ACCELERATE

(to cause to move faster)

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After a long show and an even longer after party you enter your tour bus hoping for a quiet night’s sleep.  Bret has been in a surprisingly good mood lately so you think it might actually be possible.  You’ve also made it to the bus before him.  That always helps.  You don’t bother to fully undress, you just kick off your shoes and drop your t-shirt on the floor, before climbing into your bunk and curling into a ball.  Your eyes immediately begin to drift shut.  And then you hear Bret.

 

“Rikki?  Are you in here?”  Part of you wants to keep quiet.  The other part knows there will be repercussions if you do. 

 

“Yeah, Bret,” you mumble, sticking your head reluctantly out the curtain of your bunk.  “I’m trying to sleep.”

 

He walks close to you and puts his hand on the side of your face.  He winks.  “Not anymore, you aren’t.  Come on.  Get up and come with me.”  Every muscle in your body wants to stay right where you are.  But those lust-filled eyes boring into you won’t allow it.  You force a smile and roll back out of your bunk before following him into the rear lounge.  As soon as you step in behind him he closes the door and locks it.  You sigh.  “Something wrong?” he asks you, his voice tight.

 

You shake your head.  “I’m just tired, Bret.  But I’m fine.”

 

He pulls you into his arms and kisses you roughly and you notice that he tastes of Crown Royal and cigarettes.  “I can think of a way for you to wake up,” he leers when he pushes you away.  Your legs hit the edge of the coffee table but you remain standing.  You’re not sure that you’re up for this tonight.  And, really, you kind of just want to get this over with.  Putting your hands on his hips, you draw him close to you.

 

“What do you need?”  Your voice is deep, husky, and completely put-on.  You hope he doesn't notice.

 

“Suck me,” he tells you, sounding almost emotionless.  He stares you down, waiting for you to comply. 

 

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, your hands on the large belt buckle he always wears.  You idly wonder why he insists on such a comebersome accessory.  It really does nothing more than hinder what he wants to happen so quickly.  The buckle is undone quickly; you’ve become somewhat of a pro at this.  You unzip his jeans and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him quickly a few times before popping him into your mouth.  And then his cell phone rings.

 

You look up at Bret and find him opening his phone.  You’re a little surprised.  More disappointed.  Does he really think that little of what you give him?  You’d never be able to carry on a phone conversation while Bobby was giving you head.  He looks down at you and smirks.  “Keep going,” he tells you.  And then, into the phone, “hello?”

There’s nothing for you to do but continue what you’ve started.  But you can’t help but be a little nervous when Bret laughs and says, “hang on, man.  I’m gonna put you on the speaker.”  Then he’s hitting a button and placing the small silver phone on the table beside you.  “Okay, go ahead.”

 

“I just thought I should call you to let you know that CC…” you don’t hear what else is said.  All you know is that it’s Bobby’s voice.  And that your heart has just come to a screeching halt.  You gag reflexively and Bret looks down at you, anger flashing in his eyes.  You try to remain normal and calm but you know it isn’t working.  The idea of Bret’s cock in your mouth is suddenly one of the most repulsive things you’ve ever had to deal with.

 

“What’s wrong?” he questions harshly and you’re certain that you’re going to die right at that very instant.

 

“What?” Bobby asks.  Bret laughs.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you, bro.  Sorry about that.  You caught me at kind of a bad time.”  You stare up at Bret, forcing your mouth to continue to move on him, pleading him with your eyes to let this stop.  He just stares back.  And then Bobby is laughing and you feel like you could cry.

 

“You got a girl on the bus?” he jokes.  “Why the fuck did you pick up your phone?”

 

“Yeah,” Bret replies, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing more of his hard cock into your mouth.  “I’ve got my bitch for the night.  We’re just having a little fun.”  Tears do sting your eyes now.  You love him so much.  How can he be so heartless?  But your sadness is mixed with fear.  Fear that Bobby will find out exactly what is going on.  You know if that happens, everything you’ve built between Bobby and yourself will be over.  The power won’t be in your hands anymore.  And without that power, you’ll have nothing.

 

“Do you want me to let you go, man?”  Bobby continues to laugh.  He sounds a bit drunk.  Realizing that only serves to make you feel worse.  Even with the power you hold over him he doesn’t always heed your commands.  Somewhere deep inside of you this stirs up anger towards Bret.  Why doesn’t the lead singer, the one who’s supposed to care so damn much about the band, give a flying fuck that his bass player has fallen back off the wagon?  He should care.  Like you do.

