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The Girls In The Band

31200 words

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Taylor was a blonde goddess with the voice of an angel. Nicky was a smart assed lesbian tough girl drummer. Spirit was a pothead keyboardist. And Sierra ,with her blue hair, her attitude, and her electric guitar, was their rebel. The band was making great progress, despite an uneasy relationship between them, until a world tour goes wrong in a gulf coast state and they find themselves looking at years in prison for a little pot.
When a degenerate oil sheik offers to intercede for them - as long as they do his bidding, they have no choice but to go along. But what they thought would be a little degrading sex turned out to be long weeks as naked sex slaves, disciplined and punished for the slightest transgression.

Their inhibitions are torn away as the girls endure one humiliation after another, from public nudity to public sex, from gang bangs to whippings and canings. The sheik had promised they wouldn't be harmed, but he never promised they wouldn't be hurt, and twisting the minds of arrogant young western women pleased him mightily.

Using their own lithe young bodies against them, turning them against each other, he will ensure that by the time they leave they'll be submissive sex toys to any man who wants them. And the only band they'll want any part of is the one they'll wear around their throats.

Price:  $7.50

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The first time Nicky had met Taylor, Sierra and Spirit she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. But then, on reflection, she decided it was more like purgatory. The three were gorgeous and had the bodies of goddesses, but they were all confirmed straight girls, and she, of course, was a lesbian. Then she had somewhat cynically suggested they call the proposed band the D-cups, because all of them were rather generously outfitted in terms of baby feeding equipment.
This was not a coincidence. Nor was it a coincidence they were all extremely attractive. Bobbie Moore was an up and coming music executive looking to put together a girl band which would appeal to more than just girls. And with an eye to music videos he had selected them with looks in mind. The studio could play around with voices and music, after all. For that matter, they didn’t even have to play any instruments. The studio could hire real musicians to do that.
The girls were determined, however, and with the aid of music and voice coaches they could soon put out a creditably good performance without electronic adjustments. That didn’t mean the studio didn’t make them, of course, but at least they could perform live without being laughed off a stage. Assuming, of course, they could find anyone willing to come and watch them.
“This song sucks,” Taylor said, downing her guitar.
Taylor was a tall, beautiful blonde with a tight body and full, firm breasts. Her golden blonde hair spilled down around her face, flowed over her shoulders and plunged most of the way down her back. She was the image of the blonde sex goddess, but nothing like it in reality. She worked hard, was strong-willed and smart; their defacto leader, and the one who usually confronted the studio on their behalf.
Spirit, at the keyboard, said nothing, just lifted a joint to her lips and inhaled deeply. Spirit rarely talked, and when she did it was with a soft, lazy voice that didn’t seem to care about much of anything. The studio did its utmost to hide the fact she was an unapologetic pothead, but Spirit herself, with her flyaway red hair, didn’t care what anyone thought - about anything.
“It’s not so bad,” Nicky said, giving a quick riff on her drums.
“You think anything that has a drum beat is all right,” Sierra said. “A song should say something to people.”
Sierra currently had blue hair, pulled into several untidy tails sprouting up, back and to the side.
“How about come and eat me out,” Nicky suggested brightly.
“No, that’s what YOU say to people,” Taylor said with a snort.
“Not all people.”
“Anyone with a uterus,” Spirit said with a lazy smile.
“Damn straight! I don’t need no guy sticking his big nasty into my primo body!” Nicky said, flourishing her sticks and doing another riff on the drums.
“This is bubblegum shit,” Taylor said, examining the lyrics. “Those idiots are trying to make us appealing to little girls.”
“Nicky loves little girls,” Sierra said with a smirk.
Nicky gave her the finger.
“If they want us to be appealing to little girls they shouldn’t have made our first video look like an advert for a fetish store,” Taylor continued. “I haven’t seen so much leather outside a biker bar.”
“You spend a lot of time in biker bars, do you?” Nicky asked.
Taylor gave her the finger.
Nicky laughed. “Your skirt was so short every time you leaned into microphone I could see your butt.”
“It wasn’t that short,” Taylor said in irritation. “And at least my boobs weren’t bouncing all over the place.”
“I play the drums,” Nicky said defensively. “I move a lot, and that jersey thing –.”
