Clout Chasing

This is my first ever story. Constructive criticism welcome.

It was a seductive kind of power, being a talent manager. I worked for myself, made my own hours and got to rub elbows with some of the most famous people in the world. I booked them the best gigs, arranged the most beneficial brand deals and got to collect twenty eight percent of every dollar they made. No matter how much I had, however, I was always on the lookout for more and with business slowing down due to Covid, I found myself scrolling through social media more often. What I saw was an opportunity to live out my personal fucked up fantasy.

It was on a Thursday afternoon when I scouted my first prey. Scarlett Shaw was a beauty. She had just turned 18 only a few weeks ago and was forgoing college in the hopes of making it big as an Instagram model. She already had a bit of a following, five thousand devoted fans who gave her an average amount of likes and comments with every post. She had her personal email address in her bio, so I knew she was unsigned, green, naive and gullible. She would be perfect. I leapt.

It started as an innocent message from one of my company's burner accounts. I told her that I was an assistant to a talent manager hoping to branch out and I wanted her to meet with him to discuss being our first model client. She seemed intrigued and I arranged to meet her for coffee. I strolled into the local Starbucks and saw her immediately. She was a stunner. Thick blonde hair that came down to her lower back, a small face with large light blue eyes and a petite frame. She was shorter in person, standing at only 4 feet 9 inches next to my 6 feet even. She was wearing a knee length dress with a plunging neckline, obviously proud of her c cup breasts. I met her gaze after only a little ogling and nodded with a smile.

"Are you Frank?"

"I am." I held out my hand and gave her a firm handshake. "I believe my assistant gave you the details of this meeting, but essentially I was hoping to branch out of actors and actresses. I think you would be a perfect first client for my company's expansion."

"I didn't even think I qualified for a manager. I'm still growing." She was smiling widely. I knew she was interested. That was one of the benefits of clients who were desperate for fame and fortune. They were really fucking stupid. A bit of mumbo jumbo jargon and she was hooked. I handed her my contract and advised her to take some time to read it.

"I have more meetings with a few more models today so don't take too much time." I commented casually. I stood up and threw a few twenties on the table to cover the latte I had ordered as well as her chickpea protein monstrosity.

I was just unlocking my car when I heard her call my name. Hook, line and sinker. I wiped my smug smile off my face before I turned around. She was practically running towards me and was panting when she stopped, her chest heaving with every breath. I didn't hide that I was looking, and she played with the hemline of her dress nervously.

"I signed your contract." She told me, handing me the envelope. "I want you to manage me." I nodded, smiling. I would own her in no time. "What's the next step?"

"Do you live with your parents?"

"No." She lowered her gaze. "My parents kicked me out when I chose not to go to college." My eyes lit up, but she was still looking down, so she didn't see. "I spent my college fund on designer outfits to build my brand and they just didn't get it."

"Well, I get it." I encouraged her foolishness easy. I needed her isolated. "Where are you living?"

"With a family friend."

"Well, I'm going to need you to cut ties with them too." I told her seriously. "You are going to be so busy attending Hollywood parties and filming advertisements and you are going to need your own space."

"That makes sense." She nodded. "But where will I live?"

"My company owns apartments in and around Los Angeles. I'm sure we can put you up somewhere until the money starts rolling in." She had stars in her eyes. "But you can't tell anyone what's really going on." I warned. "This expansion is supposed to remain top secret."

"Why?"

"My current clients may get a little uneasy if they hear I'm representing models. Everyone wants to be daddy's only child." My tone was joking but I was dead serious. I had such delicious plans for this blonde bimbo, and I didn't need anyone tracing her actions back to me or my management firm.

"My lips are sealed." I gave her my card and told her to call me when she got her things together. I got in my car and sped away.

The call came almost a day later. I sent her a U-Haul and had them take her to my house in Beverly Hills. It was a massive mansion that I had all to myself and a few staff. She would love it. I met her there and showed her to one of the bigger guest rooms.

"I hope you don't mind." I said in a low voice. "We had one apartment available but one of my coworkers needed it for a client."

