She wanted but someone knocks on the door

Chapter 2 - Idol

The door knocked. “Breakfast’s ready—I’m heading to Kensvill!” her mother yelled.

*Mhrrrnnn* Natalie cursed. The heat had built up inside her and wasn't going to vanish any time soon.

“I’ll be there!” Natalie replied hastily.

She sprinted down the hallway still embarrassed at her own actions and hit the stairpole with her right knee.

"Ffffhhhh" she wanted to swear.

"Language" her mother interrupted while leaving the door.

Half frustrated, half horny Natalie tried to calm down and approached the kitchen. She sat down and began to eat, ignoring her father in the whole process. Her mood reached an all time low.

All she could think of was Samantha. All these beautiful posts she made. Her tutorials on makeup, nails and hairstyles while showing off her outfits. How good she would look without- Natalie's world of spicy images was interrupted by the ever growing voice of her father.

“Are you alright?" You’re as red as my garnish,” he noted, worry in his voice.

Natalie grunted, trying to brush him off.

He gave her a look that said, *Fine, have it your way.*

*When did it start?* she thought to herself. *Why am I this way?*

Two yolks formed eyes, while three bacon strips formed a big smile on her plate.

*Really?* she questioned her parents.

Nonetheless she took small bites of her bacon and eggs, equally delicious as childishly displayed.

*Back to images of Samantha* she giggled in her head like an angsty teenager. Her father took a loud sip of coffee. Illusion broken. Natalie twitched an eyebrow.

"Did mom bring the news in?" Natalie asked, as little passive aggressively as possible.

Her father sulked with his lips, raised his shoulders and showed his open hands. Natalie rolled her eyes , picked up the news from the letterbox and sat back down.

"Thank you dear" he said smirky smiling. The tone had the same minor aggressive flow she expressed to him earlier.

It didn’t matter to Natalie. Finally, a moment of quiet peace to reminisce.

Never could she ever look at other girl's in the locker room without getting flustered. She pushed it towards emberassment. But how could they talk to casually with each other while changing?

Not once had she been into the boy-band hype, nor did she ever recall participating in the secret-crush games they’d played in elementary and middle school.

She finished the bacon before the eggs.

“Why was she even dating Jeremy in the first place?”

He had all the perks any girl her age could wish for and then some. Why couldn't she be happy with what she already had? Was she greedy?

*Was it his bold approach back then?*

*His charm and caring nature were endearing and affectionate.*

*His feminine features?*

Long, curvy hair, a pointy nose, and cheekbones that looked carved from Greek statues. Yet despite his attractive features, she couldn’t feel anything beyond admitting that he was generally beautiful but not attractive.

It frustrated her to an annoyingly high degree that she couldn’t understand herself.

And then a fleeting glimpse of Samantha disrupted her thoughts—how those imaginary fingers had guided her own this morning, lower and lower until…

Natalie stabbed the yolk with her fork so hard that parts of it splashed onto the edges of the plate and thus on the table.

“Dear, are you really okay? Is the heat getting to you?” her father asked, even more worried than before. “Do you want me to put the AC back on?”

At that moment he had no idea he was absolutely right—but it was a different kind of heat building inside his daughter.

Realizing what she’d done, Natalie quickly scraped her leftovers from the plate and fled back to her room, slamming the door shut.

“It was nice talking to you!” her dad commented sarcastically.

Back in her room, Natalie rolled back and forth on her bed until she made a difficult decision. She called Jeremy

"We need to talk..."

It was heartbeaking for Jeremy. He tried to understand but she was too immature to communicate her feelings properly.

Over and over she apologized profusely while he mirrored her, taking the blame, offering solutions, recompense—anything to keep their relationship alive.

Tears turned to mumbled words; frustration to anger.

“Because I’m not into guys!” Natalie screamed at the height of their fallout, followed by radio silence.

She swore she heard a coffee mug break in the kitchen, but the relief of finally saying it out loud washed over her.

