June, 1968, I was tagging along on The Doors' first European tour as the unofficial Mrs. Jim Morrison. Due to my dislike of the rest of the band I spent a lot of time inside fancy hotel rooms while Jim was out around town with this girl or that drug lord. But I didn't mind. I had my own activities to keep me busy. I knew he loved me. All else was harmless bullshit. Till he came home, that is.
The second he walked in the door I could smell the whiskey on him. It was his trademark scent. Booze and cigarettes. Perhaps that is why it made me so hot. The look on his face, however, told me that we were going to argue long before we got around to making up. "What's up, Pam? Your dope dealer not coming today?" He asked, slurring every other fucking word.
Although I had no intentions on using drugs that day his attitude pissed me off enough to make me retort, "Oh yeah. He's just running late. Speaking of late, Morrison, who kept you out all night?"
If there was one thing he hated more than all else it was for me to ask about what he did when he wasn't with me. I knew that. Just to be a bitch I pushed the two buttons that would anger him most. Just as I suspected I was rewarded with a blood chilling glare. Awww...how dangerous is the temper of a rock star! "It fucking smells like sex in here, Pam. Who kept you company while I was outlast night?"
Never one to tolerate my old man's prima donna bullshit, I said casually, "I didn't get his name. He was hung like a horse, though. It was a nice change, ya know?"
It took maybe all of five seconds for Jim to move from the door to where I sat in his sweatshirt and a pair of French panties on the bed. Before I could think to fight him off, he had my wrists clutched tightly in his grip. One look at his eyes told me that this time he was out for blood. Trying not to sound scared I said in a laughing tone, "Cute, Morrison, now get the fuck off me."
This produced a cold chuckle from him as he used his body weight to knock me down into the bed. "Yeah fucking right, Pamela. You spend all night fucking some ass hole junk dealer and you think you're gonna tell me to get off of you?"
I could see it all over his face. He looked wild, crazy, like the angry rock god about to strike me dead. I had really done it this time. With one hand he held tight to my wrists while he used his other hand to reach under the sweatshirt. "You're wearing a bra. There's a fucking shock. Bad news for you, though."
What the hell did he mean by that? With his free hand he moved quickly to unsnap my bra and then he slipped it off with ease, one arm at a time. It was then that I realized what he meant to do. Using the bra he quickly tied my hands together above me head, lacing the fabric like an expert around the brass head board. "Ok, Jim, enough's enough. I'm sorry, alright. There was really no one here last night. If there was, would I have a bra on?" I asked, telling the truth for the first time since he walked in.
The slap he delivered to my now bare left tit told me he didn't believe a goddamned word of it. "Hey Pam, did your parents ever whip your ass when you were a kid?"
What the fuck? "Jim..."
"Didn't think so." He said calm as a saint. My eyes grew wide as he raised up until he was on his knees and removed that large belt that became as popular as his brilliant leather pants. Before I could get a protest out he flipped me over on my stomach, cutting off nearly all circulation to my wrists and hands, and began to hit my ass with the belt. Deciding that I wasn't worthy of the little protection that the flimsy panties had provided me he then decided to strip those off before beginning again.
God, I was so fucking wet and ready! The waiting, at that moment, seemed far worse than the spanking. "You're trembling, Pam. I'm guessing you're smack dealer never tried this, huh?" "Jim, untie me. I get it, you're pissed off. Just let me go." I pleaded. I knew I could fuck him a lot quicker if I had my hands free to tease him with.
Again, there came that cold laughter. "Not this time, bitch. You know, there are so many things that I could do to your ass right now. Just thinking about it makes my dick hard."
His threat was not amusing. This was the man who sang Back Door Man every night to thousands of people, after all. "Jesus Christ, Jim! That's not fucking funny!" I said in the middle of yet another hard whack.
"I aint laughing, mama." He replied cruelly, tracing a finger from a steaming hot welt down to the crack of my ass. Without warning he shoved his finger into my very virgin ass. It felt hard and unforgiving as he moved it. Then, just as quick as he inserted it, he pulled it out. "No baby, I'll save that for another lesson." I sighed in genuine relief as he flipped me over so that I was once again lying flat on my back and still at his mercy. The fire between my legs grew to a boiling point when I looked at him. His gray-blue eyes were alight with passion, his bare chest (when had he taken off his shirt?)was hard and gleaming...My God, he was beautiful. And I loved him. That was my mistake. "So, you missing last night's fuck now?" He asked.
I said nothing. There honestly had been no man and one look at Jim would've erased him from my mind if there had been. But pride and left over anger kept me from saying so. Suddenly I was jolted by the unfamiliar feeling of his hand slapping my wet cunt. "What did you say, honey? I didn't catch that." "I said there was no fucking man!" I spat out, only to be slapped again. The stinging was damn near unbearable. He still didn't believe me.
"It's too late for lies now." A third, far harsher smack landed directly on my clit causing me to scream in pain.
"Morrison, why the fuck would I lie to you now?"
Thankfully he didn't respond to this with another blow to my cunt. No, he really seemed to be thinking my question through. Finally he said, "Well, then this is for not telling me the truth to begin with."
I gasped when he shoved three fingers inside of my cunt. What the hell was he doing? Barely a few seconds had passed before he added a fourth. I had never felt so full. Never so vulnerable. And then I got it. He was going to fist me.
"Jim...no...owwww......." I'm sure I screamed out a long line of obscene and unintelligible things. I felt torn in half for fuck's sake. He buried half his arm into my pussy. Just when I thought I would die or pass out, he tore his fist out of me. Once again, there was no warning or explanation.
"Now, do you want my cock, baby?" He asked softly.
Looking up at him I realized that the madness was gone. Just like that he was once again Jimmy, the man I loved, the man few people ever saw.
Although my pussy was sore, to say the least, I needed that finale release. "Of course I do." I replied in a hoarse whisper.
My heart pounded as he stripped off his famous black leather pants. Every time he fucked me I was as excited as I had been the first time. He kissed me as he entered me, soft and gentle. It, too, was void of all the anger. I knew he couldn't last for long. Not after everything he had just put me through. The power had him harder than he'd ever been.
Jim quickly switched from slow, easy strokes to hard, deep, thrusts. When I knew I couldn't hold it anymore I smiled and we came together, the electric rock god and his (emotionally) faithful queen.
Standing up to put on his clothes I saw his unforgettable smile, the one that meant he was up to something. What more could he have up his sleeve? Waiting for him to untie me I was shocked to watch him walk to the door and turn the handle. "I'll be back later, baby. You just get some rest, think about what you learned today, ya know?"
"Jim!" I yelled, unable to believe that he really intended to leave me tied up to a hotel bed wearing nothing but a sweatshirt.
His smile was one of great satisfaction as he said playfully, "Love my girl." before shutting the door.