"It's fine."

"I'll let you know the second another one becomes available." I told her. "But for now, make yourself at home." She hopped on the bed and fell into it, giggling like a schoolgirl. I closed the door behind me and set to work.

The first phase was to make her comfortable. She spent the week getting to know the house, the staff and the grounds. It was a gated community and I lived at the very end. My home was fenced all around and the only way to leave was with a code that she didn't have and didn't think to ask for. Fucking stupid.

The next step was to convince her that my management was working. I had her set up with a sleazy photographer who arranged her into artful yet blatantly inappropriate poses. She continued to post as normal and her follower count grew as her outfits got thinner and thinner and her poses got more and more sexual. She came to me, excited and I gushed with her, accepting her thank yous graciously. It was time for the next phase. Brand deals.

Over the next month, I made Scarlett Shaw my number one client. Her follower count grew from five thousand young, impressionable teenagers to twenty thousand thirsty men, begging her to show more skin, post more bikini pictures, show herself using the face cream I bought her that looked like cum. Scarlett came to depend on me for everything. The roof over her head, the food in the fridge, a bed to sleep in, and her precious career. I wanted to laugh every time I thought about it. A young girl, barely 18, completely dependent on a man she did not know, who wanted more than anything to break her down and have her as his personal fuckthing. I knew the time to show my true intentions was coming up and I was ready. She never even considered leaving the house, choosing to stage photoshoots all over. I walked in on one such photoshoot with her practically humping the pool ladder. I stopped in my tracks, my cock growing harder by the second and the photographer, seeing me, called for a short break.

"How is it going so far?"

"It's been a good shoot." She fixed her bikini where it was starting to come undone. "What are you doing home so early?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your most recent ad." I pulled out my phone to show her. It had gotten only a thousand likes, a marked decrease from her usually five thousand. It had only been a few days and it would probably increase later but I had to strike when the iron was hot.

"It's not doing as well?"

"No." I straightened my spine. "The company is a bit disappointed." I held her by the elbow and led her inside. She shivered in the air conditioning as we made our way through the house and up to my office. "We're used to getting larger numbers from you, Miss Shaw. We're putting quite a bit of effort into your management."

"I know." Tears began to gather in her eyes. "I'll do better."

"I know you will." I sat down at my desk. "Your next ad is something a little different." I pulled the product out of my desk drawer. "They're appetite reducing lollipops." She picked up the box and scanned the label, nodding. "I don't usually give second chances, but this is yours. I Ieaned back in my chair. "This company needs one video and three pictures, all generating more than your average amount of likes."

"Done." I nodded and dismissed her, leaving her to her task that was doomed to fail. When the pictures were posted to her profile, I made one call and she lost five thousand followers. I watched her mood tank as her follower count went down. She posted one last ditch picture of the lollipop on her tongue as she looked up into the camera. I knew exactly what she was trying to achieve, and I sent word for that picture to be her most liked picture of all time. It garnered over fifty thousand likes but not a single follower. It told her, quite simply, that she was a sex object. They loved the picture that looked sexual, but they didn't like her enough to follow her. She was crying when I walked past her room and my heart began to race. I walked in without knocking.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you seen my instagram?"

"No. We usually check analytics at the end of the week, you know that." She turned her phone so I could see. "Fifty thousand likes! That's incredible. I really did not want to have to drop you as a client." I sounded relieved.

"Drop me?"

"Well yes, if you're not performing up to standard I might as well try to find somebody who will." She looked horrified at the nonchalance with which I said this.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." I sat down on her bed. "Honey, you may be drop dead gorgeous, but I assure you, this is LA, there's a drop-dead gorgeous model on every corner. I might as well give the chance to somebody who's worth it." Every word was hitting her like a punch to the gut. I was lowering her already devastating self-worth effortlessly. "How's your follower count?"

"About the same." She deflected. I looked her up and down, taking in her sports bra and shorts. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing no make-up. She was either headed to the gym or just returned from it.

