Justin Bieber got ready for this concert like every other. He would
shower in his luxury hotel suite and dress in a simply dark sweat suit.
Then his driver would take him in a non-descript black luxury SUV to the
venue. Bieber liked to arrive a few hours before the show was scheduled
to start and relax in his enormous dressing room surrounded by his
entourage of assistants and hangers-on.
About an hour before the show, Bieber would call over his head bodyguard
(an enormous muscular dude named Cedric with dark skin and striking blue
eyes). Bieber would whisper something in Cedric’s ear and Cedric would
politely but firmly announce to the room that it was time to go. Most of
the people in the room were with him at every show, so they knew that no
one got to stay with Bieber during this part of the pre-show. Agents,
managers, assistants, friends, even Bieber’s wife, all waived or yelled
a “good luck” or “kill `em out there” as they emptied out of the
room.
Once it was quiet, and the room was empty, it was usually only a few
minutes before there was a quiet knock at the door. Bieber didn’t reply
as no reply was needed. As he was knocking, Cedric was also opening the
door. He stepped in silently followed by a tall figure in jeans and a
hoodie. The hood was pulled up and the figure wore a face mask,
completely obscuring his identity. In fact, the fact that he was a he at
all was merely implied by the almost hulking size of the figure.
Cedric motioned the man into the room and then stepped back outside the
room, shutting the door behind him. Just as he had a hundred times
before, Cedric stood guard outside of the dressing room. No one would be
allowed entry under any circumstances. A new assistant had once tried to
argue that he had to deliver Bieber’s specially requested gummy bears
with so much insistence that Cedric had to put him on the floor. No one
got past Cedric.
Rumors abounded about what this time was. Some people thought Bieber was
doing some white drug with his private dealer. Some people thought he was
praying with a special spiritual advisor. Some people thought he was
receiving injections of baby’s blood from a private physician. It seemed
that the more absurd the idea, the more easily people believed it. The
reality honestly never occurred to anyone.
The figure walked up to where Bieber sat on a sofa. He didn’t remove his
mask or pull down his hoodie. He would remain anonymous unless Bieber
asked him to show his face. This was how Bieber had come to like it. The
figure stood silently for a few moments before finally reaching out his
hand and gently running his fingers along Bieber’s chin. Bieber, who had
been wearing his usual expression of smug indifference, cracked a small
smile, seemingly delighted at the stranger’s touch. Bieber leaned
forward and cupped his hand on the man’s bulge. Feeling the growing
thickness inside the denim covered package, Justin eagerly unbuckled the
man’s belt and pulled open the button snaps down the front of his jeans.
Within seconds, Bieber had freed the man’s cock from the jeans and
underwear and looked pleased and worried by what he saw. The man’s cock
was enormous. Only semi-erect but easily seven or eight inches. Uncut,
shaved completely smooth, and almost resting on the huge, full, hairless
nuts beneath. Bieber eagerly put his mouth on the head of the uncut dick
and began to move his head up and down on the cock. It quickly grew to
full hardness in his mouth. A full nine inches total, it was a uniform
thickness from base until almost the tip, where it tapered slightly. The
foreskin was generous, which meant the head of the cock remained
half-hooded even when fully erect.
Bieber moved off the couch and onto his knees at the man’s feet. The man
allowed Bieber to control the action for a few more moments before
placing both his hands on Bieber’s head. Bieber was wearing his hair
short these days, cut almost down to the scalp. Absent hair to grab onto,
the man occasionally grabbed Biebers ears or wrapped his big hand around
Bieber’s neck, giving him leverage as he shoved his cock deep into
Bieber’s throat. Bieber had long ago lost his gag reflex, but as
talented as he was at sucking cock, it was still a struggle with one this
length and thickness.
Bieber had to open his mouth wide to accommodate the man’s grith. His
jaw began to ache almost immediately. Bieber had to open his throat up to
accommodate the length. Bieber looked up as much as he could, making eye
contact. With the face mask on, the man’s eyes were basically all Bieber
could see. The man stared at him intently, as he had been previously
instructed. There had been many instructions. The man was to be forceful
and direct the action. He was not to speak, even if Bieber spoke or asked
him questions. He was only to stop if a safe word was used (banana).
There had been an agreed upon price. The man, who was a well-paid and
experienced sex worker, had never been offered that much in his life. But
it came with restrictions of course. An iron-clad non-disclosure
agreement being part of it. He hadn’t known who the “client” was until
he had been shown into the room by the bodyguard. He never would have
thought it was Justin Bieber.
The man brutally fucked Bieber’s throat for almost twenty minutes. Tears
streamed down Bieber’s cheeks as the man’s huge nine inch rod
penetrated deep down into his throat. Finally, in the only act of mercy
the man had shown thus far, he pulled Bieber’s face up and off of his
cock and allowed Bieber to collapse to the floor, gasping for air, spit
and snot running down his face. The man loomed over Bieber as he lay in
the floor. After a few moments of letting him catch his breath, the man
reached down and grabbed Bieber under the arm, roughly jerking him up out
of the floor and pushing him face first onto the soft.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Bieber said quietly. This had also been
explained as part of the preparations. Bieber was to pretend to resist,
but unless he used the safe word, the man was to continue as he had been
previously instructed. Bieber, it turns out, wasn’t much of an actor, so
as he said things like, “no, please, don’t” and “I don’t do that”,
it lacked authority. Bieber wasn’t very good at role play. The man
roughly shoved Bieber’s face over the back of the sofa so that Bieber’s
ass was in the air, facing toward the man. The man reached his left hand
between Bieber’s legs and roughly grabbed Bieber’s junk. Bieber yelped.
