Cindy Inc.: The Dollhouse – Conclusion

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The continuing adventures of Cindy Crawford -

supermodel, mother and celebrity bordello owner. As

you’ve probably figured out, these stories is

fictional and do not represent how the celebrities

involved behave in real life. They aren’t intended for

under-18s, and any comments should go to the message

boards or to [email protected]

Like part 7, this was one of the stories that went

down in the Big Crash – I used the opportunity to do a

bit of rewriting (the bit where Jennifer Lopez rescues

Cindy Crawford, the final showdown between Brooke

Burke and Anna Nicole Smith,
and the scene with

Christina Aguilera going back to her Barbadian jail

cell are all slightly different from how they were

originally presented because I wasn’t entirely

satisfied first time around – what can I say, I was

never one for rewrites…), but otherwise and allowing

for the odd grammar cleanup and a few small changes -

in the original version I said they don’t get “FHM” in

Barbados, but I was wrong – it’s in its pre-crash

state.

Previously on “Cindy Inc.”: On the opening night of

the Dollhouse, a whorehouse moored off the coast of

Barbados and overseen by the evil Madonna and her

partners, Cindy Crawford and Jennifer Lopez have been

auctioned off to the Rogers brothers. The two madames

have left Cindy’s ladies with a plan to scupper

Madonna’s scheme to wipe out their brothels while they

try to catch Kelly Brook before she denounces the two

of them in front of the world’s press, but they’ve

leapt out of the frying pan into the fire when the

brothers pass on “Marry” and having fucked them,

intend to kill them – or rather have Cindy kill

herself and J-Lo with a very special dildo. Now read

on…

* * * * * * * * * *

Cindy looked at the device in horror; it lay there on

the grass ahead of her. Alex shouted at her to put the

goddamn thing on, and all Jennifer could do was shake

her head in disbelief.

“If she don’t get the thing on by the time I count to

three, cut J-Lo’s throat wide open,” Norman said

tersely. “And do it slowly…”

Cindy snatched up the device, hands shaking. Alex, a

wicked smile moving across his face, let J-Lo go and

kicked her over to Cindy. “You’re not really going to

do this, are you?” the Bronx woman whispered.

“Stick it in her NOW!” Alex yelled.

“Just like a man,” Cindy chided, trying to collect her

thoughts. “You have to take your time with a woman,

don’t you know that? You have to tease her and please

her first before you poke her. Give us a last time

together first.”

She and Jenny recognised the stiffening in the

brothers’ trousers… they wanted to kill the madames,

but watching Cindy Crawford and Jennifer Lopez having

sex was too strong a proposition to pass up. “You’re

lucky that thing doesn’t work until you’ve switched it

on,” Alex grunted, trying to hide his pleasure at what

was about to happen.

Hating herself for what she was about to do but

recognising it was their only chance, Cindy mounted

J-Lo and they kissed. Lopez started to fondle the

older woman from the hair down. Much as J-Lo hated to

admit it, Cindy had a really beautiful body, and it

felt wonderful. No wonder her husband couldn’t keep it

in his pants. “Nice tits,” she admitted, gently

squeezing Cindy’s breasts.

“Thanks. Yours aren’t too bad either,” Cindy replied,

kissing Jenny’s smaller jugs and stroking her head.

The two women felt they made a good fit – Cindy’s

all-American allure and J-Lo’s Latin extraction. The

latter licked Cindy’s nipples until they were standing

up with the sensation (and the early morning air), and

then kissed her stomach. Cindy sighed at the feeling

of Lopez’s tongue playing inside her bellybutton, and

gaped louder when the bottomy one found her other

button.

The Rogers brothers had taken their cocks out in

excitement and were stroking them as eagerly as

Jennifer Lopez stroked Cindy Crawford’s ass while

tasting her wonderful little pussy. This time there

had been no orders given, no code words. Cindy had

been forced to munch on J-Lo, but this one was

spontaneous. She had a clit that tasted as sweet as

candy, and pussy lips that you could suck on for days.

Jennifer’s lips and tongue worked on Cindy with

greater urgency, and Cindy was almost wishing that

this wouldn’t have to end. “Don’t stop…” she

breathed.

J-Lo didn’t want to; she hadn’t realised how sexy

Cindy’s legs were until now. She kissed the insides of

La Crawford’s thighs, and fondled her legs before

moving back up Cindy, who took her in her arms with

passion. Cindy stroked J-Lo’s back, resting on her

prominent buttocks and roaming all the meat therein,

before coming back to the cleft in the centre.

“You know, I didn’t mean to slate your ass,” Cindy

told her.

“Ah, forget it,” Lopez smiled. “I’ve had worse shit

said about me. I didn’t mean to diss you either…”

She closed her eyes as Cindy moistened her fingers in

J-Lo’s cunt, returned them to the ass and slowly

pushed them inside the opening.

“Yes, you did,” Cindy told her gently.

“Then I… take it back…” Jennifer Lopez shook as

Cindy slowly fucked her butt with the fingers. They

felt wonderful; she almost forgot that soon they would

be replaced with that weapon. But Cindy whispered

urgently into her ears for a few moments, and she

nodded. She understood.

Cindy took hold of the device and put it on, as J-Lo

disengaged herself from her rival. The brothers, whose

cocks had been rubbed almost raw, licked their lips in

anticipation as Cindy took her position next to J-Lo,

and slid inside her snatch (no oils meant Jennifer L’s

asshole was off limits). Cindy started to thrust deep

inside, holding her companion tight as the two started

to roll along the ground, hugging and kissing as they

ground against each other. Norman in particular was

excited – this was a porno movie come to life. His

hands nearly produced sparks as his cock started to

boil…

Alex was also on the verge of spurting, watching

Jennifer Lopez’s ass bouncing up and down as she rode

Cindy, arching upwards in sheer delight as she howled,

and then moving around again. Now it was Cindy’s

perfect rump in the air… and there was the low hum

cutting through the gasps as Cindy and J-Lo loudly

declared how great they felt. It was on, and soon the

two women would be dead. All Cindy had to do was stick

it in…

Alex moved in for a closer look at the two ladies in

action, as did Norman. He wanted to spray the bitches

with come as they died. The ladies were nearly

burrowing into the earth as they thrashed, J-Lo’s legs

wrapped around Cindy, Cindy almost biting J-Lo’s

flesh, the two with hands out of sight…

By the time it occurred to Alex to wonder why their

hands were out of sight, it was too late. Jennifer

Lopez’s latest orgasmic scream turned into a yell of

anger as she pushed Cindy away and brought up the

switched-on dildo, quickly pressing it against Alex’s

groin.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” hollered the younger Rogers brother as

the blade sliced out and into his crotch. Norman

leaped for them, but the women separated; Alex, in

agony but still alive, wrenched out the bloody dildo

and with more strength than Lopez would have credited

him with, grabbed her left leg and brought her down.

