Needless to say, Carmella was riding high. After waiting months for her opportunity, the mighty moon-walkin’, trash-talkin’ top finally got her match with Sasha Banks, ass for ass. And, though she needed a little help to get the win, the result was immeasurably satisfying!

Years of topping, winning titles, and hiding her true feelings were all flushed down the toilet as, after a rough night as Mella’s bitch, The Boss was promptly broken! Bam! After hours of spanking, fucking and double-bumming, Sasha couldn’t help but fully submit to her money mistress, the overwhelming desire to serve filling the void that her formerly arrogant persona left behind the second she came with two cocks in her ass.

Now, Banks was nothing more than another bitch in Carmella’s rapidly growing collection of life-sized anal toys, joining Nikki and Brie Bella, as well as AJ Lee. Just another butt whore, enamored by the darkly-inked branding tattooed on her backside, a pair of dollar signs surrounded by a circle with a cherry stem poking out of the top, differing from Nikki and AJ’s single dollar sign and Brie’s empty circle to show that Sasha’s conquest was a special one. For claiming The Legit Boss came with the distinction of Carmella’s very first double-anal cherry snatched.

But also with the conquering of Sasha Banks came another stark reality: Carmella had yet to claim anybody’s proper anal cherry. She’d never been someone’s first, a fact that slowly ate away at her more and more with every passing second. Popping Sasha’s two-cock cherry helped quell her thirst for a little while, but it was only a matter of time before it grew out of control once more. A matter of time that came a few weeks after that fateful night. The exact reason that Carmella found herself in a horribly familiar place: the NXT women’s locker room.

Much like WWE’s main roster, the black and gold brand is no stranger to the hustle and bustle of a lesbian hierarchy system; such has been in place since the late nineties and NXT enacted theirs from the very beginning. Being back here almost pained Carmella, images of the less-imposing woman she once was filling her mind as she walked through the door. But, what stood by her side, accompanying Mella on her journey was the evidence of her growth. Her oldest, most faithful bitches, The Bella Twins; Nikki to her right and Brie to her left, just like at all times.

Having The Bellas by her side was Carmella’s insurance policy, a way to guarantee that no matter what happens here or who she comes in contact with, she gets the respect she deserves. Nikki and Brie couldn’t ensure something like that on the main roster, in fact they out-right failed to make an impression at all. Down here though, on a roster filled with WWE “hopefuls”, a pair of certified legends like The Bella Twins were sure to impact and, possibly, inspire some young prospect to be just as subservient.

The door creaked open and the trio of long, tan, and beautiful babes passed through the doorway, into the familiar locker room setting. Not-so-familiar though, was what they found on the other side. The room was empty, almost devoid of life, completely throwing Mella’s need for an insurance policy out of the window. Unlike the women’s locker rooms of Raw and SmackDown, which were at all times busy and bright with lots of moving parts, NXT’s, or at least this current iteration, was the exact opposite. A severe lack of anal bitches getting dominated and superior tops doing the deed. In fact, the dressing room was completely empty, save for one lone girl, sitting on one of the benches adjacent to the lockers.

The girl, though younger than Mella and her Bella bitches, wasn’t especially young looking, possibly mid-twenties. She was a small thing, someone none of the three had ever seen before. Seemingly five-feet nothing in height with long dark hair, smooth, incredibly tan skin, and appeared as though she was of Puerto Rican descent. Most notable about her though, was the fact that she was sobbing openly, what would’ve been a relatively quiet moping amplified by the absence of sound surrounding her.

Something was definitely amiss. Where was everyone? Why was this young, incredibly hot girl crying alone instead of getting buttfucked by an alpha female? Just a few questions that passed through Carmella’s mind, most notably the latter, as well as one more: how long was she, The Princess of Staten Island, gonna stand there and let this precious piece of ass go unfucked? The answer? Not a second longer.

Approaching the dark-skinned beauty, who looked back with a teary-eyed gaze, Carmella asked, “Hi, uh…why are you crying?” Getting down to the meat and potatoes and attempting to fix the problem, in her eyes, was the best way to lure the mysterious girl into a false sense of security. There, she’d be putty in Money Mella’s hands.

Sniffling, the girl responded shyly, “Um…the other girls were mean to me. T-They keep saying rude things and-and telling me that I don’t belong just because I don’t want to do lesbian stuff.” Even through the tears and snot that had built up, Mella could tell the girl boasted a very thick Queens accent, which only excited The Staten Island Princess further.

