Money Mella Goes Hollywood Ch 02

This is a work of fiction. I do not own Ariana Grande, Carmella, or any other properties belonging to them or World Wrestling Entertainment.

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"Who is this? I'm busy!"

Not the nicest of greetings from WWE's Money Mistress, Carmella. Not that Mella, the moon walkin', trash-talkin' Princess of Staten Island has ever been nice to begin with. But, considering she's been expecting this call for quite some time, you'd think she'd get her manners in order. But of course, this wasn't just anybody calling Money Mella. On the other end of this conversation was the greatest, most-famous conquest of her entire topping career. Not just another pro wrestling co-worker, but a Grammy-winning worldwide pop sensation.

"Umm...it's me, duh? I'm sure you know that already! You put yourself in MY phone, so if you couldn't tell by the sound of my voice, then I'm sure you saved my number!" Ariana Grande, vocalist extraordinaire, barked in frustration. "Cut the shit already! I know you sent me straight to voicemail the last three times I called too!"

"First of all, I don't know who you are, but you better get your fuckin' tone in check right now!" Carmella barked back, frowning at the sight before her as she spoke to the "mysterious" person on the phone, multi-time women's world champion Sasha Banks riding her cock, only The Boss had stopped dead in her tracks.

"G-Good one...Mistress!" Sasha Banks laughed as she rode. "I'll bet h-her ego can't keep up...with you denying her...like that!"

"Shut up, bitch, I'm on the phone! And did I tell you to stop bouncing on my dick?! Huh?!" Carmella dismissed the purple-haired whore, slapping one of her fat, caramel ass cheeks before returning to her call as Sasha returned to her bottomly duties. "Listen, I think you got the wrong number."

"Wrong number...you put this number in my phone! This is Carmella, right?"

"Well, I AM Carmella, yes, but that still doesn't explain who you are, now does it?!"

Ariana groaned and announced, "Ugh, it's me! Ari!"

"Whom?" Mella asked, struggling to contain her laughter.

"Ariana? Ariana Grande? Quit fucking around already!"

"Nope, not ringing a bell. Sorry."

"You're kidding right?" Ari asked, beyond frustrated; to think, she hadn't even gotten to the humiliating reason why she was calling Carmella in the first place.

"I don't know, am I? The last time I checked, I've never met an 'Ariana Grande'. The name does sound a little familiar but...the girl I'm thinking of kinda underwent a name-change recently...didn't she?" Carmella suggested, leaving Ari silent on the other end and, thus, leading The Money Mistress to draw out the persona behind the superstar. "Look, like I said: I'm busy. Shit to do, butts to fuck. So, have a nice day, and-"

"Pop-Bitch!" Ari cried out, Carmella immediately grinning with delight. "It's...it's your Pop-Bitch!"

"OHHHH, Pop-Bitch! Well, why didn't you just say so?" Mella giggled sarcastically, Sasha dropping in another "Good one, Mistress" before remembering what happened the last time she spoke out of turn and, promptly, kept her mouth shut and focused on riding that huge cock.

"Listen," Ari began, cutting right to the chase. "This isn't easy to admit...God, I still can't believe I'm saying this but-"

"You want my cock again, don't 'cha?" Mella interrupted.

"Y-Yuh."

"Well, no surprise there, hehe...I tend to have that effect on women. Soooo...I guess that answers how my little butt-sex superstar has been, huh?" Carmella giggled, enamored both by Ari's admission as well as her Boss Bitch, happily grinding her fat ass up and down that massive rod.

"Yeah, I'm fine besides the..." besides the lack of cock in her ass, of course! But not just any cock, no, no, no! The "Side to Side" songstress needed Carmella's cock. Since that fateful night, Ariana had tried a number of ways to satiate her butthole's intense cravings. She wore her plug at all hours, of course, the last thing Carmella had left with, a stunning, custom-made 24-karat gold number. But naturally, it wasn't enough. Her fingers, the most-expensive toys money can buy and, even a few guys. Nothing could compare to her Money Mistress. "Look, how soon can you get here?"

"Get where?" Mella asked, naturally.

"Umm...Hollywood Hills?"

The conversation went silent, outside of Mella humming to herself, attempting to ponder the next time she'd be able to make it to Los Angeles. "Hollywood Hills, huh? Well...that's a bit out of my range at the moment. Let me check my schedule here...I think I can squeeze you in or, hehe, squeeze INTO your tight little ass...say...January?"

"J-January?" Ari asked, stunned.

"Yeah? Does that work for you? I know your schedule's kinda busy being a SUPER DUPER famous popstar and all!" Carmella asked in the most demeaning and sarcastic way possible.

