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* The New Pop Idols

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It happened so gradually she didn’t even notice her transition from pop star to porn star. Sophia had been found at age 16 by a talent scout, and her parents allowed her to be signed into a series of contracts she didn’t understand. Her first album, “Don’t You Wish You Could?”, released when she was 17, featured her pouting sluttily on the cover in a schoolgirl outfit, the front unbuttoned just enough to show there was no bra underneath.

She had blushed to pose for the photo, and blushed more as she filmed the videoclips for her first singles – “Love Pet”, in which she crawled around on a leash and collar dressed in a skimpy bikini for an older man as she sang; “Punish Me”, in which she acted like a brat in a sexualised daddy’s-little-princess costume until a variety of authority figures – a teacher, a police officer, her father – turned her over their knee and spanked her; and the eponymous “Don’t You Wish You Could?” in which she cockteased the men in her life in increasingly skimpy outfits until at the end of the clip they all ambushed her at once and dragged her into a black van for their implied revenge.

Despite her embarrassment, the album was a huge success, and propelled Sophia to the top of the charts. A national tour was arranged to coincide with her 18th birthday – the “Coming of Age” tour.

That was when her manager sat her down and explained the next phase of her promotion. “Sophia,” he said, “you’re aware that your branding is based on your sexuality. People like your music – but they also want to fuck you. No, more than that – they want to rape you. You know that, right?”

She blushed and nodded. It made her uncomfortable, to think people she’d never met thought of her that way. She’d been raised to be a good, chaste girl. She had wondered if she should protest – but she liked the fame and attention, and knew that an image change might be a bad idea.

“It’s important that you present that air of rapeability at all times,” he told her. “I’ve had your wardrobe changed over for the tour – you’ll find that your clothing options are much more attractive now. But it’s not just your clothes – you need to *look* like you want to be raped whenever you’re in public.”

She flushed and looked down awkwardly. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I want you to masturbate before any public appearance. Bring yourself right to the edge of orgasm, immediately before you have to meet people. It will help you display the signs of sexual arousal – flushed cheeks, flushed neck, perky nipples, shallower breathing. Plus you’ll smell of sex a little, and give off the ‘fuck me’ pheromones. It will do wonders for your brand.”

She protested a little, but the manager reminded her that her contract obliged her to take whatever actions were necessary to support her branding, so she obliged. It felt scary to be masturbating right before meeting people – but it also felt a little bit hot, too. The hardest bit was not letting herself cum – her manager was very clear she needed to be desperate for satisfaction while talking to people.

Being horny all the time made it hard to think clearly. Her manager took her to a lot of meetings that she didn’t pay attention to. She kept wanting to just play with her pussy, or for someone to fuck her. She was still a virgin, but she knew what she needed. She just said yes whenever anyone asked her a question. If her arousal started fading mid-meeting, her manager would send her to the toilets to “freshen up”, and she would obediently go and edge again, returning with re-heightened lust.

She had an awareness she must look like a fuckdoll. Her new wardrobe was tight and revealing. Hemlines were short. Necklines plunged deeply. Most tops emphasised her tits. She at first thought she had bras and panties to wear, until her manager explained that the dental-floss G-strings and micro-bikinis were an outfit in themselves, and if she was wearing them she shouldn’t wear anything over the top. She got used to going without underwear.

The Coming of Age Tour was very humiliating. She got used to wearing the micro-bikini – it was one of several costume changes she used in each show. She did the costume changes in the immediate backstage area, stripping naked blushingly in front of the crew as she changed, and hastily rubbing her pussy to “freshen up” before going back on stage.

This humiliation came about because there simply wasn’t enough time for Sophia to get to her dressing room, change AND masturbate between songs. She had suggested she didn’t need to masturbate, but her manager had called her a stupid slut who should stop trying to think, and she had shut up. She would strip and rub her pussy backstage, like a professional, instead of whining about things she couldn’t have.

Even this didn’t turn out to be fast enough for her manager. After her second show, he introduced her to a beautiful blonde woman with enormous fake tits. “This is Kitten,” he told her. “She’s going to be your aid. A star shouldn’t have to do anything they can pay someone else to do for them, so she’s going to lick your pussy before the show, and while you change, so you can freshen up your makeup with the time you were wasting fingerfucking yourself.”

Sophia quailed. “I’m not a lesbian…” she protested.

“No,” her manager said, “You’re the number one popstar in the world, and you’ll do what’s necessary to put on an amazing show, like the professional you are. Or are you a stupid baby who’s scared of girls?”

Sophia blushed and relented. Her manager wanted her to demonstrate her acquiescence, so she lifted her skirt and let Kitten lick her. Kitten insisted on stripping nude first, and Sophia blushed as she felt the woman’s fake udders squash against her legs, but then Kitten put her tongue to Sophia’s vulva and Sophia was immediately lost in bliss. It felt amazing.

