've arranged a meet-up at a restaurant tomorrow. You'll have to wear something nice, something—" Mike said to me over the phone, taking a deep pause before continuing - "sexy. This is about your public image. It's probably best for Oliver to stay far out of sight. If Damian finds out about him and says the runner-up is hanging around you as well social media is liable to go insane. I shouldn't have to keep reminding you—You need to build bridges with your male fans. This has done a lot of damage. We'll talk later."

I knocked one of my plushies off my desk as I sat there, holding my head in my heads. This was all too much - I knew that tonight I wouldn't be able to sleep properly, if at all. This man, after all, has been tormenting me for three days straight and now, after countless objectifying comments and insults, I had to meet him in real life. Not only that, but I had to dress sexy for him, whatever that means. I glanced at my closet, wondering if there was anything in there that would prevent Damian from imagining me naked and prevent any sick remarks. What is more, the fact that I couldn't really be seen with Oliver for the whole week made me feel even more miserable. After all, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd want to see my loving boyfriend tomorrow - it was going to be disastrous, and nothing could calm me down faster than his face. I sighed in frustration, lifting my head and staring right at my computer screen. From the look of things, Damian had just arrived at his hotel:

@damianwest: I'm in a hotel scheduled to meet Ashley Star tomorrow.

@damianwest: I am certain she's as excited to meet me as I am her—She's said as much herself. Maybe she's nervous?

@damianwest: It's just like managers to get between a girl and the cock she wants to fuck #arsefuckingforashley Jealousy maybe?

"Fucking asshole!" I said out loud, hitting my hand on my desk as I began reading his tweets - unable to escape his torment, even for a few hours. I was really losing it. I eyed my phone, contemplating just calling Mike and telling him that it was off - that I was going to quit my career and go back to school to live a normal life. I loved my career but doing so would grant me some relief; even if I had to go back to a normal life, it sure beat having to deal with this - all this anxiety and pressure to meet some fucking lunatic pervert who wouldn't stop harassing me. I teared up a little, thinking of how horrible he was going to be with me tomorrow if I went to meet him. But then seemingly as if Mike was reading my mind, I got a text:

"Ashley—It's Mike. I've spoken to Damian and he is actually very reasonable, to be honest, and I think you might actually like him—at least personally. He's explained that as much as he does find you irresistibly attractive, image is everything, and he is exaggerating his own personality for the sake of publicity and attention. You can see how well it's worked for him. I think you really need to go for it. Embrace what has been given to you and start exaggerating the same as Damian—The sooner the better. The huge influx of attention to your Twitter posts right now is an opportunity to consolidate your career and establish yourself permanently in the public mind. If not for yourself, do it for me, and I promise, you'll enjoy tomorrow."

I took a deep breath, wiping away the slight water in my eyes.

I had to be honest, receiving this message from Mike was a godsend. While I loved Oliver and his opinion meant the world to me, he didn't really know anything having to do with show business. But the fact that Mike, my manager and mentor when it came to the show business world, texted me all of this in a way that didn't seem forced...well, it gave me hope. I was a little confused at first; seeing as Mike gave his opinion before and didn't seem all that convinced that Damian was a good guy, but I quickly realized that this change of opinion might have happened because he met him. Maybe Damian was a nice guy and this whole thing was an exaggerated persona. Maybe this hope, what I thought to be a complete delusion, was closer to reality than I thought.

"Okay...I'll try Mike. Thank you so much, I was stressing out the entire evening and this really took my mind off things!"

I glanced back at the screen, watching as new tweets appeared in real time. Of course, a few came from Damian - only this time, directly implicating me this time.

@damianwest: I can't imagine what naughtiness Ashley is getting up to tonight that I will have to punish her for tomorrow.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Are you a Daddy's girl, Ashley? Do you need Daddy to give you a hard punishment?

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Bend you over a table, and then what, Ashley? What comes next?

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Have you had any naughty dreams lately, my little sex kitten?


Having had some form of encouragement from Mike, I brought my hands on my keyboard. Was it really that easy? Letting loose and exaggerating everything on social media? Would people really know that it's all an act? Would Oliver be okay with all of this? I paused for a minute, wondering if I could really go through this. I typed and I typed...before erasing it all because it just didn't feel like...me, even knowing that it was a complete act. But then I began to think about the hacker who held my account for a little while and what they posted. Maybe I just needed to think like the hacker...

..

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Daddy's girl and yes please, I've been really naughty and mean with you.
@AshleyStar: @damianwest A hard spanking for teasing you and saying you couldn't win
@AshleyStar: @damianwest Yes and they've been all about you!

I paused for a few seconds and chuckled at the sight. This was a little fun in its own way - coming up with a fake personality for yourself online, I mean. If it really was true, but I was nearly convinced of thanks to Mike, I could see why Damian did this for a living.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Excited to see me tomorrow?

 

[RipRian]

The anticipation was agony—Like an ongoing blue-balling crossed with constant, unending orgasm. It was the story of Venus and the Satyr, and I would play my panpipes for as long as her big tits jiggled.

bryan9_: She's responded.
damianwest: Thank fuck. And?

"Okay...I'll try Mike. Thank you so much, I was stressing out the entire evening and this really took my mind off things!"

The stupid, ditzy cunt was going for it. Absolute perfection. None of this would be necessary if her cunt manager Mike was anything more than an uninterested, distracted, unpersuasive half-wit. A girl like Ashley, she needs careful handling—instruction. What kind of fool lets a dopey, doe-eyed twenty three year old girl with a body of a sex goddess dictate things for herself? She needs to be handled, controlled—Taken.

bryan9_: What now?
damianwest: Give her a second. Let her find her footing.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Daddy's girl and yes please, I've been really naughty and mean with you.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest A hard spanking for teasing you and saying you couldn't win

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Yes and they've been all about you!

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Excited to see me tomorrow?

I almost hands-free ejaculated upon seeing it. I had the bitch—I had the bitch—I had the bitch.

Twitter was loving it, and so was I.

@kevin_spaceman: Lol, Ashley Star is cock crazy

@the_mad_fapper: dirty sluts are the best... the nastier the better. love that sloppy head

@matthewmcnaughty: Ashley Star is a Daddy's girl? lol. Shouldve known.

