Ce Hoe

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" The Brick-House, Kamille asked, barging into Mercedes Moné's private dressing room. The CEO, reigning TBS AND NJPW Strong Women's Champion was packing her things into a suitcase, rather frantically. Still in her gear, wearing the signs of the match she'd just finished wrestling against Hikaru Shida; obviously a victory for the highest-paid woman in wrestling and a double-champion carrying two major titles.

"I'm leaving, obviously," Mercedes answered, turning around to meet the imposing Kamille, face to face. For all of her ego and arrogance, it wasn't easy to be "The CEO" in the presence of The Brick-House, but Mercedes did her best.

"Leaving already?" Kamille asked, crossing her arms. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Nope," Mercedes immediately replied, something Kamille didn't take too kindly too, delivering a stern warning with her facial expression alone, forcing The CEO to backtrack. "Look, not now, okay? Maybe tomorrow. I've got some CEO business to attend to."

"Not now? CEO bullshit?" Kamille parroted as she drew in closer. "You don't get a say, whore. Or did you forget about our agreement?"

"I DIDN'T-" Mercedes instinctively raised her voice, that ego of her's getting in her way as per usual but, luckily, she was able to correct her behavior. "I didn't forget, okay? I'm just...can it be...not so often?"

Kamille was hardly even listening to Mercedes' pathetic request. Instead, She continued to stalk The Blueprint, repeating, "YOU don't get a say. WE made a deal. 'Not so often' doesn't satisfy me, Moné. I don't care how much you fucking pay me."

"Look, I know we made a deal, Ka..." Mercedes stopped and, quite pathetically...corrected herself. "...Mistress Kamille. But, please? Another time? I wanna stay strong for tomorrow night." Mercedes turned around and continued packing; it was obvious she was pretty set in her ways but...that agreement? The promises she made for Kamille? Mercedes had contractual obligations to meet, and Kamille wasn't going to let up until Moné understood that meeting her end of the deal was necessary.

"What's tomorrow night?" Kamille asked sternly.

"Well...this is really funny, you're gonna like this," Mercedes awkwardly assured as Kamille listened on, unenthused. "You know how Deonna and Bitch Baker got into that little spat and bet their asses on tonight's match? Well, Deonna offered me to come watch her fuck Baker's ass and...help her top Thunder Rosa?"

The room fell silent for several moments, Mercedes' awkwardness only growing as the intensity of the silence did until finally, The Brick-House broke it with a simple, one word question. "Topping?"

"Y-Yeah...Thunder handed her ass over and...and she's basically free-use so Deonna and I-"

"NO!" Kamille barked, interrupting Mercedes.

"No, what?"

"No topping!" Kamille reassured. "I told you already, I don't want you topping anyone, and getting ideas above your station."

"Wha...what?" Mercedes asked, puzzled. "You...you were being serious about that?"

"Do I look like I fucking kid around a lot?" Kamille replied, of course, looking tougher than a two-dollar steak, as Good Ol' JR would put it.

"No but, c'mon Ka-umm, Mistress Kamille," Mercedes corrected again. "No topping? Just because I'm paying you to....to..." The Blueprint struggled to spit out her admission. Coming to terms with what she "truly was" hadn't been easy since leaving WWE, especially since Mercedes' main reason for leaving the Fed was, quite simply, the desire to establish herself as full-fledged super top. An alpha female, like her world-class wrestling abilities have always suggested she could be despite a decade of switching at best and, at worst, total bottoming.

"Spit it out, bitch. That's an order," Kamille demanded, and, as intense as physically possible, stared a hole through the double-champ. She wanted the verbal confession. The Brick-House demanded to hear how Mercedes Moné, one of the very best in the world, had failed to accomplish her worldwide wrestling conquest. How Mercedes was now paying Kamille to be her "business partner". "FUCKING SAY IT, SLUT!"

"God..." Mercedes lowered her head in shame. Quite pathetically, she felt her asshole clench down the 6 inch buttplug with Kamille's initials carved into it currently residing inside of it from the jacked Amazoness yelling at her. "I'm...I'm paying you to fuck my ass and be my top!"

"That's right, bitch, and it seems to me that a week into this little deal of ours, you've already forgotten that."

"But..." Mercedes picked her head back up. "I'm also paying you to help me look good on TV and in front of the other girls. This partnership can't SERIOUSLY just be you fucking my ass and having all the power! I'm The C! E! O! I'm not gonna ask you every fucking time I wanna top someone. It's just not what bosses and businesswomen do." Classic Mercedes, hyping herself up helped bring back some of that trademark confidence. But, Kamille much preferred her confidence-less, and while talking wasn't exactly The Brick-House's strong suit, even she could score the open goal that Moné was giving her.

