Lincoln Center rehearsal studio, still dark outside.
Five trench coats hit the floor in perfect unison.
Underneath: nothing.
Victoria, Amara, Sofia, Riley, and Elise stood shivering in the cold spotlights, gooseflesh rising on five perfect bodies that belonged to Alexander Cross now more than they ever had to themselves.
He waited at the end of the empty runway beside a single steel rack. The new collection hung like battle armor made of sin: white lace that turned transparent when wet, latex cutouts that framed cunts and nipples instead of covering them, diamond chains instead of bras, heels sharp enough to kill.
He spoke one word.
"Walk."
They walked. Bare feet on cold acrylic, tits bouncing, plugs still in from yesterday (jeweled bases flashing with every step).
Alexander stopped Victoria at the finale mark. The white wedding look. Corset back laced so tight her waist looked breakable. Veil ten feet long. Between her legs: a string of fat anal beads disguised as pearls.
He circled her once, then fisted the veil and yanked her head back hard enough to make her gasp.
"Fit check."
One by one he pulled the beads free. Slow, deliberate pops that echoed in the silent hall. Each sphere left her asshole gaping wider until the last fat one slipped out with a wet sound and her knees buckled.
He didn't give her time to breathe. Lined up and sank into her ass in one merciless thrust.
The lace scratched his hips as he bottomed out. Victoria screamed into the veil, muffled and broken. He set a brutal pace (hips slamming against bruised cheeks, corset laces dragging across raw nipples until they bled diamonds).
The entire backstage crew watched in stunned silence while he reamed the former CEO in her wedding dress like it was her actual wedding night.
When he came he stayed buried, grinding, forcing her to feel every pulse as he flooded her bowels. Pulled out just enough for the first thick river to spill down her thighs and stain the white lace gray.
He shoved the pearl string back in to plug it.
"Don't lose a drop until curtain, pet."
Day 2 – 10:00 a.m.
Buyer-only preview. Blacked-out rehearsal hall. Thirty of the richest men alive.
The five execs were the only models.
Alexander stood on the runway in a black suit, voice calm.
"Gentlemen, you're here to bid on exclusive distribution. You're also here to bid on finale rights. Highest bidder gets sixty seconds inside the girl of his choice. On this stage. In front of all of you."
Paddles shot up immediately.
Victoria went last.
The Saudi prince and a Chinese retail magnate screamed numbers like it was an arms auction. When the gavel finally fell at fourteen point seven million dollars, the room detonated.
Alexander ripped the lace bodysuit open at the crotch, bent Victoria over the runway's edge, and entered her ass raw.
Monitors zoomed in 8K: every vein disappearing into her, the way her ring stretched obscenely, the cum from earlier loads already frothing around the intrusion.
He fucked her like he was trying to split her in half. Victoria sobbed into the acrylic, veil stuck to her mascara-streaked face, but her hips pushed back greedily.
When he came he pulled out at the last second and painted a thick stripe from her gaping asshole to the small of her back, then shoved back in and finished the rest inside. The overflow poured like cream onto the runway.
He spread her cheeks for the cameras.
"Proof of ownership, gentlemen. Shipping starts Monday."
Show Night – 8:30 p.m.
2,500 people in the dark. Phones already banned (too late; someone was streaming to a private server with 42 million live viewers and climbing).
Segment 1 – Amara
Latex catsuit, crotch zipper open. Mid-strut Alexander grabbed her by the throat, slammed her against the LED wall, and impaled her in one thrust. The wall flashed pure white with every impact. He fucked her until her boots left the ground, then dropped her. She crawled the rest of the runway on all fours with his load running in thick rivers down both legs.
Segment 2 – Sofia & Riley
They crawled the entire 120-foot runway locked in a 69, tongues buried in each other while Alexander followed behind taking turns (ten strokes in Sofia's cunt, ten in Riley's ass, repeat). By the end Riley's face was glazed from Sofia squirting directly into her mouth every time he hilted in her ass. He finished across both their faces mid-crawl. They kissed the rest of the way, passing his cum in sloppy strings under the spotlights.
Segment 3 – Wedding Finale
All five on their knees at the end of the runway in shredded white veils, asses up, faces pressed to the acrylic like penance.
Alexander started with Riley: lifted the veil, entered her ass in one thrust, bred her so deep her lower belly bulged. Pulled out and the cum poured like a faucet.
Sofia next: legs over his shoulders, veil wrapped around his fist like a leash while he jackhammered until she screamed in Spanish.
Amara: standing against the backdrop, legs around his waist, latex peeled to her waist so her tits bounced free for the front row.
Elise: on her back at the very edge, legs spread to the audience, squirting in long arcs every time he bottomed out until the first three rows were soaked.
Victoria last.
He made her crawl the entire runway on her knees first, veil trailing, begging in a broken whisper that carried over the sound system: "Please breed me in front of the world, sir."
When he finally took her it was savage: veil wrapped around her throat like a collar, face smashed into the runway. He alternated holes without warning (five strokes in her pussy, five in her ass) until she couldn't tell which was which. When he came he stayed in her pussy and ground deep, forcing her to feel every pulse as he claimed her completely.
Final pose: all five on all fours in a perfect line, veils thrown back, asses high, cum pouring in synchronized rivers under the house lights.
The tent exploded. Standing ovation. Phones somehow back out. #LangfordLuxe instantly number one worldwide.
11:00 p.m. – The Mark Hotel Penthouse After-Party
Invite-only. Colored wristbands for buyers who spent over five million.
Victoria spent three hours on her knees in the shredded wedding dress, crawling from cock to cock on Alexander's leash while he watched from the throne-sofa, sipping champagne.
3:00 a.m. – Balcony
The five of them bent over the marble railing forty stories above Fifth Avenue, city lights glittering off the cum drying on their skin.
He took them again in the same order he'd bred them on stage (slow, possessive, savoring).
When he reached Elise she was so overstimulated that the second he entered her she started squirting uncontrollably (long, powerful arcs that sailed off the balcony into the night, sparkling as they fell).
He timed his final orgasm with the sunrise: pulled out of Victoria's ass and painted all five backs in one continuous rope from Riley's shoulders to Elise's calves.
Stepped back and took the photo (five ruined executives dripping his cum over Manhattan).
He kissed Victoria's tear-streaked cheek.
"Tell Daddy the company's not for sale," he murmured. "But you are."