The man felt Bieber’s hard dick and a small wet spot where Bieber had
been pre-cumming into his Calvins. Bieber’s dick was probably six
inches. With his other hand, the man reached into Bieber’s right pants
pocket and found what he had been told he would find there, a small
bottle of lube. Bieber had a preferred lube and for some reason, he liked
for the guy who was going to fuck him to “find” it in his pocket.
The man roughly pulled down Bieber’s pants and undies in one motion,
exposing Bieber’s ass. The man couldn’t help but admire the ass. It was
big for Bieber’s built and he could see Bieber’s tight ball sac holding
his nuts close to his body. Bieber quietly protested as the man squirted
a generous glob of lube onto his fingers and roughly smeared it onto and
into Bieber’s hole. Bieber grunted in pain as the man’s thick fingers
easily penetrated his tight hole. The man jammed his fingers in deep,
causing Bieber to yelp quietly. Bieber didn’t try to get away. A couple
thrusts of his fingers and then he pulled them out, positioning his rock
hard nine inches at the entrance to Bieber’s hole. In one, long, slow
shove, the man’s cock head penetrated Bieber, leaving no time for the
singer to adjust as he slid the rest of his thickness inside him.
Bieber buried his face into the back of the sofa to dampen the sound of
his moans and cries as the man’s entire cock slid all the way inside
until the man’s balls rested against Bieber’s. The man then began to
quickly and roughly pound in and out of Bieber. Each time that the man
pushed in, he slammed Bieber into the sofa. Bieber had to actively push
against the sofa to keep himself in the correct position. The pain was
intense. If Bieber thought about it, the pain was far greater than any
pleasure he got from it, but Bieber found he needed it. He craved it, and
he had gotten to where he couldn’t get through a concert without having
first had his guts smashed in by some hard hitting top fucker.
It had started with Cedrick himself. Bieber was barely 18 when Cedrick
had become his private security guard. It had been one night before a
show when Bieber had finally worked up the courage to ask Cedrick to come
see him alone in the dressing room. Bieber had awkwardly pawed at
Cedrick’s bulge. Bieber had felt Cedrick’s soft dick for just a second
and could tell that it must be huge when he was hard, but Cedrick had
politely declined, explaining that his cock was only for “the Mrs.”
Bieber had been mortified and terrified, afraid that his secret needs
were going to get out, but Cedrick had been kind and understanding, and
rather than freaking out or yelling or running away, Cedrick had said,
“If that’s what you need bro, just let me know and I can arrange it for
you.”
Ever since, Cedrick had procured for Bieber, before almost every show
(and sometimes just on lonely nights in a strange city) a series of hung,
fit, professional men to “give him what he needs.”
Bieber couldn’t think. His brain emptied whenever his guts were being
filled by some stranger’s enormous cock. The man’s thick cock head
would harshly scrape Bieber’s prostate gland on each down stroke, and
Bieber thought he would have to use the safe word each time. But he
didn’t. Instead, he just bore down and grunted and spat into the back of
the sofa. After maybe only a minute, Bieber tensed as he felt his own
cock begin to spurt underneath him, splattering the dressing room sofa
with his hot jizz. Once he had cum, it became even more painful each time
the stranger pushed into him. But Bieber didn’t dare to ask him to stop.
For several minutes longer, the man thrust into him hard. The pain was
almost unbearable to Bieber. And when the man finally began to tense and
grunt in the tell-tale sign that he was about to cum, Bieber (for a
reason he didn’t really understand himself) bore down hard on the man’s
cock inside him, intensifying the pain for himself. The man grunted (the
loudest noise he had made since entering the room) and slammed into
Bieber harder and deeper than he had before. Bieber yelped as the man’s
cock head once again scraped Bieber’s prostate before shooting his load
deep inside of Bieber’s insides. The man spurted several times,
producing what Bieber thought must have been a huge load. But the man had
cum so deeply inside of Bieber’s ass that when he finally pulled out,
not a drop escaped.
The man, finished with his task, wiped himself with a nearby towel, threw
it onto Bieber’s back, fastened his belt, and let himself out of the
room, all without saying a word. Bieber lay over the back of the sofa,
trying to recover and catching his breath. After a few minutes, he
finally eased himself around into a seated position on the sofa. He used
the towel to half-clean the spot where he had cum on the sofa. His cock
was now soft and he clean the last dribble of half-dried cum off his dick
and gingerly stood and pulled up his pants. He stood and almost fell
over, having to regain his “land legs”. It felt like the man’s cock
was still inside him, and whether it was his imagination or real, he
could feel the man’s hot load deep inside him. He washed his face and
changed into his show outfit. As always, he performance on stage would be
fueled by the feeling of the man’s cock still in him, the gently, dull
ache in his asshole and throat. The smell of the man’s cock still on his
breathe. He looked in the mirror. Showtime.
