by S. J. Blaze
Chapter Thirty-Six
When we arrive at Rolling Stones, they throw their fashion editorial ideas our way. Like Janet Jackson, they want us to do a nude shoot. Since we seem to have been caught several times as aggressors this has manifested into our calling sign. Our new vibe. They want something avant-garde, for LG to be noticed. In order to encapsulate that, their plan is for me to be bound with a mouth gag and a blindfold while the boys carry me horizontally. This is how they want to present and introduce LG into the world of rock.
I shift my eyes to Bullet. They want me tied up, but I can’t do that as I’m scared it will trigger another attack. I can’t freak out on set.
Bullet picks up on my unease. “That won’t work for us,” he barks in his scariest ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice.
We spend the next thirty minutes dissecting this shoot to find some agreeable solution. Back and forth pecking at imaginary images they’re trying to sell us on. We finally reach an agreement and we are sent to hair and makeup. I like this part. They are doing my eyes crazy dark and have added intensely long eyelashes.
It isn’t until I’m sitting in the hair stylist’s chair that I realize that my tattoo will be fully exposed and visible. Normally, this isn’t a big deal, but this will be a link to Lady. I’m usually partially covered as Shooter and fully covered as Charlie. I know, thinking about myself in the third person is slightly demented, but hey, we all have issues. Having a still on the cover of Rolling Stones will draw attention. Loads of attention. Linking me will be easy once someone recognizes my one of a kind phoenix, crafted specifically with my needs.
I excuse myself from the chair and try to hunt down Bullet. I don’t know what to do. Is there a way to airbrush it out? Should I even try that?
Trotting down the hall in thongs and a robe, I find the guys a few doors down and make my way over to Bully.
“Do you mind if I have a word?” I ask his makeup stylist. I guess they’re putting powder and stuff on his bald head. His eyes are lined in chalk and give him that haunted zombie look.
The guy looks at Bull who nods in answer. “What’s wrong, baby? You look crazy sexy by the way.” I smile, even though I’m having an internal freak-out, I love how he always finds some way to compliment me…well, when it suits him.
I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “My tatt is gonna be stilled on the cover.”
He digests what I said and thinks on it. I can see his eyes working. The colors change into lighter swirls and they narrow. “Whatcha wanna do?” I shrug. I want to be authentic. I’m just worried about the repercussions.
He studies me further. “Do you want more protection at the fights? This will come out, eventually.”
“What do you think I should do?” He smiles his dazzling smile, the one he saves for me. When it suits him.
“You know I’d support you no matter what you do, baby girl. But, as sexy as you are in the ring, I hate watching you get hurt. I can’t tell you how many times the guys have had to hold me back because all I wanna do is run into that fucking Cage and carry your ass out.”
He strokes my cheek with one finger then he looks lower and notices that I’m leaning forward with an open robe. I look down to follow his eyes and see that he has a clear view of my left breast. I quickly stand, readjust the flaps, and tighten the belt. I look around and find that nobody is watching me, well, except Bullet.
I feel myself flush under the caked on makeup. I look down avoiding his eyes. He stands and pulls me to him with an arm around my waist. He quickly looks behind him to see the guys immersed in LG chatter with the cute girls on set and grinds himself against me. “How am I supposed to do a damn photo shoot with a fucking hard on, Shooter girl?” he growls softly in my ear while pulling my lobe in-between his teeth.
“I’m with Coen, Bull. You know you can’t say stuff like that to me,” I whisper back, denying any eye contact.
He growls again and bites my lobe hard. “Richie’s a fucking pussy!” He slaps my ass and walks away. “Gotta take a shit,” he calls over his shoulder to the boys. I’m pretty sure that isn’t what he’s about to do, and as wrong as it is, I feel myself delight in the thought. Bullet is about to spank it thanks in part to my boob slip. My girls are ruthless.
Gunner questions what’s wrong and I explain to him about my tattoo. I guess it’s time to merge. I liked compartmentalizing everything but I knew it wouldn’t last. Gun and Trig have my back, at least for now.
