After a long and tiring show, Britney Spears was ready to collapse on the couch in her dressing room. Making her way to the back of the amphitheater, the screams of the crowd still echoing in the halls, Britney quickly snuck inside her dressing room and plopped down in a chair. Britney scanned the room. All of these dressing rooms had started looking the same - a bathroom/shower off to the side, a big couch in the center of the room, a table covered with all sorts of food and drinks. It was always the same and Britney was getting tired of it. She was a pop star. She was loved by millions of girls and by even more millions of men who all wanted her. No, Britney thought to herself; she wasn't just a singer, she was a DIVA!

The thought brought a smile to her face as Britney relished in her own opulence. Closing her eyes and leaning back in the leather chair, she put her feet up on the nearby table. Sighing contentedly, Britney felt her body start to relax and the tiredness just fall away from her. Dressed in black sequined spandex pants, perfect for her dance moves, and a bright yellow sleeveless tank top that tied in the back as it crisscrossed her shoulders, Britney's oiled and tanned tight little body barely filled up the chair she was sitting in. Britney haphazardly traced incoherent small patterns around her tummy, rubbing her finger around her navel ring and fondling the small diamond stone embedded inside. Britney had begun to drift off to sleep when there was a knock at the door.

"Um, Miss Spears? There is a man here to see you," said a very young stage hand, poking her head into the dressing room.

"Who is he?" Britney sighed exasperatedly, not even to bother opening her eyes. How dare this little bitch interrupt her when she was trying to take a nap.

"He says he is a photographer from TeenQueen magazine and he wanted to talk to you about something," the stage hand said, looking down at her clipboard. Britney heard a squawking in the girls headset, to which the girl responded "Copy that. So should I send this guy in or not Britney?" the girl said hurriedly. Britney's lip curled up in a snarl and was going to yell at the girl for rushing her, but thought better of it. The magazine the man said he worked for sounded awfully familiar to her, so she figured she should check it out.

"Yes, that's fine. Send him in," Britney said, getting up from the chair and walking over to the dressing mirror. Britney took up a towel from the counter and primped herself up, wiping the sweat from her glistening body and from the top of her breasts underneath the tank top. The girl left the room, closing the door behind her. Not two minutes later, the door opened again.

Britney was busy looking in the dressing room mirror and fixing her hair when she glanced up and saw the man walk in through the reflection in the glass.

Carrying a large manila envelope, he was about 6'5 and as leanly built as any man she had seen. His hair was jet black and concealed mostly underneath a brownish-tan fedora cap. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a gray shirt and a pair of tattered and dirty looking blue jeans that stopped where his heavy work boots began. Over his shoulder was slung a camera and Britney wondered to herself why he had brought that along. Probably to shoot the concert she thought.

Turning around, Britney put on her "show" face and greeted the tall man with a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm Britney, as you probably already know. The girl said you were from TeenQueen magazine?" Britney said, extending her hand. Her solid gold bracelet slid down her arm and clinked a little as she extended it. The man received the gesture, shaking her hand lightly. His touch was cold and clammy almost, something Britney was surprised at since it was so hot down here under the stage.

"I'm Robert and yes, I'm a photographer for the magazine," the man said in a gravely, deep voice. Britney got a closer look at him now - his face looked rather haggard and torn, with acne scars and a slight scar from a cut extending from his upper lip at a 45 degree angle towards his cheek. The man had to have been at least 40 but something in Britney told her that he was much older than that.

"Ok Robert, what can I do for you?" Britney said, gesturing him over to a chair by the snack table. He sat down gingerly, his tall frame still not equal to Britney's short stature. Britney felt like she was in the midst of a giant.

Robert cracked a smile at Britney's comment, a very hideous looking smile that caused his lips to crackle some as they peeled back from his yellow teeth.

"Oh, you can do a lot. Trust me," Robert said, again in a very deep toned voice.

Britney couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable by his smile, and it caught her off guard a little. A tart little teen princess, Britney wasn't used to dealing with such ruffians as he was.

Scooting a tray of crackers aside, Robert set the manila folder on the table and opened it, pulling out face down a stack of large 8x10s that Britney knew were photos. Robert pulled the photos to his chest and held them a few inches from him, glancing down at them and chuckling to himself.

"I have some photos that I think you will be interested in seeing. They are set for publication next month and we just wanted you to see them before they went out," Robert said, setting the photos on top of the envelope and sliding them towards Britney.

Still unable to shake the uneasy feeling, Britney cringed a little in anticipation as she pulled the photos to her. Lifting the first one off the stack Britney lifted it up and took a look. A gasp escaped her lips.

The photo was a full color, crystal clear image of her on stage a few weeks ago at another concert. Or rather, it was BEHIND the stage, when Britney was changing costumes. She was in fact topless with her hands on her hips, her large breasts exposed completely under the light of the stage. Her nipples were erect in the photo, more than likely Britney thought, because of the sweat that she had pouring down her body at the time reacting with the air conditioning of the building. Without a doubt, this photo was the holy grail for men everywhere - a true, 100% authentic Britney Spears nude picture.

