Bound in Leather

to begin with.... i\'m only borrowing certain bits from the delightfully talented j.k. rowling. i\'ve added in bits of my own. just know that it\'s all done for purely entertainment purposes. there is no exchange of money for my work. i do it for myself. hope the rest of you like my effort.

i have a standard raunch warning, and i will be engaging it from the very off. i\'m not sure when it\'ll pop up, but rest assured.... there will be smut ahead. maybe even in this very first chapter. you never know.....

also, if you enjoy this, please feel free to let me know. i am something of a feedback whore.....

let\'s see who can guess who the Rock Star is..... i will give points to who ever can guess. those who know.... sorry. no points to you. it just wouldn\'t be fair. ;p

Chapter One: The Price of Fame
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With one last thrust, he felt himself explode. He emptied his seed into the girl beneath him, finding that he felt nothing other than the satisfaction that came with completion. The blonde had a vacuous look on her face. The smile that spread her lips was too false, as were the moans and groans she had given during the act. A rather disheartening trait he\'d been noticing in women lately.

Alright, so he was dealing with groupies. And he had found that their tiny little minds seemed to be able to focus on one thing, and one thing only. Being able to lay claim to a famous rock star as a shag. For the both of them, this little interlude was nothing more than a notch on their bedposts. Come the morning, she would be on the phone, telling her friends about her experiences with him. Silly little piece of fluff. What ever her name was.... he couldn\'t recall it now. After so many, they all looked the same. And he never could remember their names the next morning.

In the beginning, he had treated the little strumpets like royalty. He had taken them out ot fancy dinners, spent a small fortune on drinks and small tokens. It had lasted for a brief amount of time. Now, the conniving bitches might as well bloody pay him for the priviledge of being a depository for his cum for an evening.

\'Oh my God!\' she gushed as he allowed himself to collapse onto the bed next to her. Her voice was suddenly annoying. It grated on his nerves, when only a few hours ago, it had sounded husky and seductive. He barely held back the growl he wished to give, settling instead for the patented glare he knew could freeze most people in their tracks. She didn\'t seem to realize that his look was meant for her. She went on, heedless of the danger brewing in his eyes. \'That was absolutely the best! You are so....\'

\'My thanks, \' he cut her off before she could finish her sentence. She smiled at him, her eyes raking his form as if he belonged to her. He avoided snarling at her, but had to wonder how he would get the clinging little twit from his bed and his room. Even now, she was wrapping herself around him as if he were some simpleton who would never know he was being possessed by an evil entity. He hated personal contact when it wasn\'t necessary. He could throw her out bodily, but he certainly didn\'t want a visit from the police again.

Honestly, one little mistake..... The tabloids had had much fun with that particular faux pas. He\'d been careful to never commit such a horrid blunder again. Although, the media coverage had only managed to send his band to the top. Their album had gone straight to number one. A couple of his band mates had suggested they do some other mildly rude things to draw more attention. He\'d thought on it, but told them no in the end. He didn\'t need to draw too much attention to himself. At least, no more than he already had.

Becoming the front of a rock and roll band that had caught the attention of every man, woman, and child on the planet had already thrust him in to the public\'s eye. There wasn\'t a soul alive who didn\'t know his name, or the name of the band. He was a super star. A rock star. Women screamed at him, telling him they loved him. Men tried to imitate his look and his moves. They all sang his songs, screaming the lyrics at him while he sang them in concert. People fainted upon seeing him. He was bloody fucking famous.

He hated them. They were all sheep. He had hoped to find some free thinkers in the world of rock and roll. Instead, he was reminded of the world he\'d so willingly left behind. Same sheep, different leaders.

A hand crept over his hip, moving slowly toward his flaccid member. He sighed, rolling onto his side, presenting the bit of baggage with his back. She didn\'t take the hint. Her fingers walked their way over his stomach to find what she saw as the prize. Her prize. His unwilling cock. He groaned, wondering if he should just go ahead and chuck her out the door now and avoid the rush. But he always woke with the need for a morning shag. She was as good as the next. Might as well allow her to stay and kill two birds with one stone, as it were.

With a faint grin, he reached for the covers, pulling them up over the two of them. He leaned up to turn off the light, but a knock at the door stopped him. He slid from the bed, stalking to the door with a casual grace that was an inherent part of him. Not caring that he was completely naked, he pulled the door to his room open and stared out into the hallway.

\'Damn, man! Don\'t you ever put clothes on to answer the door?\' his bassist, Jesse, demanded as he stared at the naked figure before him.

\'Not that it\'s any of your business, but no. I was preparing for sleep. What do you want?\' he asked, not terribly upset by the interruption. It would serve to take his mind off the twit in his bed.