"Remind me, bitch-"

"No! I'm not reliving that fucking shit again!" Mercedes protested, already knowing EXACTLY where Kamille was going.

"Don't interrupt me, whore! Got it?" Mercedes shut back up real quick. "Okay...so remind me...what were you doing before I saved you? Please, regale me with that story."

"I'm NOT saying it!" Mercedes protested some more.

"DO IT! Tell me where you were when I found you! Or I leave your precious fucking private dressing room and tell the WHOLE locker room! I don't need your money or your ass, whore, so make your choice!" Kamille reminded.

Mercedes whined and stomped her foot in frustration, not just because what was about to come out of her mouth was, quite possibly, the most pathetic admission of her life, but also because Kamille was dead right. The former NWA Women's Champion didn't need Mercedes' ass; she could easily find and fuck any of the many bottoms plaguing All-Elite Wagons. A portion of Moné's millions was nice as well but, Kamille was sitting on a very pretty and fresh AEW contract, so she wasn't exactly hurting for cheddar. Mercedes had no choice but to spill the beans.

"God, this is so embarrassing. I was paying bottoms to fuck my ass! Fuck, it hurts just saying that shit! Are you happy now? Happy to hear me talk about a bunch of old bullshit?" Mercedes whined.

"Be specific," Kamille sternly ordered. "Who fucked you? Who'd you pay to fuck you REGULARLY the MOMENT you got to AEW?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and admitted, "Skye Blue...and Anna Jay. You're so cruel."

"Right. You were paying a couple of jobber bottoms to pound your fat ass because you knew for enough money, they'd keep quiet, especially since those fucking blatant losers won't ever want to top anyone on their own accord anyway. They'll keep quiet about what a fucking pathetic little bottoming bitch you are."

"That still doesn't mean you can just order me around all the time. I'm not your bitch in public. We agreed," Mercedes argued. "I'm gonna top Thunder tomorrow. And that's the last I'm gonna say on the subject."

Kamille's jaw dropped. In an instant, she got close to Mercedes. Really close, right in her face, before continuing. "Ungrateful bitch! I saved you. I fuck your ass and control you, but it MEANS something to bottom to me. Is that fucking clear? You regain self-respect with me because before me, you were THE most pathetic bitch in all of wrestling, living a worthless lie. Fucked out of the WWE, getting gangbanged by cutesy idols on your way out of Japan, and now here, paying some losers to rail you in private because you can't come to terms with the fact that you're MEANT to be a bitch! Is that resonating with you, Mercedes?"

Moné was a puddle before The Brick-House...mostly. In true "CEO" fashion, a small part of ego remained, enough to make another bold statement. "I...I still don't see why I can't top Thunder with Deonna."

"A bunch of reasons," Kamille vaguely assured.

"Like?" Mercedes, perhaps far too sassily for her own good, asked.

"Well for starters, I'll bet you're expecting to remove that plug from your ass, right? So you can pretend like you're not my bitch?"

"Well...y-yeah."

"Oh yeah, that's obviously a problem for me. And, there's the prospect of sticking a whore like you in the middle of all of those cocks, right? What's stopping you from bending over for someone else?"

"I'm not gonna do that," Mercedes assured before attempting to explain again, "Look, Ka-erm, Mistress Kamille...the reality is, you're gonna have to let me top at some point. Otherwise everyone's gonna start to know that something's up."

"So?" Kamille asked. "Why the fuck should I care if your rep gets ruined. It's your rep, not mine. So long as someone isn't trying to steal my property, I don't care what happens to you."

"That's...fuck, that's a good point. Please, just let me top tomorrow night? Pretty please? With, like, all of the sugar on top? C'mon, we already talked and we're gonna DOUBLE-BUM that Thunder Whore's fat Mexican booty! That BARELY ever happens here! C'mon, please?" Mercedes begged and begged, but it didn't look like Kamille was budging in the slightest. Until....

"You want to top, bitch?" Kamille asked.

"Umm, yeah? Duh, that's what I've been asking for!" Mercedes piped up, obviously stepping out of line but emotions were running high, slipping in a, "I shouldn't even have to ask", underneath her breath afterward.

"What was that?" Kamille asked angrily.

"Umm, nothing! So, can I? Please? C'mon, it's just one little topping session, and then..." Mercedes struggled with the next part, especially because in truth, she still felt this partnership was to HER benefit. That deep down, she was playing the long game with Kamille, building up The Brick-House as a monster to slay and solidify herself as a top once and for all. "And then, my ass is all yours! I promise."

"I'll repeat: you wanna top? Fine!" Kamille agreed and immediately, Mercedes jumped into the air with excitement.