The shoot goes painfully slow. First off, we’re all naked. Well the trio is anyways. The photographer said they could wear that nude hammock thingy, but noooooooooo, the boys thought it was lame. That leaves me standing there staring at them completely in the buff while they wait for me to disrobe. Being the wuss that I am, I insisted on the hammock covering my girly bits down under however, there was nothing but pasties to cover the girls. They are too merciless to be subdued in pasties. So, they are free to roam the set as they see fit.
“Come on, Shooter, we wanna see!” Trig yells to me.
I ever so carefully remove the robe, one side at a time while trying to cup my boobs simultaneously. The robe falls and I’m left in a very stringy nude thong thingy with one hand on each breast. Not at all uncomfortable. Suddenly, the room is bathed in silence and all I can hear is my heart beating out of my chest screaming for me to run back to the dressing room.
Bullet clears his throat. “Shit, let’s get this done so we can go home and spank it.”
“Okay, asshat trio, how’s this supposed to work, again?”
“I got her tits!” Trig comes over to me and starts to pick me up when Bull pushes him away.
“Fuck no, brother. Tits are mine.”
“Dibs on her pussy!” Gunner jumps in. My eyes widen, possibly beyond the realm of my face. What is happening here?
Bullet growls. “Fine, I get tits, Gun pussy, Trig, you’re on legs.” With that Bullet walks over to me and smiles devilishly while leaning in. “Fuck you look sexy as hell, baby girl. Gonna make me chafe my dick today or you gonna help out?”
I look down at his hardening cock. Wait, that’s right they’re all nude and going to be holding me? I glance at all the guys and their hardware. Oh dear, lord. Coen is going to kill me when he sees this.
I finally get placed the way the photographer wants. He has moved arms to make sure there’s no nipple exposure and that thong straps aren’t visible. As he starts to take shot after shot, I realize that hard things are being pressed in certain places.
“Trig?” He’s on my legs, not exactly a turn on for most people. But I’m pretty sure that I can feel him growing down there. He has a Prince Albert piercing, so the metal is strangely cool against that heat of my flesh.
“You better keep your shit loose man. Don’t you fucking get hard on her,” Bully growls and inches forward to eye Trig.
“Sorry man, I can’t help it. The four of us naked together is fucking hot. I’ve fantasized about this a dozen times. My wood aint going nowhere.”
“Gun?” I notice something poking my ass cheeks. Could this shoot get any worse?
“I’ll fucking kill you, Gun. Get your cock away from her.” Bull is slowly turning red and looks meaner than mad. All the while, I hear click, click. Oh gosh, this is going to be our cover?
“Chill bro. She aint fucking yours. Besides, her ass is fucking insane, you tell me all the damn time.”
“Bull?” I can’t look back to see him.
“Shut it, I got your pierced nips scratching against my arm. You’re lucky I haven’t spurt on you.” He chuckles. “Yet!”
Then the photographer wants to twirl me so that I’m facing the boys. In an exceptionally careful move, all three arms twirl me. Now I have my tits against Bull’s cock, my pussy, though covered, against Gun’s cock, and my, well Trig still has my legs.
“Oh Jesus, get me though this.” Gunn starts shaking while he and the guys are directed with hand placement.
I look up to Bullet staring down at m
e. He’s so incredibly hard it hurts my boobs when his pierced man muscle is pressed against it. His eyes are unusually dark with red and brown swirls that can barely be seen beyond today’s black orb.
He whispers, “Richie Rich or not, I’m gonna fucking taste ya!”
My eyes widen and I shake my head. That isn’t going to happen. This day keeps getting worse. I barely hear the photographer as he directs the trio to look a certain way or hold me in such and such position. I’m too focused on what’s being held against me.
One more pose for the day. They want one of the guys cupping my tits behind me and the two guys kneeling at my feet biting my thighs, hands hugging my hips to cover my goodies there. Naturally, there’s a three-minute discussion on who will get my tits again. They walk away from the area to discuss this life altering tit holding dilemma.