"No...NO IT DOES NOT FUCKING WORK! That's like, FIVE months away!"

"It's..." Mella snickered. "It's two months away, you dumb bitch."

"Well whatever!" Ari snapped, but couldn't stop her face from blushing following the mix-up. "Same difference. It's too far!"

Mella sternly asked, "So?"

"So?! So, I...I..."

The conversation fell into another awkward silence, broken seconds later by Money Mella, who ordered, "Say it, Pop-Bitch."

"I need you to fuck my ass again!" Ari whined. "Like, right now! Not two months from now!"

"Well, tough shit," Carmella snapped back. "In case you forgot, I've got plenty of ass to fuck that I DON'T have to fly across the country to meet up with. You were a fun little experiment when YOU were HERE, but now, I don't really have any use for you, Pop-Bitch."

Ariana's heart dropped in an instant, a chill shooting up her spine as her dream of reliving the intense, mind-boggling pleasure she felt on that fateful night slipped away. Even if she still wasn't fully wrapping her mind around how Carmella could feel that way about HER ass.

"I'm not flying all the way out to California," Mella continued, "Here's a bright idea, genius. Why don't YOU come meet ME in Orlando? It's a whole lot easier for me to manage a meet-up in MY city."

"I...fuck, that's such a good idea but I can't," Ariana whined. "I'm stuck here doing promos for my new perfume and beauty products, in between fan meet and greets and big, public events! C'mon, can't you come here? Just for, like, one day?"

"Sorry, Pop-Bitch, but that's not how things work around here. If I start 'calling off', management is gonna lose faith in me. They'll stop giving me opportunities, which means less opportunity to fuck new asses. And sorry, hun, your ass is great but, a repeat performance isn't worth losing out on the chance to fuck somebody new."

If Ariana's heart could drop further, it would. Wearing what could only be described as a "boo-boo face", Ari listened to the rest of Carmella's decree. "Anyways, Pop-Bitch, like I said, I'll find some time for you eventually."

Already beyond desperate, Ariana asked, "Wh-What if I pay you?"

Mella simply laughed and responded, "I'm already rich, remember? If we're bartering now, you're gonna have to wager a whole lot more than moolah to get Money Mella's cock anytime soon."

Grande thought for a second, wondering what else she could offer...in-between stewing over the fact that her Money Mistress didn't immediately bend the knee and book a flight the second Ari asked her to. Seriously, what more could she possibly offer besides her ass? That butt? C'mon, there wasn't anything better than Ariana Grande's perfectly plump Italian cheeks. But, Carmella had already said it herself: Ari's butt wasn't new to her. Which, of course, eventually presented itself to Ariana in the form of an idea, a last-ditch effort to bring The Fabulous One to The City of Angels. Though, it was a bitter pill, one that she sat grumbling about for several seconds before eventually setting her ego aside and admitting defeat.

"What if...God, I can't believe I'm gonna say this but...what if I help you get a new bitch?" Ariana asked desperately.

"I'm listening."

"Well..." Ariana began to explain. "There's gonna be this big party in the Hills next Saturday. Gal Gadot is hosting it to celebrate the release of that new Justice League movie. Like, of course I was invited...duh? But, I can't make it anyway, and I probably wouldn't go regardless soooo..."

"So, you're offering me your invitation and, in turn, a chance to fuck Wonder Woman? I think I can get behind that, Pop-Bitch," Mella responded.

"Well, it's a PARTY. With lots of guests. I wasn't exactly suggesting you target Gal," Ari clarified and, immediately, could hear Mella scoff on the other end.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"From what I hear, she's kinda like you...rumor has it she likes to top other girls. You'd probably be best setting your sights on someone else...someone weaker," Ariana explained and again, she could hear Mella taking offense from the other side of the call.

"Wow...I can't believe you, Pop-Bitch...you have no faith in your Money Mistress!"

"It's not that, I swear! It's just-" Ari attempted to clarify but this time, Carmella cut her off.

"Save it, okay? I don't wanna hear it. You have no faith in me?! No faith that I can wreck that little Wonder Whore and show her what a real top looks like? That's fine. I'll remember that the NEXT time you come crawling back, looking for someone to destroy your little asshole!"

"I'm sorry!" Ari pleaded, ego aside as she desperately tried to preserve her chances of anal annihilation. "I DO believe in you, I swear! I just thought you might be looking for someone else? Or someone easier? That's all!"

"A message from your God and Money Mistress, Pop-Bitch: go big or go fuckin' home! Wonder Whore is the host, so Wonder Whore is my target. Capiché?"

