(to make submissive)
§
Sometimes you really hate
touring. As much as you tell all the
interviewers that Poison has always been a touring band, there are still times
when it gets to you. Today is one of
those times. You’re stuck somewhere in
the Midwest at a venue that looks like it should have been condemned years
ago. There’s nothing to do in this town
and you don’t even have a hotel room to go back to since you have an overnight
bus ride ahead of you after the show.
Sound check sucked. CC is off
getting high somewhere. And you can’t
find Rikki or Bobby. Making matters
worse, the beautiful groupies that should be surrounding your busses by now
seem to be nonexistent in this place.
It’s going to be a really long fucking night.
You take a long drink from the
bottle of water you are holding and throw it across your dressing room. Water isn’t what you need right now. You’ve been put under doctor’s orders to
rest because your throat has been giving you problems. But resting isn’t in your nature. You have to get out. You have to do something. Unfortunately, Smoothie has been posted just
outside of your door to make sure you have the smallest amount of fun
possible. You love the guy, but on a
day like today you’d just like to fire him and get it over with. You sigh, knowing what you really want is
currently unavailable. You’ve called
Rikki’s cell phone, no answer. You’ve
paged Lori on her two-way radio; she doesn’t know where he is. You’ve even sent Big John out to look for
him. But still nothing. He couldn’t have gotten far, you think. He doesn’t have anywhere to go.
Standing up slowly and stretching
your jean-clad legs, you walk to the door of the dressing room. You open it and peek outside. It’s pathetic, you think. How you have to act like a little kid who’s
trying to sneak out of the house after being grounded. You’re Bret-fucking-Michaels. No one should be able to tell you what to
do. Least of all the people whose
salary you pay. Smoothie must have
taken a quick break because he isn’t there.
You smile to yourself and leave the room. There must be something interesting in this venue. Maybe a game room or a pool table. Anything to take your mind off how fucking
bored you are.
The first unmarked door you see is
the one you enter. You’re not sure why
you choose it. Maybe it’s the whole
idea of the unknown that appeals to you.
You don’t really care. Either
way, you’re sorely disappointed when you realize that it’s only a
bathroom. You turn to leave when you
hear a rustling noise to your left. You
walk in a bit further and turn the corner.
Rikki is standing there, leaning over one of the sinks, fixing his hair
and applying fresh eyeliner. Your
stomach flips.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
He jumps and turns around. “Jesus Christ, Bret. You scared the shit out of me.”
You just smile. “Where have you been?”
He looks around the public
restroom and shrugs. “Nowhere. This might be the most boring town we’ve
been to yet. There isn’t fuck to do.”
“So why couldn’t Lori find
you? Why didn’t you answer your cell
phone?”
He looks almost flattered. “Was it really that important that you find
me?”
Your smile fades and you narrow
the distance between you in only three steps.
You push him back against the row of sinks. “What I want is always important. Don’t forget that.”
His hands raise in mock
surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. What do you need?”
“What do you think?” you ask,
leaning in to him and kissing his neck.
You breathe in his scent. So
intoxicating. His hands find their way
to your back, his long fingers stroking up and down. You bite down on his shoulder.
He groans.
Taking a step back from him you
undo your jeans. It amazes you that
you’re already hard. But it
shouldn’t. He always has this affect on
you. If he’s anywhere within a one mile
radius you’re undoubtedly turned on. It
takes a great deal of effort on your part to not let him in on this
secret. He can’t know. If he did the balance of power that the two
of you have established would be ruined.
And that would change everything.
You don’t want things to change.
You like them how they are. You
like knowing that Rikki can and will do anything you ask of him. You like knowing he is wholly yours.
Rikki drops to his knees in front
of you without ever asking a question.
He pulls you from your jeans and holds you tightly in his hand. He knows just what you like. You’ve taught him well. Your jaw drops open as he takes you into his
mouth, the wet heat making your hips buck involuntarily. He looks up and smiles around the length of
your cock. Pleasing you is all he ever
wants to do. You plan to keep it that
way.
“Suck me,” you command, threading
your fingers into his hair and forcing him to take more of you. All of you.
You hit the back of his throat and he gags. You pull his hair harder and his eyes close. He looks intent on the task in front of
him. You can see that he is trying to
relax the muscles in his throat so that he can give you what you require. It brings you joy to know that you mean this
much to him. You must be his entire
world, you think. And then you think
that you should be. You’re you, after
all. You deserve everything he has to
give. Your cock slips into his throat
and your head falls back in pleasure.