The photographer looks at me questioningly and I shrug, maybe it’s deemed an honor? I hear some raised voices and then a head sticks out every twenty seconds and glances at me, then back to the conversation. Eventually, they come to a conclusion and head my way.
“Decision made?” All three nod, and all three look pissed. We get into the new positions with Bullet cupping my tits, yet again. His hands are simply supposed to be there for coverage and support, like a sexy tatted human bra. Harmless, right? Not in Bullet world. Nope. He slowly and casually kneads them. Then his thumb joins in on the circus act and starts a slow gentle rub of the area over my breasts. Instantly, I’m chilled with goosebumps. The boys by my legs take notice and apparently decide to join in on the Charlie tilt a whirl torture.
Gun’s and Trig’s arms drape over the other side of my hip, crisscrossing me to hide the bikini me. Their faces are so close to my hips and my nether region that I can feel their exhalations...there. It intensifies when they start to lick and nibble on my hips. One on each side. I grunt in response, still trying to keep my posed face, in an effort to stop these shenanigans before I implode. Instead, I’m met with smothered chuckles. All three are eating this up.
“You dirty, dirty girl, Shooter. I bet you love this. Your nips could cut glass right now.” Bullet breathes behind me, sending a warm wet trail across my neck. The goosebumps continue and dominate. My every thought is fixed on the three warm bodies attached to me. Oh gosh, please speed this up. The heat from my makeup-covered face is creeping down my neck and I don’t doubt it will consume me soon.
Gunner leans over to the space between my legs and inhales loudly. “Fuck, if you taste half as good as you smell, I’ll gladly run away with you and make you mine.” I can feel the moisture building down there. My little nude thong thingy is going to be drenched and everyone will see. Trig decides he wants a whiff too, and leans in.
“Hells yeah! I got you covered, baby girl.” He glances up at me winking, and then slowly sticks his pierced tongue out and licks a trail from my hip to my navel. I’m shaking with exhaustion in trying to control my libido.
“Fuck that, I got her covered.” Bull squeezes my tits and thrusts his cock against my lower back. “Don’t I, baby girl?” Without a usable brain to respond with, I whimper. Throughout this entire time, I’m vaguely aware that people keep redirecting us and that pictures are being captured. My sole focus is on not combusting, and getting dressed.
Click, click, click. The shoot comes to a close. I bet today’s pictures are going to look like shit, though. I can’t imagine what my face looked like. Gunner climbs my leg like I’m a pole and stands across from me.
“You wanna finish this up later, baby girl?” He winks and waits for a response.
Bull, who is still cupping me, drops his hands and pushes Gunner’s chest. “Fuck off, bro. We spoke about this shit.” Resigned to their fighting, I quickly cover up and extricate myself from this precarious encounter. As I’m running down the hall clutching the robe to my chest, I hear them laughing behind me.
I hate boys.
We have to return for one more shoot tomorrow. The photographer promised that this one will have more clothing. That doesn’t tell me much when I wore near nothing today.
After finishing the day, we head back to the hotel. I shower for about an hour trying to get all of the crap off of my face and body and unstick the pound of product from my hair. Bullet might be onto something with the shaved head.
Before bed, I text Coen. A brief ‘hi, everything is good, hope you had an okay day’, type of text. We are still on shaky ground and my thoughts are everywhere when it comes to him. The distance is doing me some good, though. Like I can breathe better out of Coen world, which might be all of Boston. Maybe we were never meant to be? Maybe we are? I can’t wrap my head around that man.
As I lie in the dark hotel room, I try to process the day. Coen never called or texted back. I guess he didn’t like that I left him the ring. I also left Malice in Boston. I have the guys here and with all of the people around us, I thought it would be too much. Plus, I think he is getting serious in his budding relationship. He keeps me in the dark but I catch him humming or smiling at random times. An obvious shift in his perpetually sour mood.
At around midnight I hear a knock. “Who’s there?” I ask thinking it’s probably one of the guys.
“Baby girl?” Oh yes, the guy that’s hell bent on torturing me. I crack open the door and stand blocking any paths.