Wearing a dismayed expression, Carmella took a seat beside the girl. “Aw, that’s so wrong! They can’t judge people based on their preferences. It’s just not right.” The girl, still very uncomfortable, slowly nodded as Carmella continued to ramble. “And they can’t make you do something you don’t want to, even if it is customary, you know?”

“Customary?” The girl asked, sounding genuinely intrigued by what Carmella had said. “Th…this is something that everyone in WWE does?”

“Well, just the women, anyway,” Mella gleefully answered. “As you can see, these two are the result of me getting promoted to SmackDown. Recognize them?” Miss Money gestured towards The Bellas, who both cheekily curtseyed in unison, proud of their position as Carmella’s most faithful companions.

Nodding, the mysterious girl answered, “Y-Yeah, they’re The Bella Twins. And you’re Carmella. I remember seeing a few of your matches skimming through some episodes of NXT in preparation for a match for my old company.”

“Ooh, indie experience! How neat!” The uppity homegrown star gleamed, attempting to sound impressed before further questioning, “But sadly, I don’t recognize you. Where’d you work before here?”

Looking a little upset with Mella’s response, the girl replied, “Well, not entirely indie. I worked for Impact for a few years. It wasn’t so bad but…I knew that I should follow my dreams and shoot for WWE but now…now I don’t know!” In a flash, all the work Mella had put in to calm the fine young lady went up in smoke, as she burst into tears once again.

Acting rashly, Mella threw her arms out and hugged the girl. After a few minutes of awkward consolation, the crying ceased, allowing things to be taken a step further. Pulling away, Carmella asked, “So, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Z-Ze…lina,” her voice cracked. “Zelina Vega.”

“Well, Zelina, I think you need to stop crying.” Zelina looked back, confused by what Carmella had suggested. “You said that working for WWE was your dream, right? Well, here you are! You made it, right? That’s cause for celebration!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zelina meekly agreed, sniveling as an argument forced its way out of her unconfident mouth. “But I’m not signed or anything. I was just feeder food for the champion. A warm-up!”

Furrowing her brow in fascination, Carmella asked, “The champion, huh? And who might that be?” Admittedly, she probably should’ve known the answer to that question, if for nothing else than to keep tabs on her future opponents. But, as the name was spoken aloud, there was a severe lack of surprise on The Princess of Staten Island’s end.

“A…As…Asuka!” Zelina stuttered, a cold chill passing down her spine at the mere mention of the incomparable Empress of Tomorrow. Simply saying that forbidden name seemed to summon the NXT Women’s Champion as well, the loud ruckus drawing near the second Asuka’s name was spoken. All four women turned to look at the door, drawn by what had to have been a crowd of at least thirty, all jumbled up together and, before long, all piling through the door.

The large metal bar that acted as the handle clanked down, but was hardly audible over the crowd’s chitter and chatter. In walked the most imposing 5″3′ woman the world has ever seen, an absolute killer decked out in colorful ring gear, with equally vibrant multi-shaded hair, a single black line from cheek to cheek the cherry on top of this terror’s attire. Asuka wore a scowl on her face almost as proudly as she wore the shiny silver and purple title around her waist as she welcomed the trio of outsiders into her locker room.

Naturally, the mighty Empress of Tomorrow did so in her native tongue; bothering with the English language was too much to ask for a woman of her stature, especially with her most faithful and loyal bitch, The Australian pin-up known as Peyton Royce by her side. Peyton, ever the pleaser, had gone out of her way to show her Empress devotion, to the point that she studied Japanese for months on end, simply for the purpose of translating in situations like this. Once Asuka had finished angrily spewing what Carmella, in her infinite wisdom would describe as “gibberish-like”, Peyton stepped in and did her job like the faithful and subservient bitch she’d trained so hard to be.

“Empress Asuka wants to thank you for bringing these two pathetic models as an offering of gratitude! Her excellence appreciates it,” The bubbly Aussie butt bitch gleamed, happy to impart her owner’s words in a language the audience could understand, ultimately doing so in her alluring accent as well. Though, the sentiment was better off left alone.

Firmly attaching a hand to her hip in mega-sass fashion, Money Mella argued, “Sorry, hun, but they’re mine. Then, now, and forever! In fact…” Carmella’s words trailed, the blonde bombshell going radio-silent momentarily, building the suspense for the eventually the emphatic finger snap that came a few seconds later. The snap, symbolic in meaning to the ever-obedient Bella Twins, sent Nicole and Brianna into action, the pair of beautiful Mexican models turning around, dropping to their knees, and bending over, giving Empress Asuka a perfect view of their gorgeous, tan asses.

