tagBDSMSlutStar Ch. 04

SlutStar Ch. 04

byFantasyPen©

Author's note: Phew! Well, this one took an embarrassingly long time to write... Very sorry about that. I just got very busy during the last months, and also struggled to find a good continuation to Taylor's story. I still can't promise that the story will go on for very many chapters, but it will if I come up with ideas worth writing about. If you like the story and want it to go on, please send me feedback. It can be comments, ideas about where the story could go next, details you'd like me to add, absolutely anything you'd like to suggest. I'm also working on a different series very similar to this one; it'll also be CMNF/female submissive themed, so even if this one doesn't continue, at least you'll get something very similar. But if you like SlutStar, I'd appreciate if you send me feedback and tell me what you think so I know if it's worth continuing the story or not.

*****

The flight to Los Angeles had been swift and quick, thank God. Not that I had been awake during any of it. A few hours prior, I had danced in the nude to a heavy metal song, been handcuffed, groped, and had sucked off all my bandmates. The shooting of "Moonlight's" music video had been so exhausting that as soon as I had entered the plane; I had fallen into a deep, delightful coma. The best part was that it had been a dreamless sleep. So for a few hours, I didn't have to think of Peter, my agent who was about to lambast me in Los Angeles. An hour after the upload of the video, I had received a short, steely message ordering me to meet him in his office on the west coast. Rebellious as I was, I still obeyed (mostly) the demands of my superiors. Hey, think of how I sucked those cocks last chapter. I was getting very good at being obedient...

Leaving the comfort of my first class compartment (yes I travel first class, what did you expect?), I entered the deafening busyness of Los Angeles International Airport and stopped to look at my cellphone. I hadn't received any new messages since the plane had lifted off from Chicago. Not strange; for one, Peter became a wordless commander when he was pissed, and my bandmates on the other hand still had to be processing the fact that their bandleader had given them blowjobs as well as her nudity. I tucked my cell in the pocket of the tracksuit I had taken from my apartment, after I had torn off the other for the music video. But as I did this, I noticed two young women, around my age, standing right in front of me. "Fans," I thought to myself. It wasn't anything new for me to come across flabbergasted admirers of my work, but these ones were different.

They weren't shaking with excitement at my presence, nor approaching me to ask me for a selfie. Instead, they stood lifeless, with awkward shock on their faces.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Taylor?" one of them asked back. I always found it funny how fans called me by my first name, as if they knew me. Well, in a way they did know part of me through my songs.

"That's me..."

They looked at each other with complete shock, then turned back to me.

"So...what the hell happened?" the other one muttered.

I couldn't help but laugh. The utter confusion in her voice couldn't have better summed up what was happening.

"Yep," I answered. "It's... pretty weird, I know."

"So... why?"

I shrugged.

"I needed to change. I needed to do it."

The first girl let out a giggle.

"Well that was the most awesome video we've ever seen. You know, with all the baggy clothes you wear all the time, we never knew you could be so... girly..."

"And sexy," the other one added. "You're mind fuckingly hot."

My cheeks turned red. I wasn't used to being complimented for my appearance.

"Thanks," I giggled with embarrassment.

"Can we take a pic with you?"

"Of course."

We cuddled close and they both took a few pics and snapchats. As they were leaving, the second girl stopped for a final word.

"Hey, Taylor. Don't you care that... well... basically the whole world has seen you naked?"

I had to stop and think for a second.

"I do care, I think. But not in the bad way."

The first girl raised her eyebrow playfully.

"You're kind of a slut, aren't you?" she said.

I winked back at her.

"Not just kind of."

And with that, I made my way to the taxi pick up location and got in one of the cars.

"Santa Monica, 724 Whitley Street."

As the cab drove through the city, I had to try and get used to the intense heat. Well, certainly not intense for the locals; but a Californian fall was the equivalent of a British summer. The worst thing was the sun, though. God I fucking hated Los Angeles. Name me an uglier city, I'll wait. Look, you've gotta understand me, I'm a good old Englishwoman, enough to cancel out some of the Sicilian origins, clearly. To me, beauty meant the light of a night-time city glimmering in the rain, hence why I lived in Chicago. Too much sun and heat wasn't any good for me. Then again... now that I getting naked so often, maybe it wouldn't be so bad anymore...