He crawled onto her, wielding the weapon as she fought

him…

Cindy heard Norman behind her, but couldn’t bring

herself to run for it and leave J-Lo. She turned and

just barely dodged Norman’s cutlass; she grabbed his

wrist and the two struggled for control before

tumbling off the road into a small valley, Norman

losing his grip on the weapon as they landed. Norman

was spitting curses as he fought Cindy, who was

battling for her very life; she could see the cutlass,

but he was closer.

She tried to fake him out, but he knocked her down and

had the cutlass in his hand before she could react. He

twisted her locks of hair into his free hand, and

pulled her head back. “Wish the cops luck in ID’ing

you without a head,” he rasped.

“Please… don’t… I’ve got a family…” Cindy begged

as Norman pressed the edge of the cutlass against her

neck.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be quick,” Norman spat. “More than

a cunt like you deserves.” He drew the cutlass back,

preparing to make the swipe.

“Oh please God… NO….!” Cindy slammed her eyes shut

and prayed that it would be quick. There was the sound

of metal entering skin… and then there was a thud.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Norman lying on the

grass next to her, the still-unblooded cutlass in his

hand, and the toothy end of the dildo embedded deep in

the back of his head. Cindy stared in shattered horror

at the corpse, before she felt a hand on her shoulder;

she let out another sharp cry at the touch.

“Moley?” whispered a blood-spattered but unharmed

Jennifer Lopez. “You okay?”

Cindy nodded, and squeezed the hand of the woman who

just saved her life.

“C’mon…”

“But what about – ” a shaken Cindy asked.

“The other guy’s dead,” J-Lo said heavily as she

helped Cindy to her feet. “Like I care…”

It sounded cold, but Cindy nodded again. If they

hadn’t fought back, it would have been them lying dead

there. With a pause only to put on their captors’

clothes, the two bonded enemies had to make tracks for

the hotel.

* * * * * * * * * *

Morning had broken over Barbados. The party had wound

down some hours before. All the famous ladies on board

had at least one man with them, and several had more

than two. Madonna had her arms firmly around a couple

as she slumbered, Kylie was snoring away underneath an

ample man, Naomi Campbell had fallen asleep with a

cock in her mouth and was breathing on it as she

slept, and all the others were similarly in Nodland.

Among the captive women, Brooke Burke had ended up

with the most guys when sleep had come. It was Brooke

Burke and the seven dwarves – admittedly none of them

were really dwarves, but they were all smaller than

Miss B. Each of them had gotten his prick in at least

one of her holes, and all of them were wearing very

big smiles as they rested alongside Brooke’s gorgeous

clothes-free body, all with hands touching parts of

her.

Anna Nicole Smith was the only one not snoring. She

wasn’t even asleep. She was wide awake, and she was

going through her quarters, looking for something

ideal for the task she had in mind… where was it…

aha! Anna wielded the golf club in triumph, and set

her face in determination as she quietly crept out.

She knew what revellers were like if they were woken

up suddenly; headaches, bitching and moaning.

Anna Nicole knew that all she had to do was strike one

good blow and Brooke Burke would be out of action for

good. And she could do it, too. She had to giggle; it

would be soooo easy. If only she had played along last

night…

(She had been forcing Brooke to pretend to be her

doggie again. Brooke had been bending down and lapping

from her water bowl, and Anna Nicole had been

chortling as she slipped a little distemper pill up

Brookie’s backside. Suddenly, Brooke had scampered

back to her and nipped her on the foot. Anna had been

about to belabour her around the head with a paper or

something, but Brooke had given her the same puppy-dog

eyes and low moans of contrition that Sugar Pie had

been known to pull when Anna tried to dose her that

way. With people watching, ANS had had no option but

to wag a finger at her and go “Sugar Pie…,” but the

first real seed of opposition had been planted. It was

time for little Brooke Burke to learn her place in

this world…)

* * * * * * * * * *

Kelly Brook paid off the cab driver and got out onto

the driveway. She was back at her hotel, and had

arrived… not early enough to avoid the press. The

flashbulbs and questions went off as soon as they saw

her; she withstood it for about five seconds before

telling them that all the questions would be answered

in an hour at the conference, now could she PLEASE go

and get ready, thank you all.

The ruckus caused did have a beneficial side effect;

two exceptionally beautiful American women in men’s

clothes slipped into the lobby unnoticed and went

towards the lift.

“Suppose it’s locked?” J-Lo asked Cindy as the doors

shut. “I don’t suppose you brought a portable break-in

kit, did you?”

“Switch off sarcasm mode, Jen,” Cindy told her. “We’ll

get in there somehow.”

The lift doors opened on Kelly’s floor, with the

lass’s room just by the doors. Cindy and J-Lo stepped

out, just as Kelly herself stepped out of the

stairwell – she had taken the back way up.

“Hello, Kelly,” said Cindy in the same humourless tone

she had used the last time. Miss Brook stopped as she

was about to open her door, and turned to see the two

women. Her eyes and mouth widened in shock, and she

felt her knees turn to water.

“The three of us need to have a little talk,” Jennifer

Lopez said amiably.

Kelly’s eyes darted from one to the other.

“In your room,” Cindy added as they advanced. Kelly

ran inside, but the other two made it in before she

could lock the door. She was scared; she had betrayed

J-Lo and had gotten the moled one in serious trouble -

were they going to take it out on her…?

“What’s the trouble, Kelly?” Cindy asked soothingly,

as the two moved closer. “We’re not going to hurt you.

We’re even going to be with you at the conference.”

“You don’t understand,” Kelly babbled. “I don’t get

down there Madonna’ll kill me.”

“Fuck Madonna,” J-Lo replied, before adding with a

laugh “Oh wait, you already did…”

“Shut up, J-Lo,” Cindy told her. “I’ll handle this.”

She now had Kelly up against the wall; there was

nowhere for her to go.

“Give us a kiss, gorgeous,” Cindy cracked, and

bestowed a smacker on Kelly Brook.

* * * * * * * * * *

Liv Tyler smelled the air, looking even more beautiful

than usual. The sunlight never felt as great as it did

now; she was finally free. Sofia Vergara had an

equally dazzling look on her face – freshly washed and

changed, she was happy for the first time in days; the

joy had started from the moment she had met up with

Jessica Alba, who’d passed on the news to her about

Mariah and the rest.

“I just wish they’d hurry up, though,” Liv said.

“It all starts at eight,” Sofia reminded her again,

waving to passersby. Although inwardly she wished that

Jessica and Miss Carey would get here – she didn’t

like being late. Who did they think they were, anyway

- fashion models? Oh wait… she was a model herself.

A minivan pulled up just by them; “Hope it goes okay!”

said the driver within. The passengers wished him well

as they got out – Jessica by herself, a cast-armed

Mariah with help from the former Dark Angel.

“A van?” Liv asked, quizzically.

“It was the only thing we could get on short notice,”

Jessica explained. “Mariah’s boyfriend wanted to come

but I told him we’d get together later on.”

“Should we make our grand entrance now or later?”

Mariah asked.

“Ummm… let’s give Kelly a chance to get on stage

first,” Sofia suggested, checking her watch. “Plus I

haven’t eaten yet.”