"Yay! Thanks, Ka-Mistress Kamille! You're the best!" Mercedes clapped and cheered, and turned around to grab her belts and suitcases. What she wasn't ready for, of course was what came next. Kamille's huge, strong hand, slamming onto her gear covered ass cheek and holding there, gripping tightly. Mercedes dropped her belts back onto the table in an instant, frozen by Mistress Kamille's touch.

"Oh, don't get too excited, Moné...or maybe you can...God knows how much you love whoring out your pathetic little fucking asshole. But...I said you can top. I didn't say you could leave."

"I...I told you I need to stay strong! I don't want to bottom before I top...please," Mercedes begged.

"I don't give a fuck what you want! I want this CEO booty and if you want to top tomorrow night, you're gonna do EVERYTHING I say, got it?"

Mercedes attempted to argue, "Can't we just please-"

"No! Do you want to top or not?"

Pathetically, Mercedes nodded weakly, and Kamille rewarded her bitch with another harsh smack that had The CEO squealing. "Good. So, remind me, Mercedes...what am I going to do? Tell me. I wanna hear it." Another smack; even though Mercedes was still wearing her gear, the reverberations were brutal. Kamille was definitely in a league of her own. A true top in All Elite Wagons.

"You're-Owww, fuck!" Before Mercedes could get going, Kamille spanked her even harder, as if owning The CEO even more was necessary. "Stoppp, I'm saying it, I'm saying it-OWWWW!!!" Mercedes earned another spank for her deeds, but afterward, Kamille kept her hand idle, still squeezing Mercedes juicy butt cheeks, but not spanking them, to allow the bitch to speak.

Wincing and whimpering, The CEO admitted, "You're gonna fuck my ass...oh God, you're gonna fuck my fat fucking ass again before I top ANYONE."

"You're goddamn right I am," Kamille lustfully assured, looking hungrier and hungrier for a piece of jiggly caramel cake by the second. She leaned in, her face pressed against Mercedes', her hand gripping that booty tighter than ever. "This ass is so good, and I'm gonna make sure you know exactly who you fucking belong to before you even THINKING about playing dress-up with whatever little strap-on cock you plan on wrapping around that slim waist."

Suddenly, the facade of Mercedes Moné, The CEO, The Blueprint, The Standard, The Conversation, The Money Maker, and the dual TBS and NJPW Strong Women's Champions, faded away. Her asshole was clamping down on her plug like crazy. Amazingly, she couldn't think about topping at all. Her primal instincts to bottom, and bottom hard, kicked into high gear, just as they always did when a superior woman threatened to manhandle her. Just like that, Mercedes was oh-so ready to prove exactly who she belonged to.

"You ready, Moné? Ready to be my little CE-Hoe again?" Kamille asked, firing off another round of snacks before squeezing those cheeks again, forcing the most pathetic of moans from the former "Boss's" mouth.

Mercedes nodded weakly and whimpered, "Yes, Mistress Kamille."

"Good," Kamille assured, grabbing tightly on Mercedes brightly-colored hair and using it to direct the double-champ, turning her around before pushing her forward and ordering, "Now bend the fuck over and show me who you belong to, whore!"

Mercedes knew how pathetic it was, how sad it was. How sad her old bottom and bestie Bayley would be if she ever found out about this little situation. But she couldn't help it; she was in too deep now. Mercedes dropped to her knees in the middle of her carpeted dressing room, pressing her face to the floor as she raised her ass up and reached back. Her target? The waistband of her gear bottoms, pulled all the way down in tandem with her paper-thin thong to reveal her butthole, properly plugged and owned. Though, all wasn't as perfect as it seemed.

The plug, a simple one that Kamille had pre-made in bulk for her arrival in AEW, wasn't special outside of the big "K" engraved into the base. The proof of her ownership of, regardless of how truly pathetic, one of the greatest wrestlers of all-time. A sight that put a sly smile on The Brick-House's face. "Yeahhhh, that's what I want to see," Kamille gleamed, taking her place behind Mercedes.

Almost immediately, Kamille took the base into her fingertips, turning the plug inside of Mercedes' asshole and making The CEO squeal pathetically. Not because it was painful, no. Not an ounce of pain was felt. Rather, it was pure pleasure. No smug attitude, no "CEO" bullshit. Just Mercedes being a massive closeted butt bitch, submitting to a superior woman's will. Kamille could've kept churning that plug inside of her forever, which she did for while until she started fucking that loose caboose with the 6-inch toy, teasing it in and out. But, eventually, she wanted a taste of that esteemed hole and really, there was only one way to get it.

