Bianca’s pulse quickened as the limo pulled up to the red carpet at the Grammys. She knew Kanye’s plans for her tonight, and the very thought made her body tremble—not just with nerves, but with excitement. This was her punishment, yes, but it was also exactly what she craved. She had spent weeks teasing him, testing his limits with her flirtations and provocations, daring him to put her in her place. Now, he was giving her exactly what she deserved.
Draped in an extravagant fur coat, Bianca clutched it tightly around her as she stepped out of the car, her sheer bodysuit barely concealed beneath the luxurious fabric. The outfit Kanye had designed for her left nothing to the imagination—every curve, every intimate detail of her body was on display. And she loved it. She hated it. The shame and the arousal twisted inside her, feeding off each other until she could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.
Kanye stepped out after her, his presence commanding immediate attention. Dressed in his signature all-black ensemble and dark sunglasses, he exuded power and control. Without a word, he extended his hand, and Bianca took it, letting him lead her onto the red carpet. The cameras erupted in a frenzy of flashes, and she felt the weight of a hundred stares on her, all of them trying to see what she was hiding under the coat.
At the center of the carpet, Kanye stopped, turning to face the photographers. Bianca stood beside him, her cheeks already flushed as her heart pounded in her chest.
She could feel the heat between her legs, the way her body betrayed her even in the midst of her embarrassment. She was his now—his to expose, his to humiliate, his to control.
He turned towards her, her hands nervously fiddling with her fur coat.
“Turn around,” Kanye said, his voice calm but authoritative.
Her breath hitched, but she obeyed without hesitation. Slowly, she pivoted, her back now facing the cameras. She could feel their anticipation, their collective gaze burning into her.
“Drop the coat,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Bianca’s fingers trembled as she clutched the fur tighter for a moment, savoring the last shred of modesty she had left. “Kanye… please…” she whispered, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. She wanted this. She needed this.
“Now,” he said, his voice sharp and unyielding.
With a deep breath, she took the coat off her shoulders and paused briefly.
She then let the luxurious fabric drop, falling to the ground where It pooled at her feet, leaving her completely exposed.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as her sheer bodysuit came into view. The material clung to her skin like a second layer, offering no modesty. Her round, firm ass was perfectly outlined, every curve on full display. The sheer fabric dipped between her cheeks, accentuating her bottom and leaving nothing to the imagination.
The shame was electric. It coursed through her like a live wire, making her knees weak and her cheeks burn. But beneath the embarrassment was a thrill she couldn’t deny. She loved knowing they were all staring at her, judging her, seeing her for exactly what she was: Kanye’s little shame slut.
“Turn and face them,” Kanye ordered, his voice cutting through her haze of arousal and humiliation.
Bianca hesitated, her body trembling with shame. She felt completely naked, as though the thin layer of fabric might as well not exist. Her stomach flipped, but she did as she was told, slowly turning to face the cameras.
Her breasts were now fully on display, the curves drawing every eye, her nipples stiff and pressing against the fabric. Her pussy was clearly visible now, the faint outline of her lips unmistakable beneath the sheer material. She could feel the heat between her legs intensify as the cameras captured everything.
The crowd erupted in shocked whispers as the full extent of her exposure became clear. The sheer bodysuit left nothing hidden—her breasts, her nipples, the intimate curves between her legs—everything was on display for the world to see.
Bianca’s face burned with mortification, but she felt her arousal spike at the same time. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the small, shameful smile that threatened to spread across her face. The cameras were relentless, capturing every detail, every second of her public humiliation. She could feel her body responding, her thighs clenching involuntarily as the heat between them grew unbearable.
She stood there, utterly humiliated yet undeniably aroused, her cheeks flushed and her thighs trembling. Kanye didn’t say a word, letting the world take her in. Her ass, her tits, her pussy—they had all been laid bare for everyone to see, just as he intended. She felt her arousal spike, her body betraying her as she clenched her thighs together, trying to suppress the overwhelming heat building inside her.
Kanye stepped closer, his towering presence grounding her even as it added to her humiliation. He picked up the coat and draped it back over her shoulders, his hands firm but deliberate.
“You’ve shown them everything now,” he said, his voice low and filled with quiet satisfaction. “They know exactly who you are.”
Bianca nodded, her head low, her body trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “Yes… Daddy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
As he led her off the red carpet, his hand firmly gripping hers, Bianca felt the cameras following their every move. She had been exposed, humiliated, and claimed—and she wouldn’t have it any other way. The shame was intoxicating, the arousal undeniable. She was his, and now, the whole world would know it.
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