Work Text
They watched her every writing with bated breath. What sick delights would she publish today? How much of it was for them, how much was for her, how much was lies and how much was it truth. They knew she catered to them, often. Was it for attention? Validation? Or was it because she wanted to share fantasies or realities with them. How much of it was "honest" they wondered.The audience pulled their cocks free, stroking themselves harder and harder. Some of them were disgusted at the things that made them cum. The things she wrote. Some were emboldened by them. Some didn't care at all. For some, she'd altered their tastes forever more, new kinks they'd never shake. Some had left, unable to watch what had become of her. She wondered about her audience sometimes. How many women's lives had she helped or ruined? How many, in their weakest moment, heeded her words and sought out use and abuse? How many men had she pushed to the edge, to open doors that shouldn't be opened, to introduce their daughters or wives or girlfriends to a life they never asked for or wanted? And her audience wondered if that made her wet if she knew those answers?They played for each other, putting on an act, the woman and her audience. Sharing truths and lies, confessions and fantasies, always dancing about what they really did in their homes. She smiled, parting her legs, touching the wet, as she thought of those things, and hoped the audience knew the truth, but whatever that truth was, only she would know until one day, they found her and made her the star she always wanted to be.