Disclaimer: This story is not recommended for under eighteens. It contains mature themes, sex, explicit sexual language, strong language, drug references and infrequent violence.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
I was up at eight the next morning, overthinking too much to sleep. I dressed in jeans and a green shirt and put on minimal make-up. Before Olivia left for work, over breakfast, we discussed how bizarre and dream-like the previous night had been before saying goodbye to each other. I promised to call her if by some outrageous chance I was actually contacted and went on tour with the band; something I assured her was damn near impossible.
I had a flight back to France the next day, but I had yet to pack my bag. I was definitely putting it off for as long as possible due to my extreme dislike of packing and complete disorganisation as a human-being. Instead, I checked my e-mails and my Facebook page. I updated my status to how amazing the previous night had been, minus some of the details. When the phone call from Mike still hadn’t come by lunchtime, I gave up hope. I knew it was too good to be true though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. I was watching television late that afternoon when I received a text. My heart skipped a beat as I saw an American number I didn’t recognise.
Hey Victoria,
If you haven’t changed your mind,
meet me at Watford station at 18:00.
I’ll explain and you can decide what
you want to do.
The text came with no name, but it could only be from one person, or someone was pulling a well-thought-out prank on me. I panicked when I saw the time on my mobile. It was already three o’clock. Of course, the guy couldn’t have given me a heads-up that morning. I raced upstairs to pack, considering the possibility that I had hallucinated receiving the text. I put my suitcase on the bed and started chucking my clothes into it at random. I knew I had to reply to the text, but I had no idea what to say. Finally, I responded: “Okay”.
Genius. I am a mastermind of communication.
It was a forty-minute train ride to Watford from Olivia’s flat so, I really needed to shake a tail-feather. The last thing I did before leaving the flat was to scribble Olivia a completely unbelievable note and stick it to her fridge. I hauled the bag down the road to the train station where I took the train, admittedly a little late due to my last-minute packing. It didn’t calm my nerves that the train was delayed and kept waiting longer than necessary between stations. I had no idea what was going to happen when I got to Watford. Was he just going to be standing in the street next to the train station, surrounded by screaming fans? That seemed completely ridiculous.
When I finally exited the train station, my pulse went berserk as Billy, the bodyguard from the previous evening climbed out of a black Mercedes. I watched him walk over to me where I stood frozen outside the station doorway. When he arrived in front of me, and I realised how real it was starting to feel, I grinned. My smile was apparently infectious as Billy who was frowning before, smiled too. “Evening, Victoria”.
“Good evening, Sir”. The fact that he was wearing a suit jacket made me feel compelled to call him Sir. I was completely out of my comfort-zone.
He laughed. “The name’s Billy”.
“Billy, you’re not from Orange County”, I noted, “I can’t place your accent”.
“Lafayette, Louisiana”, he responded rapidly, “is this all your stuff?”
“I didn’t know what to pack”, I admitted, “so yeah, this is it”.
“We need to go”, he told me, “You’re already ten minutes late”.
“I’m sorry”, I cringed, “I expected a phone call and then the train. I mean…I thought it was all bull-shit to be honest”.
Billy nodded. “It’s all very last minute”, he agreed, “we’re on a pretty tight schedule. We need to be in Paris tomorrow”. He glanced at his wristwatch.
I got into the black Mercedes with Billy, and we drove a few minutes away from the train station. He stopped the car behind a huge, black, and silver tour bus idling in a wider road. Carter Townsend, the band’s rhythm guitarist stood next to the bus. He lit a cigarette as Billy got out of the car. I got out of the car as well but hung back nervously, staring at Carter. I couldn’t hear what Billy said to Carter, but he threw his arms in the air impatiently as Billy most probably told him I arrived late at the train station. Carter glanced in my direction as Billy walked back to where I was standing next to the car and the butterflies danced in my stomach.
“Go on”, Billy told me when I didn’t move.
“Shouldn’t I get my bag?” I asked him, confused.
“You better have a chat with the band first”, he told me, “I may still need to take you back to the train station-“ The situation was very confusing to me. Billy smiled. “See you later”.
“What?” I asked, panicking. “You’re not coming with me?”
“Absolutely not”, he responded, “I try not to get too involved with the band’s private life”, he paused, “but sometimes it’s inevitable”.
“I didn’t realise bodyguards also picked up fangirls”, I frowned.
He chuckled. “This is a first”.
“So, if-“
“Victoria, you need to go now”, he said seriously. “We’re already very late”.
