Chapter 6
BJ and the Extortions were back in the city for six weeks before their debut album came out. It was titled "Word of Mouth" and the album cover showed Denise strutting in front of the band in her skimpiest black leathers, holding a mike two inches from her O-shaped mouth. She was obviously BJ.
Even without any music inside, the album cover alone would have sold the band. In the first week 100,000 units were sold. And that was just the beginning. Denise was hooked into the machine now, and there was nothing in her way ... as long as she followed the rules for the wet slide to the top.
Their album appeared on Sects, masquerading as a small independent label. Actually the label was merely part of a huge conglomerate that included a few television and radio stations, magazines, and a just-starting-up B movie company.
The Sects label put out a lot of New Wave albums, pushing for a wild, anti-establishment image. Denise got a kick out of it, knowing that she and all the other New Wave artists were part of the huge entertainment complex.
By now she knew all about holding up illusions, about faking it, about pulling in, and in some cases pulling off, the suckers.
It was business and sex was always good for business. That part of her act got all the play in the record reviews. And all of the reporters who interviewed her concentrated on her sex appeal.
They wanted to experience it first hand, and since Denise knew how the operation worked, she always gave in. Giving head was good for publicity purposes.
Denise was in the hands of the Sects label PR man now. Compared to the way Lenny handled her for the Hot Licks agency, the new man was an angel. A wicked angel, but he was a lot smoother, expert in holding onto the illusions that he created.
Though Mark and Lenny still owned her for the Hot Licks agency, the label man called all the shots. A deal was worked out so that all the sharks were satisfied. Everyone got a piece of Denise.
The PR man's name was Wyatt, and like all of the others in this business, he went by his first name only. Denise got a kick out of it. Everybody wanted to be a superstar, a hot shot success, so that first name was enough. Only one Wyatt in town. Only one Lenny. One Mark ... But of course, there was only one Denise.
She fell victim to the practice herself. Why not? she thought. If anyone earned the right to act like a one-of-a-kind star, it was certainly Denise.
She fought her way every foot, every inch, every quick suck of the way.
Everybody was a star in this business, she believed. She also believed that if it was a female, then she had to travel the same root to get to be a star. It was all male-dominated. Men called the shots and men shot the shots. Women stood there, knelt there, or lay there, and took the shots.
External sex machines.
But in a way she didn't mind it. Not anymore. She had done so much, been through such hell, that nothing fazed her. Denise had followed s many degrading commands that she felt nothing could shock her anymore.
There wasn't a thing she wouldn't do.
Wyatt was always putting her to the test that way. Every day there was something new, some hotshot she had to put on an act for, take off a dress for, crawl on her hands and knees for.
But at this level, now that she was making it and the album was starting to sell big, things worked out differently. Her publicity gigs had a bit more class.
Instead of being dumped at some ratty nightclub, introduced to the owner, and then introduced to his cock within a matter of minutes . .. Instead of that action, Wyatt fixed her up with a halfway decent bastard-reporter, critic, or gossip columnist.
He would take Denise out for dinner, dancing, drinks ... and then she would get introduced to his cock.
It was all just a matter of degree. The semen tasted just the same and it went into the same places. Sometimes it went on all night long, and sometimes she was sore and bruised before it was all over with.
But in these encounters there was a certain politeness, a shared illusion that both Denise and whoever cocked her all night tried to maintain.
They pretended it was by choice that Denise sucked off his cock, that she would have done it anyway, even if the prick in question wasn't an influential type who could help her along in her career.
It was a different lifestyle. She moved among people who had made it, or almost made it. She mixed with plenty of money-stuffed dudes who were used to testing out high-quality flesh like Denise.
One thing was really different. For the first time Denise wasn't forced to put out for the man handling her. She wasn't expected to take five minutes off during the middle of the day to suck off Wyatt.
At least ... that's how it was for a while.
She thought Wyatt was giving her a chance to go her own way, choose her own partners on her own time. She thought that way right up to the time when he caught her at the end of rehearsal for a new number.
BJ and the Extortions were already working up a dozen songs for their second album. For once Denise was feeling like she was legitimate and that her own talent was responsible for the rise of the band.
