Money Mella Goes Hollywood

"I know, bitch," Carmella assured confidently. "You wanna cum, right?" Ariana nodded her head, looking back at Mella as she continued riding, albeit at a slower pace than before.

"Figures," Carmella smugly assessed. "My little Pop-Bitch wants me to make her butt cum. Your first anal orgasm! That's so sweet, but you're gonna have to do something for me first."

"What is it?! I'll...I'll do anything!" Ariana pathetically cried out.

"Two things: apologize and beg. Simple right? Apologize for being so rude, for behaving like such a royal bitch. And, of course, you have to beg for it, too! Beg your Money Mistress for her forgiveness, and then beg her to give you the highest of highs! Now, bitch, double-time!" Another small tug on her hair was delivered to get Ariana in gear but, really, it was nothing more than formality. Grande would've been quick to comply regardless.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so, so, SO sorry, my Money Mistress! I can't believe I a-acted like such a brat...just because you're not as rich or famous as me! I s-swear, I'll never do it again! So, please...please, forgive me, Money Mistress!"

Briefly, Carmella considered keeping the bitch on ice for that "rich and famous" line, but decided against it, mostly because Ari was about to pop any second, and she wanted to hear her newest pet beg for an orgasm before all was said and done. "Apology accepted, my little Pop-Bitch! Now, make me believe you've earned the right to cum."

This was an easy one.

"May I...m-may I please cum, Mistress Mella?" Ariana began, not getting too far before Carmella cut her off.

"Ooh, proper Pop-Bitch? Fancy...but keep going."

"Okay, okay," Ariana sheepishly acknowledged before continuing, "Please...may I cum? I'm sorry I was such a bad girl! I'll be a good girl...f-from now on, okay? I'll be a good Pop-Bitch for my Money Mistress! So pretty please can I cum?"

"Okay," Carmella agreed, Ariana squealing gleefully but, unfortunately, Money Mella wasn't done just yet. There was still a caveat she'd yet to reveal. "I'll let you cum...but when you're done, you're gonna suck every last fucking drop of butt cream off my cock! I want it absolutely fucking spotless! Deal?"

A massive oof, even in Ari's current state. Being cock-drunk didn't really change Ariana's perception of how nasty it sounded to suck a dick that's been in her ass for the last half-an-hour, give or take. But, far worse, borderline terrifying, was the prospect of being denied an orgasm, her first anal orgasm. Ari had tried calling Mella's bluff before; Ariana knew that if she didn't agree to go ass-to-mouth, then Mella would be a woman of her word. Which, sure, meant that things would end and Ariana would get the $100,000 that Carmella owed her for this meet and greet gone right, but did that even matter any more? Did Ari even want this moment with Mella to end? Well...in a way, she did, with a climax so alluring and fitting that she'd sacrifice her own dignity to experience it, and perform an act as filthy as ATM to prevent herself from losing it.

"Okay, I'll do it!" Ariana caved. "I'll give you head after, I promise! I'll...taste my asshole for you!"

For a moment, it appeared as though Ariana's pleas fell on deaf ears. She even doubled-down afterward, whining, "Can I cum now?!", hoping that would spur a verbal response from her Money Mistress. But, the words never came, at least not before The Princess of Staten Island finally put her long-standing stranglehold on that iconic Dangerous Woman high-pony, yanking down eternally, jolting Ariana's head back.

"Cum for me, Pop-Bitch," Carmella growled as she began to roughly buck her hips, maximizing the pleasure as Ari still bounced up and down, feeling every single inch barrel into her bowels with complete and utter devastation. Mella's thighs crashing into her cute, bruised cheeks, the sound of skin-on-skin contact that Carmella had become accustomed to hearing when claiming a bitch missing for large portions throughout her conquest of Grande, but more than welcomed to the grand finale. And naturally, those slaps weren't the only noise occupying the space. Not only were Ariana's howls well-beyond out of control, but Carmella was far from done running her mouth.

"Fucking do it, whore! Cum for your Money Mistress! Show me...show me how you...hehe...how you pop, bitch! Hahahaha!!!" Carmella laughed, that jolly and joyful expression starkly contrasted by an uptick in the intensity of her thrusts, both girls giving their maximum effort as Ariana was brought over the edge.

"Ohhhhh my fuck I'm cumming!!!! I'm...FFFFFUUUCCCCKKKINGGGGG CUMMMMINNNNNGGGG FROM MY AAAAASSSSSSS!!!!" Ari screamed as her mind went blank, officially completing her transformation from pop-star to Pop-Bitch. Truly a magical moment, those big, brown eyes rolling to the back of her head while she continued to slam herself against Mommy Mella's motions even after her brain short-circuited a beautiful sight to behold.