@cynthia95: Spanked by Damian West... hmmm, not sure how I feel about that one lol

@henry38: Y does damian get to fuck such an massive slut with such an epic body?? life's not fair

How far, I wonder, will Ashley go? This was a delicate operation, but some force had been on my side from the beginning, and by God, I had the True Faith. These past few days I have accomplished Herculean accomplishments, and soon I am to ascend the Olympian mountain of Ashley's fat arse—Nothing can get in my way. "Steady on, Damian... no wonder people think you're insane."

I need to reel her in—Something light and fun, not too scary, but playful and dirty. Most women, in my experience, enjoy a bit of domination, and even if they don't they can be made to enjoy it, and I know that Ashley is no different. First, I should forewarn her, and play a small mind trick on her—as well as winning her trust and setting up the potential replacement of Mike. I send Ashley a message.

"Good Tweets, Ashley. Mike must've told you what I said, and explained that I'm not such a bad guy—It's a manufactured image to appeal to the audience. That's what celebrity is all about—Carefully curated image. I did what I had to do to win this competition, and to be honest, I don't feel like I've done you too much harm—It's brought you and me tremendous exposure. We all want to be rich and famous, right? If you are feeling uncomfortable at all, just look at it like a game. You're playing a character. It's not you. And I swear the wilder you go the more people will respond, and the more fun you'll have. Use whatever you've got. Everyone has sexual fantasies, Ashley—let's not act like we're twelve years old—so use them. Let your most crazed, sexual fantasy run wild, exaggerate and post it. You'll enjoy it—Your fans will enjoy it—Everyone is a winner. Be Brave and Adventurous, Ashley. If you're feeling really daring, Tweet the #arsefuckingforashley hashtag. I'm looking forward to seeing you in person tomorrow. Damien West."

One last bit of additional pressure, I think.

damianwest: Ok, go again.
bryan9_: I can't believe this is working. Ur some kind of genius.

A message from Mike.

"Ashley—It's Mike. I saw the Tweets. Really, really good job. The male fans are loving it, and it's really good to see you finally maturing—growing into a savvy, self-aware, social media expert. More like this and you will be on your way to megastardom. I'm proud of you."

She should be amped up to her eyeballs, and to be honest, so am I. I burst into a frenzy of sexual Tweeting. I really, really, really want this bitch.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr My dream was you handcuffed, Ashley—groping those big, fat titties—squeezing them—sucking on them. [1/2]

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Then bending you over—sliding down your underwear—sliding in my thick cock—My hand wrapping around your neck from behind... [2/2]

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr What about you, Ashley? Describe for me one of your dreams.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I'll be your Daddy, Ashley, but I warn you—I'm very, very strict, and some even say a bit perverted.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I'm so horny in my hotel room waiting for tomorrow, Ashley. Help me out? Tell me what you have planned

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I've heard you have a huge crush on me, Ashley, and I think you're really fucking sexy. How far will you let me go?

It's hard to have any restraint—to hold back—when you're so used to going full-throttle through life. All I could do was wait. Fuck the Que Sera, Sera sentiment though. This wasn't even the first day and I'd already made serious headway in seducing the little sex kitten.

 

[DeepBlue89]

"Good Tweets, Ashley. Mike must've told you what I said, and explained that I'm not such a bad guy—It's a manufactured image to appeal to the audience. That's what celebrity is all about—Carefully curated image. I did what I had to do to win this competition, and to be honest, I don't feel like I've done you too much harm—It's brought you and me tremendous exposure. We all want to be rich and famous, right? If you are feeling uncomfortable at all, just look at it like a game. You're playing a character. It's not you. And I swear the wilder you go the more people will respond, and the more fun you'll have. Use whatever you've got. Everyone has sexual fantasies, Ashley—let's not act like we're twelve years old—so use them. Let your most crazed, sexual fantasy run wild, exaggerate and post it. You'll enjoy it—Your fans will enjoy it—Everyone is a winner. Be Brave and Adventurous, Ashley. If you're feeling really daring, Tweet the #arsefuckingforashley hashtag. I'm looking forward to seeing you in person tomorrow. Damien West."

This message was...so much more tame than the others. I couldn't help but wonder why Damian was so insistent on degrading me in those messages earlier; was it because he wanted to push that exaggerated image of himself onto me? Was it because he wasn't really sure if he was going to win the competition and didn't want to show his human side unless he did? Either way, I began to let my guard down and accept Damian as another human being - as opposed to the great evil monster that I thought he was, even just minutes earlier. I guess that in a way, I felt a bit silly over how I was behaving earlier - I was ready to abandon my entire career because of my impression of him. Still, I had to remind myself that he could have easily tricked Mike into believing he was a good guy and was trying the same thing on me...

"No, I can't be paranoid about this...Jesus Ashley, you're going to drive yourself crazy..." I said out loud to myself.

My phone then vibrated. Another text.

"Ashley—It's Mike. I saw the Tweets. Really, really good job. The male fans are loving it, and it's really good to see you finally maturing—growing into a savvy, self-aware, social media expert. More like this and you will be on your way to megastardom. I'm proud of you."

With that encouragement, I thought to tweet something a bit provocative. My heart was racing as I brought my fingers towards my keyboard. What could I type?

It was at this moment that I began to witness some live messages coming from Damian.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr My dream was you handcuffed, Ashley—groping those big, fat titties—squeezing them—sucking on them. [1/2]

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr Then bending you over—sliding down your underwear—sliding in my thick cock—My hand wrapping around your neck from behind... [2/2]

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr What about you, Ashley? Describe for me one of your dreams.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I'll be your Daddy, Ashley, but I warn you—I'm very, very strict, and some even say a bit perverted.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I'm so horny in my hotel room waiting for tomorrow, Ashley. Help me out? Tell me what you have planned

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr I've heard you have a huge crush on me, Ashley, and I think you're really fucking sexy. How far will you let me go?


