How I Seduced Stephanie Mcmahon

My name is Johnny Willis. You might remember me as Banjo, Tad's annoying but loveable best friend on the short-lived but immensely popular 90s dramady

Just the Three of Us

. I have had bit roles in movies, on TV, and even in commercials since then, but I never made it back to prime time television as an actor. I went to college and majored in English on a Creative Writing track while taking Cinema classes as well. I hoped to return to Hollywood as a writer or director, if nothing else. I got a few gigs, but nothing that lasted very long.

I saw an ad from World Wrestling Entertainment scouting writers. I was an avid fan, and I thought the women were really hot, but there were none hotter, in my opinion, than Stephanie McMahon. I kidded myself that if I could land a job with WWE, then maybe my dream of making love to her could come true. Realistically, I wasn't too hopeful, but if I played things just right, who was to say I wouldn't?

I received a call for an interview, and lucky for me the guy conducting it not only remembered the show, but he was a huge Banjo fan. He hired me on the spot. He told me that I would be working on Monday Night Raw, then took me to meet the other writers. They were all too young to know who I was, which was great, as far as I was concerned, as I was counting on a certain amount of anonymity for my plan to be with Stephanie to reach fruition.

As part of the job, I had to travel wherever Raw was being taped. This was great as it allowed me to travel to parts of the country I had never before been. It wasn't until my third week as an employee that the opportunity to meet Stephanie presented itself. She walked into the designated writer's lounge and greeted everyone. "I hear we have someone new on our staff. Where is he?"

Just as she had entered, I surreptitiously made my way to the door. By the time she was asking about me, I was walking out it. I heard one of the other writers say, "That was him. Johnny Willis." I continued down one hall, then another, and slowly made my way back to the lounge, where Willie Cruddup, the guy who had told Stephanie my name, said, "Steph really wanted to meet you."

"Yeah, restroom," I responded, then took my seat as we continued to bounce ideas off one another. I saw her late into the show, but ducked out of sight before she saw me.

The following week, Walter Vistle—another writer—and I were walking down the hallway of the Staples center in Los Angeles when he said, "Oh, there's Stephanie. Have you met her yet?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, now's the perfect time," he said, and called out to her. As she approached, he said, "Stephanie, this is Johnny—" but then he began to look around. "Where the hell did he go?"

I had ducked behind some large transport crates.

"Is this the same guy I was supposed to meet last week?" Stephanie asked.

"Yeah. I don't know what could have happened to him."

"Well, let me know when you find him," she instructed. "I'd like to hear some of his ideas for the next round of storylines."

She walked away, and I waited fifteen seconds before making my way back to Walter.

"Where did you go?"

"Someone called me. Didn't you hear?"

"No. Who was it?"

"Jason Jordan. He was wondering when the storyline involving Kurt's disdain toward him would come to a head."

"What did you tell him?"

"More than likely around the Royal Rumble, thus setting up a match at WrestleMania."

"Yeah, but this is how we need to handle that," Walter said as we began walking through the backstage area once more. I listened to him, but more importantly, I had successfully avoided Stephanie the remainder of the evening.

The following week, I was drinking a cup of coffee while talking to Sheamus and Cesaro about their upcoming match against The Shield when Stephanie popped up out of nowhere. When I saw her, I immediately cast my eyes to the floor.

"Are you Johnny Willis?" she asked me.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, never looking at her. Sheamus and Cesaro said they would talk to me later, then departed.

"I have been trying to meet you for three weeks now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you going to look at me when I speak to you?"

"No, ma'am."

"No—What do you mean, no?" Just then her phone rang. She slightly turned as she answered it. I got the hell away from her as quickly as I could. As I rounded a corner, I heard her say, "Where the hell is Johnny Willis?"

It was all I could do to remain hidden from her sight the remainder of the evening, but I was successful. I left as quickly as possible, catching a ride with a couple of undercard talent.