Britney's head was reeling. She was cursing herself repeatedly over why she had been so careless to let someone snap her picture topless. A million thoughts poured through her head about her career, her reputation, her fans...everything that she had worked so hard to build was now in jeopardy. The little princesses castle was falling apart.

Britney picked up the remaining photos. All seemed to be of the same concert at night, but at different angles. One was from the side, another from even closer. How did they get so close without her seeing?

Robert spoke again, a devilish grin on his hard, callused face.

"As you can see, these pictures will send our readership through the roof. Grown men will be fighting over copies of the issue, a special one-time run we will be offering. We will make millions," Robert said with glee.

Britney was on the verge of tears. "I...I don't get it. What do you want from me? Money? I can give you lots and lots of money! I'll even give you credit on my new album," Britney said as enthusiastically as she could muster, hoping to bargain with this gaunt man.

"No no no, I don't want your money. I have all the money I could ever need," Robert said softly, pulling a long and withered finger to his pursed lips as he thought.

"You have something far more delectable than any dollar bill could ever be," he said finally, leaning forward and looking straight into Britney's eyes. Britney returned the gaze, losing herself deep in his almost black, dark eyes. The sudden realization of what he wanted finally hit her.

"No...not that. I can't do that. That's blackmail! And besides, it's against everything I believe in!" Britney cried, recoiling back into her chair in disgust.

"It may be blackmail. But sweet, naive little Britney...how do you think the world works huh? You may have been given your career on a silver platter but at some point you must pay your dues. Are your morals and ethics worth more than all that work you spent becoming a household name?" Robert said to Britney, a soft but crooked smile on his face.

"Yes. Yes they are!" Britney said triumphantly.

"Very well then, I'll show myself out," Robert said, snatching up the pictures and slipping them back into the envelope. "I'll see you on the cover of the newsstand in a few weeks,"

Robert's tall frame took strides to the door and he had just about reached it when Britney, pausing from a moment of hesitation to think, sprang from her chair and cut him off.

"No! Don't go! We can work this out! I'll...I'll...give you a...you know..." Britney said shyly, her face turning a bright red.

"A what?" Robert said, enjoying watching Britney squirm over the word.

"A blowjob!" Britney blurted out loudly, hoping in hindsight that no one heard her.

Robert seemed to pause and contemplate her offer for a moment.

"That's agreeable. We can take it from there and perhaps I will feel more inclined to bargain afterwards," Robert said, walking back towards the couch. "Lock the door."

Britney did as she was told and slowly, like a frightened animal, moved timidly towards where Robert was standing by the couch.

"On your knees you little white trash skank," Robert commanded Britney, setting his pictures on the couch next to him. Britney did as she was told, falling to her knees softly. Glancing over at the couch, the photographs that had gotten her to the situation she was in now sat just mere inches from her, mocking her.

Robert placed his hands on his hips and began giving Britney orders.

"Unzip my pants, drop them to the floor and take out my cock," he said.

Her hand shaking, Britney reluctantly unzipped Robert's jeans and shook them loose from his legs. Wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, Britney could see his hardening cock in side his underwear. Moving with more timidity than before, Britney put her hand up by the elastic waistband of the boxers and pulled downward, freeing Robert's cock from it's enclosement as the shorts moved over his manhood.

Britney was aghast at what she saw. Never having seen a cock before except in pictures, Britney was awestruck by the site of Robert's very large 10 inch penis, very narrow in width. It stuck straight out from his body, the member starting to harden in the warm air of the room. Robert's balls hung loosely beneath his cock, covered in jet black hair all around.

"Now, suck on it," Robert commanded again.

Britney moved her hand slowly towards the jutting out shaft, barely able to wrap her small hand around it. Jerking up and down like she knew men supposedly liked, Britney scooted her ass closer to Robert's body and eased her face towards his member. The jerking action had now made him almost totally hard and he measured close to 12 inches now, a disproportionate amount for any man if Britney had only known.

Her lipstick covered lips from the earlier show just an inch or so from his bulbous head, Britney crossed over to the dark side as she slowly began sliding the prick into her mouth. Her lips and cheeks stretched around the cock head as it entered into her sweet mouth. The taste was not as revolting as Britney imagined it would be, more of just a salty taste from the sweat on his shaft. Britney slowly slid the cock further into her mouth, devouring inch by inch of it with every increasing moment. Soon she had 7 inches inside of her mouth but she realized that was not enough to satisfy Robert.

Looking up at him with her brown, doe like eyes, Britney waited for guidance on what to do to this horrible man next. Instead he took her by the hair roughly and began to force feed her more of her cock. Acting out of impulse, Britney slowly relaxed her gag reflex and let another 3 inches slip down her throat. Robert seemed satisfied and began to pull his dick out to allow Britney to suck him off much easier.