I couldn't believe it. In less than thirty seconds, I found myself breathing heavily just from reading his tweets. Even though I now knew that this was all an act, I couldn't help but imagine what he was saying - being handcuffed, completely helpless as some pervert had his way with me...imagining this, of course, not as myself but as a separate entity. This allowed me to distance myself from the consequences of doing this with Damian and instead view it as a wild sexual act between two fictional characters. Even so, the fact that I knew that many people were reading this and anticipating my next response made my heart race, all the while my mind began to conjure up its own fantasy. My own sexual fantasy that I could exaggerate in order to stir up some noise.

But...

While I knew that there was a massive amount of guys wanted to see me more sexualized on Twitter, what about my fans that were upset with me? Were they really in the minority here? Was I making a huge mistake in even thinking about posting my fantasy? Was Mike wrong in thinking that this would end up boosting my career instead of hurting it? Now knowing that Damian was actual a normal guy in real life, I had the confidence to tweet this:

@AshleyStar: I don't know Damian, some of my fans seem upset already.
@AshleyStar: Let's make this a vote...
@AshleyStar: Who wants me to stop messaging Damian altogether?
@AshleyStar: And who wants me to go over my fantasy and continue these talks with Damian?

..


@icelander6x: @AshleyStarr Lol, calls us "disgusting" n "rotten". Let's see what HER fantasies!!

@mollyringer97: @AshleyStarr for your own sake, stop messaging damian, ashley

@jamhotxx: @AshleyStarr Cant wait to find out what this slut's fantasies are

@dylan94: @AshleyStarr oh god yes tell us your fantasy ashley!!!

@AlexanderSkas: @AshleyStarr Tell us Ur fantasies and Ill make em come true, baby. Nvm Damian

@bryan9_: @AshleyStarr 100% guarantee she likes it rough, lol.

@henry38: @AshleyStarr: We already know Ur fantasy... its damian

In just a moment, those tweets showed up and then there was a huge surge of tweets practically begging me to continue these with Damian. I was legitimately surprised by the sheer number of messages appearing all at once. Most of all, I was shocked over how I felt seeing those messages, all focused on me - I felt excited. Remembering what both Mike and Damian told me, I used this as the perfect opportunity to let loose.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Okay, so looks like everyone approves daddy.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Can I call you that?

My heart pounded in my chest just by typing those messages. Realizing that I had to continue in order to appease my male fans, I eagerly brought my fingers down, typing away at my keyboard:

@AshleyStar: @damianwest My dream was about you slamming me from behind and choking me

@AshleyStar: @damianwest I creamed on your cock for like the ninth time. You punished me by slapping my fat ass hard many times

@AshleyStar: @damianwest You then put your big cock inside of my big ass even though it didn't fit, even though I whined and groaned

@AshleyStar: @damianwest I squealed and squealed, my eyes rolling to the back of my head with my big tits squished on the bed [1/2]

@AshleyStar: @damianwest As I lost myself in orgasmic trances of pure pleasure [2/2]


@AshleyStar: @damianwest Maybe someday we can make both our dreams come true!


@AshleyStar: @damianwest #arsefuckingforashley


At this point, my stomach ached with a guilty feeling - not only for typing all of that, but because my inner thighs were soaking wet. "Oh godddd" I groaned with a high pitched whimper, the warmth clearly felt between my inner thighs. Desperate for some kind of release, I rocked my hips, feeling the friction from my inner lips and the chair, separated by just my panties and tights and enjoying it. I was in such a weird state of mind, that somehow feeling my round ass pressing against the back of my chair made me feel as if I had Damian's hands on it.

I needed to stop...

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Phew...feels good telling people about it.


@AshleyStar: @damianwest I'm going to go log off now, I think. Big day ahead of me!

 

[RipRian]

J stare at my screen the same anticipation that had accompanied me for weeks, with each new plot and plan, each new piece of attempted manipulation—desperately sitting there glued to the glow of the screen wanting—wishing—for success. Everything had turned up successful so far, as if the Internet was some great Wishing Machine, and the more I wanted it, the more it would be granted. Please, please, please let me get what I want—Ashley’s big fat arse served up on a silver platter. Then I saw—

@AshleyStar: I don't know Damian, some of my fans seem upset already.
@AshleyStar: Let's make this a vote...
@AshleyStar: Who wants me to stop messaging Damian altogether?
@AshleyStar: And who wants me to go over my fantasy and continue these talks with Damian?

“ha-ha-Ha.” I recognize the significance of the silly, stupid vote straightaway, and I knew that I had her—I knew that I had what I wanted. Like a lot of women, this dumb cunt wanted it as badly as I did, except she wanted to escape the accountability of her actions. Chapter 5 of What Women Are, What Women Want by Damian West: “Women are whores scared of the consequences of their own desires. To fuck them, ignore everything they say and let them pretend they don’t want it.” I can hear the pretty, dippy bitch’s voice in my head – “Wretched Damian—He MADE me do it! He MADE me have the best sex of my life!” Women are all laughable, pathetic whores. The results of the vote were a foregone conclusion, and even she, if she had any fucking sense whatsoever, which she didn’t, she knew that, but it provided her justification for whatever she’d do next.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Okay, so looks like everyone approves daddy.
@AshleyStar: @damianwest Can I call you that?

And there we fucking go. All this bitch needed was all any of these bitches need—a big, dirty, aggressive daddy to show them their place: on their knees with their mouth open, or bending over spreading their cheeks apart. The resistance she put up—that all of them put up—is just part of the game. Well, with the advice I’d given, let’s see some of the depraved fantasies of Ashley Star, the dumb cunt with the voluptuous body.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest My dream was about you slamming me from behind and choking me
@AshleyStar: @damianwest I creamed on your cock for like the ninth time. You punished me by slapping my fat ass hard many times
@AshleyStar: @damianwest You then put your big cock inside of my big ass even though it didn't fit, even though I whined and groaned
@AshleyStar: @damianwest I squealed and squealed, my eyes rolling to the back of my head with my big tits squished on the bed [1/2]
@AshleyStar: @damianwest As I lost myself in orgasmic trances of pure pleasure [2/2]
@AshleyStar: @damianwest Maybe someday we can make both our dreams come true!
@AshleyStar: @damianwest #arsefuckingforashley

“Yes, you little whore. Yes you little whore. Yes.” My blood boiling—My brain on fire—My bones aching—My cock going off like a giant, spunky firework. I brought this prudish, stuck-up popstar cunt who’d condemned men as rotten, disgusting, pieces of garbage, to admitting everything I said of women was the gospel fucking truth. I’d got inside her head, and soon I’d be inside her.

