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The Gentleman's Club	By : BrittGirl Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Panic! At The Disco Views: 4325 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, I do not own/or know any of the celebrities mentioned. I do not make a profit from this story, it is merely for entertainment's sake.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
The sounds coming from the back of the tour bus in which five people were currently inhabiting went on ignored. The small whimpers, occasional squeals, the solid sound of flesh meeting flesh, the muffled shouting, it was all routine to the boys on the bus, just another fight, just another girl. What did she matter to them anyway? It was her own fault, really, girls who begged for attention the way that these girls did? They deserved what came to them in the end. A particularly sharp cry sounded from behind the closed door of the back room, punctuated closely by a man’s deep vibrato sending an illegible scolding, another dull ‘THUD,’ another tearful plea. “Please, I’ve learned my lesson!”

Paul turned up the sound of the video game.

The girl was on the small side, Martin had noticed that first about her, slim and petite and delicate, though her legs had seemed to go on forever underneath the cotton shorts she’d been donning the night he’d taken her on the bus. He couldn’t remember her name, she’d said it once and it had been something like Sandy or Candy or Brandy--something “andy,” the annoying name of an annoying girl who he’d almost hadn’t thought was legal when they‘d first met. She certainly looked like jail bait, Martin hadn’t even bothered with her at first, scanned right over her pretty face and spidery legs, but then she’d asked to see the bus and he’d asked to see I.D. and just like that, 19 year old Sandy-Candy-Brandy-Andy had become the next victim. She was not the first, nor would she be the last, “little girl”-- as Martin had taken to calling her and most of the other girls that came onboard with him--was merely the next face in a sea of anonymously abused fan girls. Martin had never killed any of them, no, but he hadn’t been caught either. He figured it came down to the fact that after awhile, the girl’s began to accept that maybe he was right when he said that they asked for it when they came on the bus. Or maybe they secretly loved that a rockstar had used them so brutally as he did--the little sluts--and they didn’t care when it was all said and done because now they had a story no one would believe anyway. Whatever the case was, Martin had stopped worrying about consequences a long time ago.

They’d had her for awhile, though. It always depended on his moods, really, as to how long each girl lasted. Some girls didn’t stay a night, some girls were forced to remain in his company for weeks, this one? This one had been with him for almost two months now. He didn’t know what it was about her that kept his attention as long as it had, maybe it was the fact that beating her never got old, holding her down and forcing himself inside of her at night while she cried and wriggled was a continuing pleasure, and the boys seemed to like that she could also cook and clean without putting up a whole lot of fight. The last girl hadn’t known what a frying pan was, much less how to cook something in one, but this girl? She was special. It didn’t seem to matter what sort of tortures Martin put her through, she’d still make his dinner and clean his space without complaint. He kind of liked that he had his own personal slave for now.

“Shut the fuck up!” The last syllable ended in another sharp slap across the trembling girl’s cheek, and if it hadn’t been for Martin’s tight grip around her forearm, she would’ve tumbled to the bed they were standing beside. “Did I ask for your opinion on anything, little girl? Did I fucking ask you to talk back to me?” Mandy couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her name spoken, she’d grown used to the derogatory nicknames, the signals of anonymity, and she was generally in too much pain to fight with him on it. Sometimes he called her Candy. Once he’d called her Hannah. But never her actual name, and for some reason, that sort of pleased her. She didn’t get to have secrets anymore, every move she made, every step she took, every thought she had was monitored closely by the boys she’d once loved from afar, who now held the keys to a freedom she was beginning to forget existed. Mandy wondered how no one had caught on yet, but she supposed it made sense. She was hidden away when people were on the bus, if she was allowed out, it was only under the pretense that she was just a fan, a lucky girl who was going to be banging Martin that night as soon as they left. She didn’t argue it, it wasn’t so far from the truth, minus a few key points here and there.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Those words had become a second language for her, she found that they came out of her mouth more then any other phrase she might have once used. It had become second nature to apologize for infractions she usually didn’t even know she was committing, second nature to just take it and move on, to try to figure out how to avoid it next time. But it never worked, there was always something to be fixed, some reason to be punished. “It slipped out, I didn’t even know, I’m sorry Martin, please?” Mandy’s face was bruised and bloody, the reminders of her flaws spelled clearly across the once flawless skin. He’d split her lip and busted her nose again, she knew it wasn’t broken, but the blood had gotten all over her shirt and his hands, another thing to be beaten over.

“Little girls who don’t know their place have to be fuckin’ taught, don’t they?” Her eyes had closed and a bead of sweat pooled onto her brow, tears silently pouring from her eyes as if he had just told her that the world was ending and no one would be saved. She knew what that meant, she’d been there long enough to decode what different phrases meant and when he used those demeaning sentences, it meant she was going to be spanked. She would’ve preferred the beating. “You know the drill.” He stepped back far enough to give her room to straighten herself out, which she did hesitantly, smoothing her hands over her face to wipe away the traces of tears still there. Her face ached, but it was not as bad as it could’ve been, and she was grateful for that. The bruises on her arm would heal fast enough, they were overlapped by old yellowing marks which were almost in the final stages of healing, it was mostly her ass she was worried about now.

Her fingers went to the buttons of her jeans and she drew them down over her hips, where they pooled to the ground at her feet, followed by her underwear. It was a humiliating act that he drew great pleasure from, watching her have to disgrace herself for him, just so that he could treat her to even further degradation. He wasn’t sitting down, instead he had grabbed two of the pillows from the bed and stacked them in the middle before roughly guiding her over them, so that she was perfectly placed in the center of the bed, her ass sticking up in the air, her lower body laid across the bed and her legs twisted together on the opposite side. In a familiar fashion, he slapped his large hand twice across each of her lily-white globes, leaving a fadening pink palm print on each cheek before pulling backwards to unbuckle his belt from between the loops of his skinny jeans.

“Count ‘em out, little girl.” The belt was doubled over in his hand, and he drew it across her wobbly backside, before he snapped it back and then let it swing in a perfect arc across both her ass cheeks. The stripe it left behind quickly turned into many stripes, and by the time his arm was tired and she was crying too hard to count anymore, her ass a mess of red and purple and blue, it was nearly dark. He stopped, tossing the belt to the ground, and he quickly stripped off his pants, joining her on the King-sized mattress where she was still bent over the pillows, his erection pushed against her blazing flesh before he roughly entered her from behind, ignoring her whimpers and pleas for mercy that wouldn’t come.
- 5
- 6
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The Gentleman's Club