“Sorry”, I said quickly. I already liked Billy. I felt more at ease with him around.
I made my way over to the bus, noticing that there was a small crowd gathering on the opposite pavement. I fought not to gape as I arrived in front of Carter. My pulse was out of control. He stepped on his half-finished cigarette and entered the bus without a word to me.
I swallowed uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure if he was unhappy with my tardiness, or he was trying to escape the attention from the public. Probably the former. My nerves were making me overthink more than normal. With Carter gone, I contemplated whether to get on the bus, or not while watching the number of curious-onlookers on the pavement increasing.
Mike hurriedly climbed down the few bus stairs to the door, seconds later. “You’re late”.
“I’m sorry”, I told him, “The trains were difficult, and I didn’t have a lot of warning, so-“
“I told you yesterday that we were leaving today-“ he reminded me, “You could’ve easily prepared-“
“I didn’t believe this would actually happen-“
He sighed. “Well, I wanted a good amount of time to explain everything to you, now we only have ten minutes, or we’ll throw the schedule”.
“You could’ve called me”.
He cast an impatient look at me. “We’re working. I put this half an hour aside to have this conversation. Now we have even less-“
“Hey, you’re Mike Lowe, right?” A girl suddenly asked Mike. She and three of her friends made their way over from the other side of the pavement.
Mike’s face instantly changed, and he smiled kindly at them. “Yeah, how are you all doing?”
“I told you it was the band’s bus!” one of the others insisted.
“Could we have your autograph, please?” another asked, “maybe a photo?”
Mike didn’t tell them that the band needed to leave or that he didn’t have time for any of the favours they asked for, but instead signed the autographs generously and posed for their photos.
“You can get on the bus, Victoria”, he told me.
I wasn’t incredibly comfortable getting on the bus by myself, but I did so anyway.
The bus driver was a man in his late forties. He had tousled blonde hair and a thin moustache. He wore jeans and a red-check shirt, but no shoes.
“Hey”, he smiled at me. “I’m Matt”. He held his hand out to me confidently.
“Hey, Matt”, I said, shaking his hand. “Victoria. Nice to meet you”.
“Pleasure’s all mine, babe”, he informed me. “The boys are just down this hallway. I’m sure you can hear them”.
Sure enough, loud voices were coming from where he gestured down the bus. It was followed by loud booming laughter.
“I’ll just wait for Mike”, I told him, “He’ll be here any moment”.
“As you like”.
When Mike got back onto the bus, he told Matt: “Lock the doors, please. It’s getting crowded out there. We’ve been waiting here too long”.
Matt immediately locked the bus door. “Andrew’s been asking when we’re leaving? He’s getting impatient.” Andrew Stevens was the band manager.
“Aren’t we all”, Mike retorted, “tell him, we’ll leave in ten minutes”.
I followed Mike down the narrow bus hallway, narrow because of the various tables and seats on either side of it. The next part of the bus had curtained bunk beds built into the side and a small but well-equipped kitchenette.
We found the rest of the band in a semi-circle around a table at the back of the bus.
I stood uncomfortably against the wall as the four familiar faces stared at me, curiously. Mike sat down at the table with the rest of the band. Two crew members I recognised from youtube videos over the years were leaning on either side of the wall to my left and right.
On Mike’s right, sat Sean Masters, the band’s lead guitarist. Next to him, sitting in the middle of the table was the drummer, Jason ‘Jay’ Shanahan. Next to him was Carter and on his right, Noah Stewart, the bassist who was closest to my left. All five of them were heavily tattooed. Sean had chin-length black hair and brown eyes. The most facial hair he ever considered growing was the little stubble visible on his jaw in the late afternoon. Jason was almost two metres tall with blue eyes, wild auburn hair and a dark brown moustache and beard. Carter had blue-green eyes, short black hair and was a little chubbier than the rest. He always said that he got his tattoos to make him look more muscular. Noah was short, something no one would let him forget, with dark brown hair and a beard peppered with grey even though he was the youngest in the band at thirty-six. The other four of them were forty. The five of them grew up together in Orange County and had been a band for over twenty years.
“Look, we don’t have a lot of time”, Mike started, “So, this is Noah-”
“Don’t bother introducing anyone”, I interrupted him, “I know everyone’s names, birthdates, blood types-“ I was delighted when I made them all laugh. Of course, I didn’t know their blood types.
“Guys, this is Victoria”, Mike half-smiled. “I suppose you don’t know Mike and James Miller?”