Carmella certainly enjoyed the sight. Everything about forcing that petite cock-puppet to the strongest climax of her young life was magical; Mella swore that Ari hit a high note with orgasmic screams. Hell, the thrill of bringing such a euphoric experience into the world probably would've been enough to make Carmella cum herself, had she not already cum from Ari's fantastic head game earlier.

Regardless, there was plenty to enjoy on Mella's end without the need for another orgasm of her own. Plenty of fun, at least until Ariana collapsed from exhaustion after nearly a full, minute-long orgasm, the pleasure waves bashing into every inch of her body before meeting up together in one specific area, spewing out of her pussy in the form of squirt, marking the end of her glorious high spot. Ariana came longer and harder than she ever had before and when she was finally done, the only thing keeping her limp, lifeless body upright was that ironclad grip on her famous, iconic ponytail.

Eventually, Ariana recovered, eventually she regained her bearings. But that was only after Carmella released that grip, nearly resulting in a Grande face-plant for the ages. Ari found herself face down, ass up regardless the perfect place for her freshly-fucked, gaping mess of an asshole to be properly observed; for Carmella to get a look at her handiwork. Again, Ari did recover, but only after several minutes of laying there, her naked body covered in sweat from head to toe. And, naturally, when she finally did, Ariana Grande followed the example her Money Mistress had set, and became a woman of her word, sucking every last drop of cum and ass cream off of that luxurious shaft and hating how she denied herself that gift earlier. Yet another act that Carmella made her love, Ariana using her tongue, lips and throat until she'd done the best possible job she could. Until the only way to get more was to repeat the process...all...over...again....

***

The Next Morning...

***

Stirring underneath the silk covers of the massive, master hotel bed, Ariana Grande awoke in a sea of lavender, the sound of her iPhone vibrating on the nightstand interrupting her well-deserved slumber after the rollercoaster of a night she'd experienced. Twists and turns and, above all, transformations that now, with her head pounding from all the wine she sucked down, her booty covered in tender bruises from the harsh spanking and her asshole sore and aching from her first anal experience, Ariana wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Before she could think about the previous night for too long, or how it even ended for that matter, Ari decided to check her phone and see what all the fuss was about. The reason behind the buzzing? A phone call, the third of which in the last ten minutes from her agent, Jen, i.e. the woman who set up the meet and greet between her and Mella in the first place. Ari promptly declined the call; she thought doing so was best, as she was so pissed with Jen that she just MAY consider firing the bitch again. The perfect way to avoid such an irrational reaction was to avoid Jen altogether.

Instead of entertaining the help, Grande slithered out of bed and attempted to walk towards the bathroom, immediately finding herself using a movement pattern that could only be described as Gumby-esque, thanks in no small part to how completely exhausted her little body still was. Eventually though, Ariana did make her way to the bathroom, and it wasn't long before she caught a look of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, the make-up she'd worn last night still sat ruined on her face, and dried bits of girlcum and ass cream remained on her lips and around her mouth. And, just like that, everything came rushing back. Every. Single. Vile. Act.

The spanking. The pussy eating, from both ends. The rimming. The ass to mouth. And, of course, the incredible anal sex that, in the moment, was so fantastic that Ariana couldn't remember ever experiencing something so great, but now, felt as dirty and wrong as it had with the worst of her ego in the way. Dirty and wrong, and as such, Ariana quickly did her best to wash the stains of her lesbian sexcapades from her face.

Before long, Ariana returned to her room, a fresh and clean woman, looking to push the sins of the previous night behind her, only to be welcomed by a chorus of phone vibrations once again. After briefly considering ignoring these as well, assuming it was just Jen prodding, wondering whether she still had a job or not, Ari decided to check her phone, just out of curiosity. But what sat, staring back on the illuminated screen, wasn't a call or even a text from Jen. Instead, it was a text from a different contact. A contact that must've been put into her phone after her first orgasm, when things got especially hazy last night.

On her phone read the words:

From: My Money Mistress

"Check the couch."

Ariana rolled her eyes; she legitimately didn't remember putting Carmella into her phone but...she had to have, considering her phone has a passcode that Money Mella couldn't have known otherwise. Nevertheless, Ariana, still naked, her gorgeous, perky breasts and tight, plump booty on full display for the audience of nobody, slowly made her way into the living quarters, her phone still in hand. Sure enough, on the couch, the home of some of her most-glorious and memorable moments last night, sat a small, white gift bag, decorated in green and gold dollar signs. Correctly assuming it to be a gift for her, possibly the $100,000 she'd been promised, as well as the fact that Carmella must've been hiding all of this inside of that damned briefcase of hers, Ariana grabbed the bag and rifled inside.

Past the tissue paper was a greeting card, sitting near the top. The front of the card was decorated similarly to the bag, with the only difference being instead of an actual, witty message on the front like greeting cards typically have, this one read, "In honor of your new life, beneath your Money Mistress..."

