The start to a new novella I am working on. It sidelined me for a while from that long piece I’ve mentioned, but I’m back on track now and bound and determined to finish the other (and find a beta reader for it).
There were four of them in the band. I belonged to Ryan, the lead guitarist. Ryan played for himself. The rest of them needed him, and they were just grateful that Ryan went onstage and in the studios, did his thing, and left to the rest of them the fame and glory and girls.
After all, Ryan had me.
The fans don’t know I exist. Ryan keeps me on his tour bus. During concert performances, if he lets me go, he keeps me in his private dressing room. I stay hidden there, listening to his music while whatever porno he selected for me plays on a TV, the screams and rumbling clamoring of fans screaming for him. Waiting for him to come to me. No one sees me, not security, not the stage and sound people.
The fans think Ryan is single. Available, unattached.
I go with him everywhere. Ryan always takes me with him. He has a trunk, a black one with the silver edges and latches that he padlocks shut. It looks just like the kind of box that the sound guys cart around the microphones and other equipment in. When we go to hotels, interviews, the stadiums, I go into the box. Ryan puts me in there, tucks me in with a gag and a toy or two to keep me company. The box has a bunch of FRAGILE stickers stuck on it, because it’s not always Ryan who transports me in the box around. There are times he can’t, like when he has to walk the line and greet fans.
His driver, Jerry, knows. Jerry uses my mouth when Ryan’s not around. Ryan gave him permission to.
Jerry helps Ryan wheel me in my trunk into his hotel room, dressing room, lounge. Jerry won’t tell anyone. He just wants to have me suck him off at pit stops, or watch when Ryan disciplines me.
e, unbound | Erotica by Elle Jamey 
*fans self* Good gravy but this was a turn on for me to read!
xx Dee
Thank you, Dee! I loved writing it 🙂