Ever the over-achiever, Nikki’s butt was meatier and rounder than Brie’s, but that was to be expected since Brie was the naturally inferior sister. This was also proven by the reason for their sudden reaction to the snap, the brandings that called the top right-hand corner of their right ass cheeks home. For Nikki, a large dollar sign surrounded by a circle, and an empty circle for Brie; the poor, broken Bella bitch had yet to properly earn her stripes, so to speak, but that never stopped her from trying! Sadly, the visual aid provided by Mella and The Bellas did little to impress the dangerous Joshi fighter, evidenced by the sadistic smirk on her face.

More Japanese was spewed, Asuka calling upon Peyton to do her job and turn it into something understandable. “Empress Asuka thinks you should join your pathetic bitches and present your ass to the most powerful woman in WWE!”

“Yeah, right, that’ll happen,” Carmella scoffed, practically laughing off the idea, and why wouldn’t she? She broke one of the division’s premier talents less than a month ago! The future was bright for WWE’s most fabulous superstar, so why would she throw it all away?

That being said, Asuka was definitely unsettling to come face to face with. Where most would be unable to hold back their anger after such a sassy and sarcastic remark from The Princess of Staten Island, Asuka boasted the same twisted gleam throughout the conversation, not so different from the expression she often wears moments before punting someone’s head off their body and up the NXT ramp.

But Mella stayed strong and, thankfully, as unfazed as physically possible with an intense Japanese woman angrily yelling what had to have been obscenities in her native tongue. Then, like clockwork, Peyton translated for her Empress. “Empress Asuka doesn’t like your tone! She demands that you leave immediately, before she bends you over and spanks you for running your mouth.”

Admittedly, Carmella hated obeying anyone; as an uber-top of the highest caliber, it just wasn’t in her nature. But, the best fighters have always been those who knew how to pick their spots, and Carmella has never been shy when it came to such a skill. Craftiness over technical prowess is what won her Sasha Banks’ luxurious asshole, which at the time had only been fucked once. One day, she and Asuka would clash. Some day, far into the future, with plenty of time to prepare. That day was not today, nor would it be any day next week, or month.

Not wanting to stir up any more trouble for herself, Carmella snapped her fingers again, bringing her Bella bitches to their feet. Clearing her throat, she then adhered to Empress Asuka’s demand, albeit with a little caveat thrown in. “Empress Asuka,” She called mockingly, “your locker room, your rules. I’ll go, but I’m taking the one bitch you don’t own with me,” She assured, pointing at Zelina with a long, well-manicured finger.

Asuka spoke again, admittedly softer than before, giving Peyton the rare chance to speak with her natural tone, as opposed to trying to measure up to her angry Japanese mistress’s intensity. “Empress Asuka allows you to have the worthless jobber bitch. She doesn’t want to ‘participate’ anyway.”

“I-I’m not a jobber!” Zelina weakly responded, foolishly speaking out and leaving Carmella, her only savior against Asuka’s army, to step in.

“Quiet!” Mella demanded and Vega adhered, enacting what she hoped to be the first of many orders to the sexy and tiny Latina. “We’re going, okay? I don’t want to fight, especially since I’m in such a good mood. Zelina, you’re coming with me. Understood?” Such a simple command that, spoken by anyone else, would’ve been met with venom in response.

Zelina didn’t want to submit to anyone, nor was she a lesbian to begin with. Obviously ever since she began working here and there for WWE in her enhancement role, avoiding the constant praise for her surprisingly ample breasts and juicy behind for a woman so slight in stature, barely standing five feet tall. Zelina was stacked with a capital S, probably more so than anybody else in pro wrestling similar in size. They’d said things like “with a body like that, you were born to bottom” or “that ass was made to be fucked”, but it always went in one ear and out the other. But for some reason, when Carmella ordered her to follow along, Zelina couldn’t help but agree. She couldn’t help but obey.

Naturally it didn’t help that her only other choice was to remain in the locker room and get picked on by Asuka and her legion of developmental bitches. Zelina still wasn’t interested in taking part in their weird, lesbian power fantasy, but getting out of here unscathed was of the highest priority and, thanks to Carmella, doing so was far easier than it would’ve been just a few moments ago.

Zelina rose to her feet and grabbed her bag before joining Carmella’s entourage, the foursome of beautiful baddies walking out of the door and leaving Empress Asuka’s locker room. As they exited, Zelina tried to scurry away, but Carmella shut her down.

