Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Fashion Show

Backstage at Fashion Week is controlled chaos. Half-dressed models, stylists screaming, a thousand things going wrong at once. I was a last-minute replacement, terrified Id trip on the runway. Then I saw my father Arthur in the front row, calm and commanding, his eyes locked on me. I walked for him. When the show ended, he found me in the dressing room. The collection he created that night would never hit a runway.