Chapter 16

In the weeks after the band recorded their album, they spent days in the annexe practising their anarchic rock music. I heard them on long calls with their management company, finalising the plans for their tour. Their first few gigs were always in small bars in and around Middlesex, so they could test their new arrangements and material in front of a live audience. Every year, they played a free concert at a West London Pride event, and also at a village school fete in Hertfordshire where Paula’s favourite music teacher taught.

Natasha and I had plenty of sex; she adored pegging me, I still had lots of golden showers, I had a daily diet of cunnilingus, and we found time for some more vanilla intimacy. We had some group sessions with Nessie and Faye; wonderful afternoons of mutual enjoyment as the two submissives sated the needs and wants of the punk rockers before the dominant musicians savagely defiled us with large dildos in their waste waters.

The toy Monika made me buy had plenty of use. It throbbed wonderfully against my P-Spot and on its lower settings could keep me at an incredible level of horniness, spewing pre-cum, but without getting close enough to properly orgasm. More powerful vibrations would empty my balls in minutes. I loved my BadBoy and used it weekly at least.

My girlfriend and I grew closer. We spent lots of time together and I tried to ensure that we went out once a week as a couple. When I had a stressful few days at work, Natasha understood and soothed my tensions with love and dominance. I had never been so happy in a relationship, nor satisfied. We discussed Christmas, and I suggested we hire a cottage in Windermere for the festive period. She agreed, and I found a suitable property.

As the start of their season-long tour approached, we had more serious discussions. Natasha had never been away without an agreement of total openness in her relationship and she broached this subject once more. She wanted to discuss the reality of what was coming. “Tours are wild, fun things,” she admitted. “We will all fuck loads of horny men and women. Sometimes at the same time,” she giggled. “You do know that, don’t you?”

I did, and we agreed my girlfriend had the freedom to do as much safe sex as she craved, providing I was not present at the concert. I had tickets to two of the band’s gigs, and on those days, we’d meet up instead of her finding an overnight lay.

Natasha gave me the same privilege, but I immediately scoffed at her offer. “The only people I get sex with will be touring the country,” I laughed, and my lover patted my shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll find something,” she mused. “I wasn’t here when Boh came down and you had non-stop kink with an eighteen-year-old. Absolutely incredible. I was so fucking jealous! I’d loved to have played with that bitch!”

The day before she left, she frantically packed and then we walked to the pub in the centre of the village for a private couple night before we parted. She flirted outrageously, teased me about her non-stop orgies on tour and then dared me to run up the quiet lane to our home bottomless. We raced each other, our shorts in our hands, striding through the warm evening.

I was desperately horny when we reached home, and I tackled her onto my small patch of grass beside my front door. I devoured her slit in the evening twilight. She groaned as my lips danced over her sensual folds. They tasted and smelt of her delicious arousal, and I lapped up her excitement with relish, twisting and turning my tongue to flick and devour her button.

She gasped as my finger slid into her slippery opening, gently curling to probe and massage her insides. Her hands rubbed the top of my head as she panted and sighed. Irregular breathing, gentle cries and groans interspersed with gasps and pants. My fingers pressed against her G-Spot as my tongue caressed her clit.

She lovingly rubbed my hair as I worked on her. Tasting her glorious arousal. Smelling her unique scent. My left hand pawed her at her bosom, and I gently rolled her nipples between my thumb and forefinger.

Her thighs quivered. She squealed. Her body gripped by the onrushing inferno of her orgasm, she bucked her hips and her pelvic muscles tightened. Her frame shook as she cried into the twilight, feeling the force of her climax erupt inside of her loins and flood over her flesh.

I took a condom from my wallet. She said nothing as she lay on the grass lawn and sighed as my sheathed prick gently slid into her welcoming opening. Gentle thrusts as we kissed lovingly; her cunt gripped my cock as I held her legs vertical.

“I love you,” I muttered breathlessly as I increased my tempo, pounding my girlfriend. She squealed through the pants as I rammed into her, harder and faster, slamming my dick into my kinky lover with wild abandon as she lay in the muddy grass.

She panted and mewed as I neared my point of no return. Horniness engulfed me; my body tingled as I shivered and a wave of erotic energy flashed through me. My pulsating cock filled the condom.

Natasha felt it. She smiled at me, looking longingly at me through glazed eyes. We kissed once more, and she guided my head back towards her slit. “Go down on me,” she demanded.

And the moment my lips touched her slippery crack, she grunted, and a torrent of her champagne splashed into my mouth and onto the grass. She laughed as her bladder expelled over me and I licked her piss-soaked cunt as it continued to rain into my face.

“I fucking needed that,” she muttered. “Let’s shower together and do part two inside.” Which is what we did. Natasha buried her strap-on into my backside before I went down on her again. She emptied her bladder over my lips and face as she dunked a pair of her old panties into her stream.

The soaked underwear dried overnight in my en-suite and she passed me the smelly cotton in the morning, before she left. “Something to remind you of me,” she giggled and I inhaled the concentrated scent of my girlfriend.

I loved every moment of our play and had to wipe my teary eyes after their minibus came and the band drove towards Portsmouth with the phenomenal musicians in exuberant spirits.

Natasha and I talked three or four times a week, sometimes via video chat. She showed the latest merchandise they were selling and a venue they played at, and I got to experience some of the tour. I also received a call when the drunken musicians stripped Nessie, daubed sexual invitations over her skin in a marker pen and fastened her to a radiator in the corridor of the cheap hotel, abandoning her to a stag party for fun and defilement. Every day the WhatsApp private group was awash with sordid pictures and clips, and I had no end of masturbatory material. Clearly, tours were wild, bawdy affairs.

