Sometimes, I wonder what on Earth ever attracted me to you. You're annoying, loud, and uncooperative, or rather, you are in front of our friends. Our colleagues all seem to think you're the hyperactive little shit you can be because you're just like that, though we both know it's because I can't exactly pull you over my lap and slap the shit out of your ass with them all staring. You like to make the most out of others attention; this is also why you act about on stage. Of course, I do it too, obviously. I'm the lead man, the one person on stage who should get the most attention. Though, you can never let me have a moments peace on stage; you're either making annoyingly predictable dick jokes, or being the touchy little bitch you are, grinding on me and expecting me not to bend you over an amp and fuck you dry. You, sweet heart, are essentially nothing more than a silly little slut.
Today, however, you don't seem to realize just how much you've infuriated me with your slutty on stage antics. You had pulled your shirt off because you were too hot, shimmied around stage, pawed at Zack's fucking chest, and then preceded to stage dive into the crowd of fourteen year old fucking girls. Oh, I hope you realize how bad your punishment for this is going to be, you filthy fucking whore.
As you climb warily into your bunk at the end of the night, having waited three whole seconds before for my approval of your retiring, I'm sure you're curling up, yawning and padding around like a kitten trying to get comfortable on a lumpy couch. Your head shuffles into the pillow, you close your eyes and yawn, and just as you're falling asleep, I pull open your curtain. You blink your eyes a few times to adjust to the light, before you're shuffling over and making way for my form to intrude your sleep.
I shuffle into your bunk, and look at you. You're looking right back, eyes alert and focused on me, only me, just how it should be. I lick at my lips, and roll my brown orbs at your naivety. Must I point everything out? I cough, and look down towards my crotch, raising a hand to push down on your shoulder. "Suck." Is all I say, because frantic arrays of black and blonde mess flopping around as you jerk your head as you nod. I turn onto my back as you slink your way to the end of the bunk, and I am thankful you chose the largest one. You peel down my sweat pants, and I know you aren't surprised by my lack of boxers. I go commando a lot, as you're more than aware. You curl your fingers around the base of my dick, and lick the head with your expert tongue. I hiss softly, and digress from slapping you around the head to make your jaw slacken so I can, well, fuck your throat. You make a content hum as I ease your head down, your mouth covering just more than three quarters of my decently sized length before it hit the back of your throat. I lean a hand down, and you take it, squeezing hard on the balls of my palm as you continue to move down, effectively beginning to deep throat me as you slacken your lower jaw, and I smile. Such a good boy, you can have your punishment for today's behavior tomorrow.
I buck my hips, fast and ragged, thrusting into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth and throat, a few gutty moans ripping from my throat.
"Jesus, slut, so good," I breath, and my fingers curl into your hair and pull. I'm not going to last much longer, I had previously started myself off in the shower I'd had before you'd asked to be allowed to sleep. You pull off, and swallow a few times, licking the strands of pre-cum from your lips and swallowing them down as you curl those long, calloused fingers around my dick, squeezing and twisting, flicking and thumbing in all the right places, and I dig my nails into your scalp softly, whimper your name through gritted teeth and watch as you open your mouth, catch most of my juices before licking the head clean and swallowing. You wipe your chin and the small amount that went onto your cheek off on the shirt you'd worn earlier in the day. I open my arms to you, and you crawl up, resting your head into the crook of my neck, nuzzling your large, yet adorable nose against my slightly sweat slickened skin.
"I've been naughty, haven't I?"
"Yes, slut, you have. I'll punish you tomorrow, I'm far too spent to drag you across my lap right now," I yawn, looking at you. Your eyes have already slipped close, but your breaths aren't even, so I know you're not sleeping.
"I'll stay here tonight, and then I can punish you when we wake." I tell you softly, and you nod, barely a movement. I smile, and kiss your temple.
"Good night, slut." I breathe into your hair, and you drape an arm lazily over my waist, my own arms wrapped protectively, dominantly around your shoulders.
"Night, sir," You yawn, before promptly falling into a sleep, my own mind following only moments later.