Ariana couldn't help but grin a bit, even if the cause was the completely outlandish idea of Carmella getting a greeting card custom made for this moment. It seemed ridiculous but...she definitely didn't get this one at Hallmark. Further proof of that lay inside, within the typed text opposite the side where the $100,000 check sat, which stated, "Enjoy this gift to you and your asshole. God is a woman and her name is Carmella, your eternal Money Mistress."

As if the typed, prepared message wasn't enough, below it was a hand-written portion, obviously scribed by Mella herself. It read, "Thanks for a wonderful night, Pop-Bitch! Enjoy your payment, though I probably don't even need to leave it, considering how much you ACTUALLY enjoyed by cock. Let me know if you're ever inching to get put in your place again. I'd love to teach you another lesson. P.S. The money isn't your gift. Check the bag again. You'll find proof that you belong to me, then, now, and forever."

Ariana sighed reading Carmella's personal note, especially gazing upon the name "Pop-Bitch", such an aggravating and ill-fitting title for a woman of her talents. More nauseating, however, was reading how the check had been made out to "Ariana 'Pop-Bitch' Grande", and how embarrassing it was gonna be to cash it. Normally, she had people, usually Jen, do the trivial shit for her but, she couldn't exactly let anyone in her inner circle see a piece of paper in which she's referred to by some psycho-domme's pet name for her. Super duper not cool.

Ariana closed the card, check still inside, and returned to the bag; surely the other "gift" in question had to be deeper? Sure enough, past even more tissue sat a small box, again decorated similarly to the other custom-made items except accompanying the previous designs was a present bow made out of two $100 bills. Ariana unfolded the bills and sat them aside, obviously looking to pocket them later and add to her already exorbitant wealth before following suit and removing the box's lid. What she found inside was a bit...concerning to say the least.

The gift, Ariana's first time laying eyes on one in person, was quite clearly, a buttplug. Roughly five inches in length and a few wide. More notable, however, was its appearance. Gold, solid, 24-karat gold if Ariana's eyes weren't deceiving her, almost astounding as the green-jeweled base, which inside sat a golden microphone insignia, and naturally, the engraving of "Pop-Bitch" on the side. Ari put the box down and, surprisingly, found herself looking over the buttplug. And, as she did, memories of the previous night came rushing again. But this time, as the gold's sheen twinged in her eyes, they were remembered a bit more fondly, to say the least.

And in that moment, as she stared at that buttplug...Pop-Bitch's buttplug...her buttplug...Ariana felt her asshole begin to ache. But, not because it was sore. No, no, no...it ached because it was hungry. Mouth-watering, Grande briefly popped the plug into her maw and suckled on it, getting it nice and wet before it inevitably entered its new forever home. But, before Ari could get too far, her phone, sitting on the couch beside the greeting card, began to buzz again.

Ariana groaned around her plug as she read the name on the screen, the name belonging to the woman she'd already declined a call from. Jen. As much as Ariana wanted to ignore this one, as well, she realized that Jen likely wasn't going to stop calling until Ari picked up; eventually, she'd have to answer. And now was as good of a time to get the bitch off of her back as any. So, Ariana spit out her saliva covered, beautiful golden buttplug into her left hand, picked up her phone, and swiped to answer.

"What the fuck do you want, Jen?" Ari growled, immediately greeting her faithful employee with vitriol.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Grande...good morning," Jen responded with nothing but kindness in her voice.

Sighing, Ariana repeated, "What do you want?"

"I'm just...checking in...wanted to see how that meet and greet turned out," Jen clarified as Ariana, completely unbothered by her employee's babbling, returned her attention to the plug that she was about to shove up her starving little butthole before she was SO RUDELY interrupted. What better time than the present, right? So, Ari pressed the plug against her opening, feeling her butthole wrap around the cold titanium in a brief moment of unbridled, uncontrollable euphoria. And as the inches disappeared into her depths, Ariana let out a soft, almost inaudible moan, her heart immediately dropping as she realized that Jen may have heard her, The Pop Princess placing her hand over her mouth, though it didn't matter anymore. It was too late. Jen heard it, alright. It's just...lucky for Ariana that her faithful agent wasn't surprised to hear it.

"Sooooooo," Jen dragged out on the other end, Ari's heart pumping fast. "I'm gonna assume everything with our Money Mistress went well?"

"Our...wait..." Ariana's heart rose back to its natural position, and then fell back down to the bottom of her chest again! "What!? WHAT!? You...you...knew? About...her?" Ariana asked, her words shaky and confused.

"Of course I knew, Miss Grande," Jen confirmed calmly and warmly. "God is a woman and her name is Carmella, our eternal Money Mistress. You'd have to be stupid not to know that!"