After twenty minutes, I noticed that whenever the cab reached a red light, the driver, a man in his mid thirties, would peek at me. He seemed almost tense doing so.

"Let me guess," I said insolently, "you have an internet connection, don't you?"

He shyly laughed.

"Um, yeah, heh... So, I'm not mistaken, you're that singer, right?"

"Taylor Francesca Bianco, flesh and blood."

"That Italian? My grandfather's from Calabrese."

"Mine is from Sicily."

"Wow, really? Where's the blonde hair from?"

"No idea. I guess my great-great-great grandmother liked Norwegian tourists."

"Haha... hum... yeah... heh..."

"Yes, yes, you saw the video..."

"Oh, umm... hah... yeah... It was uh... very nice. Very nice video."

"I can imagine...", I said with a playful wink.

The more directly playful I was being, the more the poor man was stuttering.

"Hehe, hah, yes, yes... Uh... my daughter's a big fan of yours. She has all your albums."

"She's got good taste."

"And my son really loved the video too. He uh... heh... He went to his room to watch it you know? Closed the door, wanted to be left alone... Can't imagine why, right?"

I couldn't help but giggle. What a weird idea, that a boy would jerk off to ME. But hey, it was a natural part of things. Playboy models know that teenagers will masturbate to their naked bodies. It was weird, sure, but puberty was puberty. I didn't mind the idea. It didn't bring me any arousal to think of teenagers seeing my bare body, obviously, but it didn't bother me either. Especially the part about being like a Playboy model. I, who never felt desirable and beautiful, I could now compare myself to those models men drooled over... God I loved the idea.

As we entered Santa Monica and neared Peter's house, I could see the peeking of the driver getting more and more erratic. He was trying desperately not to look at my chest and imagine what was underneath.

"Oh enough of that," I decided when we reached a red light.

I opened my sweater's zipper and held it open like Superman going into action, revealing my completely bare breasts. I had forgotten to wear a bra before going to the airport, but hey, at least it made my stripping easier. The man looked at my tits for a good dozen seconds, and a soon as his eyes went back to my eyes, I blew him an arrogant kiss. When the light went back to green, I kept my sweater open, just to torture him some more. My God, how I loved having so much power over men.

We finally reached Peter's house. I gave him the money, closed my sweater's zipper and left the cab. What a surreal situation, showing my tits to man I would never again see. Then again, I had exposed my body to the entire world. Right before the cab, was about to leave, I turned to the driver.

"Hey, by the way. How many views did the video get?"

"As of this morning? Something like fifteen million."

I couldn't really hear nor see the cab as it left; my head spun way too much. After taking a moment to calm down, I approached the door on Peter's house and pressed the intercom button. Damien, his assistant opened it for me and led me through the garden down to his private docks. "Of course," I thought, Peter's office was in his yacht. That's where he worked most of the time. With the typical Californian sunset in the skies, I felt like I was in a scene from Scarface. You know, with the private yacht against the pacific coast and the sun setting... Look I never knew shit about California, whenever I thought of California I thought of Scarface, the same way yanks think England is just one big Downton Abbey. (Scarface is set in California... right?)

As Damien left back for the house, I stood in front of the yacht for a minute, summoning all the courage I had. "You can do this," I told myself. I had filmed Moonlight's music video. If I had the courage to be such a whore and show it to fifteen million people, I had the courage to stand up to my convictions. Even in front of Peter. Step by step, I entered the yacht and made my way into its "office" where Peter worked. There he was, sitting behind a glass desk in that beautiful space with large windows baring the pacific coast. He was on the phone, but as soon as he saw me, he ended the call without even saying a goodbye. He threw the cellphone on the desk and threw me a cold, murderous look.

"Fifteen million views," I said. Peter's eyes were like a brick wall, and just as hard. "What?!" I groaned angrily. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"Do you understand how radical what you did was?"

"Noooo, really?! I thought doing a music video totally naked would go completely unnoticed. Especially the part where the boys fondled me as I was cuffed."

"Don't you be sarcastic with me."

"I'll be whatever the fuck I want to be."

"Being a rebellious artist makes for great stories, but sometimes you need to look at the real world."

"Oh, you want to talk pragmatism? Then look at the views again. Fifteen MILLION in a single night. This is the sort of shit the biggest stars can't dream of pulling off, and it wasn't even on YouTube."