Damn, he’s good at this.
“More,” you tell him, and he picks
up the pace, fucking you with his mouth.
His hands come up to rest on your hips, pulling you to him. He opens his eyes again and looks up at
you. You can see that he is searching
for approval. You check your emotions
and give him none. “Faster.” He’s doing all that he can, you can
tell. But you have to make him think
that it isn’t enough. He has to realize
that even though he’s good, you’re better.
You’re still in charge. You’ll
always be in charge.
You look down and see how hard he
is. How he is straining against his
jeans. And you think that it must be
painful. You’re glad that it is. You want him to be thankful for the pleasure
you will give him later. But right now
all you can think about is how close you are.
And how much you don’t want to come in his mouth. How much you don’t want to give him that
satisfaction. So you pull away from
him. His teeth scrape against your cock
as you do so and he whimpers. “Fuck,”
you growl, anger flashing in your eyes.
“Watch what the fuck you’re doing.”
He lowers his head and looks
away. “I’m sorry.” You can hear the disappointment in his
voice. All you manage to do is
laugh. Sometimes he really is sorry. In the worst way. You care about him but, really, Rikki can be rather pathetic.
You stroke yourself slowly,
holding off your climax. “Take off your
jeans.” He stands before you and does
so quickly, his eyes never leaving your cock.
You look down at the somewhat dirty floor and smile. Rikki’s always been something of a clean
freak. You’re sure this will mess with
his head. “Now get on your back.” He glances down at the floor hesitantly and
you can see the reluctance, the disgust, in his eyes. You grab his arm tightly with your free hand. “Do it.
Now.” He wastes no time in
obeying you.
You kneel in front of him, raising
his hips from the tiled floor and placing his legs over your shoulders. Your cock is sticky with your own juices now
and, without warning, you enter him. He
cries out, brings a hand to his mouth, and bites down on his palm. Hard.
You see the moisture in his eyes and he looks away from you. He doesn’t want you to see that he isn’t man
enough to handle what you give him. You
reach down and push his hand away, at the same time slamming his head onto the
cold floor. You hadn’t meant to do it
but it’s an acceptable mistake. Rikki
cries out again.
“You want me to fuck you?” You know his answer but want to hear him say
it anyway. He only nods his head. “Tell me,” you growl. “Say it.”
“Fuck me,” he almost pleads,
pushing against you. “Please,
Bret. Fuck me.”
You pull out and slam back into
him, loving how his pale skin looks against the blue floor. Loving the pain that registers in his
face. Loving the complete absence of
pain that you have. But what you love
most of all is the reflection of the two of you that you see in the full-length
mirror on the opposite wall. Watching
yourself from this new perspective is highly erotic and fulfilling. You look on as you fuck him, watching your
cock enter him and leave him and enter him again. Rikki turns his head to watch as well. His fingers claw at nothing.
You see his stomach muscles twitch.
He’s trying to hold back. But
for once that is the last thing you want.
Because you’re so damn close that you can feel it and it makes your head
spin. You reach down, grab his hand,
and wrap it around his own cock.
“Make yourself come for me.” You love the surprise you see on his
face. This isn’t something you’d
usually allow him to do. He strokes
himself quickly as you continue to fuck him, his soft moans and whimpers urging
you on. His eyes close and you almost
growl. “No. Look at me while you come.
Open your eyes.” His eyes shoot
back open and he focuses on your face.
Within seconds he is spilling onto
his hand and both of your stomachs. He
calls out your name and clenches around you.
You finally let yourself go, still ramming into him. You grab his hair and slam his head against
the floor one more time. Tears spill
down onto his cheeks and you know they aren’t from pleasure. You don’t care. You fuck him until you’re completely spent and then you pull out,
unaware of anything but the bliss that you are feeling.
Without a thought or a look back you leave him there, on the floor, dealing with his own pain. A pain that you will never be able to register. Because you love no one the way that he loves you. And even if you did, no one has ever had the nerve to treat you the way you treat him. But it doesn’t matter, you think. Because he got off. And at least you aren’t bored anymore. Smiling to yourself you return to your dressing room and prepare for the night’s show.