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Phew...feels good telling people about it.
@AshleyStar: @damianwest I'm going to go log off now, I think. Big day ahead of me!

She runs off before she can see the responses. I can imagine why. The tension and confusion is very likely bewildering her to such a point she’s losing all control of herself, which is how things are intended. Women shouldn't have control of themselves. That's my job. Very likely it was her first time exploring her inner-fantasies of depravity judging from her prudish responses before. I can picture her there squirming uncomfortably trying to distance herself from the reality of her own sexual cravings as her panties become more and more sodden, the heat unbearable as she thinks about me grabbing her, groping her, doing things to her she'd never thought about before. Shame—She should’ve stuck around for the responses.

@bryan9_: @AshleyStarr told U

@MarkyMarkfan3: @AshleyStarr that’s hot af tbh

@icelander6x: @AshleyStarr: This slut is a good role model for girls, Lol. #BeAdventurousAndBrave Lmfao

@drhouse_md: @AshleyStarr no wonder she wanted damian to win

@henry38: @AshleyStarr Damn…. gonna buy damian’s book, this shit is unreal.

@damianwest: @AshleyStarr: Don’t worry, Ashley. All that to come and much, much more. Keep yourself nice and smooth for Daddy.

bryan9_: idk how, but U are… beyond epic, dude.
damianwest: Women are whores, treat ‘em like whores, Bryan.
bryan9_: U think I could get the Mollyringer bitch?
damianwest: Follow my book and you can do anything. I need a favour btw. Can you spoof Ashley’s number to Mike? And I need you to intercept any messages between them.
bryan9_:Yeah, dude. Sure.

With that, I throw myself into the king-size mattress, silk bedding of the hotel and masturbate furiously. I hope the hotel bills Ashley’s management for the stains.

July 14th, Day 1.​

I open my eyes and remind myself—No, it isn’t a dream. That bitch you have stalked for over a year online—She is really, really within your grasp, Damian. I needed to be fucking careful. Keep her mind in the gutter, alongside mine, avoid Mike’s involvement and don’t trigger too many alarm bells for Ashley. She wants it rough—to be punished—but it's a fine line between that and ending up in prison. I’d have to see how she was responding to the night before. At least if anything did happen and she tried to say I'd forced myself on her, Twitter would side with me—Look how fucking badly this bitch wanted it!

Let's make sure the bitch doesn't turn up wearing some frumpy, ugly jumper and a baggy skirt to hide her big titted, big arsed assets. I couldn't abide that—not on our first date. She has to look the part of the well-trained sex kitten. I Tweet—

@damianwest: I’m getting ready to meet Ashley. Let’s do a vote of our own. Who wants Ashley in some tight-fitting jeggins, a sexy thong. Really show off her big fat arse.[1/2]

@damianwest: And for her to give us a sexy preview of big fat arse as she's getting ready?[1/2]

The response is immediate and overwhelming, as expected.

@epicwinner1488: @damianwest I would lick cream cheese from that fat ass. God yes.

@matthewmcnaughty: @damianwest: Yes, yes. It’s only fair. Don’t let damian have ALL the fun.

@the_mad_fapper: @damianwest Show us how much Ur looking forward to getting ass fucked, bitch!!!!

@damianwest: @the_mad_fapper: This, Ashley. How excited are you?

@pat32: @damianwest: for the fans, Ashley!!!

@damianwest:Well, Ashley–the fans have spoken. You better do as instructed like a good girl. For Daddy.

There we go, there we go. Now, onto more tricky business.

damianwest: Ok, Bryan. Send the texts.

you're told unless you want to upset them again./COLOR][/B]

Sent from Bryan to Ashley:

“Ashley—It’s Mike. I’m really sorry but I have had a family emergency and I can’t make it. It’s nothing too serious and I wouldn’t do this to you unless I believed Damian was a good guy. Just relax and it’ll be okay. The address of the restaurant is ____________.The table is booked for 11am. Just listen to Damian. He knows what he’s doing in terms of your public image. Remember, the filthier the better.”

Sent from Bryan to Mike:

“Mike, I’ve spoke to Damian and he’s really friendly and nice. I know I screwed up with the things I said to my male fans, and I want to try to make it better. Please let me try. I want to do this by myself, and you’ve always told me I need to grow up so I think it’s time you let me. Thank you so much!”

Mike stares at the text in amazement. “It’s the kind of thing I’ve always wanted to hear from her. I’m tired of babysitting her, and she does need to grow up, but something doesn’t feel right. Not like this, not with this creep.” His wife laughs and tells him he’s just acting like an overprotective father. Ashley is a big girl and she can look after herself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But you haven’t met this guy. He doesn't care what decision she makes.” Mike sighs deeply. Damian had forced his way this far, an unstoppable force, and Mike didn’t have the strength of an immovable object. “I don’t know…”

“Ashley—It’s Mike. If you’re sure about this then ok. I’m surprised to hear you call Damian friendly and nice. My experience of him was he’s a belligerent, perverted piece of shit, but if you feel comfortable and you want to take this challenge for yourself, I support you. Good luck.”

damianwest: Belligerent, perverted piece of shit? They should put that on my gravestone.
bryan9_: Gods don’t die, dude. Ur gonna live forever.
damianwest: True. Remember to block any calls between Ashley and Mike. They can’t speak.

My phone rings—Mike.

