Chapter 29: Rich Brat Turned Porn Star Slut

Clara wasn’t sure where she wanted to go after the mall. There were some great possibilities she was thinking about. She decided to hit Twitter to find out if there were any ideas. She stared at all the many tweets she had been tagged in begging her to spill secrets about this or that person.

Then she was annoyed with an ad.

“Perfect Princess Pageant Coach,” was the name of the company. “I promise to turn your daughter into a beauty queen! Results guaranteed! The pageant circle and its rewards await!”

“Pageant ... beauty queens...” Anger swelled in Clara. “Those are just whores too scared to do porn. They...” An idea popped into her mind. Her fingers started tweeting.

“Perfect Princess Pageant Coach is now Perfect Princess Pornstar Coach. He’ll make your daughter into the most hardcore slut possible. No matter how they resist, he’ll make her into a porn star whore. She’ll climb to the peaks of the adult world!” #BeautyQueenPornStar #PornStarTrainer #VirginToWhore”

She hit send and grinned, wondering what new porn stars would be born.

Darla Carpenter

I was not happy that my mother had dragged me to a beauty pageant coach. I sat with my arms folded. I was eighteen. I shouldn’t have to listen to her. She sat next to me, her hair perfectly coiffed, her nails immaculately done. She did all that work to make herself into the “ideal” woman for the male gaze.

“Beauty pageants are obscene, Mom,” I hissed. “They are just another way the patriarchy reduces young women into objects for the lusts of men and their vile gazes!”

“Trust me,” Mom said. “They do wonders for your self-esteem when you win, and open doors to meet men of real value. You’re young. Entering your prime. You want to get a man with means now before he finds another young woman.”

“I don’t want to be a wife for some fat guy with a million dollars in his bank account,” I hissed. “That’s not what any woman should aspire to be. I’m going to be a CEO. I’ll have the millions.”

“And by the time you achieve it, you will have hit the wall, your beauty fading, and none of the men at your social level will want you.” Mom turned the page in her beauty magazine that indoctrinated her into this bullshit. “You’ll be bitter, refusing to date beneath you because no one can stand settling for a man that makes less than her, and end up with five or six ‘fur babies’ to take care of thinking they will bring you happiness that children won’t.”

“That’s complete horse shit, Mom!” I snapped. “I—”

“Darla,” a man grunted from an open door. He was a tall guy with hairy arms and an ugly face. This was the coach? He had a bit of a beer gut. I sneered. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

“Get,” Mom said with such authority in her tone.

“Fine,” I muttered and stood up. I slouched to the open door where the coach waited. “Teach me to be a dainty lady who doesn’t have a thought in her brain.”

“I’ll try,” he growled, staring at me. “You might be uncoachable. How much of that feminist dribble have you suckled on? Shit rots your brain.”

I glared at him, but he just chuckled and motioned me inside. It was full of elegant dresses, a makeup table with a collection of products. There was a little stage, a mock runway. Light streamed in through large windows that reached up to the high sealing. It was revolting in its girlishness and—

BEEP!

His phone chirped in his belt.

I looked around and was surprised that there was a bed. A couch. A mock bathroom with a tub. There was lots of lingerie on the racks. None of the elegant dresses I would have imagined. I stared at him in confusion.

“Why is there a bed here?” I asked. “What does that have to do with beauty pageants.”

“Oh, I don’t turn girls into beauty queens,” he said, his grin evil. “I’m done with that bullshit. I just teach them to be porn stars. Skip over all that pretense. Your mother is eager for you to start earning your keep. Not that she’ll get much after my huge cut.”

“What?” I gasped, staring at him. “A porn star? That’s disgusting. I won’t be—”

SLAP!

His hand struck my cheek. Not even that hard. It was just ... so shocking that I shut up and stared at him, my eyes quivering from the stinging heat. I touched my cheek where he slapped me. What was going on here?

“A slut doesn’t use ‘I’ or ‘me’ or ‘my’,” he growled. “A slut speaks in the third person. ‘This slut’ or ‘she’. Do you understand, slut?”

“No!” I gasped, my anger rising. “I will—”

SLAP!

This time, it was harder. My head snapped to the side. I stumbled and gasped. My eyes beaded with tears. The pain throbbed across my cheeks. I caught my balance and glared at him in absolute fury that he had done that.

“You odious asshole, you think I’ll—”

SLAP!