At the following week's RAW taping, as I entered the United Center in Chicago, two security officers quickly met me and escorted me to a room, completely ignoring my questions of "What?" and "Why?" They closed the door behind me, and when I opened it, I saw the pair standing guard. I closed it and sat on a chair. A few minutes later, the door opened, and someone said to the guards, "You can leave now." Stephanie McMahon walked in and stopped barely a foot in front of me. When I saw her enter, I immediately cast my eyes to the floor.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" I said nothing. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why do you keep disrespecting me?"

"It's not disrespect, ma'am."

"You are disrespecting me right now. Look at me when I talk to you."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't."

"

Can't

, or

won't

?"

"Ma'am, please. I ... I simply can't."

"I'm going to make this real easy for you, then: You either look at me, or you're fired."

"I understand, ma'am. I will vacate the premises at once."

"What did you just say?" I remained silent. "Are you telling me that you are willing to lose your job because you cannot do something as simple as look at me?"

"Ma'am, it's not that I

will

not, but I

can

not. You believe this to be a simple matter, but it transcends simplicity. I simply cannot look upon your face."

"Why?"

"I'm not worthy, ma'am."

She laughed. "Is this some kind of joke? People look at me every day. No one seems to have a problem with it but you."

"That is because they do not hold you in the same reverence as I, ma'am."

"Are you saying that all these other people just tolerate me?"

"Quite the contrary, ma'am. I know some respect you, and I know some love you, but none revere you the way I do."

"This is ridiculous. I want you to look at me right now."

"Ma'am, I cannot do that."

"I said look at me! Right now!" she screamed.

One thing I was known for in Hollywood was my ability to cry on cue, whether it called for light weeping, or great, body-wracking sobs. The cue was given. Aaaaaaaaaaaand ... Action! "M-M-Ma'am." I started with the weep. I would build to the sobbing in a few minutes. "Ma'am, please do not ask this of me."

"Are you crying? Really? Just look at me."

"Ma'am. Please. I simply cannot do that."

"Johnny, if you don't look at me this very instant, I'm going to—"

"Don't you fucking understand?" I shouted at her. "I can't. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I would not

dare

mar your eyes with an image of me. It's one thing to watch you on television, but I cannot look at you in person, ma'am. Please, don't ask me to."

I was crying harder, but I hadn't yet let myself completely go.

She just stood there looking at me. "It's okay to look at me. Really." She placed an index finger under my chin.

I increased my level of anguish. "Ma'am. Please. No." She gently pushed upward with her index finger. I allowed her to raise my head. When my eyes met hers, I began boo-hoo crying like a baby. Tears were streaming down my face, snot was running out of my nose, and slobber was issuing forth from my mouth. "No. No," I repeated over and over again. I swear, if someone from the Academy had seen this performance, I would have been a shoe-in for an Oscar.

She removed her finger from under my chin, and I immediately allowed my head to fall downward, casting my eyes back onto the floor. I continued to cry as she took me to her bosom, her soft breasts felt warm against my watery cheeks. "Shhhh, Shhhh. It's okay, Johnny. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Here I am the leader of the biggest anti-bullying campaign in the country, and I just bullied you into doing something you didn't want. Can you forgive me?"

I lightly nodded my head. Damn, her tits felt nice.

She let go of me and reached into her purse as she said, "I want you to do something. This is the key to my room at the Ritz-Carlton. It's a penthouse suite." She passed it to me, and with a trembling hand I accepted it even as I continued to sniffle. "I'm giving you the night off, Johnny. Go to the suite and wait for me. I'll be along shortly. We'll continue this conversation then."

"Y-Y-Yes, ma'am," and I did. While waiting for her, I looked through her suitcase and marveled at her lingerie. I could only imagine what she must look like in it, and only hoped that my presence meant that I was one step closer to finding out.

She arrived a little after ten. I was watching RAW while sipping a glass of wine. When she entered, my head and eyes went straight to the lushly carpeted floor.

"Johnny, are you better now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want to apologize again for earlier."

"No, ma'am. It was my fault. Please. Please forgive me."

"How was it your fault, Johnny?"

"Because I dared to even get a job here knowing that one day you would feel I had disrespected you, ma'am. I can never apologize enough for putting you through such turmoil."

"Johnny ... No. You can't turn this around on yourself. It was my fault for bullying you."