“What the fuck is going on, Damian?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Ashley is acting very strange. I’ve seen her Twitter feed, and she says she doesn’t want me to accompany her to the restaurant. She isn’t answering her phone. What have you done?” It’s a good thing it’s a phonecall or he’d see me grinning. “I’ve done nothing, Mike. I think you’ve got problems. You said it was her decision how far she goes, and she’s taking initiative—being bold. You’re acting like you’re her dad, not her manager.” Silence. Good—that means I hit a nerve. “Alright, Damian. If Ashley doesn’t want me there then it is her decision, but try not to be a prick for once in your life.” The immediate instinct is to tell him to go fuck himself, but I need him to back off. Be clever, Damian. Rattle him into leaving well alone. "Ashley is a strong, smart, independent woman, Mike, and you need to lay off. Does your wife know you have feelings for Ashley?"

He hangs up the phone and I laugh and laugh and laugh. That poor, stupid, son of a bitch—do I mean Ashley or Mike? It doesn’t matter. The bitch belongs to me, not Mike—I won her in a competition. If he wanted her he had plenty of opportunity, and he fucked it. It's my turn.

It’s a fancy restaurant so I dress in my fanciest clothes—a dirty checked shirt and the same jeans I’ve been wearing for a week. Only the best for my girl Ashley. I’ll have to take it gently at first to see what kind of mood she’s in—hot and horny, timid and vulnerable. Which would I prefer? It’s a tough one.

I get to the restaurant first, at 10:30am. Excuse my eagerness. It’s certainly fancy and not to my liking. Too shiny with too much glass and waiters who smile at you while judging you with their eyes—looking you up and down. I’m led to the window-side table. When I order tea, black, and a glass of red wine for myself, and ask if they can bring me some corn, just corn, the waiter smiles and nods but with a cunt look on his face. “And take that look off your fucking face,” but now the bastard is liable to spit in my drinks. Fucking pricks. I get belligerent when I’m nervous, I realize, and sitting in this fancy restaurant with cunt waiters waiting to meet my doe-eyed Aphrodite sex kitten for the first time, I feel the desire to fuck and fight rising in my gut in tidal waves—my eyes never leaving the entrance as I wait for her to make her appearance.

 

[DeepBlue89]

July 14th, Day 1.​

When I opened my eyes, I had to remind myself that it wasn't a dream - today, I was going to meet the pervert, the man who tormented for the past few days without fail. A true lustful freak...if his online presence was any indication to the man behind the screen. Thankfully, I learned that Damian wasn't such a bad guy - thanks to Mike, who reassured me right when I might have called it quits.
I found myself spending about a half an hour in the morning, going over some of his pictures on Instagram, trying to get a feel of how he'd look like when I met him. I still couldn't believe that he was so good at using a fake personality in order to fans. I guess I could see why people would be drawn to that; after all, the outrageous nature of our online conversations made for some good drama. Not to mention, it was a bit fun, even for me.

Last night:

"Oh godddd" I groaned with a high pitched whimper, the warmth clearly felt between my inner thighs. Desperate for some kind of release, I rocked my hips, feeling the friction from my inner lips and the chair, separated by just my panties and tights and enjoying it.

...Maybe too much fun.

Just thinking about the lewd things I said on Twitter yesterday made my inner lips twinge with an exciting and guilty feeling. I shook it off, reminding myself that while it was great to indulge myself in this filth - exaggerated, pervert messages - that it was inherently wrong, especially for Oliver. To think that I never came close to talking that that to him. Granted, I was maintaining a fake, exaggerated personality online but still. While I leaned back on my chair, another part of me was telling me: "But what's wrong with enjoying yourself a little? It's for work! Mike said that you had to keep Damian happy.". Maybe there was some truth to it? After all, it was my fans that asked me to play along with Damian, so I really wasn't to blame about tweeting all of those things. Sure, I might have enjoyed typing these things out, but I needed to! Otherwise it might have been too disingenuous for my fans to enjoy.

Speaking of which, I was really curious to see whether Damian posted anything. Switching over from Damian's page, I went to check on my account to see if there was anything new.

..

@damianwest: I’m getting ready to meet Ashley. Let’s do a vote of our own. Who wants Ashley in some tight-fitting jeggins, a sexy thong. Really show off her big fat arse.[1/2]
@damianwest: And for her to give us a sexy preview of big fat arse as she's getting ready?[1/2]

@epicwinner1488: @damianwest I would lick cream cheese from that fat ass. God yes.
@matthewmcnaughty: @damianwest: Yes, yes. It’s only fair. Don’t let damian have ALL the fun.
@the_mad_fapper: @damianwest Show us how much Ur looking forward to getting ass fucked, bitch!!!!
@damianwest: @the_mad_fapper: This, Ashley. How excited are you?
@pat32: @damianwest: for the fans, Ashley!!!

I was taken aback by the huge tsunami of messages that came right afterwards, each practically begging me to do as Damian asked. With my eyes opened wide, I came to realization that both Mike and Damian were right - this online persona of mine really did pay off. While my hands went towards my keyboard, I thought about two things. For one, I was thinking Oliver and what my sweet boyfriend would think about all of this. Secondly, I wonder whether Damian was serious about me wearing tights and a thong to our meeting. After all, weren't we going to some fancy restaurant (which personally, I was not a fan of)? I had a dress picked out and everything.

@damianwest:Well, Ashley–the fans have spoken. You better do as instructed like a good girl. For Daddy.

"Ooh..." I moaned incredibly softly with a slight whimper from reading that. I pinched myself to remind myself that this was a fake personality and to not immerse myself too deeply into it...although, I needed to do it. It wasn't my choice, this was for my fans and I couldn't risk screwing up again...

@AshleyStar: @damianwest Very excited. I had another dream about it!
@AshleyStar: @damianwest Okay daddy

I hesitated again, my mind pacing back and forth on whether it was incredibly inappropriate. I sat there wondering whether I should spend time taking the photo or not, my brain conflicting with my heart, fluttering with a strange and exciting feeling. Right as I was about to call Mike for more details about my meet-up with Damian, my phone buzzed. A text from Mike.

“Ashley—It’s Mike. I’m really sorry but I have had a family emergency and I can’t make it. It’s nothing too serious and I wouldn’t do this to you unless I believed Damian was a good guy. Just relax and it’ll be okay. The address of the restaurant is ____________.The table is booked for 11am. Just listen to Damian. He knows what he’s doing in terms of your public image. Remember, the filthier the better.”