He gestured to the two crew members on either side of me. Mike and James were brothers who’d been working with the band since the very beginning of their career. Mike was at the time the head of merchandise and distribution while James was the drum technician. The Miller-brothers looked very similar with their dark hair, dark eyes, and muscular builds.
“Not personally”, I replied, “but I know who they are”.
Mike Miller laughed. “Would you look at that?” He looked over at his brother. “We might be as famous as they are!” He gestured towards the band.
“I wouldn’t take it that far”, I smiled, but I already liked the Miller-Brothers as well.
“Now for the rules”, Mike stated. “There are quite a lot of them ranging from tour rules which are non-negotiable and primordial—and our rules which are of course negotiable and won’t surpass your limits”.
I opened my mouth to speak but, he answered the question I was about to ask. “The second part can be discussed just between the two of us”.
I nodded. “I assume the band will be around all the time on tour, right?”
Mike frowned. “Of course, why?”
I shrugged. “We might as well discuss everything here then”, I told him, “I’m sure they know exactly what’s going on”.
“There are no secrets between us”, he answered, and the other guys laughed as I blushed.
“Besides it’s also practical”, Mike added, “to have a private conversation on this bus is very difficult”.
“You get to know people really well on tour”, Noah winked at me.
“This could take a little while”, Mike told me, “So why don’t you sit down”.
“Uh-where?” I could see all the space around the table was taken.
He tapped his left thigh. I wasn’t going to say no to that opportunity, so I sat down obediently on his lap.
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t break”.
“I know”, I countered. “I’m just very uncomfortable”.
I wasn’t hyperventilating on his lap like I thought I would. I had completely forgotten to breathe. It was only when I became dizzy that I realised I was holding my breath. I let the breath out in a whoosh of air and then gasped.
“It’s best to breathe”, Mike suggested. “Keeps you alive”.
“I’m sorry”, I told him. “I’m trying”. I was annoyed at myself for acting like a teenager around them.
“So, for obvious reasons this will be a verbal agreement and you can leave whenever you want”, Mike explained, “of course, actual sex-related details can be discussed as we go and are always negotiable if you’re uncomfortable with anything”. He hooked a string of hair behind my ear. “But more important is that you know what’s expected of you in a non-sexual capacity as this is a headlining tour”.
I might’ve been gaping slightly. “Okay”, I said, “are we going to discuss it now?”
“No, we’re going to discuss it later,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m trying to listen”, I said, resting my hands uncomfortably in my lap, “but I can’t think when I’m this nervous”.
They laughed and I once again felt thrilled that I was amusing.
“Can I please stand?” I begged.
“Go on”. He lifted his leg slightly and gave me a boost off his lap. I was relieved to be away from him but then everyone was staring at me again.
The very first tour-rule he mentioned was that when the band was working in whatever capacity, I only speak when spoken to and stay out of everyone’s way.
“You’re joking!” I exclaimed loudly. “I can’t not speak until I’m spoken to”.
“I liked you better when you were suffocating on my lap”, Mike said calmly.
I ignored him. “What if no one speaks to me?” I asked, sounding a little desperate.
“Then we’ll have a nice quiet tour”, he responded, “You’ll only need your mouth for one thing anyway”.
All the guys laughed appreciatively at his crude joke while I blushed.
“Hilarious, Mike”, I said, crossing my arms in defence.
“People will speak to you”, he assured me, “We like to have fun, but we’re professionals. There will be times when you’ll be expected to entertain yourself”.
I nodded. “Of course”.
“In public, that means at venues, soundchecks, interviews—wherever, you refer to the crew members, management and staff by their titles unless they personally ask you not to”, Mike continued.
“Professional”, I said aloud, “that makes sense. So, I assume this doesn’t include the band, right?” I laughed but stopped when none of them laughed. “I’m not allowed to call you by your first names in public?”
“In public, yes”, Mike smiled, “in private though, you call us by our titles”.
“You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not”, he stated plainly. “For example, Carter will be Mr .Townsend. Sean, Mr. Masters…Get it?”
“I’m not dumb, Mike”.
“Clearly”, he smirked, pointing out the irony. That mistake earned me a crack up among the band.
“That’s already 4-1 for me”, Mike grinned.
I sighed. “What about the Miller-brothers?”
“What about us?” Mike Miller asked.
“I take it you two are involved in this, so what am I supposed to call you when we’re not in public?”
Mike Lowe shrugged. “Whatever you want. This only refers to the band members”.
“But why?” I asked him.
“It amuses us”, Mike smiled.
“Wait”, James Miller said. “Could you call me Mr. Fluffikins?”