\'The guys and I are having one bitching party in Deek\'s room. We were wondering if you were going to join us.\'

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no, to just shut the door and crawl off to bed. But Jesse apparently saw the blonde in his bed. A grin cracked the man\'s face, and he gestured to the prone figure with a hand that held a partially emptied bottle of beer. \'You can bring the girl with, if you like.\' He considered the statement a moment or two, then nodded. It wouldn\'t hurt to join the rest of his band mates in a little stress relief.

\' We will be happy to join you.\'

\'Great. We\'re in Deek\'s room. See you there. Hopefully, with clothes on. We want to keep the chicks we brought up to the rooms with us,\' Jesse grinned good naturedly, then turned and went up the hall. He shut the door, pivoting on his heel to look upon his now unwelcome visitor.

\'Get dressed. We are attending a party,\' he instructed, moving to where his trunk of clothing sat. He dug out a pair of black jeans that he knew hugged his lean hips as if they were a second skin. He slipped a plain black t-shirt over his head. It was old and worn, clinging to the muscular planes of his chest and abs. She sat up in the bed, staring at him as if she\'d never seen him before.

He hid a small smile at the way she openly studied him. He had spent many hours working with weights and all sorts of torturous machines to acheive what he thought would be a body women would want to bed, to ogle. He had found that it was both a blessing, and a curse. It attracted attention, alright. But women somehow failed to look past his nice outer wrapping to what lay inside. It pained him to no end to find he\'d become desired purely for his body and nothing else.

\'Oh my....\' she whispered, her gaze raking the length of him. He swore he could see her already drooling. He dug out a pair of socks, pulling them on before shoving his feet into a pair of eighteen eye Doc Martens. When he was completely dressed, she still sat on the bed, gaping at him.

\'Get up and get dressed now,\' he ordered impatiently. She caught the underlying tone of anger in his words and scrambled to obey. It only took her a few moments to pour herself back into the vinyl dress he\'d tugged from her impatiently just an hour or so ago. She skipped her panties and hose, stuffing her feet into the impossibly high heels she hed been wearing. Raking her fingers through her tousled hair, she nodded that she was ready.

He held the door for her, allowing her to step into the hallway before him. One hand gestured in the direction of the room they were heading to. She stepped forward, letting him follow behind her. Before they passed the door to Deek\'s room, he moved in front of her. His hand twisted the knob, knowing that it would be open, then pushed the door wide. She went in before him, smiling as she saw the rest of his band gathered around a cluster of scantily clad women.

He hung back from the crowd, allowing her to join in with the rest of them. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest while he studied the group. The women were casually flung over his band mates, some of them in the middle of oral favors. One or two had tossed off their tops and bras, leaving them naked from the waist up. The behavior never ceased to amaze him.

His little tag along fit into the gathering of women, finding herself a seat on Fallon\'s lap. The lead guitarist promptly cupped his hand around the girl\'s breast, and neither one of them cared who saw. He was only surprised that none of them were already engaged in actual intercourse on the floor in front of the rest. These parties had been known to turn into rather kinky orgies that raged all night long. He hadn\'t indulged himself in the pleasurable excesses of his band, but he had been witness to more than one night of mindless fucking that the four of them were capable of.

He stayed for a half an hour, watching as the blonde groupie he\'d brought had made herself completely at home in Fallon\'s lap. More to the point, on Fallon\'s cock. The guitarist was greedily thrusting himself up into her. She moaned in that predictable manner that he had come to associate with all groupies. The others were busy getting their women into various states of undress. It looked as if it was going to be one of those orgy nights.

Alcohol had been flowing freely all night. Fallon, Deek, Jesse, and Turlough were all completely pissed. It seemed that the alcohol was almost more of an attraction to them than the girls. But not by much. There was always a bottle of liquor in one hand and a woman in the other with this lot. Not that he denied them their pleasures. He pushed them hard when they were working. They were allowed to play just as hard. Seeing that the orgy was getting ready to start, girls were getting naked left and right, he lifted the one bottle of untouched alcohol he saw and took it with him out the door.

He would let the bitter bite of Jagermeister accompany him to sleep this evening. He had found a liking for the strong German brew, and it kept better company that any woman he\'d had to date. And it could guarantee oblivion, if he drank enough of it. No woman could do that for him. No, they could give him miles of physical release, but none of them could lift the weight that pressed on his soul for longer than it took to shoot a load of cum into them.

When he\'d first found his way into the spot light, he\'d thought he would never tie of the adoration and patently false love women screamed at him nightly. But, as time progressed, the feelings of the women became shallow. Hollow. And he felt the bitterness grow into something tangible. All he wanted was a woman who saw him as a mere mortal and cared for him. Not the image they thought they saw of him. And not the image they wanted to see. The real him.