"Oh no Mike! I hope everything is okay. I'm a bit nervous, but I think I can manage."


The filthier the better...

I thought about that for a moment, just as I began to go through my clothes for an outfit that would match with some tights. It was so last minute, so I had to deal with the pressure of picking something out soon but thankfully, I found a get up that I was okay with; a white blouse with a match pair of tights. They were, at least at the moment, rolled down to below my ass cheeks just as I took a picture.

AshleyStarr: "Daddy said so "

..

I didn't bother to wait to read the comments. Instead, I spent the time to go over my shoes, perfume and whether or not to wear some earrings. Glancing at the time, I found myself leaving my place and heading towards the restaurant by 10:45, a slight hint of strawberry scented perfume and the clicking of my three inch heels as I left.

As I approached the restaurant, my heart was racing! This was it; not only was I going to someplace a bit out of my comfort zone, but I was going to meet Damian. I have to admit that my walking pace nearly slowed to a crawl by the time I got near the front door and going in, my anxiety wasn't any better. The flashiness of the chandeliers and the decor made me feel as if I was really, really under-dressed for the occasion. The employees didn't seem to mind much, guiding me to the table where Damian, dressed casually in a checkered shirt, was waiting to spend some time with his prize...me.

 

[RipRian]

I grow impatient sitting, waiting—the smiles, politeness of the waiters and the tastefully embroidered tablecloths, the snobbish looks of the people. My God—the whole thing makes me sick. The bastard, cunt management Mike is incompetent, and I remember I’ll have to fix him before too long. At least he set up the agency’s cards at the restaurant, so this one was on him. I look at the menu. “Garcon,” I shout. “Garcon!” The waiter realizes I’m shouting at him and comes over. “Yes, monsieur?” “I want a bottle of the 2009 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild—“ my eyes going over to the price tag, $9000. “Oui, monsieur!” He runs off and brings it back—his demeanor changed. “Good, garcon. Now, I am expecting a lady. You’ll know her when you see her. Her tits and arse are enormous.” The waiter looks confused—silly bastard. “I want a candle—something romantic—and when she comes in, tell her she looks like a very sexy bitch—“ the waiter’s eyes widen—there's a very large tip in it for you, and trust me, she’ll enjoy it.” He nods and walks away, embarrassed.

Where is this bitch? I realize Mike booked it for 11, and I realize I am just impatient, but fucking Jesus Christ. It’s been years of stalking her on social media, a month of campaigning this competition, three days of careful manipulation, and this last run until I finally lay eyes on that beautiful body are too much. I check Twitter and Instagram.

Smirking, I see my good, well-behaved slut, and take another, deep gulp of my very expensive wine.

AshleyStarr: "Daddy said so "

kevin_spaceman: does she do EVERYTHING daddy says lol ?
lukex: omfg the things i would do to that ass
thomas91: dont forgot this bitch still needs to be punished!!

The waiter returns with the candle—lighting it. “Garcon, look.” I hold the phone up at him—showing him the picture. “What do you think?” “Oui, monsieur… a very sexy bitch.” I laugh.

After a small eternity of waiting, I hear an approaching tottering, and when I look up I see the waiter bringing her to me, Venus herself—Ashley Star—My fucking God—and there she stands at long last. It’s a rarity but for the first time I stare speechless—my eyes slowly going from those large, meaty thighs up to her large tits, lingering, and then to her doe-eyed, innocent face—looking back nervous.

The waiter pulls the chair out. “And, uh, Mademoiselle, you are looking like, uh, a very sexy bitch,” spoke hurriedly then running off. I look for Ashley’s reaction, a grin on my face.

 

[DeepBlue89]

“And, uh, Mademoiselle, you are looking like, uh, a very sexy bitch,”

"W-What?!" I answered back in shock.

The waiter, who quietly and polietly led me to this table, sped off - heading presumably to the kitchen. I stood there, completely baffled before I turned my gaze to the older man, sitting down with a big grin on his face. My facial expression must have been total confusion, unable to comprehend what just happened until I took my seat. It's then when the lightbulb clicked in my head, and I realized that Damian had something to do with this. I thought that he was more tame in person? Rather than deal with the thought that maybe Damian had played both Mike and I like a fiddle into believing that he'd be more normal in person, I took it in stride - as if it were a joke. "Did you have something to do with that?" I said with a slight chuckle "How much did you pay that waiter to say that?"

Damian didn't seem to be fazed at all with my questions, instead he leaned forward and with a slight, infectuous grin on his face, he told me: "Nothing. He said it because it's true, Ashley– You are a very sexy bitch, especially when you dress just how Daddy tells you. You clearly enjoy it anyway. Those tweets you made? Rude, dirty girl."

"Jesus Christ..." I said in a hushed tone, glancing around us to see if anyone could overhear the conversation. It didn't look like it; the tables were spaced out enough that the only way anyone could hear a word out of our mouths would be if we yelled, or if they were about a foot away from the table. I looked back at Damian before I told him "Hey, those are only just tweets! It's just an act, remember?" with my face blushing profusely - not that it would be easy to see under the lighting we were in.

My gaze then moved at the candlelight in front of us.

"A bit fancy huh? Between you and me, I'm not so big on these kind of places." I then said, trying to break the ice a little. While I much rather not be in this kind of place, I thought that it would be nice to ease my anxiety with friendly conversation. Or, at the very least, know more about this strange personality that sat right in front of me.

"It's Mike's fault we're here. He thought for some reason it was unwise for us to meet somewhere alone, private, secluded. Maybe he thought you'd pounce on me, unable to restraint your sexual frenzy? Maybe he was right, but don't worry– I'll pick the scene of our next date, somewhere special, I promise you."

He certainly seemed less...lewd than online, but just as confident. If that makes any sense. Hell, I'd even say that he was a bit funny.

"Oh, I'll try to contain myself." I replied with a sassy tone, before I chuckled at his comment. I hope that didn't come off as really rude, or anything. Honestly, in this kind of environment I was already a bit anxious - which was the last thing I needed, seeing as I already was. Personally, whenever I feel anxious around a person, I feel like my first instinct is to try to make a connection. Seeing as the only person we had in common was Mike...