"Y-Yuh," Ari answered back.

"Okay, good. Now that we got that out of the way...I think I'll take you up on that offer."

"Really?"

"Sure. I've always wanted to fuck Wonder Woman...and admittedly, I didn't really get my fill of your perfect little ass anyway. Now, what do you say, bitch?"

Ari sat silent for a moment; having technically gotten what she wanted, her ego jumped back in. Luckily, Carmella clearing her throat on the other end forced her back into "Pop-Bitch mode". "Umm...t-thank you, my Money Mistress."

"Needs work," Carmella assured. "But it'll do for now. I'll send you my address as soon as I let you go, and then I'll book a fli-"

"Hold on," Ariana interrupted. "What do you mean, 'you'll send me your address'. What happened to YOU coming to L.A. in exchange for the invitation?"

"I never said I was coming to Cali, just that I'd be happy to fuck you and take your invitation to that wrap party," Carmella clarified. "Either way, if YOU want fucked, you're coming to Orlando. Capiché?"

"But-"

Carmella interrupted and barked, "I said: Capiché, bitch!"

"Okay, okay, capiché," Ariana groaned. "It's not fair, like, AT ALL, since you're already gonna be in L.A. for the party but, whatever. I'll blow off a couple of events...I don't want too...my public imagine has taken enough hits but...I'm not gonna miss this opportunity for you to fuck my ass. I'll text Jen and tell her to cancel the fan meet and greets I have scheduled...fuck them kids. That should give me a few days off."

"Tell her I said: What's up? You know, while you're at it," Mella joked; much like with Ari, Mella hadn't been in contact with Ari's agent Jen since before the first meeting but, nevertheless, enjoyed her time with that professional piece of ass all the while. "But in all seriousness, think about it like this, Pop-Bitch: you said the party's not for a couple weeks, right? This way, I get to fuck your perfect lil' booty a whole lot sooner...don't I?"

That thought quickly turned Ariana's frown upside down. "I guess you're right," she agreed with a slight giggle.

"Of course I am! So, it's settled then? You'll catch a flight and meet me at my place sometime tomorrow evening?"

"Sounds good. Though..." Ariana tisked. "Don't bother booking that flight. Sorry, but...ew. Goddess Grande doesn't fly commercial. Like, ever. With the unwashed, poor, ugly masses? No way. I'll arrange something private."

Mella rolled her eyes and sighed, realizing that despite how desperate Ariana truly was, she was still going to have her work cut out for her. "Whatever, that's fine. More money in my pocket, and you'll probably get here sooner."

"Okay...is there, like, anything else I should do? I'm still not used to all this 'sub/dom' shit, you know?"

"Just keep your eyes open," Mella suggested. "I think I'm gonna overnight something for you to wear...something I'm already picturing ripping off your hot, tight little body."

"O-Okay, will do," Ariana squeaked out, the mere mention of Carmella tearing off her clothes heating her body up. Though truthfully, she wasn't sure she was willing to wear anything Carmella could possibly send her. At least, not if it didn't cost a fortune in the first place.

"Great. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's another needy bitch right here desperate for my attention. See you tomorrow, Pop-Bitch!" And with that, Carmella abruptly ended the call to focus on The Boss, Sasha Banks, leaving Ariana to lay in her bed and wait for their date, her mind racing and her asshole aching around the buttplug Mella had given her, dreaming of potential scenarios she planned to share with her Money Mistress.

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The Next Day...

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Ariana arranging the transportation herself, unsurprisingly, paid dividends almost immediately. Sure, it might've cost her an arm and a leg, but luckily she had 100 million arms and legs just lying around. And, for the normal, everyday flier, even getting access to a private jet would be hell, much less paying for it. But when you're Ariana Grande, popstar extraordinaire, whose black card is her business card, you can quite easily pull some strings. Unfortunately for the unwashed masses, there's only one Goddess Grande, and unlike them, she refused to live and exist in anything but luxury, especially on her way to the ass-fucking of a liftetime.

Hell, if it was up to Ari, she'd simply poof herself in front of Mella's front door out of sheer desperation. But, not even her exorbitant wealth could make that happen so...private jet it was which, luckily, got her from the Hollywood Hills to Orlando, Florida much faster than a commercial airline could ever even dream of doing. And before she knew it, Ariana was standing in front of Mella's door anyway, all of her luggage in tow, ringing the doorbell and waiting for an answer.