After that, Sophia spent almost every possible moment with Kitten’s tongue in her pussy. Kitten would lick her before and after shows, during spare moments. She went to bed with Sophia, and fell asleep with her face in Sophia’s cunt. Once, Sophia tried to tell her to stop, worried at what being so constantly aroused was doing to her, but Kitten responded by becoming suddenly scary, slapping Sophia across the face, pinching her nipples and biting her clitoris painfully, before holding her down and pointedly licking her to the edge of orgasm. That was the last time Sophia resisted.

At the end of the last show of the tour, they changed the last song. Instead of singing “Don’t You Wish You Could?” in her micro-bikini, they had her sing it behind a barrier that concealed her from the waist down. She would be naked behind the barrier except for high heels, and Kitten would lick her pussy as she sang. “Whatever you do,” said her manager, “don’t stop singing, no matter *what* happens.”

She was embarrassed enough by this arrangement, but found it hard to argue when she was so horny all the time. When the time came, she felt Kitten start to tongue her cunt, and she began to sing to the crowd of tens of thousands of people, her face flushed with arousal and embarrassment, trying to keep her voice steady as the big-titted blonde probed her fuckhole with her tongue.

After the first verse, to her horror, two stage-hands suddenly removed the barrier, revealing what was happening to the audience. Another came up and ripped off her top, baring her tits and leaving her naked. She quailed, but saw her manager’s stern face in the wings, and kept singing, wishing she could die, wondering how she’d ended up nude on stage having her pussy licked by a woman in front of a crowd of thousands.

But it wasn’t over. At the end of the second verse, her manager strode on stage. He affixed a dog collar to her neck as she sang, clipped a leash to it, and then pushed her over so she was bent at the waist, her tits hanging down, Kitten still licking her. And before the entire crowd, he unzipped his pants, pushed his cock into her pussy, and started raping her.

She missed an entire line of the song. She was being raped! She was losing her virginity in front of all of her fans. She wanted to cry. She wanted to stop singing. But if she kept singing, it was just a show, right? Just a performance? And if she stopped – she pictured the awkward, awful silence, as everyone realised she was *really* being raped. So she kept singing – “Don’t you wish you could have me? Don’t you wish you could use me? Don’t you wish you could slap me, hurt me, make me, like you know I deserve?” – and as a reward Kitten let her actually orgasm, for the first time in months, just before her manager ejaculated into her unprotected womb.

After the big finale, she stood there on stage, naked, cum dripping from her pussy, waving at her fans. She wanted to run and shower, but they made her come back on for an encore, so she sang the entirety of “Love Pet” in the nude with cum running down her legs before they let her go.

She had no time to process what had happened. Immediately following the tour, her manager took her back to the studio to record the “Coming of Age” album. The album cover was a picture of her nude, spreading her pussy with her fingers to show it was full of cum. Her manager raped her again to prepare her for that one. The back cover showed her nude and kneeling before a suited man with an obvious erection.

The videoclip for the lead single, “All Women Are Sluts”, showed a variety of pornstars having degrading sex with men; after each one, Sophia would lick the cum from their pussies. The second single, “Raping Me In My Wet Dreams”, was a single continuous take of Sophia nude and masturbating as she looked into the camera and sang, while a succession of men ejaculated on her face and breasts. For the third song – “Coming of Age” – they set up secret cameras in Sophia’s parents’ house, and paid her father a million dollars to invite his daughter round to dinner and then rape her by surprise, and used the resulting footage for the videoclip.

For the tour – titled after what would be her third album, “Ready To Breed” – they got Sophia a special vibrating dildo microphone. When she wasn’t singing, she’d fuck her pussy with it, the microphone transmitting the embarrassing squelching noises of her wet cunt to the audience, and then as she sang she would lick the tip, tasting her juices. She got used to being raped during the finale of each show, and in fact it became her signature gimmick. She performed nude, with weighted clamps hanging from her nipples, her tits in bondage, and cat ears and a cat-tail butt-plug.

She thought she’d accepted her degradation, as the price for fame and success – this is clearly what she was meant to be, who she was meant to be – until after the second tour her manager brought her a bag of fan mail, and made her read it as he fucked her. And she found that every letter was from a young teen girl who looked up to her, and every letter was a story about how that girl had realised she was a stupid slut because of Sophia; how the girl had let her friends rape her, because of Sophia; how she had cockteased her own father into fucking her, because of Sophia. And she knew the real final degradation was that even though she was crying, even though she felt like a traitor to her entire gender, she was still going to orgasm, and thank her manager, and beg him to rape her again…

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