When I awake the next morning, I smile to see you're still there, watching me intently. I realize that I didn't give you any other orders last night, so upon waking you'd had no idea what to do with time until I woke. You can be very obedient when you're trying to get out of a punishment. I run my fingers through your thick black locks, and yawn quietly. "You know, Jack, you can always move and make me breakfast." I say softly, my voice sickeningly sweet. You nod, peck my lips gently, and crawl out of bed. You rush to the kitchen, and make me my usual; a sausage sandwich, two rashers of bacon and a drizzle, just a fucking drizzle, of brown sauce. When you bring it back, you watch eagerly as I take a bite, noting that this al tastes much better on the brown bread you'd put it on this morning. "This, is really good, slut. Sometimes, I think you're better at cooking than you are fucking." I murmur, quickly finishing the food before passing you the plate back. You scuttle off to wash it, and as you do I dress, use the Godly invention of deodorant, and think up your punishment. I think the usual of slipping you over my lap and leaving your little bottom red just will not do it this time.
I think, I may just have to take everything to a whole new step, and humiliate you in front of your bloody friends. And maybe all those fans. I'm glad to hear tonight is a hotel night, because we really can't continue to give you suitable punishments and rewards with people ten meters away. Besides, with what my devious mind is planning for you, I think you'd prefer to be in a hotel, too.
I pull on one of those oversized Mickey Mouse jumpers Matt had bought us for Christmas that one year, smiling slightly. I stalk into the bathroom and brush my teeth and wash my face, before running my fingers vigorously through my caramel locks in an attempt to look even slightly decent, as I'm sure you're aware, I always try to look my best. I notice you run away to the bunking area to get dressed, and I wait until you grab some clothes before shoving you into the back lounge and closing the door, slamming it loud enough to let people know not to walk in. I wait for you to turn and look at me, and when you do, I give you the prettiest smile I can muster at the time. I'd been thinking of your antics last night, and I was once again pretty fucking pissed off. You sit down on the floor before I can tell you to, and I'm glad we know each other so well. We know our own little language; slut means love, whore means baby, now means now, later means two hours and tonight means 7pm, sharp. Also, quiet means shut the fuck up and take it. If I tut, you know I'm displeased and if I smile but my eyes don't move, I'm faking. We know this language well. Your rewards teach you to be good and your punishments are for your own good. We had a safe word once, but I presumed you'd forgotten it, it wasn't like it was something someone as stupid as you would think of such a long word like that in an everyday conversation. I can't even remember it, and I am far smarter than you.
I watch with eager eyes as you lift your hips from the floor to lift the sweat pants you'd been wearing up and over your skinny little hips, my pupils widening with lust, my tongue lapping at my lower lip. You were such a pretty little thing, but it'd be such a shame to punish you for being far too sexy. I could do it, but I didn't want to. I'm punishing you for acting like a bitch on heat, not for your deliciously good looks and body. I crawl between your legs, and catch your lips in one of our sweeter kisses I'll ever engage you in, pulling the lube and toy from my hoodie jacket, pulling away to smile at you.
"I think now is a suitable time for your punishment, whore." I smile. You nod, and bite your lip.
I pull down your boxers and leave them hanging around your ankles. You kick them off the rest of the way, and whilst I'm lubing up three fingers you slide your new boxers on, but leave those around your ankles. I line one finger up, and push in slowly, waiting for you to rock your hips back before I start moving that one digit. I may have liked seeing you in pain, but I wasn't completely heartless. The toy I was about to use on you was a hell of a lot bigger than my own dick. You push your hips back, a needy whine emitting from your throat.
"Filthy fucking slut," I hiss, grinning as you close your eyes and whimper, rocking your hips back onto my finger as I push a second in. You whine, moan, and dig your nails into the tops of your thighs.