But I longed for Natasha to come back home. I wanted my girlfriend with me and although work took my mind off her absence, my evenings were lonely. I missed her terribly.

In mid-September, the band played at a Leicestershire indoor beer festival and, as I had nothing to do that weekend, I travelled to watch them. I rented a cheap hotel room beside the rugby club hosting the event, and I surprised Nessie by coming up behind her. She jumped, squealed, and hugged me.

I watched the band as I tried new beers and spoke to their sexy seller. It had been a “fantastic” tour, with the musicians predicting that they would have run out of much of their merchandise by the middle of October. Nessie had reordered the items and they would collect next month, but the strong sales numbers were good for their finances. The music at the event was amazing; Natasha’s vocals dominated the function room and their high-energy performances were incredible.

I hadn’t told Natasha I had travelled to see her, and when the band finished their set, I watched Fox and Laurie load their instruments onto the truck as the girls mingled amongst the revellers. A young, tattooed muscle-clad man made a bee-line for my girlfriend and she spoke earnestly with him, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers with a wide, beaming grin. I wanted to interrupt, and was in two minds to do so, when Faye saw me observing the scene. “Hiya John. Didn’t expect you here. You good?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Who’s that?”

“Grant,” she replied. “He runs this beer festival.” She sighed and cocked her head. “Natasha has freedom. Did you think she’d be fucking celibate?”

“She does. I just hoped to see her.” Faye guided me into the main tent and away from the large function room. “I had this weekend free. I saw you had concerts Saturday and Monday around Leicester and thought I might surprise Natasha. Y’know, spend some time with her tonight and tomorrow.” Her bandmate bit her lip. “It’s fine. I’ll...”

“John,” Faye interrupted. “If I told her you were here, she’d come running.”

“No, I don’t want to interrupt her. She looks like she’s having fun.”

“She won’t mind. She wants to see you. Or we’re filming our Christmas video tomorrow at Beaumanor in Woodhouse. Why not show up for that? You could watch the recording? From ten? She’s missed you so much.”

I nodded and glimpsed my girlfriend laughing and dancing with her one-night stand through the open door and left to go to my hotel. I felt a little aggrieved and upset, but I had no reason to be. It was my choice, and I closed my eyes and thought back to the intense music I had listened to.

The following morning, I travelled to the Grade II listed mansion on the outskirts of the Leicestershire town. I recognised the tour minibus and smiled at Fox as I entered the building. Maddison saw me first, and then Natasha. She scowled, strode over to me, as I held out my hands to hug her. She slapped me angrily across the cheek. “You fucking bastard!” She yelled.

“What?”

“You fucking came to the rugby club and fucking avoided me!” She shouted; I used my arms to shield myself from any further slaps to the face, and her fist landed in my stomach. “Why?”

“You were with Grant. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You fucking tool!” She yelled and raised her hands to fling them around my neck. “I’ve missed you so fucking much!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes after we kissed and embraced and took a walk through the stunning neighbouring grounds. I apologised, but thought that I had given her space, not avoided her.

We returned to the imposing venue; They had festively decorated the manor house for the video, and Faye loaded their Christmas track on her laptop. I took her headphones and listened to the upbeat punk rock song.

“No need to check your list. No need to check it twice, The girls of Bitches Against? We ain’t under Nice. Paula’s been no good. Faye’s been rowdy, too. Natasha’s in the news. She’s turned the air quite blue. Maddison’s got more tats. She’s scrapping every day. While Yasmin’s bad behaviour is leading innocents astray.”

“Santa knows who’s been naughty. He knows who’s been fiendish. His list says who’s been wayward. And those who’ve been mischievous. Playful, rowdy, risque, bawdy. He sees every single despot. But Santa, you know, we’re the naughtiest of the lot.”

The chorus had been ferociously energetic, and Natasha’s voice dominated the recording. Punchy, aggressive, but with a catchy tune, they continued.

“We had a few beers. Some wine. And then some vodka, too. A local reporter thought it funny to do an interview. Our manager got lairy. She kissed the cheeky hack. And then put him over her knee, to give his bum a smack Our roadie invited fans for drinks after dark, But the Police broke up the impromptu party in the park.”

“Santa knows who’s been naughty. He knows who’s been fiendish. His list says who’s been wayward. And those who’ve been mischievous. Playful, rowdy, risque, bawdy. He sees every single despot But Santa, you know, we’re the naughtiest of the lot.”

“So Santa, we’ll know you’ll visit us, en route from the North Pole, But you won’t just leave a piece, we’ll get bags and bags of coal. Because we’ve been so naughty. And we’ve been badly behaved. Santa doesn’t give gifts to those who’ve been depraved. But Big Guy, why not stop, come in, and have a dram or three. ‘Cause Bad Girls are such fun. Bad Girls are smutty.”

“Natasha’ll give you spanks. Faye a cheeky striptease. Maddison will have you begging and pleading on your knees. Then Yasmin’ll get you a drink, as it begins to snow. Forget about delivering gifts, party under our mistletoe. Have some fun with us, Saint Nick. Let the reindeer have a rest. Some booze with some she-devils, before you set out West”

“So kiddies, if your presents are late, don’t get too incensed. Just grow up to be naughty. Like the girls of Bitches Against. Merry Christmas Santa!”