 

“No,” Bret tells him, hissing just slightly and bucking his hips.  You can see how much he’s enjoying this situation.  For someone who’s always been so secretive with your relationship, you’re a little shocked to find that this turns him on.  But it’s probably not the idea of talking on the phone while getting sucked off that attracts him, you think.  Just the idea of how uncomfortable it obviously makes you.  Bret has always found pleasure in your discomfort.  You wish you could say that you hated him for it.  “This little whore can do fine work while I’m on the phone, I’m sure.”

 

“You’re a sick fuck, Michaels,” Bobby says seriously.  “Lucky.  But sick.”  Your stomach turns at Bret’s response.

 

“Maybe I can send this hot little thing you’re way when I’m done.  I think this one might be just your type.” 

 

The thought flashes through your mind that Bret has no idea how close to the truth he really is.  And again, that scares you.  You’re beyond walking a fine line at this point.  You feel more like you’re hanging off the edge of a cliff waiting to plummet into the ground beneath you.  You also wonder what Bobby is really thinking right now.  He knows that you and Bret have been fucking.  Could he have any idea that it’s you on your knees in front of this man?  Would it bother him if he knew?  It doesn’t matter.  If he does know, he’s playing it off well. 

 

Bret grabs another handful of your hair and you have to loosen your throat muscles as he plunges into you hard and fast.  You force yourself not to pay attention to any more of the conversation he is having with Bobby.  Instead, you focus on the task at hand.  The sooner he gets off, the sooner this whole fucked up mess will be over.  For the first time since you’ve been with him, you couldn’t care less what Bret wants to do to you.  He could tie you up and beat the shit out of you for all you care.  Anything, as long as he hangs up that damn phone.

 

Bret’s breathing is becoming more haggard and his pace more erratic as you place your hand on his hip to steady yourself.  You bob your head up and down, letting him fuck your mouth.  “Jesus,” you hear him groan.  Then he mumbles something about saying something, but you don’t quite understand.  And it’s then that Bobby’s voice filters back in to your head.

 

“Yeah, baby.”  His voice is deep, lust-filled.  You wonder why he’s never spoken to you that way before.  “Do you like that hard cock in your mouth? Suck his cock.  Make him come.”

 

It takes every instinct that you have not to choke on your own tongue.  He’s encouraging you, or whom he thinks you are, anyway, to make Bret come.  This has just gone from disturbing to incredibly insane.  And the way you’re suddenly straining against your jeans has made it really fucking painful as well.

 

“Do what he says,” Bret grinds out, his eyes closed and his head thrown back.  “Fucking make me come, bitch.”

 

Through the din of Bobby’s low voice repeating “do it” and similar things over and over again, and Bret’s deep moans, you deep throat his cock and swallow around it.  Once.  Twice.  A third time.  You choke back your gag reflex.  And then he’s there, tensing beneath your hands and shooting into your mouth.  He moans.  So does Bobby.  Holy fuck, you think, Bobby is getting himself off to this.  Part of you is angry.  How dare he?  He’s yours.  The other part doesn’t care because this couldn’t possibly be any more twisted than it is.  But the way your own cock is throbbing for relief shows you that it could.  You would do anything to have someone touching you right now.  Anything.  But you know that no one will.  Bret certainly won’t.  And Bobby has no idea that you’re even a part of this. 

 

Bret continues to fuck your mouth until he is completely spent and then he pulls out quickly, pushing you away.  You fall backwards, hitting your head lightly on the table as you do.  It doesn’t hurt, really, but it’s enough to cause a loud thud.  “Shit,” you mumble without thinking about it. 

 

“What the fuck was that?” you hear Bobby ask forcefully.  That’s it.  It’s over.  He knows.  Bret shoots you an irritated glare.

 

“Nothing,” he lies.  And then without explanation he turns off the phone.  And proceeds to throw it across the lounge.  It hits the far wall and shatters.  You wince.  “What the fuck is your problem?” he shouts, grabbing you by the arm and forcing you to his feet.  “Do you want him to…”

 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out.  “I didn’t mean to.  I’m sure he didn’t know…”

 

“Bitch,” Bret spits out, backhanding you suddenly.  You manage to stay upright.  “Don’t ever fucking interrupt me again.”  He hits you one more time and now you can feel the blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth.  His punches would be a lot less painful if he didn't wear all those rings.  You hang your head, your hard cock now gone limp from shame.  It amazes you that he has this kind of power.

 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.  “I won’t do it again.”

 

Bret laughs at you.  And then he’s pushing you towards the door.  “I was gonna fuck you.  But I don’t think you deserve it now.  Get the hell out of my sight you worthless piece of shit.”  He opens the door, all but throws you out of the lunge, and then slams the door behind you.

 

The tears come easily as you crawl back into your bunk and wrap your arms around yourself.  You hear Bret in your mind calling your worthless over and over again.  And you believe him.