The Big Book of Kink by Alison Tyler

Author:Alison Tyler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Big Book of Kink
ISBN: 9781627781572
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2015-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

THE GAME

Alison Tyler

Angel called that first party, almost two years ago, a trial by fire. Having to meet the entire band at one time. But, honestly, I preferred it that way, plunged into the group without a chance to step back, to move away from the flames.

Still, I was scared. I tried to control my nerves as I slid off her motorcycle and then waited while she set her gloves and helmet on the rack. We’d parked her bike in the circular driveway, already filled with other, more decadent bikes, and we walked past them to the front of the house.

“Guess we’re the last ones here,” Angel said, leading me up the stairs and into Deleen’s Hollywood Hills estate. “That’s good. You’ll get to know everyone in about five seconds flat—then you can stop trembling and enjoy yourself.” I nodded and gripped her hand. As a model, you’d think I’d be used to meeting celebrities—especially since I’m considered one myself. But I was fairly new on the scene. And meeting the members of Objects—the band with the most number one hits in the country—was disconcerting, regardless of how many fashion shoots I’d done.

Angel pulled me along behind her, whispering assurances: “You’ll do fine. They’ll love you.” We brushed past the multicolored balloons that filled the entryway, the orbs lolling against the molded doorways and fluttering softly up to the ceiling.

A poster of the new album cover, Objects of Desire, was taped to one wall. It showed Angel, Deleen, Beauty and Arianna totally nude with graffiti–style arrows pointing to their breasts and cunts. Lola, the cherub of the group with her blonde ringlets and innocent smile, sat naked in her wheelchair, staring up at the rest of the group.

As I looked at the picture, I realized how each band member derived power through individuality. Angel’s tattoos were starkly severe in the black-and-white photo, as if they’d been carved into her body. Arianna had painted stars and stripes on her breasts to make them more patriotic. Deleen was like a mad sorceress. She winked at the camera with an almost evil smirk, and rubbed her hands together with glee. Beauty, who’s half German and half Native American, had braided her thick, black hair into a solid rope—it made her look dangerous. She stood sideways between Deleen and Arianna, and her braid hung down her back, past her shoulder blades, almost to her waist.

“That’s the uncensored version,” Angel told me. “The public receives a model with black Xs covering the indecent parts.”

I stared, fascinated by the curves and dips of the women’s bodies, their unique shapes, but Angel pulled on my hand, leading me into the sprawling living room. The lights were dimmed, and I almost stumbled over a white cat walking up to greet us.

“Hey, Mister.” Angel picked up the kitty. “I’d like you to meet Katrina.”

I shook a fuzzy paw, and Beauty, staked out on a matching sofa said, “Where are your manners, Angel? You introduce your lady to a pussy

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