Motion for breakfast made, seconded and carried, the

four women went into the commissary, and woke up all

the men in there…

* * * * * * * * * *

Brooke Burke was still lying there dozing when Anna

Nicole Smith got there, just coming out of her sleep

but not wide awake just yet. She cast her eyes over

the dusky woman one more time; none of the guys with

her would get in the way of the blow. But better judge

it right first… she carefully lowered the club so

that the end of it was touching Brooke’s head. Not

hard, just brushing against it. Anna Nicole nodded,

brought the club up over her head and sent it whirling

down towards her nemesis, grinning with glee at what

was about to happen… and if she had started it just

five seconds earlier, what would have happened was

what she had hoped would happen.

But Brooke’s eyes fluttered open in time to see the

golf club whizzing towards her head – and the jolt it

gave her system was enough to wake her, and make her

grab the club, stopping it just inches before it split

her head open, ignoring Anna Nicole’s grunts as she

tried to pull the club back for a second try. Brooke

had been beaten up by her guys, dragged around by a

chain and made to drink from a bowl, but this…

was… IT!

Brooke wrenched the golf club out of the surprised

blonde’s fists and drove the handle into her stomach.

“OOF!” she grunted as a furious Brooke leapt up from

her private harem, whacked her around the face with

the club, and hit her in the stomach again. Brooke

kept whacking Anna with the club, swatting away the

hands as she fought her back. Anna Nicole had weight

on her side, and if she could have gotten closer she

could have pinned the lighter lady down; but every

time she tried Brooke landed a powerful blow, trying

to crack skin and bone. Brooke was also faster,

dodging Anna’s attacks as she concentrated on wearing

down the blonde. The two women carried on their dance

around the main area, Anna trying to get her but

failing to account for Brooke having speed and revenge

on her side…

Brooke feinted with the club, bringing it down on the

back of Anna’s knees, causing the buxom blonde to

buckle and lose her balance. Brooke pounded her with

the club once more, and watched as she tottered to the

plush floor.

“We’re SISTERS, Brookie…” Anna burbled through her

bleeding mouth. “We… can still… work somethin’

out…”

“Work something out? YOU STUCK PILLS UP MY ASS AND

MADE ME EAT PEDIGREE CHUM, YOU BIG FAT TEXAN BITCH!”

Brooke yelled, and felled her with a fist to the jaw.

Anna Nicole Smith crashlanded to the carpet, out cold.

“Bad dog,” the E! host hissed, and flung the golf club

down. “I hope your fucking show gets cancelled.”

“That makes two of us,” a quiet voice said behind her.

On edge now, Brooke whirled with fists up and ready.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Jennifer Love Hewitt protested. “I

was up five minutes ago… I just saw you take out

Smith… about time.”

“Great minds think alike,” Brooke said in relief. “Any

ideas in that head of yours?”

“Cindy and the other J-Lo had one. Anastacia and the

good Christina did their bit, now it’s our turn.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Watching her chosen bedmate leave the room and

admiring his walk, Madonna pushed a little button on

the table in her room, buzzing the other women (except

a still unconscious Anna Nicole Smith) awake. She

could shower and dress quickly when she wanted to, and

she expected them all to summon in the conference room

at 8; this was the day she had been waiting for. As

Kylie, Danni, Naomi and Christina shrugged off

sleepiness and headed for their showers, Madonna

practically danced over to her bath. “Madonna

Veronica, this is going to be a day you’ll never

forget,” she laughed.

She would be right, though not for the reasons she

expected.

* * * * * * * * * *

The hotel lobby had been set up with chairs, cameras,

recording equipment, a podium, a table, and a TV with

a VCR. Representatives from all the world’s main news

companies chatted among themselves as they waited for

Kelly to make her appearance. It was now 7:35.

* * * * * * * * * *

At 7:40, Jessica finished her coffee – the last one to

end their breakfast – and joined the others in playing

rock/paper/scissors to see who’d pay. She was glad

none of the others had eaten that much when she lost

the game (damn those rocks).

* * * * * * * * * *

At 7:45, Brooke and Jennifer Love Hewitt finally found

the place they were looking for; the communications

room. The officer on duty had been taken care of – not

fatally. He was slumbering, his limp cock poking out

of his trousers. JLH sniffed it, and nodded. “It’s

Anastacia all right – no wonder her voice sounds so

rough. I guess it must have been Christina who did the

other one…”

“Never mind that – just get to the damn radio and

start searching,” Brooke told her.

“DJ J-Love in the house,” JLH laughed, and as she took

her seat Brooke hid her head in amazement. Sometimes

she could be such a girlie…

* * * * * * * * * *

“Should we call the others?” Naomi asked as she took

her seat behind the rest. (She didn’t want to sit in

the back, but Naomi had no choice – unlike the other

women in the room, she wasn’t knee-high to a

grasshopper.)

“Look, if Anna Nicole Smith wants to miss this that’s

her lookout,” Kylie replied, swigging her orange

juice.

“Yeah, it is,” Danni said slowly.

“Oh, buck up Danni,” Madonna said breezily as the

television set popped on. “You’ve behaved yourself

since… that business; we’re not after you anymore.

Now just sit back and watch what happens when you stay

on the winning team.”

Danni nodded as the CBC logo appeared on screen. In

about ten minutes it would be time for the 8 o’clock

news.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hello? Can anyone hear me? Hello? Please? We need

your help! We’re trapped on a ship offshore! We’re in

real danger! Help, anyone…”

Jennifer Love Hewitt kept transmitting, speaking as

clearly as she could while Brooke Burke kept watch,

praying their luck would continue to hold.

“Help! Anyone receiving me?!”

“…yes, I can hear you…”

“Oh, thank God!” JLH cried. “Where are you receiving

this?”

“This is Peter Carling here, coming from St. Thomas,”

replied the junior ham radio operator. “Where are you

coming from?”

“I’m on a boat off the coast,” the actress told him.

“We need your help.”

“OK, I’ll do my best,” the eager lad said. “What’s the

problem and what’s your name? You sound a bit

familiar…”

“Does the word ‘Cindygate’ ring a bell? This is part

of it – I’m one of Cindy’s ladies, and the real bad

guys have us on this ship…”

Peter almost dropped his microphone. He couldn’t

really be talking to anyone involved, could he…?

“And who are you?”

“Jennifer Love Hewitt.”

“Prove it.”

“Hi, I’m Jennifer Love Hewitt and you’re listening to

Voice of Barbados 92.9 FM.”

“Sweet shit, you ARE JLH! Oh man, I loved you in

‘Heartbreakers’ and that movie you did with Brandy..”

“You loved ‘I Still Know What You Did Last Summer’?”

JLH said in surprise, before remembering the job in

hand. “Listen Peter, I need you to call up the radio

station…”

“How about the TV station instead?” Peter said

eagerly. “You were the only one they never had on, and

I was looking forward to you most of all…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Good morning, it’s 8:00 and you’re watching ‘Morning

Barbados.’ And now we can go live to Sandy Lane, where

the British model/actress Kelly Brook is about to

speak to the press about her role in the Cindy

Crawford controversy…”

The massed forces of the press finally shut up, apart

from snapping of cameras, as Kelly strode onto the

podium, smiled at them and swallowed a little. She was

still a bit nervous as to what was about to happen;

she played with the video cassette she had in her

hands.