Once more hidden behind the door of his room, he slipped his clothes off, folding them up neatly and returning them to his trunk before settling on the bed. He disliked the feel of the scratchy cotton beneath his naked flesh, but it appeared that all hotels used the same type of bedding. Unscrewing the cap on his bottle, he raised it to his lips and took a deep drink from it. The taste of black licorice slid over his tongue, down his throat easily. He relished the burn that it brought with it.

Perhaps he didn\'t belong in this world any more. He certainly didn\'t think he could go back to his previous life. That part of his existance was closed to him. Not that he wanted to go back to it. But there were times when he missed it. In small degrees. For only a few seconds. But the emptiness was there, all the same. He had no contact with his former world, with his former life, any longer. he was certain that several of his past acquaintances took great pleasure in knowing he was virtually ostracized. He was completely shut off.

He was an outcast for having chosen the life he did. But he thought that he had been an outcast when he\'d been among his peers. What was one lonely life compared to the other? It didn\'t matter to him that they couldn\'t accept his chosen career. They had never accepted him when he\'d been apart of them. At least here, he wasn\'t ignored or abused.

He sighed, knowing that he shouldn\'t be indulging in the bottle he presently had pressed to his lips. But he didn\'t fucking care. Should he get drunk, he would deal with it the next morning. Or afternoon. Whenever he got up.

With a flick of the remote, he turned on the television set. He still found it amazing that people would sit in front of the infernal thing for hours on end, staring at the flickering images mindlessly. More bloody fucking sheep. But, it happened to be those bloody fucking sheep who were making him rich beyond fantasy. The album had gone platinum five times over, and concerts were sold out all over the globe. He and the band were well on their ways to becoming legends that never died.

It puzzled him that so many different groups paid attention to whatever he did. The rag mags printed articles on his \"occult practices\" because he wore black. As did half the people he met with on a daily basis. But because he was proving influential to the youth of the world, they only concerned themselves with him. He sneered at the things they printed about him and his eccentric practices. Let the tabloid reporters make up what they would. He didn\'t care.

Some of the nastiest Witches and Wizards he knew would never be caught dead in all black. It somehow seemed appropriate, and he got a chuckle thinking about the irony of it all. He would dress as he liked. Bugger them if they thought he gave a shit. He didn\'t care. Let them print what ever trash about him they liked. There was no way ther would deter him. Nor was there anything they could do to him.

Taking another pull from the green bottle, he thought about the next show. The set list was never the same from one show to the next. He hated being that predictable. He made it up as he went along, letting the band know only a few moments before they took the stage what songs they would be performing that night. The band never complained. The guys knew how he worked, had known from the moment they had met him. As long as he kept making them money, allowed them to live out their fantasies, they let him go ahead and do what ever he wished.

The next concert was scheduled for the following evening in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The middle of the Midwest. Farm country, U.S.A. Perhaps here, he could find some girl who would make him forget for a time. It was said the people of the farm states were far more personable than in most other states. Maybe that extended to the quality of the groupies they had, as well.

He took another drink of his liquor. He should get some sleep. He still had an interview tomorrow with some rock magazine. He couldn\'t recall which one, as he didn\'t particularly care, but it would help the band\'s career. He had to keep that thought in mind. The band\'s manager kept trying to tell him he needed to be more personable with reporters and the general public. He\'d told the man to sod off more than once. He was who he was, and nobody would be changing that. He honestly didn\'t care what anyone thought of him. He was almost positive they would put his behavior down as that of an off the wall musician.

They had no idea.

Heaving a sigh, he took one last drink from the bottle. It was empty, at any rate. He had swallowed large amounts while he\'d been thinking, and the burning sensation was becoming a pleasant fuzziness in his brain. His limbs were completely relaxed, telling him the alcohol had done it\'s job. He would sleep undisturbed the rest of the night. And should he awake needing a shag, there was always his hand. At least it never wanted to cuddle after he came.

He pointed the remote at the television, stabbing the power button to shut it off. Then he reached up, turning off the lights. Tomorrow would be another day in another town with another brainless woman. He had so much to look forward to.....

end chapter one.
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my thanks go out to type o negative, as well as anne rice, her books, and the movie *queen of the damned* for being the inspiration to this particular plot bunny. it just wouldn\'t leave me alone...... so here it is. it will continue.

please leave me a tidbit to let me know what you think. once again, i will be awarding points to the person, or persons, who can guess who this is about. i know of three people who are exempt, and should they try, i\'ll be taking points off. lots of points..... which i will keep for myself. you all know who you are......

oh yes, almost forgot..... thanks also go to red for the suggestion of the name Turlough. and to her nephew, as well. i hope he won\'t mind too terribly much.

and, last...but most certainly not least, to madam shark. my thanks, as always. she keeps me going.