"If I were you, I'd lose some pounds or some clothes. One or the other." I stood up, dusting off my pants. "A surefire way to gain followers is to increase your sex appeal." I patted her cheek. "You have until the weekend to impress me, Scarlett. Otherwise, I'm putting you out on your ass." I smacked her butt, startling her. I'd never done anything like that before, but I wanted to keep her off balance, confused, and aware that her delectable body could always be a backup plan.

I treated her to cocktails that evening and while hers were doubles, mine were virgin. She was comfortably drunk by the time she decided to go to bed and I stopped her halfway.

"I don't want you to be hungover tomorrow morning." I handed her a bottle of water which she opened and too a huge gulp of immediately. "I'll come in to check on you later."

"Thank you, Frank. You're too good to me."

"I love having you here, Scarlett." She flushed deeply, took another sip and skipped away, heading upstairs. If I'd dosed it correctly, the Valium would kick in in the next thirty minutes. I continued sipping on my virgin margarita and when the clock struck two am, I slipped upstairs.

I shut Scarlett's bedroom door behind me and took in the girl's sleeping form. I had done this a few times in the past two months, but this was the first time I'd ever used a sedative to keep her asleep. I had bigger plans than just ogling.

I had ensured that everything in her closet was skimpy, slutty and extra revealing so I was able to gape openly at her perky breasts and shaven pussy. I was tired of waiting to manipulate her to my will. I wanted her now. I made sure she was asleep and gently shifted her, so she was lying on her back. I forced her legs open and used my switchblade to cut her night clothes off of her. She really was a fine piece. I slid a finger between her folds and brought it up to my nose, inhaling deeply. She smelled heavenly. I knelt down between her legs and tasted her. She sighed, pulling her leg up to give me better access. I took that as an invitation and stuck a finger inside of her, dryness be damned. She was too unconscious to moan but I was enjoying myself anyway. After ensuring she was properly lubricated, I kissed my way up her body. When I got to her lips, I didn't kiss her. Instead, I leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"You already belong to me; you just don't know it yet." I laughed to myself. "I am going to break you." I fondled her breasts, teasing one nipple with my fingers. "If only your parents could see their baby girl now."

I slammed into Scarlett, not caring to be gentle. She was still unconscious, still powerless. It was like a drug to me. I tilted her hips up to give me better access and slammed into her again and again. I wanted it to last forever. I squeezed her breasts until they were practically red. I slapped her face a few times, but took care not to cause any damage, I wanted her to remain perfect in the days to come as I broke her down bit by bit. After a few minutes of raw pounding, I could feel my release climbing. I didn't want to cum inside her, breeding her would come later, after I'd had my fun and ensured that half of Hollywood had had their fun as well. I pulled out and knelt over her abdomen, aiming for her face. My release was glorious. I moaned and deposited my load right onto Scarlett's face, neck and breasts. And, to complete my personal humiliation, I stuck my cock inside her mouth and wiped myself on her tongue and lips.

I climbed off of the girl and walked into her bathroom. I found a small brush next to a container of some clay face mask and, after turning the shower onto hot, I used the brush to gently spread my cum evenly over Scarlett's entire face and neck. She looked beautiful.

I gathered up her cut-up clothes, yanked her so her feet were dangling off the bed and flicked the overhead light on. The dumb bitch would think she walked in, undressed intending to take a shower and fell asleep midway through applying a face mask. I grinned and slipped out of the room.

The weekend came and I made Scarlett's follower count go from a whopping twelve thousand followers to a paltry seven thousand. It was just a little more than she had when she hired me. I'd rewarded her for the highs and now it was time to punish her for the lows. The servants were all dismissed until the afternoon, so it was just the two of us alone in the house. I dressed in loose, easy to remove pants, and a vest. She was lying in her bedroom under the covers when I barged in without knocking. I ignored her, pulling her closet open and yanking out clothes.

"What are you doing?" She demanded tearfully and I didn't answer. I stuffed clothes into garbage bags and tossed them out of the room. "Please, Frank. Please, don't do this. I have nowhere to go."