I cringed. “Do I have to?”
He laughed. “You can just call me James”.
I smiled, relieved. “Thank you”.
“Look, this is going to take forever if you’re going to ask a question or make a comment after every word of this conversation…” Mike sighed.
I smiled, thinking that he didn’t really think through inviting the loud, hyperactive person on tour.
“I’ll save my questions for after then”, I offered.
“So, I made a short list of things I like”, he told me, “But they’re not exhaustive nor are they non-negotiable”.
“Yes, you’ve said that a few times now”, I reminded him, “I understand they are negotiable”.
He handed me a piece of paper.
“You had time to scrawl down your fetishes but not to give me a call?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
Sean snorted into his shoulder.
“Just read the damn thing”, Mike ordered but I could see he struggled not to smile.
• Being tied up
• Impact play with; 1) Hand 2) Paddle 3) Flogger 4) Riding crop 5) Belt 6) Cane
• Humiliation play; 1) Name calling 2)Spitting 3)Acts of servitude
• Anal play; 1) Toys or fingers 2) Penetration
• Suffocation play; 1) Hand on neck 2) Head under water
• Nipple play; 1) Toy use on nipples 2) Twisting/biting 3) Impact play on nipples
• Blowjobs 1) Deep throat 2) Irrumatio
“Irrumatio?” I asked, “what does that mean?”
“Vigorous oral sex”, Mike clarified.
“Throat fucking”, Jason said at the same time.
“Thanks, dude”, Mike laughed.
I nodded. “Understood”.
I scanned over the list again. “So, like will there be punishments?”
“They will be suggested and consented to when and if necessary”, Mike answered.
I tried not to smile, thinking that they would most definitely be necessary.
“On that note”, Mike said, “how do you feel about being naked in front of the band?”
“Hang the fuck on”, I said, shocked. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not self-explanatory?”
“Why would I need to be naked in front of the band?”
“Well-perhaps as a form of punishment-“ he said, not at all uncomfortable with the conversation, “or you know, sometimes it’s just unavoidable when you spend twenty-four hours a day together on this bus”.
“Tours literally change relationships”, Carter inserted.
“I need to think about that one-“ I glanced around at the other band members, trying to contain my embarrassment.
“So, a few other things you need to know, no insulting or referring to anyone’s current or previous partners”, Mike told me, “You may not discuss the details of what happens in private with anyone other than the band and the Miller-brothers-“
“Does your management and crew know what’s going on?” I asked them.
“They don’t know everything”, Mike answered me, “it’s need to know basis. Of course, they had to know some of the details for you to be here”.
“Which by the way”, Carter interrupted, “our manager isn’t overjoyed about this so don’t piss him off”.
I cringed. “Not a good start”.
“Let me worry about it”, Mike told me. “But, just so you know, you’ll have to share a room with me. Andrew flat out refuses to book extra hotel rooms on this tour”.
“Oh, no, that sounds terrible”, I answered sarcatically, making Mike chuckle.
“Everything seems clear enough”, I told him. “Do I bring up what I have a problem with now, or-?”
“Yes, quickly”.
“Not a fan of the cane”, I told him.
“No cane”, Mike agreed.
“Name calling is fine”, I said, “I just don’t like my intelligence being insulted but it’s not a deal-breaker”.
“Minimal insulting of intelligence”, he smiled.
“Am I allowed to have sex with anyone else while I’m on tour?” I asked curiously.
“No, only with me”, Mike answered instantly.
“That includes the rest of the band I imagine?”
“Yes”.
“Is that a hard rule?”
He chuckled. “Yes, but I’m curious—who did you have in mind?”
I accidently caught Jason’s eye and looked away quickly. “No one”.
“Anything else?”
“Do acts of servitude include the rest of the band and the Millers…like if they ask me to do something non-sexual…do I have to do it?”
“I haven’t thought about it”, Mike admitted. “What do you guys think?”
“Could be interesting”, Sean smiled.
“Acts of servitude includes the band members and the Millers”, Mike amended, “within reason. Safety first”.
“Right—if there’s nothing else-”
“One final thing”, Mike declared, “punishments will be for minor things but breaking hard rules like getting in the way of the tour or speaking outside of the circles will result in you going home, okay?”
“Got it”.
“If you agree to this, we expect you to stick to our schedule”, Mike resumed, “that means when you’re asked to be somewhere, you be there, and you be there on time, you wake up on time, you eat on time. We’re not waiting around for you. This is a sixty-day tour and it’s not as glamorous as it sounds”.