Tears of grief and guilt turned to tears of joy and acknowledgment.

“So… can I watch?” Jeremy finally broke the silence on his end.

Both laughed at his request. They stayed friends—at least for their senior year.

Over the following weeks, Natalie adopted more and more of Samantha’s fashion sense. She studied Samantha’s socials, learning how to dress and do makeup to look as goth as her idol. It wasn’t just aesthetics; it was deeply rooted in music and dark themes.

She researched bands, bought merch, and slowly shifted to something her parents and friend weren't really fond of.

Especially her parents were culturally shocked at first—how their innocent daughter could subject herself to “satanism” and dye her beautiful blonde hair black.

But luckily, her father was the type to listen and let her explain and educate him about the subculture. Her mother however was having none of it. She blamed politics, Jeremy, bad influences and other irrelevant things.

It resulted in regular arguments and crash outs between the two. Her father tried to be the middleman between them but caught strays by both of them for even trying.

By the end of summer, Natalie noticed that Samantha switched styles depending on her mood—or so she thought she’d figured out from observing her posts. It became a habbit.

“What am I doing?” she reflected, feeling like a stalker.

She cupped her hands over her face every time Samantha posted a new outfit or accessory. To her, Samantha was the most beautiful black flower in the world. She’d breathe heavily, fangirling, inventing headcanon scenarios of how they’d look together in selfies.

She restrained herself from touching herself to thoughts of Samantha. She needed more than surface level—she needed the real Samantha.

There was no way around it: she had to know her. A simple text? A simple “Hi?” Would that suffice? Suddenly the prospect of rejection felt more bearable than the ache of never trying.

It was a painful, harmful spiral that tore at Natalie’s heart and writhed in her brain.

Once again she faced a difficult decision. With only five days left until vacation ended, she made up her mind. She’d surprise Samantha with her new style.

She never could have imagined the amount of stares and compliments she’d receive on the first day of school.

Deep purple lips left the majority speechless. Eyes met her dark eyeshadows and folded under her confident gaze.

A black tank top complimented her frame beneath a slightly brighter mock-neck and sheer shirt, the layers creating deliberate contrast.

Knee-high boots clicked rhythmically across the stage as she strode forward, black leather shorts peeking beneath a flowing half-skirt that hugged her curvy silhouette.

Her confidence soared. It was even well-received by the teachers—except Mr. Volt, who still believed his students shouldn’t dress like creatures of the night in daylight.

Then the moment of truth arrived. During a break, she made her way to the cafeteria. Natalie’s heartbeat drummed faster than any Beat Saber challenge. She approached Samantha’s group.

But before she could get a single word out, Samantha stood up in a swift motion and slapped Natalie across the face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Samantha snarled.

Natalie didn’t understand why. Her worst fears were coming to life. Rejection—rejection by the person she admired so deeply. Words stuck in her throat—or was it because Samantha was actually **** her?

“Do you think this is funny? Gosh, I hate posers like you,” Samantha continued, pressing Natalie down onto the bench after the slap.

A crowd began to form. Neither Natalie’s friends nor any teachers were absent during this brief exchange, so no one intervened; they just watched the emotional showdown.

Except it wasn’t a fight—it was a one-sided barrage.

“People like you give us a bad reputation. Do you even have any idea how important this is to us? Yet popular bitches like you jump on every trend. Don’t you get enough attention already?” Samantha ranted.

Her grip on Natalie’s neck tightened. Two of her friends tried to push her back but she scuffed them off easily.

*How is she so strong? Is there a sleeper build beneath that dress?* Natalie thought, bewildered.

*Oh… oh no,* Natalie realized with dread. She hadn’t wanted to discover it this way.

Every word hurt deeply, yet at the same time—being choked by Samantha, humiliated in front of everyone—it turned her on.

The emotional distress, however, began to overtake the arousal. Natalie tried to cope with half-truth comedy, anything to defuse the situation.