“The lyrics,” Taylor said, interrupting her, “are not right for the image they’re putting out for us. We’re supposed to be more Lady Ga-ga or Madonna than a freaking female version of the Jonas Brothers.”
Sierra came over beside her and they looked at the lyrics. “If we changed the beat on this stanza, sped up the temp by –.”
They both turned as Spirit started playing what sounded like a strange country version of the wedding march on her keyboard.
“Spirit,” Taylor said.
Spirit, her head back, rolling slowly from side to side, eyes closed, ignored her.
“Spirit!” Sierra said.
Nicky did a rapid tattoo on the cymbals and Spirit turned her head curiously.
“Would you shut the fuck up with that, please?” Taylor asked politely.
Spirit smiled and leaned back to take another puff.
Taylor and Sierra rolled their eyes at each other and went back to figuring out how to change the music.
The record company people hadn’t tried to dress Spirit up in leather. That would have been too absurd. Instead they’d had her draped to her ankles in layers of funky blue lace which was completely see-through except in strategic locations. Likewise they had been wary around Nicky. A fairly obvious lesbian, they had wanted to soften her because lesbians, however fashionable they might be in some quarters, turned off a lot of people.
They’d decided her boyishly short dark hair could be accounted for by making her some kind of wild sports enthusiast. To that end, she’d worn a way-too-tight football jersey cut off just below her breasts and a pair of very short sports style shorts. Her breasts had wobbled anyway, because the jersey was fairly thin and the producers had insisted she not wear a bra. They wanted to see skin through the free breathing net fabric of the jersey.
Not too much skin, of course. They’d put round, skin-coloured Band-Aids over her nipples.
Nicky joined the other two in looking over the music, and began to tap out a faster rhythm on the edge of the table. She looked over her shoulders at Spirit, still at her keyboards.
“Hey, pothead, see if you can play the third stanza at double speed and kick it up a pitch or two.”
Spirit didn’t look as though she’d heard, at first, but then began work her keyboard, slowly at first, then with a sudden flourish as the other three listened to her.
“Take it up to Middle C,” Taylor said.
Spirit was something of an idiot savant with the keyboards. Not that she was exactly an idiot, but the fact she was almost always at least partially stoned made her seem like one.
She was a sweet girl, though, with such a pretty, freshly scrubbed face that almost everyone liked her on sight. She looked like a virginal high school cheerleader, not a twenty year old pothead who masturbated with disturbing frequency, and was quite vocal when doing so. Given the four of them were required to share hotel rooms on numerous occasions that proved to be extremely irritating to her band mates.
Not Nicky, at first, for she’d been aroused by it. It had not been hard to seduce the little pothead, despite the fact Spirit wasn’t into girls. Unfortunately, what she discovered was that while it could be satisfying to perform almost any kind of sexual act on Spirit due to her extreme responsiveness, the girl wasn’t really motivated to return the favour. Spirit would writhe and twist and thrash and arch and tremble and moan and cry out under her fingers and tongue, but she was quite lazy about doing anything in return. She licked, Nicky complained, like a kitten drinking milk - a half asleep kitten.
She was made for men, Nicky said in disgust, who would stick their dicks in her, make her come, then roll over and have a smoke. Nicky was into much more aggressive, mutually animalistic sex. Nicky was hard core. No soft cooing and kissing and stroking for her! She had once grossed Taylor and Sierra out by talking longingly of a girl she knew in San Francisco who had been so great at fisting her.
“She really knew how to work that hand,” she sighed.
Sierra held up her cross as if to ward off a vampire.
“Oh bite me. You’re no virginal puritan,” Nicky sniffed. “You with more holes in your body than a pincushion.”
“What do my piercings have to do with anything?” Sierra demanded.
“You have pussy rings!” Nicky said. “Your nipples are pierced! No virgin pierces her freaking clit!”
“I didn’t pierce my clit,” Sierra said, flushing a bit. “It’s the clitoral hood.”
“And your pussy lips! Give me a fucking break, Goth girl!”
“How many piercings do you have anyway?” Taylor asked with a grin.
“None of your fucking business.”
“Five in each ear,” Nicky said, “then eyebrow, nose, tongue, two nipples, belly button, clit hood and labia. Does your labia count as two? I mean, you pierce both lips, right?”
“You don’t know?” Taylor asked.
“She wouldn’t let me look closely.”
“Dyke,” Sierra said in irritation.


On the Argus Scale, this is really only a 4/5. He's written better stuff. But compared to most other authors, it's another 5/5 winner!


Great gang bang scenes, well written, a book you will re-read from time to time and replay the scenes you like.

5/5- BD

Good with a lot of enjoyable bits in.




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