"Yes, four million views, which guarantees that Disney will cancel it's contract with us..." Peter sank in his chair. Mid forties or not, the man was every bit as hot as my bandmates with his greying George Clooney looks. That was even truer when his straight man, disciplinary character was intensified by anger. "Why didn't you just go on TV and apologise, Taylor? Why not keep Disney?"

I put my hands on the desk and looked Peter in the eye.

"I didn't want to keep them. I couldn't." Sighing, I moved over to his side of the desk, crossing the antagonising wall it created. "Peter, this is not a one off thing. This isn't some temporary phase. I'm done being a tomboy."

"You don't need to be completely sexualised to feel feminine."

"Maybe MY femininity is sexual."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be."

"Who are you to decide how my womanhood should be? It's me who has to decide that."

"Then be this... this..."

"Slut. Just say it."

He groaned.

"Then be this... slut in your private life. Why mix it with your career?"

"I'm an artist. My art IS my private life."

"I never thought you such an avant-garde pioneer."

"People change, goddamnit. I used to be a certain way, and it was fine for a time. But now I'm done being that person. I'm done being the tracking suit wearing Taylor."

"You're wearing one right now."

My heart jumped. I stopped, making sure not to say anything too fast. I had to take my time, and jump on the opportunity.

Peter had just laid a trap for himself... This was potentially the best segue way to turn the conversation into... Well, you know where this is going... But did I want to do it?

Yes, I did. But I did I need to?

Perhaps... After all, this newly found femininity of mine... it was proving to be such a strong weapon. Why not use it?

I bit my lip. Smiling, I placed my fingers around Peter's shirt collar, and began playing with it.

"That's a problem we can resolve..." I whispered.

Now just wait, here comes the plot twist: Peter didn't show the usual stupefaction I received from everyone else. In fact, he seemed like he had been expecting what I had just said.

"Not surprised?" I asked, surprised myself.

"You're transparent like water when it comes to arousal," he answered. "You think I never noticed how you look at me and the boys?"

Fuck. He knew. Part of me suspected it for a long time, but now I had the confirmation. Peter was very well aware of how I felt towards him.

"So... you knew?"

"For a year now. You're not as subtle as you think."

"But you are. I'm not sure what YOU feel... Sometimes I see you looking at me, and I think... maybe? Sometimes... sometimes it definitely looks like it." Peter stayed emotionless. He didn't waver. "Did you see the video?"

There was a long moment of hesitation before he answered.

"I did."

My voice went lower, I was now whispering. I brought myself close to him, so close he could feel my breath on his face. My hands kept playing with his shirt collar. I wished his would have played with me.

"So you saw me. All of me. All of my completely bare body..." There was a tension in his entire body. He felt even more like stone than before, but now it seemed as part of him was forcing this. He was trying not to waver. "And you looked at me, didn't you? Looked at it all. Oh, Pierre didn't make a fast-paced video, did he? He let those shots linger. Linger very long... You looked at all of it, didn't you? The sweat running down my breasts... My ass all exposed when I was on all fours..." I got even closer. "Did you see how the boys touched my body? How they fondled it? You know, I even let some of the crew fondle me." Now I could hear his breath. He was faltering. I slowly took off my shoes, then placed a foot on his lap. "Didn't it bother you?" I asked as he took off one of my socks, then the other. "That the boys were getting to feel me up and not you?" I took off my sweater, baring my breasts for him. "Wouldn't you like to fondle me, Peter?" His hands grabbed my waist and brought me closer. I was already breathing fast. "Wouldn't you like to cuff me?" Though my entire upper body was bared, he was looking at me right in the eyes.

"You risked your entire career with that stupid stunt."

"Yeah. I've caused so much trouble for you, haven't I?" His fingers tightened around my naked waist. "I've been bad, Peter. But it's your fault for not keeping me in line."

"Maybe I should."

"There's no maybe." I pulled down my pants and threw them away. Finally, I was fully nude. I sat on his lap and pressed my breasts against him.

"Why do you get naked Taylor?"

"Because I'm a whore, Peter. I'm a whore and I should be treated like one."

"You're right, you're a whore. A stupid whore who's cost me our contract with Disney."

"I'm sorr-ow ow OW OW!"

He grabbed my hair and pulled it so hard I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. I tried desperately to push myself away, but his strength completely undid mine, if I could even call it strength.

"You're even lower than a whore... Whores do it for money. You threw away money for the opportunity to be a slut..."