“H-har-der,” she rasped, loud enough for only Samantha and two of her friends to hear.

They chuckled in disbelief. To Samantha, though, it only fueled her rage; she took it as sarcastic defiance.

In her enraged state, she didn’t notice she was pressing even harder. Natalie’s eyes rolled back for a second.

“What the he—eeeenough!” Mrs. Ree interrupted.

Samantha released her grip, ripping Natalie’s choker off in the process. Natalie—torn between emotional turmoil and physical pleasure—sat there dazed while Ms. Ree scolded Samantha.

Recovering, Natalie coughed for air. She hadn’t realized how seriously Samantha had been **** her.

It took a minute for the crowd to disperse and for Mrs. Ree to finally attend to Natalie. Together they walked to the nurse’s office.

Samantha paid Natalie no attention as she was led away. Natalie, however, glanced back and noticed two of Samantha’s friends mocking her—**** themselves and rolling their eyes back in exaggerated pleasure.

She knew they were right, and for a second she even smiled. They didn’t notice.

After examination and confirmation that there was no real damage beyond the red imprint of Samantha’s fingers, Natalie was dismissed and sent to the principal’s office.

She declined the offer to press charges, explaining it was a misunderstanding on both sides. The principal remained skeptical that Natalie wasn’t being assaulted. He separated their classes so they’d never share lessons again and warned Samantha that any further interaction would bring serious repercussions.

It was a rough day. All her choices had led to humiliation—and worse, losing the only crush she’d ever truly valued.

A couple of days passed, and her parents were quietly jubilant when Natalie packed away her gothic clothes and returned to casual attire. Especially her father was happy that the fighting had stopped.

Natalie, meanwhile, finally realized she had lost all possible ties to Samantha. Over the weekend she traced the bruises on her neck, shivering at the mix of pain and pleasure they brought—branded a poser in Samantha’s eyes.

One final spark of hope flickered, only to be extinguished when she discovered Samantha had blocked her on every social platform.

So this was truly it? Separated at school, blocked online. Driving to Samantha’s house would make her look psychotic.

Natalie rolled back and forth on her bed for hours, thinking, inventing scenarios—until she accepted that her borderline obsession wasn’t healthy. Cutting ties was the right move.

They hadn’t even interacted normally once. All Samantha knew was this attention-seeking copycat version of her.

Natalie had to accept it—and she did. It was the start of her final year of high school. She had to focus; she couldn’t afford distractions.

“Facts don’t care about feelings, right?” she told herself.

But it still nagged, refusing to fade—that drowning lovesickness she couldn’t deal with right now… or could she?

Natalie glanced at her phone—contacts—Jeremy. Maybe he could comfort her.

“No,” she brushed the thought away.

*I’ve messed up enough.*

Eyes closed, trying to block the negativity. Her hand brushed through her hair—pain lingered.

Eyes closed, trying to forget the encounter. Her hands lightly slapped her cheeks—regret lingered.

Eyes closed, trying to let Samantha go. Her fingers softly stroked her neck, exactly where Samantha’s had been—pleasure welcomed her with open arms.

Her breathing steadied, chest rising gently, legs rubbing together shyly. With every stroke she lost herself in the memory until…

She felt hands pressing harder—just like *she* had. Her legs grew slick, rubbing more erratically with each second.

When she opened her eyes, Samantha hovered over her, gaze full of anger and dominance. Natalie was to receive Samantha’s wrath—the punishment she deserved.

“Just this once,” Natalie whispered to herself, coping. “Then I can let you go.”

Samantha pressed harder for a moment, then released one hand.

“You poor thing. You can’t escape—I already own you,” Samantha proclaimed, holding Natalie’s torn choker and giving it a slow, deliberate lick.

“It’ll look so good on you when I pull it, my little pet.”

At that moment, Natalie’s rationality surrendered to pleasure.