Singing in front of them, vamping up her siren sex qualities, playing a full-tilt rock stress, Denise had just about convinced herself that she was independent and she could make it on her own.
And then Wyatt, gentle-looking, gray-haired Wyatt came up to her in front of the rest of the band, held up his hand for them to stop blaring out their instruments and took her hand.
He smiled at her, obviously anticipating diving into her big tits hanging out of a metallic-gold bra get-up, jiggling, sweating, fleshily sticking out in front of her eyes.
"I've got a limo waiting downstairs. Be in it in ten minutes."
"But we've got a few more numbers to run through, Wyatt," Denise said, trying to save face. She wanted to act like she was a professional, like she wanted to discuss the terms of her career ... she wanted a say in her life.
"Fuck that," Wyatt said.
She stared at him. It was the first time she had ever heard him speak like that. Though it was a sleazy business at best, Wyatt kept up the appearances day after day, making like a true-blue businessman, a fast mover but a classy one. Until now.
Now he revealed himself, and it was worse this way. She could see in his eyes that he'd been saving up his emotions, and his tremendous desire, for this moment ... this moment when he could claim her in front of everyone.
She felt shocked for the first time in months.
" It would just take a little while to run through the songs," Denise persisted. She didn't know why she kept it up. Maybe she had become too attached to the make-believe world that Wyatt had set her up for. She had become too much involved with the illusion.
"I don't like to repeat myself, so forget this crap, and be downstairs in ten minutes. Or you can get lost." He was smiling at her, totally out of touch with what he was saying.
"I'll be there," she said.
"Sir."
"What?" Denise asked. "Say, 'I'll be there, sir ... ' " Wyatt laughed. "Or, better yet, say 'master.' " She spoke it under her breath. "Louder!" Wyatt said. Denise bowed her head. Tears rolled down her face. She thought of throwing down the mike, running out of the studio, going it on her own. But she knew how it would end. It would be worse that way. She'd be lost, fucked around with, and there would be no reward. At least here ...now ... "Master," she said.
"Very good, Denise," Wyatt said. "Or maybe I should call you by your stage name ... BJ ... Yeah, I think I'll call you BJ. I'm in that kind of mood." He turned around and headed to the door. At the last instant he stopped, looked over his shoulder, and shouted, "See you in ten, BJ ... or else!"
Then he was gone.
The rehearsal studio was totally silent. The other members of the band just stood there. They didn't say a word when Denise rushed off the stage.
Exactly ten minutes later she was standing in front of the long gray limo, staring inside at Wyatt. Wyatt nodded to the driver, a stocky man in a black suit who looked like he doubled as a bodyguard.
He got out, pulled open the door, and ushered Denise into the cavernous back seat. She sat close to Wyatt, and, assuming a timid voice in the hope that his old self would return, his apparent fondness for her, she asked, "What's wrong? All of a sudden you treat me this way, and I-" He waved his fingers, a brush-off, that arrogant shuffle of his that she'd seen so many times before when he used it on people who bored him or were annoying him.
"That's a girl," he said. "Shut up, and no one will know what a silly cunt you are."
She collapsed back into the soft plush leather seat, a scarlet cushion that swallowed her up.
The limo eased into city traffic.
"Now," Wyatt said. He dropped his hand to her satin-stockinged thigh, clamped down onto the soft flesh, and pulled her knee towards him. "Now you and I settle up."
She gave him a look of hatred meant to wither him, humiliate him, devastate him.
He laughed.
"Look at me any way you want, BJ, but remember, you still play my game. Hate me if it makes you feel good. As long as you make me feel good ... well, that's all that counts."
His hand whispered up her thighs, then rubbed between them, teasing the moistened crotch of her shimmery gold hot pants.
While his right hand rubbed back and forth, obscenely dominating her entire body, holding her right there flat against the seat, his left hand deftly undid his belt.
"No," she said, "not here. The driver will see us."
The sound of his zipper going down was like a slap in her face.
"Can't it wait until we get back to your place?" she asked.
"No, it can't." He took her hand and shoved it inside his opened zipper. His prick leaped out at her touch, stiffening and lengthening in just seconds, pushing hard against his underwear.