Madonna sniggered at that tape. “I can’t wait to see

their faces when she plays that,” she cackled.

“Shush – she’s about to talk,” Christina told her.

“Because today’s a special day, I’ll forget you said

that,” the normally unbending Maddie said.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you all

for coming,” Kelly started, remaining calm. “For the

past several days there have been a number of rumours

and accusations made about some very famous women

doing some very unsavoury activities here. I’m afraid

to say that those rumours are all true.

“Today I have no choice but to admit I played a part

in those activities. I’m ashamed of it, but it’s the

only way I can live with myself. I have in my hand

evidence of what I was forced to do, but I must warn

you… as they say on the news… that viewers may

find these images offensive.”

“Not as offensive as your sad attempts at presenting

‘The Big Breakfast,’” Naomi laughed on the boat.

“But before I begin,” Kelly continued, “I’m not alone.

This story can’t be told without assistance from

others who were involved, and who are here with me

now. And now, as they say in America… give it up for

Cindy Crawford.”

(“CINDY CRAWFORD?!?” yelled Madonna, Christina, Kylie

and Naomi as one. Only Danni was silent, a weight

starting to lift from her shoulders.)

The camera immediately panned away from Kelly to the

back of the room. A figure was walking towards the

front, working it like she was back on the catwalk.

Even a man’s suit couldn’t hide the fact that she had

something very lovely hidden underneath – the hair,

the mole, the smile… Cynthia Ann Crawford was coming

to them live and direct on their set. She was also

holding a cassette in her hands, playing with it as

she beamed, enjoying the shocked murmurs (“What’s this

tramp doing?” “The nerve” and so on).

“Morning, Kell – hi, folks,” Cindy said breezily as

she stood next to Miss Brook. “Kelly has something to

show you, and so do I. We both got our tapes from the

same source… someone who’s been behind this whole

charade. Someone who’s been trying to ruin my

business, and that of my rival. Someone who tried to

do it with the tape Kelly’s got.” Cindy turned to

Kelly and nodded; the British brunette pushed the tape

in and pressed play.

“What you are about to see is a very clever forgery;

Cindy here will then put in the real tape.” The screen

flickered into life, and viewers in Barbados and on TV

screens the world over choked on whatever they were

eating in the few seconds of the Crawford-Garner-Brook

and Crawford-Lopez-Brook menages-a-trois they were

able to see before the cameras cut away to the

reactions of the audience, with only the CBC

commentator to tell the audience the basic gist of

what was on screen.

On the boat, most of the women were slowly awakening,

and as yet didn’t know what was happening. The

leaders, however, were staring at the screen struck

dumb. Madonna’s mind scrambled to make sense of it…

Kelly was letting them know all right, but if Cindy

was there then… the Material Egotist had a vision of

a large collection of dung flying through the air to

score a direct hit on a fan going full-blast.

“…and Kelly Brook has stopped the tape, so we can go

back to the stage.” She and Cindy were standing there,

calm and collected.

“That tape was created by Mrs. Guy Ritchie, or as

she’s better known, Madonna,” Cindy continued,

ignoring the stir among the crowd (and unable to hear

the flow of curses Maddie hurled at the TV screen).

“And it’s time for the other woman supposedly on that

tape to join me now… Jennifer Lopez, come on down!”

(“JENNIFER LOPEZ?!” cried Maddie and Co. “All right,

what do you think this is, ‘The Simpsons’?” asked

Danni.)

Wearing much less flash clothes than she was used to,

the hubbub in the auditorium grew as J-Lo arrived; she

took Cindy aside and whispered to her for a few

seconds. Cindy nodded, and then had a word with Kelly;

she also nodded. J-Lo then faced the reporters.

“I don’t like having Cindy Crawford as competition,”

she started. “In fact, I’d love to put her out of

business… but not like this. At least she never

tried to drug me up the way Madonna did – ”

(“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU LARDYASSED SLAG!” Madonna

bellowed. “Oh simmer down, she can’t hear you,” Kylie

admonished, and Danni secretly enjoyed the stinging

slap she dealt to the Australian minx.)

“You’ve got the real tape there, moley – put it on

while the others come in.”

“And she’s starting the tape…” said the CBC

commentator. “Oh my goodness… it’s identical to the

first one, except that instead of Cindy Crawford we’re

seeing… Good heavens… Ladies and gentlemen, it’s

Madonna!”

Madonna had temporarily lost the power of speech;

everyone else was transfixed by the screen.

“And now we’re seeing the rest of the tape… instead

of Cindy Crawford and Jennifer Lopez, we’re seeing…

I don’t believe it… Kelly Brook is with Naomi

Campbell and Kylie Minogue!”

(“BUGGER!” shouted Naomi and Kylie together.)

When the camera cut back to the stage, the three women

had become seven. “Kelly Brook, Cindy Crawford,

Jennifer Lopez, Mariah Carey, Jessica Alba, Sofia

Vergara, Liv Tyler…” one young student said to

himself watching at home. “Christmas ALREADY?”

Mariah was still bandaged up, but was as ready to talk

as the others. “We’ll take all questions after we’ve

finished saying what we’ve had to say,” she told the

massed media.

“Who shot you?” asked a stringer who ignored what she

had just said.

“Where were you all?” “Are there any more of those

tapes?” “What’s Madonna trying to do?”

“Reporters…” Mariah said to herself, as Cindy and

J-Lo stepped up to the mike and begged for silence.

“Most of us have been on Madonna’s yacht the

‘Maverick.’ She was behind the stories about me

setting up shop here…”

“Get my lawyers. NOW,” Madonna snapped, as more

questions broke out both in the room and on the

screen, which suddenly changed to show the studio.

“What the hell’s this now?”

“…breaking off for a moment for a new twist on this

saga; we’ve just received word that two people on the

yacht Cindy Crawford mentioned a moment ago have made

contact with a ham radio operator here, and we can

talk directly to her now. Go ahead, you’re on the

air.”

“Yes, I’m Brooke Burke,” said Brooke over still images

of herself and JLH, “and I’ve got Jennifer Love Hewitt

with me; I think the boat’s off the St. Michael coast

now… we’ve been here for a few days now…”

“ShitshitshitshitSHIT!!!” Kylie screamed.

“Oh fuck, we’re toast…” Naomi moaned.

Leaping to her feet, Madonna ran for the door. “WAIT!”

Christina called after her. “Don’t do it – JLH just

said that…”

Madonna, filled to overflowing with rage at how her

plans had been destroyed, didn’t pay any attention to

what Christina Aguilera had been saying. If she had,

she might not have sprinted through the ship towards

the communications room…

“Yeah, she’s been holding all manner of parties here

with the women she drugged and kidnapped,” JLH told

the CBC team, as Brooke stood watch and chipped in

with comments. “She made me and Jessica Alba play

along; is she okay?”

“Yes, she and Mariah Carey are at that conference now;

our reporters tell us that she’s saying they were

thrown overboard by Christina Aguilera.”

“Yeah, the bitch had Mariah shot as well when they

leaped OHMYGODDDD!!!!”

The sound picture became overrun with crashes and

heavy profanity, as Jennifer Love Hewitt was assaulted

by Madonna. The Material Megalomaniac was wiry and

strong, and fueled with anger as she hurled curses as

JLH – “YOU ARE SO FUCKING DEAD HEWITT!!!! YOU AND

THOSE RANCID CUNTS CRAWFORD AND LOPEZ!!!” The sound of

fist impacting on face came over very loud and clear

to all the viewers as Jennifer fought back, but

Madonna had the advantage, digging her knees into

JLH’s breasts and throttling her neck as she swpre she

would beat the slutty little bitch to death and mail

her snatch to Cindy C just before she drove a knife

into that mole, pulled it out and stuck it in her…

“GET OUT HERE, NOW!” Brooke shouted into the mike as

she tugged at Mrs. Ritchie. “FOR GOD’S SAKE MADONNA’S

KILLING HER!”

“Oh Lord, hang on – the police and the coast guard are

on their way…” the correspondent said, voice on the

verge of cracking.

Madonna, her fingers nearly breaking JLH’s neck, heard

the voice and stopped. She turned to look at the

radio, at Brooke’s face, and finally at JLH… in her

eyes she saw the end of her career staring up at her.

Realising too late what she had done, she dropped her

hands and freed Jennifer Love Hewitt, wishing she

could recapture the most fateful recording she had

ever made.

In the conference room, the others sat there in

silence, mouths dropped open.

* * * * * * * * * *

Christina Milian had done her job well.

What the other Christina (Aguilera) had been trying to

tell Maddie was that JLH and Brooke had told the

reporter something interesting about the ‘Maverick.’

Until last night, the boat had been safely positioned

in international waters, meaning Madonna’s little

brothel was immune from prosecution. But Christina

Milian’s dark brown charms had seduced the steersman

into taking the boat a few yards forward and mooring

it there; not far, but enough to bring the yacht

INSIDE Barbadian waters, and thus making the activity

illegal under Bajan law.

Cindy and J-Lo had bargained that Madonna and Co.

would be far too busy with their massed fucking to

notice the slight but significant change in position;

and as Christina Milian felt the steersman kiss the

nape of her neck and mumble expressions of love, she

knew they had been right. She had done her job well.

* * * * * * * * * *

With the alarm raised on the yacht and everyone

alerted, Naomi burst onto the helipad, the other

bosses following hard behind (and HER hard behind).

They were just in time to see the departing helicopter

- the pilot had been listening on the radio, and had

immediately leaped to the right conclusion the instant

he heard Cindy had arrived at the conference; he was

nothing but a rapidly shrinking dot on the horizon by

the time they arrived. As a result, he was one of only

two people involved who was never caught.

Lying on the helipad was the corpse of Kenrick, who

had arrived at the same time as the pilot, and had

fought him for a seat as he took off; the pilot had

forced him to get out of the copter, but by that time,

unfortunately for Kenrick, they were nearly 200 feet

up in the air.

Naomi shrieked and cursed after the chopper as if the

sheer force of her anger would bring the craft back.

She was still standing there in fury when the police

and the coast guard arrived, surrounding the

‘Maverick.’ She was carted away, still bellowing…

Most of the women in charge of the Dollhouse, with the

notable exception of a docile Danni Ashe, resisted

arrest (Kylie, Naomi) or offered sexual favours in

return for looking the other way (Madonna, Christina).

Ironically, the only one who didn’t kick up a fuss

(Anna Nicole Smith, still unconscious) gave the

officers their biggest difficulty – the woman gave

them a hernia lifting her to the boat.

In the search through the yacht, more than one officer

was surprised to find a very grateful, beautiful and

nude or semi-dressed woman greeting him (the one who

discovered Halle Berry immediately felt all his years

of police work were worth it). Ladies and evidence

were soon liberated from the boat, and the grateful

Brooke Burke was particularly gushy in her gratitude

to the officers (who assured her that JLH would be

okay). Soon she and Jennifer Love Hewitt were reunited

with the others, and were being informed about the

Pandora’s Box that Cindy and the rest had opened on

shore. At the same time as closing down the Dollhouse.

* * * * * * * * * *

This was the biggest showbiz scandal to hit the island

since Jerry Hall’s drug bust; what with the ‘Maverick’

bust and what the Magnificient Seven (as one reporter

dubbed them) had said at the Sandy Lane, on top of the

Soundclip that climaxed with Brooke’s six fateful

words – which would soon become emblazoned on tabloids

the world over; hardly a front page went without “For

God’s Sake, Madonna’s Killing Her!” – the Cindygate

Affair was soon overwhelming reports on CNN, on the

BBC, on Sky News, on every major magazine show in

America and Britain (and “RI:SE”), and, of course, on

E! All reports on the latter were, needless to say,

fronted by Brooke Burke.

No sooner had the boats carrying the freed women and

the prisoners arrived on shore than they were at the

centre of a press hurricane. A lot of secrets were

brought to light that day, and a lot of promises were

broken. Starting with Madonna – the first, but by no

means the last, to strenuously implicate all her

colleagues in the scandal; their statements soon

became a textbook to selling out.

Danni Ashe had made the first statement, and had been

taken back to her cell prior to learning she had a

visitor. Danni considered telling whoever it was to go

away, but when she found out who it was she said yes.

“Danni?” said Cindy as a method of greeting.

“So you won in the end,” Danni replied quietly. “Came

here to gloat?”

“No. I came here to thank you for what you did.

Whatever you need for the trial… anything at all…

just say the word. I talked to the barristers and they

can’t make any promises, but… but you might have a

chance at a lesser sentence than the others. And when

this is all over, you’re starting at Cindy Inc. No

auditions this time.”

Danni nodded. “Thank you. But… let me audition. I

appreciate your wanting to help me, but that’s got

nothing to do with the trial.”

Cindy considered. “Okay. They’ve waived bail for all

of you so we can’t get you out of here, but how about

you do one right here, right now.”

“Like what?”

Cindy sat down beside Danni and pointed to the zipper

of her jeans. Danni understood; she lowered the zip

and her heart leapt on seeing Cindy had neglected to

wear any underwear. The porn actress reached out,

knowing this was the most famous lady she had done a

scene with, so to speak.

“Go on,” Cindy said, “don’t be afraid.” Danni slipped

her hand inside and fondled Cindy’s snatch. She was

nice and warm there, with wonderful downy jungle to

boot. Miss Ashe slowly stroked and fingered Cindy’s

cunt, giving her little button a nice little flick

from time to time, all the while looking tenderly at

Cindy and enjoying her little wiggles of happiness;

she liked it. A lot.

“How about a little feel?” Danni asked, listening out

for anyone as with her free hand she unbuttoned her

shirt and lifted out one of her ample breasts. “Why

should I have all the fun?”

