Authors Note- I like to keep on my feet with writing and test my ability, so this one is different to the others I plan on writing. It's a little bit rough and made for a quick hot release. Enjoy :)
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Some never got to feel "The feeling" and I felt sorry for them, but only slightly. I didn't care much about the little people. But I did love my fans, and I craved their devotion like a drug. That was the feeling. The feeling of undying love and worship from crowds of people, thousands, millions even. One smile and they could cry, one touch and they would beg for me. I was larger than life. It was a high; it was the best drug in the world.
I stood on stage; my black hair surrounded my face in gloriously styled messy curls and worked down my back to my hips. Sweat covered my brow and my upper lip, making my face shine. My pale skin glowed with it, and made my red lips and painted eyes look stark. A badass snow white, they called me. And I preened in the image, bathed in it. I wore a large red bow amidst my hair, and a long white cape behind me, lined with red. I only ever wore black leather on stage, except my accessories. The tight black corset pushed up my large round breasts, and the black leather skirt framed my legs and made everyone drool with the thoughts of sex. I wore my black stiletto heeled, thigh high boots. Gorgeous, if I do say so myself.
The crowd roared and reached onto the stage, reaching for my glow, for my air, for my anything. I stepped close to them and reached out, brushing a few clutching hands with my long fingertips and held the microphone to my lips, innocently thanking the audience. I painted the perfect image of a rock god. Sex on legs, and sweet to my fans; not likely, I liked to hear them beg for me. They roared and cheered for me, begging for an encore. I relented, mainly because my manager tells me to do one; two tops encores for every show. Sometimes I like to make them sweat, see how long they will cheer before returning to the stage to glow once more and release my voice into the stadium.
The best thing about being a Rock God wasn't the money, or the fame, or the paparazzi. It was most definitely the fans kneeling at my feet for a taste of my sweet pussy. They fantasized over it, and few were very lucky to get it. After every stage I stopped a few going home and invited them back to my room for a "talk". I loved seeing how many girls I could have naked and bent over. No doubt it could be in the thousands, but I limited myself. I didn't want to exhaust myself. And if I gave it to too many, they wouldn't beg as hard as they did. As I left the stage for the final time one of the stage assistance rushed up to wipe my forehead. I took the cloth from her and strut away, wiping myself down and making sure my makeup was still flawless.