"And did Mike agree to that, you choosing the next place? Honestly, he's sometimes a bit controlling with these kind of things, as if I can't handle myself."

 

[RipRian]

She seems eager and compliant—laughing where she should laugh, suitably and adorably embarrassed by her foray into sexualizing herself. I see cheeks redden slightly in the candlelight, and fantasies flood my mind of the other cheeks of hers I’ll redden.

"And did Mike agree to that, you choosing the next place? Honestly, he's sometimes a bit controlling with these kind of things, as if I can't handle myself.” No, you silly bitch, I think—You can’t handle yourself, but soon I’ll handle you, I think, while sneaking glances to her heaving chest beneath her blouse. “He’s very protective of you, Ashley, but I told him—You’re a strong, smart, independent woman, and he needs to let you blossom. Here,” I say, reaching for a glass, “have a drink,” pouring the Chateau Lafite-Rothschild. “Your Tweets, by the way, you should make more like that. –Now if you have your phone. Both our public images and future success depends on it.” My mouth curls into a mischievous smile. “Just Tweet something about how I’ve given you the best sex of your life—made you cum, your whole body convulsing in wild spasms as I slammed my whole body onto you, into you—you squealing and moaning, begging me not to stop. Something of that sort, Ashley.” ""Oh my god, Damian! I get what you mean but isn't that...really descriptive? God...Okay, I guess I'll do it, but you should give me a second, I'm still new to this."

I watch as she shamefaced reaches for her phone and begins tapping away on the screen. I slide my hand into my pocket and out—a sachet of a white powdery substance that dissolves rapidly—I am done waiting to fuck this bitch, and drastic times call for drastic measures. She’s too embarrassed to look as she thinks what to write, as I silently palm the contents of the sachet into her glass. Fast acting, it’ll make her even more doe-eyed and docile, even more susceptible to suggestion, as well as heightening her arousal and sexual sensation. I am so fucking close—THIS fucking close—I think staring at her silly, red-faced embarrassment as she finishes Tweeting and I wait for her to drink.

She looks up—holding her phone up to me. How’s this?

@AshleyStar: Oh my GOD, Damian just gave me the best sex of my life!
@AshleyStar: Super rough too, but I love it when daddy punishes me
@AshleyStar: He kept making me cum all over his cock. I think I lost my voice from moaning [1/2]
@AshleyStar: so much! Should Daddy punish me more? [2/2]

I laugh reading it–no one will suspect what comes next. “It’ll do.” I say blithely, smiling wryly waiting for her to taste the wine. "Anyone would think you enjoy acting like a little sex kitten, Ashley." To mask her nerves—as intended—she takes a large gulp of the red wine.

In no time at all Ashley is in a trance-like state of slurred, barely coherent speech. "What, Ashley? You don’t like it here at the restaurant! You want me to take you back to the hotel? Anything for you, my little sex kitten." I pull out my chair and hurry round to her, pulling her up—her hands are perfect and soft—delicate—as she leans on me and I guide her tottering in her high heels clicking along the ground. I wink at the waiter who looks at me bewildered. Outside, I flag a taxi down. “Is she alright?” he asks as I heave Ashley into the back. "She’s had a bit too much to drink. Take us to the Intercontinental Hotel. "Alright, pal, but she best not throw up in the back of my taxi." Just shut up and drive.

Throughout the short taxi ride back to the Intercontinental my hands take the initiative—finally delighting in squeezing those big, fat titties as I’d fantasized for months. My Fucking God. Real, soft, perfect. Ashley moans slightly and the taxi driver looks through the mirror as my hand slides over her body, down between her legs over the white, stretch yoga pants, rubbing gently—knowing with certainty soon I’d have this hot fucking slut stripped naked and pinned to the floor, my body heaving on top of her.

 

[DeepBlue89]

“It’ll do.” Damian said in a nonchalant manner - a bright smiling moving across his face "Anyone would think you enjoy acting like a little sex kitten, Ashley."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that word." I said, a slight blush to my face as I brought the glass of wine closer. I wasn't much of a drinker, but being as anxious and uncomfortable here as I was, I knew that I needed something to keep the edge off. I brought the glass to my lips and took a generous gulp.

..​

I don't know what happened. My heart raced for a moment, while the room began to get a bit more dim. If I could describe it, I'd say that it felt as if I was blacking out. Damian got up, coming up towards be as he said something that I couldn't really hear. I did feel him as he got close to me, his hands on mine as he helped me up. I wasn't unconscious and I suppose some part of me was screaming "Ashley! Wake up! Don't fall asleep!". This anxiety kept me from fully closing my eyes, although all that I could accomplish was knowing that I was being brought out of the restaurant and towards what looked like to be a taxi. "D-Damian..what are you...are we...going?" I asked in a very slurred tone of voice, feeling my back rest against the seat of the taxi. Again, the taxi driver told Damian something, to which he responded: "Just shut up and drive."

..​

The taxi was on the road, moving towards someplace when I felt something on my breasts, grabbing them through the fabric of my blouse. I didn't even realize what was going on, until my gaze moved towards and saw Damian's hands on them, his greedy fingers digging hard into my mounds. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to do exactly...but instinctively, my mouth opened and let out a soft "Ooh..." as the movements from his hands caused my nipples to harden within my bra. "Damia-Damian...what are you...?" I asked in a low, soft tone just before I felt his hand slide between my thighs. "...No no no..." I groaned, wincing right as I felt the slight touch of his hand.

I felt his fingers press between my thighs, feeling the outline of my pussy through my tight stretch yoga pants. He began rubbing as I squirmed slightly on my seat, trying to fight him off with my hand very weakly pressing against his arm. "A-Ah..." I moaned in protest, my back arching very slightly as I slowly stopped resisting. The feeling of the pleasure, coursing down my spine - the heat radiating from my own body - was felt completely, despite my mind being in such a deep haze. I gave up, feeling the dampness now growing in my pussy. "Oooh...god...oh..." I then moaned in complete and utter submission.

