by Writing Shark
Elle Fanning becomes a star
You walk into the Disney Executives room. It smells like alcohol, sweat and sperm. Not your favorite part of your job but you want the rest of your life to be good. Two of the seven men have already left, three are still getting dressed, two are waiting for you and one is still fucking your newly acquired daughter with his pants down and his shirt wobbling wildly. All you see is her bare legs wrapped around his hips, holding him close.
Good girl, you think to yourself, then you turn to the others.
“Mister Stratton!” The head of the gang of seven dwarves approaches you.
“How did my little star negotiate without my help?” you ask with a smile, but don’t shake the offered hand. The man understands this and wipes the sweat and Elle’s juice dry on a towel.
“She was very accommodating. Her oral exam was top notch and she also did the legwork and impressed us all.”
“Fuck!” moans the man who is still fucking Elle. “Open your mouth, bitch!” A small itch makes your stomach rumble, but that’s part of the business.
“Here is the list of films we imagine for you,” says the third man, handing a thick folder to you. That’s how you want it. While the third man pulls out of Elle and dries his cock on her hair, you look through the folder.
Fuck she must have been good. I’m proud of you little one.
“We would have presented you with a distraction too,” says the leader of the group, straightening his tie. “But we heard you were busy with your own negotiations?” He looks at the girl who accompanied you through the building. You would have rather fucked the young thing than Elizabeth but she was of more value to you.
“It’s okay,” you say without looking away from the folder. There is more current money in the room than you have earned in your life, but you still have the power. They are all old, horny men and you provide the pussies that willingly surrender to them. For money. Your money “We’ll take them.”
“What?”
“All of them.” You grin at the man. “All films.” You point to the folder. “And that one first.” The man leans over.
“She really is made for a princess.” You look at your Disney business partner.
“The more films, the more often I can bring Elle back here.” A nod seals the deal.
“We don’t want to stand in the way of her brilliant career.” That’s it.
You dismiss the Disney executives from the room and are alone with Elle. The poor girl is completely destroyed and battered. Bruises and cum all over her body. The eyes are red because of the sperm in them and black because of the melted make-up.
“Sit up,” you command. Elle obeys and clumsily wipes her face. You give her a warm towel. “Clean yourself up.”
“Was I a good girl?” she asks in a quiet voice. “Are you proud of me?” That is more important to her than talking about her experiences or even complaining.
“There’s a washroom over there.” You point to the side. Elle isn’t the first you’ve thrown at Disney and she won’t be the last. “Clean yourself up. Thorough. Take your time.” You smile. “Then I’ll show you how proud I am of you.”
“Okay.” She stumbles through the room with unsteady steps and drips secretions all over the carpet. As you listen to the shower, try to find a spot on a chair, table, or wall to sit on or lean against.
“Come here, my little daughter.” After looking at her carefully, you spread your arms and Elle falls into your embrace. “I’m very proud of you, Elle,” you whisper into her clean, slightly wet, fragrant hair. Your hand strokes her back and adjusts her new dress that you brought her. It is white. White for a new beginning.
“I love you, Damian,” Elle whispers and you hug her tightly. “Daddy.” Then she looks up at you. “I did everything the men said.” You put an arm around her and lead her out of the room that she will come back to dozens of times in her life.
“I’m here for you, darling,” you say and wait to see what she tells you. You’re not really interested, but Elle needs aftercare and maybe you’ll learn something from the perverted old farts. Emma Watson is on your list.
“First I had to kiss her feet,” reports the 18-year-old girl in a surprisingly firm voice. “Then they beat me. But I thought of you and thanked them nicely.”
“Good girl,” you praise her. “And not in your face.”
“Yes. They said you would be angry if they damaged the goods. You protected me. Thank you, Daddy.” You pat her cheek. “Then I sucked their penises. I think they liked that.”
“I’m sure of it,” you laugh and Elle looks at you questioningly. “You’re a real little blow machine,” you explain.
“Thank you, Daddy. They were definitely very happy with me. Then I stroked their penises while they played with their…” she giggles. “I kissed their bottoms. I didn’t think men would like it but they really liked it. They didn’t taste good but I always smiled. Then they took me like you did, only all together. And they hit me again. Daddy? Can it be that my vajayjay is not good?”
“No honey,” you reassure her and lead her down the halls. You explain it to her in the elevator. “Men like to hurt women and you’re a good girl if you let them.”
“It really hurt,” Elle mumbles and feels her ass. Her wrists have also turned blue. “But I wanted to please you.”
“You do. I’m very pleased with you.”
“Daddy?” You turn to her. Her big eyes look at you questioningly. “Do you like it too… Do you like hurting me too?” It was clear that she was asking that. Pain is the simplest form of power, but it is no less effective against instinctive animals like women.
“Yes honey. I like it too.” If you weren’t Damian Stratton, you’d be surprised that Elle was smiling. You casually press the emergency stop button on the elevator. The girl squeaks in surprise, then grimaces in pain as you grab her wrists and hold them above her head. Your impressive body presses hers against the wall, then you kiss her deeply. It tastes like soap and peppermint. “Good girl. Let Daddy hurt you, honey.”
“Yes Daddy, please hurt me,” your daughter whines. “Hurt and protect me, Daddy.”
Your free hand moves down under her new skirt that you bought her and penetrates her with two fingers.
“Hello, Mister Stratton.” The girl from before is standing in front of the elevator and is almost scared to death when she sees Elle sucking on your fingers like a happy lamb. “Eh… I’m supposed to say goodbye to you.”
“Hello Aubrey,” Elle smiles and takes your hand. “I have the role.” The red-faced girl looks down.
“Well done Elle. I knew you had it in you.”
“Come on, Elle,” is all you say, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the entrance lobby. “You don’t have to deal with ordinary people anymore. You’re a star now.” Aubrey looks hurt but doesn’t dare say anything. Nevertheless, she is brave enough to bring you and Elle to the building where your car is waiting for you.
“Goodbye Aubrey,” your daughter says and looks at you apologetically. “She is very nice. And she doesn’t like it here. I just wanted to brighten her day.”
Maybe it’s the lack of sex. Elizabeth is really no substitute for a tight girl’s pussy. Or it’s the rush of success.
You just want to fuck and own the little thing, you admit to yourself and admit this little weakness to yourself.
“Should I buy her for you honey?” Aubrey and your daughter look at you questioningly.
“What… how?”
“You’re a star now, Elle Fanning. And I am responsible for you. Do you want to have her?”
“Have her? Like, own her?” You nod. “And what if she declines?” You lean down towards Elle.
“She’s a girl and you’re a star. And I am a man who owns you. Do you really think what she says matters?” Elle looks at Aubrey, then back at you. The other girl just stares blankly ahead of herself like the piece of furniture she is in your eyes. A toy for your daughter.
“She doesn’t like it here,” is all she says, not really knowing what to do next. But you know it.
“Wait here,” you say to Aubrey and pull Elle back into the building. Once inside, you are put through to your partners. Two minutes later you’re standing outside your car again, Elle smiling while holding your hand. “Get in,” you say to Elle and she obeys immediately. “Aubrey is your name?” you ask. The girl nods. You don’t say anything else. Your sports car only has two seats. And a trunk. You open it and nod into it. With a tear on her face, Aubrey climbs in. Her brown eyes follow you but she has already accepted her fate before you have closed your mouth.
Writing Shark 