So out the buttplug came completely and, as it did, Kamille's expression soured. "What the fuck is this? The 6-incher?!" She yelled. "The smallest fucking plug I gave you?! What do you have to say for yourself?!" Kamille spanked her again in frustration as Mercedes scrambled to explain.

"I'm sorry, but this is a misunderstanding, I swear!" Mercedes professed, only earning herself even more spanks, each of which was as brutal as the last which, if she hoped to top tomorrow night, she'd be taking a nice, long ice bath and rubbing lots of lotion onto her ass to wash away the evidence of. Over and over again, making it hard to even think much less explain herself.

"I don't want excuses, slut! I told you, when you're out in public, it's 9 inches or bigger up your ass! This little shit is to keep you plugged for matches only, so you can still move around well enough to win!"

"OWWWW-But I wrestled tonight!" Mercedes argued, fighting through the pain of Kamille's endless spanks.

"And this little fucking thing should've been replaced immediately after, not stuck inside of your ass, thinking you could get away with disobeying even more direct orders! Pathetic! And yet, you want me to let you top? Please, gimme a break."

"I'm so sorry, Mistress Kamille! Really, I am!" Mercedes winced and squealed in pain, barely even managing to get out her apology.

"Yeah, yeah, just shut it. I'm fucking really pissed now. You'll be lucky if you ever get to top again!"

"No, please, I swear I didn't know I had to switch them as soon as the match ended!" Mercedes protested. "Please let me top again! I swear, I'll be good from now on, okay? I just...I have to top! If I don't, I'll-"

"Just be my worthless little bottom?" Kamille interrupted and, unsurprisingly, Mercedes stayed silent. "No more infractions, whore. Your little pushback earlier and now this? That's two fucking strikes. 3 strikes and you're out...literally. I'm telling everyone about the REAL you. Got it?"

"Ahh...yes, Ka-I mean, Mistress Kamille!" Mercedes admitted, the little slip up that she'd managed to get right prior earning The CEO smack to her ass, her caramel skin already dark red from the aftermath of the previous attacks. She yelped but, ultimately, took it like a good girl as Kamille continued.

"Good. And by the way? For this little fuck up? You'll be wrestling in the 9-incher from now on. Good luck, CE-Hoe."

"No, please!" Mercedes begged. "I...I can't wrestle in a 9-inch buttplug! I can't! It'll mess up my performance or...God, even worse, all the moving around and bumping will make me cum in the ring!"

"And I should care...why, exactly?" Kamille asked with genuine interest.

"I mean...yeah, you shouldn't but...oh c'mon, just show mercy!" Mercedes pleaded. "It was an honest mistake."

"Tell it someone who gives a fuck, bitch. 9-inches of more. NO! LESS! And I'll know you're not wearing it if the match is especially good, so don't even fucking try any sneaky shit. Is that understood?!"

"Yes...Mistress Kamille," Mercedes conceded sadly, kissing her hopes of stealing the show at All In: London goodbye.

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Now, suck on this that'll NEVER be in your ass again while I get my strap," Kamille ordered, reaching around and bringing the plug up to Mercedes' lips. Moné hesitated briefly but...the smell of her butthole wafting into her nostrils, and Kamille's stern gaze, was too much to fight against. She opened her mouth pathetically and The Brick-House popped the shit-pipe plug inside.

From there, Kamille stood up and headed over to where Mercedes' things were. She rifled through; only a few strap-ons, neither of which were especially big by her standards. What looked to be a 12-incher and a 10-incher, along with one ready-to-fit universal harness. Kamille grabbed both dildos as well as the harness and returned to her knees behind the dual-TBS and NJPW Strong Women's Champions.

Kamille strapped the harness to her waist and attached the 12-incher, setting the 10-incher aside; she had a plan for it a little later. But before any ass fuckery, and while Mercedes was still suckling on her buttplug like a little bitch, Kamille dove in tongue first for a taste of that money-making tushy. Mercedes moaned around her plug the very second Kamille's tongue started wiggling around inside of her backdoor; her ass was loose, so no foreplay or build-up was necessary.

Kamille put her tongue to work, lapping away tirelessly as Mercedes moaned and groaned, loving both the attention her ass was getting as well as the taste filling her mouth. Sadly, the plug was running dry of her delicious flavor but, nevertheless, Kamille munching her butt like a hungry wolf going to town on a piece of raw meat was plenty enough to keep The CEO satisfied. Especially with the prospect of topping Thunder Rosa's huge culo on the horizon. Yes, the chance to feel confident and strong like a real top once again! Standing side-by-side with Deonna, someone who commanded respect unlike the rest of the women in All-Elite Wagons. Yes...Mercedes could feel it.