She closed her hand around his cock, rubbing it up and down, and with each second that passed there was a lot more to rub, to squeeze. Denise stared at the driver ... as the driver stared back at her. His furtive eyes under the chauffeur's cap were locked into the rearview mirror. The mirror seemed positioned so that it would capture what was going on in the back seat instead of looking on traffic.
Wetness seeped through the thin cotton and quickly spread across her moving palm.
His hand had moved up now to her left tit. The gripping fingers crawled all over her golden brassiere, seeming to enjoy the satiny feel of the cup more than the yielding softness of her titflesh.
Then his fingers pawed under the cup, roughly pulling at her tit, cupping it, exploring it completely, taking every jiggling inch under control.
"Take my cock out," he said. He sat back and watched her with an amused look on his face.
"But the driver ... Come on, Wyatt, can't this wait, really, can't it wait until we get to your place?"
"Oh, but I've got something else planned for us, darling. This is just the beginning. Go ahead, take out my cock and do all those things you're so well-known for."
She gripped his cock hard.
When she pulled it out of his shorts it was already slick with the constantly seeping juice. It glistened, half in and half out of her fist.
She jerked it up and down.
In the silent cavernous limo the slapping sound of wet cock poking out of her fingers was deafening. Slap, slap, stick, stick, slap, slap ... Hard cock jabbing at her squeezing hand ... White and long and snakelike, jumping in and out of her fist...
Jabbing his cock upward, lifting his hips with each downstroke, pulling away with each up- stroke, Wyatt was totally lost in watching her.
His eyes stayed glued to her beating fist, just as his cock stayed glued to her fingers. The only time he looked away was when he gazed at the tit he pulled out into the open, mashed in his grasping hand.
Denise tried to be subtle about it. She tried to jerk him off without leaning way over, without making it so obvious she was yanking up and down on the cock ... the hard stiff prick wetly singing in her fist... in and out and up and down ... slapping, slapping, fucking her hand, squirming like a captured animal, but squirming in pleasure ... hairy nuts jumping up and down ... the groaning growling sounds from Wyatt's throat connected to the slapping sticking sounds coming from her beating fingers.
"Now you can suck it off. Now you can stick that meat into your pretty dick-licking mouth."
"Not here," she whined.
"HERE!" he shouted. He grabbed the back of her neck and pushed down. The whipping motion stunned her as her lips mashed against his rock-hard prick.
His throbbing cockhead roughly pierced her mouth and shot straight upward. The seeping wet staff oozed to the roof of her mouth and then rocketed down into her throat, stuffing her face right up to his balls.
She sniffed the strong musky smell of cock, the odor of leaking semen, the odor of her own saliva as it sloshed and dripped down his prick.
"Mmmmmnph," she moaned, choking on his prick, trying to guide it in such a way that she could move the slick throbbing mass in and out of her mouth and breathe at the same time.
"Suck harder, harder."
"Mmmmn, mmmmph," she gagged.
"Good. Good. All this time I've been waiting for you, all this time I've been saving up for this moment, letting you go on and on, letting you chatter away to me with your stupid dreams ... Now you can listen to me for a while. Now you can listen to what I want."
Her head bobbed up and down. The blonde, platinum, and streaked-red hair flew all over as she sucked him off, gasping and licking.
Now the sound of the slapping fingers was replaced by the sound of her drooling, sucking, choking lips.
"Uhhh, uhhh, uhhhh, ssssssssp, sssssp, mmm-mmmmn, mmmmmmmmnph!" She licked and wildly took in his mouth-stretching meat, eating him as hard as she could, hoping to bring him off and put an end to it.
"Ahhhhh, yeah, suck it, suck it good, ahhhhh, yeah, you are good ... the best ... the fucking best." Wyatt held her head down on his cock so that it seemed like his prick was an extension of her, a tube of rigid flesh that fell down out of her mouth, wet and glistening.
It was a tube that she so hungrily, so dutifully sucked. It was part of her job.
Part of her training to be a media girl.
Her hand covered the base of his cock, prodding it with a squeezing motion. She jerked off his root and sucked it off at the same time.
