Justin Bieber’s Slave Part 2
Second part in a commission series, two pages in length.
Justin waved the black leather harness in front of his slave, smirking all the while as dirty images and ideas filled his brain. James was exhausted, defeated by being reduced to a seat and fart cushion for the big-assed, handsome pop star. He was too fart-drunk to realize what that harness and Justin’s threats meant for his own well-being.
“C’mon now faggot, don’t be scared by my big ass or nasty farts. I know you want to fuck me, you pitiful queer. And maybe you can do that in the future. But first you have to earn that privilege.” Justin lied, the superstar would never stoop so low as to let some lowly fairy fuck his gorgeous ass. But he figured this was what the depraved fag wanted, though James just wanted freedom, to go home and end this horrible nightmare.
Justin lifted his leg just a bit, uncorking a loud fart, not unlike the one he had ripped all over James’ face moments ago.
“Fuck yeah, that was a good one. It’s nice being an alpha male, ya know that bitch? What the fuck am I thinking, of course you wouldn’t know.” Bieber teased ruthlessly, casually scratching that bubble butt following his obnoxious fart. “I can do whatever I want and no one can tell me otherwise. And right now, what I want is to harness you up to my ass.” Justin smirked, the realization of what the black leather contraption was making James stumble to his feet. “Stay down bitch!” Justin said in his masculine tone, kicking his bitch in the knee as he stood up.
James’ cried out like a kicked puppy, falling flat on his face and making the pop star laugh hysterically. “Holy shit you look so fucking pathetic.” Bieber grabbed the harness and stepped into it, his big ass perfectly shaped, like two giant moons, by the leather harness that resembled a jock strap. “C’mere fag!” He shouted at James, the submissive male begging for mercy as the handsome star manhandled him, strapping his face up into the harness, tightening it so that James’ nose rested nice and snugly between his lightly-haired, slightly sweaty ass cheeks.
“You fucking bitch, look how pathetic you are. Not even fit to walk on two feet like a human being. You’re a goddamn pet. A plaything for a bigger, more masculine male. Like myself!” Justin prodded and poked holes in whatever dignity James had left, posing his beautiful body, admiring his muscles and tattoos.
Bieber leaned forward, looking over his shoulder at the man down on his knees, face pressed into his big ass. Smirking, the musician shook his ass back and forth, laughing hysterically as those meaty man-cheeks bounced and crashed violently against James’ face.
“Fuck, you are such a loser.” Justin repeated. James’ nightmare persisted, unable to escape Justin’s perfectly sculpted ass, humiliated and reduced to crawling behind him, sniffing up his ass and practically waiting for Justin to fart on him again. He didn’t have to wait long. “Oh here we go. Here’s a house-warming gift bitch, from me to you! Welcome to your new home!” Justin held nothing back, a lengthy sputtering fart that sounded about as masculine as a fart could. It was deep and violent, fluttering James’ hair as the gas cloud hit him at point blank. “I bet that is fucking awful for you.” Justin said casually, having maneuvered the two of them into the kitchen, munching on an apple.
“My fart blowing right up your nose, barely getting a chance to even prepare yourself for it. Don’t worry, it’ll get easier the longer you’re in there. Or maybe not! Only one way to find out, right bitch?” Justin swiveled his hips, those thick cheeks scrubbing themselves over James’ face, smearing a thin layer of sweat and fart stink over the submissive’s face. “I’m gonna make you stink like my ass. If you aren’t a masculine alpha male like me, you might as well stink like the ass of one!” Justin taunted, his torment, both physical and verbal, seemingly never ending.
The pop superstar continued to strut around his house, jiggling his perky ass for additional torment, and enjoying the light padding noises James’ had to make in order to follow, walking on his knees as his hands grasped Justin’s muscled-up thighs. Bieber paced back and forth, not necessarily going anywhere or doing anything yet, just getting used to the harness. He had owned it for a while but never had a bitch pathetic enough to use it on. He was finding it to be as comfortable and ego-boosting as he expected. Feeling his bubble butt, the part of his body he was perhaps most proud of, grinding and breaking the will of some ugly, loser faggot made Justin so warm and fuzzy inside.
Bieber grunted out another deep fart, bellowing loudly over James’ face as he reacquainted his faggot slave with the smell of his fresh guffs. “I could go all day bitch. I haven’t even had dinner yet and look. I’m still cutting, big, deep alpha male farts for you to inhale.” James’ despised the way the large, long gust of fetid air shot right up his nose, most of it traveling down his nostrils and into his lungs, sniffing up Justin Bieber’s farts while whatever didn’t get inside his poor nose fluttered around his face, burning his eyes, mussing his hair and making his lips dry. And when he was done sniffing, he still had to deal with the two bowling ball-sized asscheeks that rubbed against his head, adding injury to the insult of being face deep in an obnoxious and sadistic pop star’s butt.
Justin figured he had done enough fucking around with his slave, starting to head upstairs to get some real work done. His producer had just sent over some new beats for him to listen to and pick out his favorite ones. Bieber headed upstairs, up the long flight of stairs, to get to his studio. The process of going upstairs was a painfully long one for James, forced to go one step at a time because of his limited range of motion. Every step meant Justin’s asscheeks moved moreso than a regular step forward, grinding and squeezing his head in place.
As if that hell wasn’t enough, halfway up Justin started to fart, just soft and small gusts that exploded into James’ face with every step. “Whoops! Sorry about that bitch, guess I’ve got some walking farts that need releasing. How about it, do you like it?’ Justin laughed, James’ suffering through these persistent gas bombs with as much disdain and despair as the first fart.
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