“Where do you think you’re going, Zelina?” Money Mella asked, crossing her arms.

“Well…I’m uh…going home?” Zelina answered, her response so weak and vigor-less that not even she bought it as a viable excuse.

Shaking her head, Carmella assured, “No you’re not. You’re coming back to my hotel room with me.” She looked super serious and, for a second, Zelina wasn’t biting.

“Hey, I don’t think she can hear you, so you don’t have to-” Zelina began, falsely believing Carmella’s tone to be part of an elaborate act, but The Staten Island Stunner quickly shut her off.

“Nope! Don’t wanna hear it! Real quick, lemme ask you, Zelina: who just bailed you out from having to deal with Empress Asuka?” Carmella asked, speaking of the mighty NXT Women’s Champion in a manner that she definitely would not approve of. “Who helped you out, huh?”

Hearing those questions, experiencing Carmella’s drastic shift in tone, that’s when it finally hit her. Mella wasn’t out to comfort or help Zelina, she wanted the same thing that Asuka did. A new, hot Latina buttslut to add to her collection. “Carmella, I’m really not interested in any lesbian sex stuff. I just want to wrestle.”

“So, what? You’re saying everyone else is inferior or somethin’?” Mella asked, practically growling in tiny Zelina Vega’s face, the younger and smaller girl beginning to tremble with fear.

“N-No, th-that’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“No?” Carmella repeated rhetorically. “That’s sure what it sounded like to me. Backtalk to the woman who saved you from getting passed around like a piece of meat back there! So, so ungrateful!”

Putting her hands up, Zelina attempted to argue, “No, no, it’s not like that!”

“No?” Carmella repeated again. “So…you are grateful then?”

“Yes, yes! Thank you for helping me back there. I appreciate it,” Zelina deliriously spewed, doing her best to try and diffuse the situation.

Smiling, Carmella assured, “Great, then you can show your gratitude by following me back to my hotel room. Right? Is that too much to ask?” Mella crossed her arms again, growing frustrated with the back and forth but satisfied with her ability to manipulate the situation for her own personal gain. There was no way she was letting up, not with an anal cherry right in front of her, just begging to be ripped away. The Fabulous Diva stepped away, directing her Bella bitches to huddle up. They spoke amongst themselves quietly for a few moments before breaking. Once they had, Nikki and Brie began to walk down the hallway, leaving Carmella and Zelina alone together.

“There, now it’s just you and me,” ‘Captain Obvious’ Carmella pointed out, drawing closer as La Muñeca pathetically cowered in fear. But Money Mella wasn’t on the attack, at least from a physical standpoint. She was out to convince pretty little Zelina Vega that she was meant to be an anal doll and, by hook or by crook, she would do just that.

“P-Please, don’t hurt me,” Zelina weakly begged, throwing her hands up in terror.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carmella assured softly, closing the distance between them, barely a foot of empty space remaining. “I’m gonna enlighten you. Serving me is the greatest gift a weak little bitch like you can receive and I’m gifting you that on a silver platter.”

Mella reached out slowly and, in time, allowed her hand to grace Zelina’s cheek. Even with The Bellas gone, Zelina was too scared to fight back; she shuddered as Mella’s skin touched her’s, her heart pounding furiously as she tried and failed to anticipate Carmella’s next move. Unsurprisingly, what happened next was something Vega could’ve never predicted.

Carmella slowly, carefully bent forward and leaned in for a kiss, Zelina too scared to fight back, too awkward to reiterate her stance. Instead she just…took it, getting lost in Carmella’s big brown eyes as The Money Mistress pressed her lips against Queen Z’s. Immediately, Zelina was swarmed by an overwhelming warmth as the strangest feeling imaginable passed through her.

Zelina was sharing her first kiss with another woman and, for some reason, she didn’t discover it repulsive. It felt so strange, surprisingly taboo in the year of our lord 2016 and yet, nothing about the scorching embrace felt bad. Actually, it kinda felt…good. Like their lips were made for each other.

As the seconds passed, Zelina grew more comfortable, eventually kissing the gorgeous Money Mistress back, which gave Carmella the go-ahead to force her tongue into Vega’s awaiting mouth, allowing it to dance gorgeously with tiny Latin babe’s. When they finally broke aside, the look in Zelina’s eyes told the story; Mella had seen it hundreds of times within the eyes of Nikki, AJ, and the others. The look of pure, unexplainable infatuation, confirming exactly what Carmella had been led to believe based solely on Zelina’s appearance. Another convert, executed with the greatest of ease.