“Yes?” I scan him noticing that he’s freshly showered and barefoot. He’s wearing a tight black Deftones tee and grey sweats.
“Can’t sleep.” He pushes past me, pulls back the covers on my bed, and climbs in.
“Well, by all means, join me in my slumber fair gentleman of phallusville.” I roll my eyes and climb in next to him. Why the men in my world have insomnia issues, I have no idea. Maybe I should look into that.
“Do you miss Richie?” Ha, they’ve changed Coen’s name permanently.
“I guess. We slept together every night. I never thought I could do that. I never knew what it was like to have someone to come home to. Someone to hold you through the rough moments. To share your idiotic thoughts and your shit day with. Now, it seems like it’s gone. It barely started.” I sigh. I guess I really do miss him. “You know I punched him when I was trapped in a nightmare, and then another time I wigged out on him while we were a...playing. He deserves someone who isn’t as broken as me. There are plenty of perfect little debutants out there, maybe I’m not the right woman for him. He deserves more.” Thinking about this is making me want to cry. I feel the burning drippiness in my throat and nose.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. He aint all that. And you, fuck, baby girl, you’re you!” I snort in response.
“Thanks, Bully. I guess that means, yeah, I have no clue where you went with that!”
“You’re perfect, baby girl, and if he can’t fucking see that, then you let him go.” He sighs loudly. “When you really love someone, you’d give anything for that person to have that happiness. You’d even set them free if you thought they needed to find a better man.” He swallows audibly, and I watch his large Adam’s apple bob.
“What if you lose them?” I whisper back. “What if it’s the biggest mistake you’d ever make?” I sink closer to him and drop my head on his chest. I listen to his heartbeat increase as he rubs his hand over my bare arm. His hands are so calloused, scratchy, and rough. It should bother me but it never does.
“Naw, if you’d really do anything, let her find some Richie shit to buy her everything she deserves, or give her freedom to climb in a cage and come back all bloody, or even beat the shit out of some shifty eyed, bow legged, asshole rapist for laying his fucking dirty paws where they don’t belong or how....”
I stiffen. What did he say? He freezes too and his heart rate triples. I’ve never said anything to anyone. How would he even know who, let alone where to find him? But he said that ‘R’ word and he was correct with the funky eye and bow leggedness. Oh my goodness, Bullet is the one that attacked him last year, isn’t he?
He clears his throat and c
ontinues stroking me. “You sometimes talk in your sleep, baby,” he whispers so softly I almost don’t hear it.
I think back to the surveillance video I watched. It was just over a year ago when Elias Munez was attacked. Someone must have been watching him and scoping the cameras because nothing was ever recognizable. They knew exactly where he would be and when, near his place of employment. The two assailants had dark hoodies covering their faces and dark jeans. They also had gloves on.
This was a premeditated attack. I couldn’t find a motive but instinctively knew it was personal. The assailants were violent and with combat boots repeatedly kicked and beat Elias. There was never a weapon drawn, and no evidence found on scene. Elias claimed to have never seen either assailant’s face.
He was paralyzed that night and is confined to a wheelchair. He’s alive, though. Now I’m left wondering who was with Bullet? Gunner? Trig isn’t that violent? Maybe one of the BBMC members? This was several states away around Lexington, Kentucky. Not exactly right next door. This had to have been meticulously planned.
I should be disgusted. I should chastise Bullet for taking actions into his own hands. I should be appalled by such violence and lack of regard for human life. Why aren’t I? Instead, I kiss his rough cheek, snuggle up, and drift peacefully into sleep. My nightmares too afraid to touch me with a big bad Bullet at my side.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Today’s session is scheduled to be much tamer than yesterday’s as in I get to actually wear clothes. My hair has been teased out and my makeup is even darker than yesterday’s. But the real kicker is my outfit, a skin-tight red leather dress that hangs just below my ass. It comes with matching skin-tight tall leather red boots that pass my knees. My lips are an intense blood red, and I’m rocking spike bracelets and a choker.