 

[RipRian]

"Oooh...god...oh...," the slut moans as I rub my finger into the squelching impress of her cunt—feeling and delighting in her squirming uncomfortably as I dip and kiss her soft, beautiful neck, whispering in her ear—“Remember those sick, perverted fantasies you said would never find fulfillment, Ashley?” She’s too out of it to respond—eyes flickering open and closed, barely coherent mumbling between sensual exhalations and moans. The taxi screeches to a halt outside the Intercontinental Hotel. Ok, mate—we’re here. You gonna take good care of your friend? he says with perverted suggestion in his tone. I throw him a fifty, enough to cover the ride and a large tip—I don’t care. After waiting and waiting, I am finally going to fuck this big arsed, big titted, doe eyed, little cunt, whose large tits press against me as she slouches barely conscious.

I struggle rousing Ashley to a conscious enough state to get her out of the taxi into the cool, breezy air outside the hotel, and I catch the scent of her strawberry perfume and it fills me like the most powerful aphrodisiac with a desire to fuck her. I feel almost as out of it as she is as she wobbles beside me, tottering unsteadily, so I wrap my arm around her waist—momentarily slapping her hard on her big fat arse as a giddy up. “Not far now, Ashley, and then you’ll get everything you’ve ever needed or wanted, you rude, filthy little slut. Large, soft and best of all, mine—my property. I feel delirious at the prospect of very shortly spreading those cheeks—her soaking wet cunt, tight, little arsehole. “You ready to get fucked, Ashley?” Her response is unintelligible—I assume it’s an eager yes.

Staff and other guests stare suspiciously—the young, slurring girl staggering alongside the forty year old, somewhat scruffy—although dashingly handsome and very charming—man, so I hurry Ashley as quickly as possible past them and into an elevator. She leans back onto the back rail. Luckily no one else is in with us, and I slide my hands under and up her blouse—running them up her soft, smooth, flat abdomen to just over her bra. Her nipples stick out hard. She moans as I roughly grope her—her head bowing slightly, swaying hypnotically as if in a trance. “You like it, you little slut? I knew you would, and we’ve got a whole night of it ahead of us. All your dreams of squealing and slamming and choking, tonight, Ashley, they come true.

The elevator doors ping open, and I hurry Ashley to my door—wrapping her arm around over my shoulder and practically carrying her—hastening in my eagerness with an anticipation gnawing inside. I lean her against the wall as I search for the key and open the door, then turn back to her and grab her—pull her into me, my hands planted firmly on her arse—I deliver a big romantic kiss to my big breasted slut prize Ashley Star who slurs something in response. I lead her through the room and into the bedroom, where I intend to fuck this bitch senseless for the rest of the week.

I throw her onto the bed into the silk sheets and she lands face-down arse-up—ready and eager to please. The sight sends sensual shivers through my body. “Ready to play as my little fuck-doll, my little sex kitten? I say as I grab my bag from underneath the bed—unzipping the compartment with my digital camera, placing it on the desk directed towards Ashley's big, fat arse outlined nicely in her tight stretch white yoga pants, which look desperate to come off.

 

[DeepBlue89]

..​

Our movements were a bit hazy to me, as if I were in a dream. I could feel myself get out of the taxi, my legs weak and the slight dampness between my thighs, but I wasn't truly aware of the situation. My eyes were heavy, desperate to rest, but my mind kept me awake - or at least, as close to it as I could get. Truth be told, I don't know if I was feeling better, but I could somewhat walk by myself, even if my movements were really wobbly. Damian saw this, and thought to hold me...if just to give me my thick ass a hard, swift slap.

-- SMACK --​

The sudden hit made me stand a bit more upright, a slight sting to my backside. I didn't even make a noise, or even the slightest attempt to scold him. Nothing - save for a slight, inaudible noise coming from my lips and my pussy feeling a slight twinge of twisted excitement. I could over hear Damian, his mouth closer to my ear, a hot breath tickling my earlobe as he said: “Not far now, Ashley, and then you’ll get everything you’ve ever needed or wanted, you rude, filthy little slut." His hand still on my ass, grasping as the large cheek through my leggings. I stood there, mouth slightly agape, vivid images of myself being handcuffed and dominated playing in my head like a projector as he continued “You ready to get fucked, Ashley?”

"Oooh..."

...A soft moan was all I could give as a response.​

I felt myself move, or rather being guided, through what seemed to be a lobby; figures standing around, looking at me suspiciously. With a slight push on my back, I moved faster, my heart beating quick as I was guided through the room and led towards an elevator. My eyes desperately tried to focus, trying to put together the pieces of where I was, when I felt Damian's rough hands move in my blouse. His callous fingers quickly finding their way to my breasts, squeezing my flesh through my bra, as I crossed my legs instinctively, as if I was trying to fight my own excitement. “You like it, you little slut? I knew you would, and we’ve got a whole night of it ahead of us. All your dreams of squealing and slamming and choking, tonight, Ashley, they come true." he taunted me, a loud moan escaping my lips while we were on this elevator. My mind screamed at me, telling me to wake the fuck up.

..​

Next thing I knew, I was pressed up against the wall, a wet sloppy kiss enveloping my body. For this, I was conscious - enough to know that he was dominating my mouth. Even so, still not so much as a groan of protested came from my mouth, instead I found myself twirling my tongue around Damian's. Eventually, a sound did escape my mouth; a slurred "Ooohm....so...goood.." before I was led into a cool, air-conditioned room - it was almost soothing, up until I was tossed like a ragdoll, falling with my ass sticking up in the air. "Ashley, ashley please focus...He's going to fuck you!!!" I thought, a second of panic coursing through my veins until I just...gave up. I didn't care what happened next.

“Ready to play as my little fuck-doll, my little sex kitten?"

..Or maybe I even craved it.

In a near delirious state, I wiggled my ass slightly as I felt the cool air on my ass, the fabric of my tights brushing against my soft skin until my thick cheeks were exposed to Damian, a thin soaked thong wedged in between. I felt something on a cheek, going over the surface as I groaned "I'm yourrrr...fuckkkkk-dolllll...", my own words causing myself to shiver and feel a drip of excitement roll down from my slightly exposed pussy to my thigh, when...

-- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK --​