Prologue - Knight and squire

There aren’t many things more terrifying than the irresistible charm of a beautiful woman. One would be losing said woman.

Penelope Knight knew as much. If a soul was judged by the boys it terrified, Penelope’s life was well lived and nothing short of a raging storm of decisions, leaving behind a wreckage of debris and crushed hearts.

Her face looked masterfully carved by the creators most trusted sculptors. Her eyes could entrance you in a state of submission without as much as a wink. Her body symbolized art and elegance respectively – a thin waste, long legs, sharp chin – while still bearing subtle curves for any observer to behold. And if any man, or woman by that matter, could withstand their composure by the sheer sight of her looks, Penelope guardian angel gifted her with the mesmerizing raspy voice of an angel.

Her childhood was filled with photoshoots, as she became a fulltime model at the age of 12. Not that her parents had anything to do with that – Penelope just knew what life she had to live. At 14, she recorded a video of her singing, uploading it on the internet. At 15, she was singing in stadiums.

“Knight”, which was her Stage-persona, had a certain kind of aura emanating from her. Never would her feet miss a step, her voice break or her elegance fade. Just in a couple of months, Penelope became a celebrity. Rightfully so. She was hardworking, never doubting herself and pushing forward.

And when Knight reached the age of 20, she quit.

In a long date at court, which was eventually released to the public, it turned out she was sexually involved by not only her modeling agency, but her music studio as well.

Penelope Knight’s reputation was destroyed, when the incels decided she practically fucked herself to the top – completely flipping the story on its head. But the internet is unforgiving, and Penelope decided to disappear for a while, leaving behind her passion and gift as an artist.

Knight suffered a lot from the stress she was put under. After a full year of what I can only assume was a psychological break, she finally returned, announcing a comeback soon over her socials.

The fans went wild, imagining how her favorite Idol would return to her former glory, when Knight – leading up to her concert – dropped a new single.

“Small dicked Fucks”, it was called. Not as elegant as her songs beforehand. As the name already gives away, lots of people got exposed in it. Apparently, the sexual encounters were not by choice but forced upon the Idol.

Along with it, Penelope dropped another Bombshell: She wants to recruit young prodigies and take them underneath their hood, showing them how to become Idols like herself.

The “Knight and squire” project, it was called.

Chapter 1 – Ode to a conversation

Knight’s bare feet laid proudly on the producer’s desk. Each of her toes were colored in peacock blue. A daring move, putting her legs high up, letting her already short skirt roll back even further. She sucked a popsicle with the same expression a smoker would have on his face, when he felt the climactic rush of Nicotine poisoning his lungs. She smoked to, sometimes. Today she felt like sucking a popsicle, while her gaze focused on the man before her, knowing he could her hear tongue slurp proudly on the sugary ball inside her mouth.

“What?”, she whispers to him. Her tone was playful, the volume low. She gave him a light, knowing smile, after noticing his glossy, sweaty forehead.

The man takes a deep breath.

“As I said, miss knight”, he coughs, composing himself, “The launch of “Knight and squire” was surely a successful marketing attempt…”, he turns his computer screen towards knight, before he continued, but her gaze stayed fixated on just him.

“S…So, the numbers tell us exactly how the fanbase reacted”, he continued, “Influx of social media follower’s, more fan-interactions, more artwork, the records are selling at an all-time high. Now is not the time to pull back and do a publicity stunt. We must give the fans what they want – more Tracks. And we must do it fast”.

He faces knight with the upmost sincerity. The Idol’s gaze pierces him, looking at something far away, as if the producer wasn’t there.

With the noise of a sloppy kiss, she slowly removes the popsicle from her mouth.

“Campaign”, she says, breaking the silence.

“Campaign… what?”, he asks with a questioning expression.

“You called it an attempt, but it’s a campaign”

“The Program?”

She nods, switching the positions of her legs to the other side of his desk. For a full second, there was a window to watch beneath her skirt. Any man would have done it, if they weren’t so damn scared of her. The producer was no exception. She could see him break internally, holding her eye contact, after she closed his window to heaven.

“The program is what the fans want. They just don’t know it yet, my dear. It’s called comparative competitive advantage. Who would ever dare to do this? Who wouldn’t be thrilled to watch the next generation of artists grow from a seed they sowed? Wouldn’t that bring the artist glory beyond their own lifespan?”, her head tilts, “Furthermore, the artist we create would be an assured investment. Imagine signing me again, back when I was at my peak”.

Knight watches the man carefully. The conversation was secondary – much more interesting was what she conveyed through her eyes. There was a spark in her eyes. A charm you wouldn’t be able to put into words. No matter what lighting, her eyes would glimmer in a way only authors could describe – Like orange sunlight setting over a timid ocean.

He leans back, chuckling to himself.

“So, you’ll just teach them yourself? To be stars? Songwriters? To perform? To model? To sing and dance? There is no shot ill sign these papers, lady”, he scoffs.

Knight’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, as her head leaned back into the couch. The man’s eyes followed her upwards, questioning her.

“I remember this ceiling well”, she mentions.

“It’s a damn ceiling like any other in the studio”, he mocks.

“You’re very wrong”, Knight’s voice turns nostalgic, “This ceiling, I’ve looked at it many more times than any other ceiling in here. Would you like to know why?

“I’m running out of time here, lady. My wife’s birthday, I have to…”

“Your wife doesn’t please you, does she, Larry?”

“What…”, Larry stuttered.

“If she would, you wouldn’t have made me ride you every few days after my sessions two years ago, would you? You moaned like it was your first time entering a lady and emptied inside me every time. I never came – but you didn’t care, did you? Me neither. I looked at this ceiling every time, since I couldn’t fathom riding such an ugly bastard.”

Knight leaned in.

“It was my first time as well, you bastard. And do you want to know why I didn’t mention you in the new single? Why I decided to save your career? Why I decided to spare you from the humiliation of your Fans, Friends and especially your Family?”

Right in front of the Idol, sat the frightened, red-faced Larry – Unable to speak. Scared of whatever followed next, because Knight leaned in right to his ear, before whispering the words he wouldn’t forget until his dying moments:

“Because now, you’ll do any fucking thing I’ll say, won’t you?”.

“Y…Yes mam”, he nods quickly, with the expression of a sad puppy.

Knight’s eyes lit up – something even he noticed. There was something which fascinated her about taking control. Something deep within her, something primal, which lies dormant, but could spark up any second.

“Undress”, she whispers, already entranced in her newfound power.

Producer Larry stripped down, exposing his hairy, fatty upper body and his skinny legs. The word “Gym” might not have reached his vocabulary.

“Mam?”, he asks, “I never wished you harm”

“I want you to smack your nuts for every time you came inside me”, she spoke harshly.

“…Yes mam”

Knight never knew smacking one’s nuts could sound so harsh, but she stayed. Every smack was ecstasy to her. Even better when he moaned from pain while almost dropping to the floor.

When the 14th smack occurred, she smiled gratefully, as he laid on the floor, holding his crotch in both hands.

“Good boy, sign all the paper’s I gave you and put them on my desk, then do the smacking thing again”, she pats his head, before, putting the popsicle back into her mouth, leaving the studio while humming a calming melody.