"You are no longer under my management, Scarlett. You need to clear this room out. I have a model coming her this afternoon and this room needs to be empty." It was true. I'd already scouted another dumb big titted brunette who couldn't wait to jumpstart her modeling career. She had signed the contract the day before and I was pretty sure I wouldn't even have to manipulate her out of her panties. After paying him off, her fucked up father had confessed that she was good for the money. He'd apparently been conditioning her since her early teens that the only thing women were good for was cooking, cleaning, and fucking. He had never gotten to fuck her but while he was sad to see all his work go to waste, my monthly deposits would ease the pain. She was a virgin with thick cocksucking lips, a tight, fit body, and dreams to be in the Victoria Secret Fashion Show. I would have her wrapped around my cock in no time.

"Please don't do this." Scarlett repeated, sobbing and I answered by yanking the covers off of her. She was wearing a thin night dress and, by the looks of it, no underwear. "Please don't kick me out."

"I don't have a choice, Scarlett." I injected as much pity into my voice as possible. "You have left me with no choices. I told you what I expected, and I woke up today to see an Instagram account with less followers than mine." I dragged a hand over her dresser sending make up tubes and perfume bottles to the floor. Some of them broke. I didn't care. I preferred her natural no make-up look and once she belonged to me, all that mattered would be what I wanted.

"I can do better." She scrambled out of bed and clung to my waist, slowing me down as I continued to empty out the room. "Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it, just don't kick me out. I have nowhere to go."

"The only thing I could use you for..." I trailed off, frowning. She let go of me and stood, still crying, waiting. "I mean, I don't know if you'd be up for something like that."

"What? Yes. I'll do it."

"It would mean you get to live here with me, but you won't be a model, Scarlett. You won't be anyone." She nodded, barely listening to me, she was crying so hard. "I already have your replacement coming here, so you would have to move into my bedroom." This brought her back.

"What?"

"You would belong to me. You could live here, free of charge until you've worked off your contract. It was supposed to be for five years, remember?"

"You want me to live with you for five years?" Her voice was small, nervous, but considering. That was one of the benefits of dumb blondes with no self-worth. They were really fucking desperate. I had cut her off from her parents, her friends, everyone she could turn to. She had gotten a taste of a massive mansion and thousands of adoring fans. I knew she would do anything to stay. "What would I have to do?" I could hear the resignation in her voice.

"Whatever I want you to." I said simply. I waited for a beat and her eyes glazed over before she nodded blithely. I had her. "There's something for you to sign." I took her to my office and showed her the management termination as well as a new contract that detailed what the next five years would look like for her. She didn't even bother reading it, she just signed.

If she had read it, she would see that I owned her body and could do whatever I wanted with it. Nothing was off the table. I could shave her head bald and brand her forehead with my first and last name if I wanted to. I wouldn't of course, she was much to pretty for that. I grabbed a fist full of her hair and pushed her down, so her knees connected with the ground hard.

"Get used to this position, Scarlett." I caressed her face gently. "It's a wonder you thought you would ever make it as a model when you look so pretty on your knees." I fished my hard cock out of my pants, and she gaped at it. I smacked her across the face with it a few times to get it to maximum hardness and stood up straighter, so I was towering over her. "I shouldn't have to tell you what to do next." My voice was commanding, and Scarlett barely hesitated for a second before she was swallowing me down like a pro.

Her new contract was five full years of indentured servitude and if she tried to break the contract at any time before it expired, she would be fined a hefty fee. I could do whatever I wanted. I could rent her out, sell her or even give her away as I saw fit. I had already made up my mind that if she tried to run away, I would have her shipped off to Thailand and sold to the highest bidder. And for a dumb blonde with no self-esteem who was desperate for external validation, she would fetch a high price.

It was why Instagram models came a dime a dozen. They were used and abused by the upper class and sold or given away when we got tired of them. Before one of them could be properly sold off, another would take her place immediately.

I had a bank of almost a thousand pictures that I could use to keep Scarlett's Instagram account alive for years to come and as I felt my cockhead touch the back of her throat and she gagged violently, I smiled.