Now his hands crawled all over Denise, filling with tit, pulling down on her mounds of flesh jutting out of the shimmering gold trap. He alternated between mauling her jugs and pushing her face down so he could fuck her lips.
"Uhhh, uhhh, harder, suck it, suck it, mmmmmmn!"
With one more shove he ripped his dick into her lips and blew off his load. The hot gobs jetted out of his hard pulsing cock, down into her accommodating throat. She continued bobbing her head up and down to provide hot sucking comfort to his cock at the crucial moment.
Her hand flew up and down on his meat, yanking it like it was a stick shift, a joystick that spit into her slurping lips at full speed.
"Go, go, suck it, suck my dick!"
She pounded his cock as fast as she could, eating it whole, stuffing it into her mouth and then closing her lips in a tight squirming O. Denise drew out his sticky cum with her constant suction, letting it splatter over her slippery tongue, letting it ooze down her chin.
When she swallowed as much as she could she pulled his prick out of her mouth to finish off the rest of his load. As the limo rolled over the road, she held his cock straight up in the air and hovered above it with her lips.
It was like an ice cream cone, flowing at the top. Droplets of bright white cream seeped out of the thin puffing slit of his cockhead.
The cum met her tongue.
"Ooooh," she said, "ahhhhh, it's so good, so thick, such a good fucking load!" It was bullshit, she knew, but it was bullshit that all men liked to hear.
Wyatt laughed.
He stared at her, leaning back into the plush cushion of the limo. "If it's such a good load, baby, then don't miss a drop ... That's right, eat it all up, eat that fucking cream . .. Let me watch you suck it..."
Her hand flew up and down his glistening cum-soaked dick, pulling it close to her lips, to her extended tongue. She made a muted, growling sound, as if she was eager to coax out another full load of semen.
Her tongue pressed onto his cockhead just as another squirt erupted. It widened across her tongue, a bitter hot pool of white.
Then she slurped it down her throat.
He pushed her head away. Casually he zipped himself up.
Denise sat there with her tits hanging out of her golden bra get-up. Her titflesh was streaked with the clear smears of semen that had fallen onto her while she'd been sucking him off.
Almost daintily she wiped her hands over her jugs and rubbed her fingers into the large soft mounds until the sticky fluid had dried.
Then she rapidly hid her tits back inside the clinging golden bra.
She noticed the eyes of the driver looking into hers via the rearview mirror. Even through the glass partition Denise could see the glint in them now, as, cap tilted back, the stocky driver grinned.
He probably watched it all. He probably saw her sucking up the cum from Wyatt's prick. The bastard, she thought, the fucking pig bastard.
She folded her arms across her chest and let herself collapse back into the seat.
"Why did you have to make me do it in front of him?" Denise said.
"Hmmmmn?" Wyatt said, barely paying any attention to her now that his cockjuice had streamed into her mouth. He turned his head toward her after a few seconds and said, "What's got you so upset now?"
Denise pointed toward the driver who was now looking straight ahead. "Him! He's got me upset. Why did you make me do it in front of him? ... That bastard was watching every second of it."
"You're mad because I fucked your pretty little mouth in front of a driver? Is that it?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it," Wyatt said. "I really can't believe you are talking this way. I mean, after all the things you've done ... " He was enjoying this. Teasing her was another part of the sex act for him, but this time he was verbally toying with her, fucking her again, but this time fucking with her head. "You mean you can whore around every fucking day, sucking cock at the drop of a zipper, spreading for every damn guy I say ... and you get embarrassed because a chauffeur sees you blowing me. That's wild!" "But, Wyatt-" "Cool it, honey," he said. "I don't want to hear any more from you. Not until I get you back to my place. You see, I got something special planned for you."
"Wyatt, I mean it, I'm mad. Treating me like this, in front of the band, and then, in front of him. He was watching me suck you off, man, watching me blow you!"
"Fucking bitch!" Wyatt said. "I've had it with you. You don't like the driver seeing you suck off cock. You think you're something special all of a sudden. Just a fucking cunt, just like all the rest!"