Waiting, and as she did, eying the outside of Mella's mansion up and down, unimpressed. So small and pathetic compared to Ariana's palatial estate; it couldn't have cost more than a milly or two, which Ari couldn't help but giggle about seeing as though a million dollars wouldn't even have covered the down payment on Chateau Pop-Bitch. Nevertheless, Carmella assured Ari that she'd be home and, true to her word, eventually made her way to the door and welcomed her guest inside.

"Pop-Bitch! It's so good to see you!" Mella greeted, looking as stunning as the last time Ariana had seen her, an all-black workout romper hugging her already sweaty body, a thin, solid gold chain around her neck, and, in a slightly out of character, incredibly surprising and rare twist, white, black and red Nike Air Max 270's instead of Air Jordans. Ari's eyes didn't linger on the "her fit is SO cute" thought running around in her mind for long before the massive breasts hanging from Mella's chest nearly forced her jaw to drop...and look down at her own, in shame. Ariana has always been many things, but stacked up top wasn't one of them, even if she still felt her smaller, natural breasts had and would come to be sexier to the broader public eye.

The massive door swung open, Mella furrowing her brows, the first thing HER eyes were drawn to being all of Ariana's baggage. "Why...why the fuck did you bring so much stuff with you? This is my HOUSE, not a fucking hotel!" Mella snapped, slightly out of breath. Ari had obviously interrupted her work-out. Carmella's muscles were popping, her legs and thighs looked even more toned than Grande remembered, and of course, The Princess of Staten Island looked awfully sexy with her tan skin covered in sweat.

"Well...all of the five-star hotels in town were booked up soooooo..."

"So you invited yourself to stay after I've bummed you?" Mella frowned.

"Guess so," Ariana giggled before sassily adding, "Don't pretend you're not happy to see me."

Even a Mistress as stern and focused as Carmella couldn't help but break a grin. "Knowing how slutty you are, I'll bet you didn't evem try to book a room, hoe. Just be happy you're so fucking hot. Otherwise, It'd be 'say goodnight and go', bitch," Mella quipped, but opened the door wider and ultimately welcomed Ariana...and her several suitcases, all of which Ari parked at the door, inside. It was hard for Carmella to stay upset about Ariana staying longer than expected, especially once her eyes truly scanned Grande from top to toe.

As expected, Ari looked quite fetching, sporting an ensemble that appeared surprisingly simple but, when it came to pop music's princess and her fits, it was always more than what meets the eye. A classy, royal blue cut-out mini-dress covered her tiny body, and a pair of white, double-strapped chunky white block heels covered her cute, prim feet. To compliment her fit, Ariana's hair flowed freely and parted slightly to the right, instead of styled into her trademark high ponytail.

"Goodnight and go, huh? That's kinda catchy," Ari replied as her eyes scanned over Carmella's "digs". Again, nice, but not exactly what Ariana would normally consider a "house". More so a small apartment, even if in actuality Carmella's house was clearly expensive enough to be 99% of the U.S. population's dream. Anyways, it was at LEAST nicer than most hotel rooms Ari had enjoyed so, nothing she planned on getting upset about. Yet. "Anyways...do you like my dress?"

"Don't get flirty with me, Pop-Bitch, I'm not your fucking girlfriend," Carmella reminded. "It's pretty, and you look great, I have to say. That shade of blue is definitely your color. But I can already tell by your specific lack of lavender stockings that you're not wearing the lingerie I sent you. Or at least all of it, anyway. So, chop-chop! Dig through whatever fucking bag you're hiding them in, head upstairs and put it on, and while you're doing that, I'll finish my booty work-out."

"Working out that hot body for little ol' me?" Ari asked with lustful eyes, completely ignoring Carmella and proceeding to try flirting once more.

"I'm working out...like I always do...for both my job and ALL of the bitches who currently and will eventually worship me. Not just you. And don't ignore a direct order, whore! I told you to stop flirting and go put on the lingerie set I bought you! Now!"

Ari sighed for a moment, and confessed, "I...can't."

Mella crossed her arms, her face beginning to twist into an enraged expression. "What do you mean you can't?"

"I...it...it never got delivered!" Ari piped up. "Yeah, that's it!"

"That's bullshit, Pop-Bitch! Don't fucking play games with me!" Carmella snapped and, immediately, Ari's face dropped, though she was more sad than scared. "I got a notification on my phone saying it was delivered. WITH...a picture of the box, at your FRONT DOOR! You fucking got it! So, what, you just chose not to bring it with you?"

Ariana stood silent for a moment, taking in Carmella's barking before The Staten Island Princess hollered, "Fucking answer me, slut!" jumpstarting the Grammy winner into action.