"Peter it hurts..."

"And you like it."

"Unh..." I moaned, in both pleasure and pain. "Peter I'm sorr-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he had thrown me on the desk. He spun me around so my back would face him, and put me on all fours on the desk, like an object exposed in a museum.

"Don't move an inch."

"Yes Peter."

I heard him unbuckle his belt. Before I could giggle with joy, he grabbed my hair again and pulled it back.

"Arch your back," he ordered.

I did so, bringing out my ass into a beautiful round shape. Next thing I knew, I felt a sharp, painful sting on my ass.

"OW!" I screamed. He had brought down the belt with all the fury in him.

"That's it, scream you cunt," he muttered angrily, pulling my hair even harder. "This is exactly what you deserve."

"Yes I do Pete-OW!"

Another furious sting.

"You don't get to call me by my name. You don't want to act like a respectable person? Then you won't have any respect, whore."

"Yes Sir, thank you Si-OW! OW! OW!" The three continuous spanks hurt, but his pulling of my hair hurt even more. He rapidly removed my hair tie and pulled my long, open curls. "Ouch... I'm so sorry, Peter, I'm so sorry..."

"No you're not," he said, walking over to the front of me. "You don't regret what you did. Not one bit."

"No, but I'm sorry to have caused you trouble..." The bulge in his pants was right in front of my face. I grabbed his zipper and tried to pull it down, desperately wanting to taste his cock, but he furiously slapped my face away.

"I didn't give you permission."

"I'm sorry Sir."

He was about to slap me again when suddenly, he stopped. Both of us had just heard a voice. Looking behind him, I saw Damien, his assistant, looking at us... Well, ME, rather awkwardly.

"Uh, Peter... the execs are here."

Peter took a deep breath. Fuck. I had forgotten about the execs. Peter hadn't told me to come only to speak to me. We were about to have an emergency meeting with all our band's business executives; those who made our careers possible through financing. Most importantly, those from Disney too.

"Tell them to come in ten minutes. Taylor has to be presentable first."

Damien took a moment to enjoy the sight of my tits, and then left the yacht. Peter grabbed me by the hair and threw me on the ground like one would a worthless object. He kicked my clothes towards me.

"Go clean yourself and put on your clothes," he ordered as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Yes Sir," I whispered, grabbing my clothes and entering the yacht's bathroom.

Once I had closed the door behind me, I looked at myself in the mirror. God I looked sexy like that. Naked, horny and sweaty, my entire body shaking with raw sexual energy, my hair all over my face. Just like I looked in Moonlight's music video. I looked like an animal. "That's what you are," I told myself. "An animal." And oh, how I loved being an animal. After a few minutes of posing in the mirror, finding ways to curve my body in the sexiest of ways, I heard the execs entering the office and greeting Peter. Everyone had a sombre note to their voices. Even from the bathroom, I could feel the tense atmosphere in the office. "I'm fucked," I thought. Here were a dozen business representatives, powerful people with money in their pockets and their fingers in the pockets of so many others. These were the men who pulled the strings in our industry. And now I had to face all those affiliated with my band, and explain to them what the fuck I had just done. I had caused an earthquake that could possibly destroy what they had built, and they were here to face me with all the anger this entailed.

"No..." I decided. I wouldn't let that happen. Powerful or not, these were men just like all the others. Most of them if not all were attracted to women. Especially sexy women. "And you ARE sexy," I told myself, looking at my erotic, sexually charged physique in the mirror. I had that ultimate weapon against them, and that made them just as weak as all the other men. I wasn't going to let a bunch of men scold me and take decisions for me. I was a free woman. "I'm the one who decides."

I noticed a makeup kit in front of the mirror. It had been probably been left there by one of Peter's countless one night stands. Peter was just as attractive as Trey, but he had the experience that came with age. No wonder so many Beverly Hills women ended up in his bed...

I opened the makeup kit and applied a burgundy lipstick as well as black eyeliner and eyeshadow. I made sure that the makeup didn't look formal or classy, but rather the slightly sloppy style associated with prostitutes. I messed up my hair a bit more, and once I was content with my "backstreet whore" look, I took a deep breath and pushed the bathroom door open. The fifteen or so execs had gathered chairs and sat as two facing lines perpendicular to Peter's desk. Even in a fucking yacht, they maintained their robotic orderliness...

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