Cindy stared at Danni’s boob, before gently fondling

it; she then reached out and began to massage the

other one as Danni’s fingers began to move around

faster in and out of her lover’s tunnel. Danni

murmured to herself approvingly as Cindy stroked her

bouncing chest, and bent forward to kiss the bared

one.

Cindy’s hot breath rushed over Danni’s tits as she

felt herself start to give in to Miss Ashe’s fingers,

now flying all around her pussy and sending ecstasy

all over her… she gave out low yelps as she felt

herself about to give in to Danni, rubbing her lips

and squeezing her clit as she prayed she wouldn’t

scream out loud when it happened. But it was getting

harder and harder to resist…

Cindy whipped her hands from Danni’s breasts and

quickly shoved them down the front of her trousers,

and began to give Danni a taste of her own medicine.

Soon she herself began to groan with Cindy, and stole

some kisses off her brunette lover. Each woman

wondered how the other’s pussy would feel when they

came; Danni wondered if she could persuade Cindy to

let her have a little taste later on. There was just

no way her cunt could not taste as good as it felt…

oh yeah, she couldn’t wait to fuck Cindy Crawford…

even better if she could have pictures. Until then,

the memory of the beautiful Cindy making her come, and

come, and COME would have to do…

* * * * * * * * * *

The search of Madonna’s yacht had unearthed the names

of all the men who had been involved with the plot.

Jason had been arrested not long afterwards, and as

soon as Kelly Brook had found out she had gone to the

jail to see him.

The look on her face when she entered immediately told

Jason that he would have an uphill battle to convince

her to stay on his side. “Kelly love – ” he started.

“Don’t you ‘Kelly love’ me, you slug!” she

interrupted. “I’m not staying long – how could you DO

this to me?!?”

“You don’t understand…”

“Understand this, bastard,” she snapped, pulling off

her engagement ring and throwing it at him. “We’re

through. I’ll see you in court.” And Kelly flounced

out, trying hard not to let anyone see her weep.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the mid-morning, a plane was leaving Grantley Adams

for Germany; a woman settled back in her first class

seat, finally allowing herself to relax. She mentally

cursed all the other women involved, but thanked

herself for having had that open ticket in case of an

emergency. Walker had insisted she do it, just in

case.

At least her husband had gotten something right. She

would lose all the money she had stood to gain from

being a key player on the Bajan end of the Dollhouse

operation, and she had lost her husband… but she

hadn’t cared that much for the twerp anyway. She had

made sure as few people knew about her as possible,

unlike that egotist Madonna. As she saw her limousine

drive away in the distance (she could still pick it

out as the plane went higher), she thought she was

free and clear.

She was right; she would never be caught.

* * * * * * * * * *

“They’ll never get me,” Madonna assured Jennifer

Lopez, who had gotten some minutes with her while

Cindy was wanked by Danni. “I’ve got lawyers that’ll

eat up the opposition and shit it out all over their

writs.”

J-Lo winced at the image. “You know that all your

partners are busy selling you out, Maddie.”

“Don’t call me Maddie.”

“What are you going to do, arrest me? Now listen…

they also know about the drug, how you got it, the

effects and all that.”

“I know what this is leading up to, lardass. You’re

never going to drug ME.” And she stood up. “This

meeting is over.”

“No, wait,” Jenny urged, grabbing her arm.

“Let me go,” Madonna snapped, and grabbed J-Lo’s arm

to pull it off. Quickly the Bronx native whipped her

other arm up, the syringe that had been hidden up her

sleeve came into view, and before Madonna could react

she felt the needle go into a vein and the fluid rush

into her.

“Yesss…..!” J-Lo said to herself as Madonna looked

at the syringe sticking out of her arm, before it was

plucked out. “Now, you are going to do everything that

me and Cindy say.”

Madonna nodded, as J-Lo continued.

* * * * * * * * * *

The following morning, Mariah was sitting outdoors

with Jon and Denise. When Mrs. Anderson had found out

where he was and what had happened, she was furious…

but she had also been glued to the screen. And when

the news broke that Madonna and the rest had been

arrested on charges ranging from prostitution to

murder (both attempted and otherwise), Denise finally

eased up on Mariah. She might have been a whore, but

she wasn’t a killer. And she did seem to genuinely

like her son; the two were so at ease with each other

that it was like they’d known each other since

childhood. Except that best friends didn’t lick ears

(Mariah to Jon) or stroke thighs (Jon to Mariah).

“You got anyone from ‘The Bold and the Beautiful’ in

your club?” Denise asked eagerly.

“No, sorry,” Mariah told her for the umpty-umpth time,

laughing as she felt Jon’s hands. “Cindy did try, but

they wouldn’t let her sign any of them. Sarah Buxton

and Katherine Kelly Lang came close, but…”

“How about ‘The Parkers’?”

“You know any man who wants to fuck Countess Vaughn or

that heifer who plays her mom?” Mariah asked

reasonably. “In any case, J-Lo’s got an exclusive deal

with UPN.”

“She what?” Jon asked, surprised.

“Yeah – see, Cindy’s got first look on ladies from

ABC, Fox and the WB; word is some very rich guy can’t

wait to poke Alexis Bledel off ‘Gilmore Girls’ – and

Lopez has CBS, NBC and UPN…”

And while Mariah was divulging trade secrets to the

Andersons (which she would persuade them to keep by

promising them a free evening at Cindy Inc.), the two

bosses were in consultation with one particular ABC

lady. An anxious Jennifer Garner switched her eyes

from one madam to another, waiting for what they had

to say.

“So?” she asked, unable to wait any longer.

“So you’re fired,” Cindy told her. “You joined me

under false pretences, and I can’t stand for that. But

Lopez agreed to take you back… she knows how much

you like the life.”

“Thanks,” JG said in relief.

“However,” Lopez added, “there’s still the matter of

your betrayal of ME. Your commission is how much

again?”

“20%.”

“Well, that’s going directly to moley here effective

from your show’s season premiere, and until the season

finale.”

“But do you know how many guys come to your place to

fuck me?” Jenny G argued.

“Why do you think I’m punishing you this way?” J-Lo

replied. “Think yourself lucky you’re not being fired

from MY place as well.”

Jennifer Garner thought a second, and nodded. “What

the hell, I’ve still got my Emmy nod…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hi, I’m Cindy Crawford and this is the parish of St.

Michael. It may be located way down in the south, but

it’s the heart of the island…”

Cindy continued to deliver her spiel outside the

Houses of Parliament, thinking over the past few days.

She and Jennifer Lopez had gone through a lot, and

while they weren’t exactly friends their relationship

was a bit better – J-Lo had assured her that when they

got back to the US they’d remain enemies, but added

“One thing though – better you against me than

Madonna.”

“Just one reason why they say Barbados is 21 miles

long and a smile wide,” she finished, adding her own

world-famous smile.

“And… CUT! Excellent, Cindy!” said the director.