"No, ma'am. Don't even suggest such a thing." I began weeping again. "You are so perfect, so beautifully perfect. I would never hold you at fault for my shortcomings."

"Johnny, please. Let's be reasonable here."

"Ma'am, I am nothing more than waste you would scrape off the bottom of your shoe. To even be sitting in the same room with you is more than I could have ever hoped to achieve in my life. Please, do not tarnish your clean spirit by suggesting that I am worthy to be in your presence at all."

"Johnny ...? Oh, my God. Why would you think so little of yourself?"

"Is it that I think so little of myself, ma'am, or that I revere you so greatly?"

"Why, Johnny? Why do you revere me so?"

"You must not ask me to answer that, ma'am."

"Please, Johnny. How am I to understand if you don't tell me?"

"Ma'am, I am a jester, a fool. Please, just banish me and live your life as the fairy tale it should be."

"Johnny? Do you

love

me?"

"To even speak such words would be reason enough for my death, ma'am."

"Why would you say such a thing?"

I didn't answer her.

After some silence, she asked, "Are you

in

love with me?"

"To state as much would be to do such a disservice to the notion of love itself, ma'am."

She shook her head, though I didn't know if it was due to incredulity or aggravation. "Can you tell me

anything

to help me understand your feelings for me?"

"I revere—"

"Yes-yes, you revere me. What, exactly, does that mean?"

"Fire me now, ma'am, for once you hear my words, you will want me out of your life forever."

"Allow me to judge that, Johnny. Now, please. Just ... talk to me."

"What I hold for you in my heart ..." I began to cry again.

"Shhhh. It's okay, Johnny. Take your time."

I took about fifteen seconds to compose myself, and then, "You are a goddess. I would willfully worship at your feet. There is no task you could set me to that I would cower from. You are so perfect in every way imaginable. I ... I would give my life for you."

A sharp inhalation, then a whispered, "Oh, my God. Johnny, do you really feel that way about me?"

"It pains me to know that even being your obedient servant is not good enough for you." I began crying yet again.

She stood, came to me, and cradled my head to her side. "I have never had anyone tell me the things you are saying to me, Johnny. How do I become something like this to you?"

"You just are, ma'am." I fell to my knees, hugged her legs, and cried.

"Wow," she whispered to the room. Then, "Johnny, I want you to go in the bathroom and compose yourself. Can you do that, please?"

I nodded my head, stood, and went.

When I returned, though my eyes were cast to the floor, I found her sitting at the head of her bed. She told me to sit at the foot. I did. "Johnny, I love my family very much. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I love my children, and I love my husband dearly. I would never want them anyplace but where they are now in my life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I love my husband, Johnny, and that will never change."

"Yes, ma'am."

"All that being said, I have never met anyone like you, Johnny. I have never known anyone who so self-deprecatingly lives to serve another human being, who holds another in such high esteem and reverence. I simply don't know what to make of it."

"I apologize for bringing confusion into your life, ma'am."

"Johnny ... Please. Don't."

"There is but one place I belong, ma'am," I said as I slid off the bed. I crawled to her, then kissed her stockinged feet. "Command me, ma'am. Command me to stay, or command me to go, but command me just the same."

She placed her palms on either temple and said, "Oh, my God. What am I going to do with you?"

"I beg you tell me to take my leave, ma'am. Please. The torture I would face no longer in your presence is as nothing compared to that which binds me even now." I placed my forehead upon her feet as I awaited her instruction.

"Yes. Perhaps it is best for us both. Return to your room, Johnny. I'll speak with you tomorrow." As I walked to the door, she asked, "Which room are you in?"

"I am staying at the Motor Court Inn, ma'am. It is far more humble than your accommodations, but it serves my purposes well enough."

"I won't hear of it," she said. "Retrieve your belongings and return here. You can use the second bedroom."

"Ma'am?"

"You say I am your goddess?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You say you will do as I bid?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then do as I bid."

"Yes, ma'am." I went back to my room, collected my things, and returned to Stephanie's room. I knocked, and she answered wearing a black satin nighty gown robe that just barely concealed her crotch.