"God, you're just so fucking needy, I haven't even gotten started and you're fucking moaning." I spit, and you just nod, because you know better than to talk back. I add another finger, the third and final finger, before scissoring and crooking them slightly. As I brush against that bundle of nerves with my fingertips, you gasp and arch your back off of the carpet, whimpering incoherently. I smile, and retract my fingers from your ass, lubing the toy up as much as I could – which really wasn't enough for you. I'm not sure if you're aware, but by the time I had lined the toy up with you, the three fingers I'd had in you had now shrunk to two. I push the head in, and stop as you whimper the bad kind. I frown, and run my fingertips lovingly down your cheek, because it may not seem it to you, Mister Barakat, but I am madly in love with you, hence why I made you my pet, so no one could ever touch you again. You're mine, no one else's. Mine, mine, mine.
You look at me, and I wipe the tears stinging at your eyes. I wait until your breathing calms down, and decide to get it over with. I just push the toy straight in there, and wait until you'd finished whimpering and trying to move the toy away from its sickeningly good angle where the head was pressed flush against your prostate. "I'm sorry, slut, but it's for your own good. This is for your punishment. You take out that toy before we get to the hotel tonight, I'll spank you hard. But, if you leave it in, I'll fuck you as a reward, got that?" I ask, and you nod. "Yes sir, thank you sir." You whisper. I lean down, and press our lips together before standing up, and dusting off my knees. "Get dressed." I tell you, before stalking out of the room to do whatever it is I'm supposed to do. You appear from the back lounge not ten minutes later, fully dressed and walking as awkward as a penguin. I smile, and pat the seat on the couch next to me. You sit, and whimper a little. When Zack asks what's wrong, you lie and say you fell on your ass when you were trying to fasten your jeans. He seems to believe it, because he goes back to texting which ever girl it is that he's dating this month. You lean into me when I wrap my arm around your waist, tucking your head into the crook of my neck and resting your eyes. My other hand is on the pocket of my hoodie, thumbing the dial on the remote. I smile and turn it up a notch. You frown, and look up at me. "W-what're you doing?" You ask, and I smile. "Part of your punishment, dearest," I whisper, loud enough for only your ears. You blush, and nod.
After a few moments, I turn the dial up a little more. Your fingers grip my thigh, and squeeze gently. I smile, and look to the side, listening to the conversation going on between Danny and Rian, and I turn it up again. You gasp, and dig your nails in. People are starting to turn and stare at us, and I sigh, tutting my discontent at your behavior. "Honestly Jack." I sigh, turning the device off and leaving it to rest until tonight. You sigh in relief as the vibrating in your ass stopped. "Thank you, sir." You whisper. I smile, one of my more evil smiles. "Just you wait, Barakat. You'll be thankful then." I hiss, not even looking at you for your reaction.
When we're on stage, there's no possible way for me to control the vibrations in your ass, and you seem to forget that we have a tour manager that'll do anything to keep his job. I passed him the controller and a list of times as to when to turn the vibrations up and what power to put the dial on.
You realize that Flyzik's controlling the vibrator when you jump up half way through Stella, and yelp, running away from your microphone to stop the crowd from hearing. Wouldn't want your precious little fans to know what went on behind closed doors now, would we? Well, of course I do. What I'd give to mark your neck so badly that no one would even glance at you, knowing that I had total power and control over you always got me going. When we came to little interval where I would do some acoustic songs on stage and yourself and the boys would change, I already know what you're going to do. You think I won't but I know you a lot better than you think. You change your shirt, but you hide in the bathroom. You pull down those too tight skinny jeans and peel your boxers down. You grip the base of the toy, and pull it out, slowly, but at a quick enough pace that people wouldn't suspect you were jacking off in there. You don't just throw it away, you know it probably cost more than every item of clothing you're wearing, so you wash it, and put it into a bag that your clothes had been thrown in. You had redressed yourself and appeared out on stage again just in time.