“FINALLY!” Cindy whooped, and pausing only to sign

some autographs for the crowd went off to join the

rest of the ladies on the beach for the big final

shoot. The plan was to have each woman sing part of

the National Anthem (a plan which caused Cindy to

cross her fingers – she still remembered the flak

she’d gotten for that commercial she did with Little

Richard), as a demonstration that not everyone in the

US was that insular or something. Whatever, it was the

Tourist Board’s tune, and she didn’t mind dancing to

it. Truly it was an “FHM” cover come to life, the

director (and crew) thought, surveying the

swimsuit-clad lovelies as he called for action…

“In plenty and in time of need, when this fair land

was young…” Mariah started.

“…our brave forefathers sowed the seed, from which

our pride is sprung…” continued Liv.

“A pride that makes no wanton boast of what it has

withstood…” added Jennifer Garner.

“…that binds our hearts from coast to coast, the

pride of nationhood…” sang Kelly Rowland.

“We loyal sons and daughters all do hereby make it

known…” Anastacia started the chorus.

“These fields and hills beyond recall are now our very

own…” Sofia continued.

“We write our names on history’s page with

expectations great…” Jessica added.

“Strict guardians of our heritage, firm craftsmen of

our fate…” Halle finished.

“The Lord has been the people’s guide for past three

hundred years…” Christina Milian launched the second

verse with.

“With Him still on the people’s side, we have no

doubts or fears…” Jennifer Love Hewitt continued.

“Upward and onward we shall go, inspired, exulting,

free…” Cindy sang.

“And greater will our nation grow, in strength and

unity…” the eleven women sang as one before the

chorus kicked in…

* * * * * * * * * *

“…and that spot can be seen in full in about two or

three weeks time,” the interviewer told them in the

CBC News studio that evening. “Well, we hope that this

whole business hasn’t put you off Barbados.”

“No, of course not!” Jessica laughed. “In fact, we all

made some new friends while we were here…”

“We’ve still got some time before we have to leave, so

if you’re not careful you might still spot us,” Halle

added.

“And if things turn out the way the lawyers want you

might be back here sooner than planned.”

“Looking forward to it already,” Cindy smiled, knowing

what the interviewer – one of many Bajans who had been

profusely apologetic to Miss Crawford and the others -

was on about. They were en route to give interviews to

Brooke Burke (and in the cases of Liv and Sofia to a

certain tabloid reporter – a deal was a deal), who was

compiling an E! Special on the whole business.

Interviews with the criminals involved were out of the

question, but Brooke was looking forward to sending a

tape of it to Anna Nicole Smith. Whose show had, in

fact, been cancelled in the wake of the controversy.

* * * * * * * * * *

Christina Aguilera kept her eyes shut tight as she

moved her tongue around the toilet bowl, as much to

keep the tears coming out as to keep from seeing what

she was licking. Behind her, she could feel the

warden’s unlubed cock grinding in and out of her

upraised, bruised ass. “Not as big as I’d like,” the

warden grunted as he thrust into her, enjoying the

pain, “but not bad.”

“Fuck you,” Christina muttered as she finished

swabbing.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!?”

“Nothing… nothing!” the diminutive diva wailed. “I

didn’t say anything…”

“You’re damn lucky you let me play with your sweet

white butt, Missy,” he growled, pushing one last time

and almost hoping she would bleed again. Christina’s

screams echoed through the bathroom as he finished his

business, pulling roughly out of the sobbing singer

and whacking her one last time. “Now get out. And

remember, same time next week, miss sexy legs.”

As his phone rang, the wobbling and sore Christina

started to totter back on said legs to her special

cell, preparing to listen en route to the catcalls,

whistles and offers to give head from the other

prisoners, and rueing that she and Naomi – but

especially her – had ever agreed to be the guards’s

playthings in exchange for their (relatively) special

treatment, and still unbelieving over how she had

ended up here. Not only had her record label washed

her hands of her (a fate that had also greeted Kylie),

but she would have to serve her sentence for

prostitution, kidnapping, production of pornography

and at least one count of attempted murder on

Barbadian soil, in common with all the other women and

men involved. This was what pissed her off more than

anything else – being stuck here on this little boring

shit of an island for God knows how many years!

“Oh, Christina…”

She turned a weary head towards the grinning warden.

“There’s a phone call for you.”

Christina trudged back to the desk, ignoring the cock

he had taken out and was wacing at her, and took the

phone. The mocking laughter she encounted from the

other end of the line was so loud that the warden

could hear it.

“DROP DEAD!” Christina snapped, and flung the phone

down. How many times was Britney Spears going to call,

she thought…

As she staggered back into the cell she shared with

the others, she took solace in the fact that today she

was going to get a chance to work off her

frustrations. The last member of their happy little

family had arrived to join them at last, and she was

not happy to be there. Good.

“Ready, Madonna? Christina said to their newest

cellmate.

Madonna was by no means ready; she was huddled up in

the far corner of the cell, hoping and praying that

one of her appeals would be successful, and not

understanding how she had willingly implicated herself

fully on the stand. And how she had INSISTED on

serving her full time with her colleagues – except for

Danni Ashe, who had been the only one granted leniency

from the courts (and was serving less time than the

others… and to make matters worse, in an American

prison!) after Cindy had pitched in on her behalf. And

why she was so full of lust for Cindy Crawford (all of

the above had been told to her by Cindy and J-Lo).

“Ready for what?” the ex-Mrs. Ritchie asked.

“Don’t play with her,” a bitter Naomi Campbell told

her tersely. “We saw those tapes you made of us.”

“What tapes?” Madonna asked, trying to pretend she

didn’t know.

“The ones you did with us when that drug was in us,

cow,” Kylie replied, as she joined Christina in

advancing on Madonna. “The ones that helped you get

put here. The ones that helped US get put here.”

“We’re going to be together a long, long time,” Anna

Nicole continued, adding to the mob.

Madonna looked from one woman to the other in terror,

but before she could call for the guard Christina

stuffed a bundle of rags into her mouth, tying a pair

of tights around it for good measure, while the other

women ripped her clothes off. “Not a word, Missy,” she

told her former lover. “You had your fun with us, now

it’s our turn.” And she picked up a little plank,

handing it to a gleaming-eyed Anna Nicole Smith with a

“You first.”

“Thanks, hon,” the Texan said, running it down

Madonna’s struggling body as the others held her down,

and stopping at a part lower down while looking at the

pop star’s frightened, begging eyes. “I bet you really

wish you were me now, huh?”

As Anna Nicole drew the wood back, Madonna knew she

was right…

* * * * * * * * * *

Tony studied the small brown-curled head bobbing back

and forth between his legs. Jessica Alba had

cock-sucking lips for sure; she had had plenty of

practice at Cindy Inc., and it felt even better

knowing she was doing it for free.

She gently fondled the tube with her fingers and

played with the tiny hole at the tip with her tongue,

waiting for the first drops of come to start seeping

out. The little drops landing on her tongue made her

eager for more, and made her work all the harder to

get it. As Tony felt Jessica’s mouth move back and

forth along the prick, he thought the only thing that

could make it better would be watching her lock lips

with the girl from “Alias,” but Garner had left the

island as soon as she had given her testimony. (In any

case, Jessica had gleefully told her that Jenny’s show

was more cut in the UK than her own show was, which

put paid to any “Jennifer Garner fucks Jessica Alba”

scenarios for the foreseeable future.)