“Yes… you’ve owned me since the first time I saw you,” she confessed submissively.

Samantha answered with a triumphant grin.

“Let’s see what you’re worth.”

The grip on Natalie’s neck tightened by Samantha’s left hand while her right caressed downward, over the chest. It paused at her breasts, cupping each before pinching the nipples. With every pinch, the **** tightened.

Natalie was in heaven—until Samantha’s grin faded.

“Hardly worth playing with,” she dismissed.

She slapped each breast once before continuing downward.

Like stick-figure legs, two sharp-nailed fingers walked down Natalie’s stomach, pinching the skin to deliver short bursts of pain, until they reached her toned abs.

Samantha roamed possessively over them.

“Keep training. You’ll need to endure much more punishment from me,” she giggled lustfully.

A single finger continued lower and paused just above the pelvis.

“Poor Jeremy. What a shame,” Samantha taunted.

Natalie had held her breath too long and coughed. Samantha released her grip, brushing through her hair.

“Don’t break yet. I haven’t even enjoyed myself,” she said sarcastically.

She reapplied the **** and teased Natalie’s outer lips.

“What a nice little candy package. Want me to unwrap it?”

Unable to speak, Natalie nodded desperately.

“Say it,” Samantha commanded.

“Pl-please… do it,” Natalie choked out.

“Good girl.”

Samantha parted her with ring and index fingers, holding her open—wiggling the walls, pressing gently, teasing endlessly.

Natalie was already edging on the brink of insanity. Sensing it, Samantha finally pressed her middle finger onto the sweet spot.

She massaged it slowly clockwise. After twenty-four seconds, she reversed direction.

Natalie circled her hips in rhythm.

“Good girl.” Samantha repeated, possessively.

Samantha alternated rotations with quick flicks, then up-and-down rubs until Natalie spasmed beneath the iron grip.

“Yes—come for me, pet. Show me your worth,” Samantha ordered.

Natalie obeyed. Her chest heaved, face flushed from lack of air, legs clamping around Samantha’s hand. Shiver after shiver coursed through her—she was back in heaven.

Samantha loosened her grip. Natalie gasped while riding out the long-awaited climax, staring helplessly at the ceiling until sweat-streaked tears **** her to blink.

Then two fingers slid deep inside, exploring her soaked walls.

“You didn’t think that was enough to satisfy me, did you?” Samantha provoked.

The pace quickened, owning Natalie’s mind with just two fingers and a whisper.

Natalie arched her hips, feet braced on the bed’s edge, exposing herself fully as the fingers thrust rapidly.

“That’s it—show me everything you have to offer.”

Natalie lost control. When a third finger joined, her body surpassed the previous peak twofold. If she was heaven before, she was in space now.

Images flashed—Samantha dominating her in every gorgeous, explicit outfit from her socials. That hair, those lips, these fingers… and what they could really do to her one day.

Heat built to something new—fireworks paled in comparison.

In a moment of clarity, Natalie rolled sideways, buried her face in the pillow, and bit down hard to muffle her screams.

The blanket soaked as her legs kicked frantically and she released uncontrollably.

Sweat and tears dripped from her chin onto the pillow.

Her breathing slowed from frantic to rhythmic, then calm.

She moaned into the fabric, happy and satisfied. Tears of pleasure... then realisation that this never will be real.

For tonight every fiber of her being was exhausted. She fell asleep shortly after hugging her sheets and pillow tight.

That experience howevet finally helped her move on from Samantha and close a chapter she’d never truly gotten to read.

She didn't attend prom night. Seeing all those happy couples wasn’t a sight she was able to bear yet.

With renewed focus on her studies, she earned acceptance to her chosen college.

Life felt promising—in the present and the future.

When she finally moved into her shared apartment, fate took its most challenging turn yet. After setting down her belongings, a figure appeared in the open door.

She carried two moving boxes and dropped them the moment she saw Natalie.

“No fucking way?!” Samantha exclaimed.