"No!" she shouted. "I don't think I'm something special. I know it. Otherwise, why would you go through all this crap with me. The rehearsals, the promos, the taping sessions. I am someone special, and I don't have to put up with this kind of treatment!"
"You don't?" he said. "We'll see about that." Wyatt slid forward on the wraparound seat and rapped his knuckles on the glass partition.
The driver turned his head over his shoulder.
Wyatt pointed toward the sidewalk, motioning the driver to pull over. Then he jerked his thumb back toward Denise.
The driver nodded. Then he smiled. At the next block he turned right. He drove down the street looking for a parking spot.
"What's going on?" Denise said.
Wyatt didn't answer her. He just sat back and patiently waited. In a few minutes the driver brought them to a parking garage. The limo drove at a good pace in the darkened tiers and finally came to a stop on the third level of the garage.
The driver got out and came back to the passenger side. He opened the door on Denise's side and slipped in next to her. Instinctively, she moved aside, away from his huge bulk.
"Is anything wrong, sir?" the driver said. He looked past Denise as if she wasn't there.
"Yes, Paul," Wyatt said. "It seems that our delicate piece of ass here is embarrassed by what she just did to me. She thinks that you were watching her, shall we say, suck me off. Take care of her, would you?"
Paul grinned and tipped his chauffeur's cap. It was like a salute of thanks. Denise could see that this sort of thing had happened before. Wyatt probably passed a lot of tips Paul's way, tips with nice bodies attached.
"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Paul said. "You looked fine, real fine. Now, if you'll just get on your fucking belly, honey, I'll make sure that you feel real nice and comfortable."
"What's going on?" Denise said.
"Do what he says," Wyatt said. He leered at her. "Go ahead. Do it." Denise felt like crying. She felt like screaming. But she did it. She turned around in the seat, then crawled onto the floor. Her knees were on the floorboards, her ass was sticking over the edge of the seat, and her hands were clasped on top of the seat.
The chauffeur crouched behind her. His hands came down on her hips and then yanked hard. Her hot pants and panties came down at the same time, all the way down to the back of her knees.
He removed his hands after pawing at her ass-cheeks, positioning her so that she backed up a few inches off the car seat.
She heard the swift zzzzzp of his pants, and then she felt the swift lunge of his prick. He'd been excited already, turned on by watching her suck off Wyatt. Now his stiff rod darted between her thighs and up into her cunt.
Denise was wet, wet and parting, and then his dick was inside her just like that, all the way to the hilt. It was purely animalistic, the heavy groaning, the rapid strokes, the pussy-filling hits of cock inside of her.
He played with her tits, pulling down on them, making her jam her entire body on his cock.
"Paul likes to watch the whores when they suck me off," Wyatt said. He was looking down at her with an amused expression on his face, watching her writhe and squirm with a cunt full of stiff plunging cock.
"Uh, uh, uh," Paul grunted. "It's coming, mmmmmn, I can feel it coming ..."
It happened just as Denise was getting excited, getting the flow of pleasure in her body.
Paul's strokes ripped in and out of her hole. His meat quivered and lengthened and stiffened and just as he was about to shoot off, he pulled his prick out of her cunt.
He grabbed her shoulder, yanked her around, and then squirted his wad in her face. The spewing semen jetted out in strip after strip of hot white.
Denise lay there on the seat, watching his throbbing cock cream all over her. It splattered on her tits, on her face, on her hair, squirt after squirt, pump after pump of cum.
Paul jerked himself off until there wasn't a drop of semen left inside of him. Then he leaned forward, wiped his cockhead all over her belly to dry it, and then stepped back. He dressed, got out of the car, and then went back up to the driver's seat.
Denise started to wipe herself off, to get rid of the staining cum all over her skin.
"No," Wyatt said, as the limo once again drove off. "Don't touch a thing, not yet. It makes you look natural." He laughed. Then he lit a cigarette, and looked out the window, away from her.
Denise stayed there, covered with the driver's semen, the driver who had watched her and embarrassed her, and now, creamed her from mouth to thigh.
"Now you know where you stand," Wyatt said.
Denise watched the thick white glob of cum trail down her tits. She nodded her head.