Now to celebrate the verdict, Cindy had arranged for a

little party in her suite; the champagne was flowing,

the music was playing, and the guests were… enjoying

each other’s company. Jessica had insisted on inviting

Tony, just as Mariah had insisted on inviting Jon.

Several other people had somehow turned up at the

place, and all had somehow gotten involved in the

inevitable climax of the evening. Miss Alba had been

the first to get serious, but the others soon

followed.

Watching Mariah grinding in Jon’s lap, Anastacia shook

her head in amusement. Too bad she hadn’t brought

someone along the way nearly everyone else had,

whether or not they knew them… she felt a stinging

slap on her buttcheeks. “Who was that…?” she

demanded and spotted a laughing Christina Milian.

“Come here, baby,” she giggled, opening her arms. “You

tasted pretty good back there.”

Anastacia studied her, before figuring what the hell,

and lowered her pink self into Miss Milian’s dark

arms. “Bet you want me on your next CD, right?” she

husked as she cupped Christina’s breasts.

“I was thinking about it,” the Cuban replied. “But

don’t talk right now…” and she buried her face

between Anastacia’s jugs.

Talking was the last thing on Sofia Vergara’s mind,

partly because she didn’t want to and partly because

in another part of the room she had two plump pricks

deep down her throat. Sofia snatched quick gasps of

air as she sucked on the men’s organs, one black, one

white, both hard and fighting for space, each hoping

theirs would be the one to come second, but neither

finding it easy to resist Sofia’s work. She placed one

of each guy’s hands in turn on her dangling tits,

encouraging them to stroke them, and driving them to

break down resistance even further.

Sofia’s warm, soft ass was tantalisingly close to a

woman who couldn’t believe that the dreams she’d had

about fucking Halle Berry were finally coming true.

Halle, for her part, wasn’t bothered about the woman

in question being 20 years older than she was; hell,

she’d been with men even older than that. She felt the

older woman’s mouth and tongue working on her

cherry-sweet snatch, while the experienced hands

stroked her sweaty body. Halle would be getting a lot

less than half a million for this, but it wasn’t like

she cared; she could tell the lady had been waiting

for this for years, judging from how much work she put

into it. Opening her eyes for a moment, she threw a

quick glance to the table in the centre of the room.

On it, one of the island’s most popular DJs was

getting payment for giving spins to the fuckee’s

newest album. Secretly he didn’t care much for

guitar-pop, and he also spent more time jacking off to

Foxy Brown or Trina than Jennifer Love Hewitt; but on

the other hand the other two weren’t there (“They’re

in J-Lo’s stable,” she’d pointed out sweetly), and

Miss Hewitt wasn’t a bad little fuck. Plus she was

built to please; those great tits were jiggling back

and forth as he pushed his pole in and out of her, and

he loved the way she stroked him with her legs while

kissing his face and neck. The DJ was convinced she

was only playing at being a good girl, a conviction

reinforced by JLH begging him to stick it in her

further, deeper, “Come on honey drive that thing out

my ass dammit…”

Though JLH wasn’t a singer professionally, she had

four albums to her name. Liv Tyler was the daughter of

a singer, but she’d never done an album, although she

was with a group at this time. Only a few, but a happy

few. A band of brothers, who were in a circle around

Liv, laughing and joking as the adorable sexpot

crawled from one lad to the other; it was musical

fucks all over again, except this time they were

riding her, wedging their pricks inside her shapely

ass as the others sang; Liv was thrusting back as each

buggered her, and bursting into cries of delight as

she felt each cock send its liquid deep into her.

“Hey, you’ve already had yours!” she laughed as

someone tried to cheat.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Kelly Rowland giggled as her

guys slathered the last of the oil onto her. “The more

the merrier, right?”

“You tell her,” the headmaster agreed, smelling

Kelly’s coconut-oiled bod. “Do you always fuck with

oil?”

“Only when I feel like celebrating,” Kelly replied,

offering him a coconut-flavoured tit, which he eagerly

accepted. “Looks like the boss sure does.” And she let

herself lie back as the headmaster and his prize pupil

rubbed themselves onto her pliant form.

The boss – Cindy – was watching the action, a

contented smile on her face. She nodded blissfully and

took a sip from her Margarita; she liked happy

endings. “CINDY! We’re waiting for you!”

“Duty calls,” Cindy said to herself, and turned around

slowly, the better for the audience to check out her

swimwear before she went on deck of the “Maverick.” As

part of the aftermath of the trial, Madonna had been

forced to give up the rights to the yacht; Cindy had

bought the craft, and renamed it “Sandra” (after the

character she’d played in “The Simian Line”) – she had

her own company, but “Crawdaddy” was such a silly name

for a yacht.

“The party sounds like a blast,” Brooke Burke said to

Cindy as she emerged into the early evening of the

Caribbean Sea, well beyond Barbadian waters.

“Yeah, but this one’s my own private thing; I don’t

want to be distracted by Mariah’s ass or Anastacia’s

tits.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jodi Ann Paterson laughed.

“Anastacia can distract me with those milk sacks of

hers anytime she likes.”

“I didn’t think she was your type,” Cindy told her,

and winced as she felt a small nip on her buttocks.

“I didn’t think you were MY type,” Jenna Jameson

confided as she kissed the tiny bite better. “Now come

on, it’s been a long flight and I need to recover…”

“We all do,” Brooke agreed, and as the camera rolled

to record Rande’s birthday gift, she settled down with

Tera Patrick on her left and Miriam Gonzalez on her

right, and studied Cindy as she was kissed by Jodi Ann

and Jenna. The quartet were the newest members of

Cindy Inc., and they wouldn’t be the last recruitments

from the less “respectable” side of celebrity.

As Cindy felt Jodi Ann’s lips move down her body, she

looked at Jenna’s open rump lowering towards her face.

Yep, she really did like happy endings.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tonight was a great time to be Rande Gerber, even more

so than usual; he was watching Cindy in a threesome.

While most men dream of watching women having sex, he

got to do so nearly every night he wanted, which was

why he was careful to do so only on special occasions.

And tonight was more special than usual.

Cindy, Nicole Kidman and Gwyneth Paltrow seemed to be

in a contest to see who could come the loudest; though

Nicole’s yells as Cindy lavished her anus with her

tongue were impressive, almost as loud as La

Crawford’s earlier screams as the Oscar-nominee and

the Oscar-winner had done her, it was the most demure

of the three (Gwyneth) whose lungs got the biggest

workout as Nicole went down on her. Rande’s face had

an even smugger grin than it usually did as he watched

and pumped his prick.

“Well, you can’t say you didn’t get your money’s

worth,” Mariah Carey told the other spectators.

Rachel Stevens, Jo O’Meara, Tina Barrett and Hannah

Spearitt were too absorbed to do more than nod.

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