“Do I have an itinerary I can follow?” I asked hopefully. “If things aren’t written down, I tend to forget that they exist”.
“We can give you the show dates, soundcheck times and venues, but the rest changes all the time”, he advised, “better to keep your ear to the ground”.
“Mike is making it sound like all work and no play”, Noah smiled, “don’t worry, it’ll be fun too”.
“So, is there anything else?” I checked.
“That’s everything”, he confirmed.
I was really so excited to be there that Mike could’ve proposed anything and I would still have agreed to it all.
“Then I agree”. I sighed, relieved. “Gosh, I feel better now”. I laughed. “I should go get my bag”.
“Your bag goes underneath the bus”, Carter said. “Billy will do it”.
“I’ll call Billy, and let him know you’re staying and we’re ready”, Mike told everyone.
“I’ll go tell Matt we can leave”, Noah suggested, already up from the table and walking down up the bus.
“I’ll call Andrew”, Sean said, “we’re only half an hour behind schedule. He should be over the moon”.
“Victoria, get me a beer, please”, Mike ordered politely.
“Where is it?”
“In the fridge”. He rolled his eyes, as he held his mobile to his ear. “Where else would we keep beer?”
“I don’t know?” I responded cheekily, taking a beer from the frigde, “in a box?”
The guys sniggered as Mike shot me a scorching look, and I added: “Mr. Lowe”.
I waited for him to finish his short conversation with Billy before placing the beer in front of him.
He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me forwards so my face was inches away from his, and I gasped in shock.
“Tone down on the snarky comments”, he smirked, his breath hot on my face. The adrenalin that rushed through me made me feel so dizzy that I almost swooned.
“I’m not only submissive”, I said once I regained my poise, “I just wanted to remind you, I’m a brat”.
“Oh, I’m aware”. He let go of my wrist and I took a few steps away to calm my breathing.
“Does anyone else want a beer?” I asked breathlessly.
Jason laughed. “Not anymore”.
“Can I have a nap?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t need a nap, but I needed a moment to access the crazy that my life had just become.
“I’ll wake you if I need you”, Mike acknowledged.
“Where do I sleep?” I asked and then added without being able to help myself,” SIR?” I put mock emphasis on the sir.
He tapped the closest bunk bed on my left. “Under me”.
My cheeks burned with blood as I looked up at him.
I recovered quickly. “Oh, good”, I smiled. “So, if you have a wet dream-I’ll be the first to know”.
The band laughed. I was definitely playing to the gallery.
“Manners”, Mike warned playfully.
“One point for me though, right?” I endeavoured.
“Just get in there”, he chuckled, pointing towards the bunk bed.
“So, no point for me?”
The look he gave me sent me scurrying into the curtained bunk bed. Finally, I could breathe properly again. I noted how incredibly turned on I was. It must’ve been the adrenalin. I was going to need to learn to control myself and not be so starstruck if I wanted to survive the entire tour. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the guys’ voices that were coming from right next to me.
“She’s cute”, Jason said in a nonchalant, shrug-offish kind of way.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea”, I heard Carter say.
“What?” Mike asked, “way to speak up now, man—you had like all day when I was sorting this out with Andrew?”
“I just think you’re thinking with your dick”, Carter sighed.
“Carter”. It was Noah. “Is this the best time?”
“She can probably hear everything”, Sean agreed.
I held my breath as they listened.
“Can you really trust her not to blab on everything we do for publicity?” Carter continued after a moment, “we don’t know her. Do you really want this kind of responsibility?”
“That’s a bit melodramatic, bro”, Noah told him. “It’s not like she’s the first woman on tour”.
I heard Jason distinctly giggle. “How will her presence do more than give everyone a hard-on?”
“No one’s attention will be where it should be”, Carter said, annoyed. “What are we doing here, huh?”
Noah sighed. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t think she should be on the bus with us or anywhere near us while we’re working”, Carter voiced his opinion. “She can travel with the dancers or something, and she can hang out with us while we’re off”.
“No”, Mike replied simply.
“Why the hell not?” Carter shot.
“’Cause I want her here”.
“So do I”, Jason agreed. “She’s been here twenty minutes and she’s already made things more exciting!”
It was silent then Noah asked: “Why did we agree she only have sex with you again?”
“She’s got enough on her plate at the moment”, Mike said, “If she can handle that for a week, I’ll change the rule if she wants to”.
I felt the bus start to move. There was no turning back anymore, not that I would’ve wanted to anyway.
She who writes 