“A slut refers to herself in the third person,” he spat, his eyes full of promise. Both my cheeks burned. I rubbed at them, quivering from the heat. “If you use ‘I’ one more time, I will bend you over and spank that plump ass of yours.” He grinned. “It is perfect for it. Do you understand me, slut?”

I opened my mouth to say, “I understand,” but then cringed, my cheeks burning. Could I say this? “P-porn is demeaning to women,” I stuttered instead. “It dehumanizes them and t-turns them into objects for m-men’s lust. It’s wrong.”

He grinned. “That’s correct,” he said. “Do you understand that you’re here to be turned into an object fit for only satisfying men’s lusts?”

“No!” I gasped and tried to run from him. “I won’t do it!”

As I turned, he grabbed my black hair and yanked me back. Pain burst across my scalp as he hauled me around. There was such promise in his eyes that he would spank me for using the “I” pronoun. I quivered in fear, my cheeks burning.

“T-this ... this girl is sorry for saying ‘I,’” I whimpered. “P-please don’t spank this girl.”

“This slut,” he corrected. “Say it, or I will spank that ass until you can’t sit on it for a weak.” He pulled harder on my hair. “Do you understand, slut?”

“This...” I swallowed, tears about to spill down my burning cheeks. “This ... sss ... This ssslut understands.”

Humiliation burned through me at having to say something so horrible and demeaning. I just had to get through this. Get back to my mother. There was no way she brought me here for this. No way at all. Tears spilled hot down my face.

“Good,” he said. “Good. Now, slut, strip naked I want to get a look at you.” He stared at me in my baggy sweater and loose jeans. “Fucking hard to tell how good your figure is in all that crap you’re wearing. Take it off.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t do that.

He smiled wickedly. “You won’t strip for me?”

I shook my head again, trembling. What would he do to me if I didn’t take off my clothes?

He turned and headed to a table. I quivered as he picked up a pair of heavy-duty scissors. They didn’t have sharp ends but rounded tips on the blades. He moved towards me with them. Fear trembled through me as I stared at them.

“These are trauma sheers,” he said. “They are designed to cut off clothes from injured people, including jeans, without hurting them.”

My eyes bulged. “Wait, I—” My words caught in my throat as that pronoun slipped out. “This slut will take off her clothes. You don’t have to cut them off ... her.”

“Too late,” he growled and seized me by my hair. He yanked back my head as he thrust the scissors towards my neckline with his other hand.

The scissors cut down my sweater so fast. In moments, it was hanging open to reveal my large breasts squeezed into a restraining bra that compressed them down and forced them to be flat. He blinked at that.

“Are you trying to hide how big your tits are?” he said in surprise. He stared at me like I was a freak.

“T-to hide them from the m-male gaze,” I sobbed. “This ... this slut isn’t ... an ... an ... object.”

“But a slut is an object,” he growled. “Especially a busty slut.”

He slid the scissor down into my cleavage, the rounded tip sliding over my skin. With a snip, he sheered through the bra band, underwire and all. My huge tits sprang out. He gasped at the sight of my F-cups bouncing there.

He cupped one with his hand, squeezing it. I shuddered at his disgusting touch. He flicked out his thumb and massaged my wide areola. To my horror, my nipples puckered up from the heart of the pink ring. He grinned as my other nub hardened, too.

“Yes, yes, you are a naughty slut,” he said. He pinched my nipple. I gasped at the heat shooting down to my cunt. This couldn’t be happening. That couldn’t be my pussy getting ... wet... “You are going to make me so much money being fucked on camera.”

I glanced around the room. This was a porn studio. No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

He released my nipple then lightly slapped my breasts. He grinned as they rippled from the impacts. He nodded in satisfaction then shot his hand down and hooked the front of my jeans, pulling them from my skin. The scissors darted after.

He cut down my right leg, kneeling and working quickly. He was ruining my clothes. I quivered there, hands covering my tits. I would have to ... to ... wear one of those skimpy outfits to leave here. I trembled, my heart beating so fast.

More tears tickled down my body as those stupid scissors cut my jeans with such ease.

My pants barely hung on, clinging to my left leg. He started from the cuff this time and cut up the front of them. Already, my black boy shorts were on display. Not sexy panties. Those were invented by the patriarchy. Another way of forcing women to please men and not to allow them to wear something comfortable.

He cut up to the very top. My jeans fell off. I swallowed as he went to my shoes. I thought he would cut them off, but he just ripped them off and my socks. In moments, I was down to my boy shorts. He leered at me.