"Come, let me show you to your room." As she turned, I saw that it could not contain her voluptuous ass, the same ass that even now had a black thong attached to it. Upon reaching the room she had designated as mine, she said, "You recall our conversation earlier?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You know how I feel about my family."

"Yes, ma'am."

She stared at me for all of a minute, then untied and removed her robe. She was wearing matching black bra and thong, and on the bra, where the nipples would be, were little Batman emblems, and on the thong, about where the clit would be, was another. I stared, taking in all her glory. She was, without a doubt, perfect.

She grabbed the bra in the front where the cups were connected, then pulled and twisted a clasp, and it opened. She removed the bra, freeing her breasts and revealing to me the most beautiful breasts I had ever seen. Her areola, her nipples, everything about them. I began to cry, only this time it wasn't an act, but something borne of pure joy.

She sat at the head of the bed, then told me to lie down and lay my head in the crook of her left arm. I did. She then placed her left nipple in my mouth and whispered, "Suck it softly, Johnny. Just take your time with it." She then cradled my head and pulled me closer to her bosom as she began to slowly rock me back and forth.

"It's okay to look at me," she told me, and when I did not immediately comply, she placed an index finger under my chin and lifted my face. I was legitimately crying even harder, for I never thought I would be doing this with the woman I had wanted to make love to for over ten years now. She smiled at me, then removed her finger. I closed my eyes and continued to make love to that nipple with my mouth.

Somewhere along the way, she began to squirm. Just a little at first, but increasingly more so as time went on. Finally, a barely audible, "

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

," escaped her lips as she pulled me even closer to her. I saw her head rise up, and there was a smile on her lips. She continued to rock me as I sucked her nipple, and after a total of about thirty minutes, she told me that was enough.

I rolled off her, made my way to her feet, kissed them, and thanked her for sharing herself with me. She kissed my forehead and told me that she appreciated me. She appreciated me. I felt so special at that moment. As she made to slide off the bed, I noticed a wet spot between her legs. I said nothing.

I awoke the following morning to the sound of talking. I walked to the edge of the living room to find Stephanie wearing her Batman lingerie, pacing back and forth as she spoke on her phone. "I understand, but I think he would be better suited doing other things. What? No, I have no problems with him as a writer, but he has shown a skill set that is more compatible with my need for an assistant, and I really need one since Shelly went on maternity leave. Just reclassify him. Bye."

I smiled as I headed back to my room. I did my morning constitutionals, got dressed, then made my way to where she was. She unashamedly remained clothed as she was. "I ordered breakfast. I hope you don't mind fruit."

"No, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

"Think you can look at me today with crying?"

"No, ma'am."

She laughed. "You will one day. I have every confidence in that. Meanwhile, I had you reassigned as my personal assistant. What do you think of that?"

"I can only hope that I may live up to your expectations, ma'am."

"You are becoming very dear to me, Johnny. I have every confidence that you will exceed my expectations before long."

I sat and ate my breakfast, then asked what she needed of me in way of my assistance.

"I'll be sure to let you know," she responded, and after she finished her breakfast, she disappeared into her room. She emerged sometime later wearing a pin-striped pant suit befitting her status within the company.

We headed to Philadelphia to the Wells Fargo Center for last-minute prep going into the following Monday Night Raw. Once there, Stephanie secured us a penthouse suite at another Ritz-Carlton. We enjoyed an early dinner of lobster and shrimp with rice pilaf and broccoli, then made our way to the arena. My job this evening was to juggle her Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, Facebook, and YouTube accounts, making sure each received equal attention and promoted her itinerary for the night and the busy week to come.

We returned to the hotel where she thanked me fore my outstanding service this evening. She announced that she was going to get a shower, and suggested that I do the same. Once finished, I returned to the living room in my pajamas and sat at the right-most end of a luxurious sofa. One hour and fifteen minutes later, Stephanie entered. She was wearing a robe much like the one she had on last night, only this one was brilliantly white in color. I could tell immediately that she was not wearing a bra. As she walked past me, it was abundantly clear that she was wearing a white thong as well. Her ass cheeks never looked so beautiful. She sat at the left-most end, then faced me.