Now, at the end of the set, you waved good bye to our fans and then went out back to talk to some. After an hour or two of talking, Matt drove us all to the hotel, and passed us all our keys. I smirk as I notice you're walking much less awkwardly than earlier before, and I know why. I ask Matt for the things I'd given him earlier and he hands them back over. I grab the bag that I'd thrown my clothes carelessly; changing into some comfier clothes after a show was a God send. It also happened to be the same bag you'd carelessly tossed the vibrator into, also. I follow you to our room, and I know you're beginning to panic. As soon as the door is closed behind us, I have you pinned against the door, my lips feverishly attacking your neck and collar bone with bruising kisses and bites, and I pull away only to give you a small smile. "On the bed, naked, legs spread. I want to see if I'll be getting my way tonight." I breathe into the shell of your ear, and you gulp audibly. Oh, this is going to be fun. I step back to allow you space to squeeze out from beneath me, sliding your shirt over your head and folding it, placing it on the spare bed we won't be using. You do the same with your jeans and boxers, before lying on the bed, spreading your legs wide with your feet flat on the mattress, knees bent. I sit at the end of the bed, and tut, shaking my head. "Jack, you've been a naughty little slut." I hiss, and you whimper. I sit up, and pat my lap. You crawl over, and lay across my lap. I can feel your dick pressing into my upper thigh, and I absolutely love it. You're such a needy little bitch. I run my fingertips over the plains of your ass, licking my lips gently. "We're going to do fourteen, pet, because that's the age of most the girls in the front row when you decided to dive bomb into there." I whisper, and you nod. "Count," I tell you. You nod again.
I raise my hand, and bring it down harshly onto your right cheek. You flinch, but otherwise keep still and quiet. This goes on for the next thirteen slaps. The last, I bring down hard and fast, hearing the perfect slap of my palm onto your skin. You can't help but cry out, tears stinging at your deep brown eyes. You sniffle, and I smile, running my fingertips over the delicious looking red hand prints on your ass. "You handled that well, Jack." I whisper. You nod slightly, and sniffle again. "Thank you, sir."
I smile slightly, and bite my lip. "I think you deserve a reward, for being so good. But, I really don't wanna fuck you today. I'm beat," I sigh. You look up at me with a hopeful glint in your eyes.
"Yes, slut?" I ask.
You gulp, and straddle my waist, and I raise an eyebrow. You run your fingers through my caramel locks, and smile. "You could um, always do what you did the second time we had sex." You whisper. I try to think back to that, but it was years ago. It hits me suddenly, when I see you eyeing up the bottle of chocolate flavored lube I had hastily tried to hide away when you were undressing. I smile, and nod. "Only because you've been so good," I whisper.
You crawl off of my lap, and return to the wide legged position you had earlier resided in. I slink back to the end of the bed, hooking both your legs over my shoulders and gently kneading my fingertips into your thighs, earning shaky breaths from you already. I gently nudge my nose against your balls, and you giggle. "Sir, please." You whisper, smiling sweetly down at me. I nod, because there's no way I can deny such a beautiful smile.
I lean down, and squirt some of the lubrication onto my fingers, inserting two into you straight away and fingering you open slightly, crooking them in just the right way that makes you gasp and roll your shoulders. I smile, and remove my fingers, wiping them on the crisp white sheets. I gently run my tongue over your entrance, and smile sweetly. You had been very good today, and you'd had your punishment, I see this reward fitting.
I gently push the tip of the pink muscle through your entrance, gently probing for a few moments before just plunging it in. One of my hands move up to take your dick into it, pumping slowly as I moved my tongue in and out, just fucking you with my tongue as your hips bucked into my hand, a string of cuss words leaving your lips.
You whimper something about being close, and I withdraw my tongue completely, leaning up to suck, nip, bite and kiss at your right hip bone, bruised from my fingers the other day. I continue to jerk you off, until you whimper, and moan, hips stuttering up as I take the head into my mouth, swallowing down all your cum before kissing up your stomach and chest, before lazily kissing your lips. I hear you groan as you taste yourself, rolling my eyes.
"Slut," I hum, laying down and pulling you into a cuddle. You tuck your head into the crook of my neck, drawing patterns on my chest gently. "Thank you."
And honestly, I'd not change our situation for the world. We both know we're in love, we just show it differently.