“It’s a cute look on you, slut,” he said. “Casual. For the right sort of scene, they’re perfect, but...”

SNIP! SNIP!

He opened and closed the scissors.

“P-please,” I whimpered as he brought them closer to my panties. This was insane. I had to put a stop to this, but there was nothing I could do. This hairy slob was a monster. An ogre who wouldn’t relent until I was naked.

The scissors slid into the leg hole of my panties and cut up. In moments, he was pulling them off, revealing my black bush, wild and untangled. He stared at my big bush then. He stroked my legs and glanced at my armpits.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t shave your legs or pits,” he said.

“I ... That’s just good hygiene,” I whimpered.

“Some guys like that thick bush,” he said. “We’ll let you keep it. For today. I might change my mind, slut.” He rose. “So, on your knees.”

“W-what are you going to do m ... this slut?” I whimpered as I trembled, my hands struggling to cover my ample tits and ass.

He grabbed the top of my head and shoved. I gasped as my legs buckled. I landed before him, my face at level with his crotch. He wore a pair of gray slacks, his cock bulging the front of them. I swallowed. He couldn’t mean for me to do that. Blowjobs were the most demeaning thing a man could make a woman do.

“Pull my cock out and suck it, slut,” he growled. “And if you bite, you will regret it.”

I shook my head, whimpering. This was too much. I wouldn’t—

SLAP!

His hand smacked my face. I gasped as the pain spilled over me. It burned. He didn’t even do it that hard, but it was enough to make me shiver. He arched an eyebrow.

I shook my head again. I wouldn’t do it. I would draw the line at—

He seized my by the hair and turned. He marched to the table, forcing me to crawl or be dragged. My knees smacked into the hardwood floors. I winced as I scurried after him, my big tits bouncing and heaving. This was insane. This couldn’t be happening.

He grabbed from the table a wooden paddle. My eyes bulged. He grinned down at me. “You going to suck my cock, slut?”

I shook my head again, cringing. My butt-cheeks clenched.

“Good,” he said with a vicious grin. “You have an ass made to be spanked, slut!”

He yanked me to my feet with a hard jerk, my scalp burning. Then he bent me over the table and easily pinned me down. My boobs rubbed into the cool, Formica surface. My nipples throbbed. This strange heat grew in my twat.

Why was I getting turned on by this? It was sick. I wasn’t a slut. I wasn’t! I would refuse to do anything this terrible, horrible—

CRACK!

Pain exploded across my rump. I gasped as the heat melted down to my pussy and joined that hot itch already forming there. I groaned, my butt-cheeks clenching.

“Are you going to suck my cock, slut?” he growled.

“No!” I gasped then cringed as I knew the next—

CRACK!

The paddle slapped down across both my butt-cheeks. I bucked on the table, held down by his hand. My nipples rubbed into the table. Pleasure burst from them as the burning agony set my cunt on fire. This was insane.

“Damn, I love watching that plump ass jiggle, slut,” he said. “You have an ass made for this. You are going to be a fucking star.”

“This ... this slut doesn’t want to be a star,” I moaned, my cunt itching even more.

CRACK!

I bucked at the pain, whimpering from it. It hurt so much. It was just a cock. I could just—

No! I could not surrender. I could not become a slut for—

CRACK!

The pain roared across my rump. My twat clenched. Pussy juices soaked my bush. I whimpered and trembled, my nipples throbbing against the smooth, cool surface of the table.

CRACK!

I squealed at the pain.

“Like a sow,” he groaned. “Love that sound. Mmm, you want to keep making it, or do you want to suck my dick like the slut you are, sow?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to refuse. I had to be strong. It was just a spanking. “No!”

CRACK!

I bucked and sobbed out at the pain. My pussy burned so hot. I shuddered there, sucking in wild breaths. Tears spilled out of my eyes. My butt-cheek clenched. The pain spilled about it. I would have to keep taking—

CRACK!

Agony burned across my butt-cheeks.

“This slut will suck your cock!” I howled, the pain blazing across my ass. My pussy burned hotter than it ever had. “This slut will suck your cock!”

I couldn’t stop myself from saying those words. He released me and stepped back. I shivered there then realized that I would have to do this. I would have to suck his dick, or he would keep spanking me. I whimpered, my ass burning, and slid off the table, turning to kneel before him.

I was really doing this. I was just afraid of another slap. Of that hot itch in my thighs. My heart hammered in my chest as I stared at that bulge in his slacks. It was so big. How could I do this? I had never done it before.

“If you make me spank that ass again after you promised to suck my dick, slut, I will make you regret it,” he growled.

I squeaked and shot out my hands. My ass burned from his spanking. I unzipped him. Then I unfastened his slacks. He wore nothing beneath. His cock just shot out. It was thick and pink. The tip throbbing and dripping precum. This salty scent filled my nose. This was disgusting.

I whimpered as I didn’t know what to do. Suck on it, I guessed. I grabbed his cock with a tentative hand. He throbbed. I didn’t like that at all. More of that liquid was spilling from the slit at the tip. Precum ... It must taste awful.

“Taking too long, slut!” he growled and pinched my nose.

I couldn’t breathe. I had to breathe. My mouth opened wide to inhale.

He shoved his cock past my lips. My eyes bulged as that salty shaft speared to the back of my throat. He filled me up. I panicked, my arms flailing. I had to breathe, but my mouth and nose were both sealed shut.

This was terrifying.

I didn’t know what to do.

Then he released my nostril. I sucked in deep breath, his cock filling my mouth. He grabbed the sides of my head, holding me in place and stared down at me with disgust in his eyes. Disappointment in me. Why?

“I thought a slut like you would know at least how to suck a dick,” he growled. “Come on and nurse on it. Work that tongue. You’re a fucking useless slut, you know that? Nurse!”

I suckled.

My cheeks hollowed as I sucked on him as hard as I could. The salty liquid, his precum, spilled over my tongue. I shuddered and swirled my tongue around his cock. I danced about him, tasting his precum and his shaft. I grimaced.

He held the side of my head and fucked his cock forward and back. He buried to the back of my throat then pulled back. My lips slid on him I kept my teeth away from his shaft and kept sucking him. Caressing him. I whimpered as I did it.

My pussy grew hotter. Wetter. This itch to be ... filled with this cock swelled in me.

This was disgusting. Humiliating. Why was this happening to me?

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Spoiled, little White girl thought she was hot shit. But you’re just a big-titty slut. A thing. A cum-dumpster. Yes, yes, suck that cock harder. Put some fucking effort into it, slut! Come on!”

I nursed harder. I made these sloppy, obscene sounds. Drool spilled down my chin. I felt it running hot over my chin. This was so humiliating. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. That I was submitting to this foul act, but I was.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Yes, yes, work that tongue. That’s a good slut.”

My pussy clenched at his praise. This ... eagerness rose in me. This desire to earn his acceptance. To be his slut.

I wouldn’t do that. I had to fight this. I wasn’t a thing to be used. I wasn’t a slut. I was a virgin. I had never been with a guy. He had no right to call me that depraved and disgusting word. And yet I was sucking hard. I was nursing on him.

He groaned, his dick throbbing in my mouth. I was ... pleasuring him. More drool ran down my chin. I quivered at that humiliating sensation. It worked down to my chin and fell off. I squeezed my eyes shut as he groaned his delight.

“Yes!” he growled. “Yes, yes, that’s good. That’s real good. Damn, I love that.”

I nursed on him. I suckled with such passion. I nursed on him with hunger. He groaned as I loved his cock like that. I bobbed my head, working my mouth up and down his shaft. He grunted, his dick twitching in my mouth.

“You are even moving on your own, little slut,” he groaned.

God, I was. I was sliding my lips up and down his cock. My tongue caressed him. My pussy clenched. I itched so much to touch it. But I wouldn’t. My boobs jiggled and bounced. They slapped together from the force of my bobbing head.

He grunted each time I suckled. His head threw back. I was making him feel good. I couldn’t stop myself from acting like a slut. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t me? I didn’t believe in this. I had to resist the patriarchy.

But his cock ... his precum ... tasted good.

No, no, no! I couldn’t internalize this misogyny. I couldn’t. No matter how wet it made me.

A bead of pussy cream dribbled down my thighs as he grunted. The salty flavor of his precum grew. He shifted his hand, grabbing the top of my head. He held a fistful of my hair then ripped his cock out of my mouth.

“Fuck!” he gasped as he fisted his dick with his other hand. “Yes!”

“What?” I gasped in confusion. “Why are—”

His cock erupted.

Hot cum sprayed across my face. I gasped in shock as the jizz splashed on my features. It spilled over me, running hot. I trembled in shock. In horror that he could do something so despicable. He showered my face in his spunk.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he groaned, his dick spurting again and again. “That’s it! Yes, yes, little slut!”