The biker - a slave's fantasy...?

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The Master...


It's been my fantasy for ages. To be walking by the road watching some great leather-clad biker cruise past, when he catches me eyeballing him.

He pulls his bike over and my heart goes into my throat. But he just sits there, one hand resting in his lap, staring at me, sizing me up.

Then he jerks his head: he wants me to come over.

  "Like the bike?" He asks

  "Yeah." I'm nervous, what does this guy really want?

  "Bet you like the guy on it more though, don't you boy?" 

He smiles slowly, condescendingly. I don't know what to say. I can't see his eyes behind the mirrored surface of his shades. But, slowly I nod.

He reaches behind him and unbuckles a helmet from a strap on the side of the saddle. I watch the stretch of his leathers greedily as he does so. With the strap free, he holds the helmet out to me in his gloved hand. Those mirrored glasses hold me steady in their stare.

I reach out and take the helmet. Not sure of what I do, even as I do it, I pull its shiny black shell over my head. He nods then turns in the saddle and restarts the engine. I hesitate for a moment, then swing my leg over the bike, hook my boot heels over the pillion rests. He winds the throttle, and I have to grab for the rail as the bike jumps forward, and onto the road.


The Master...


We ride for what seems ages, but I know it can't be much longer than half an hour. I enjoy the sound of the bike's engine, muffled through my helmet. I can also hear my breathing, shallow in excitement and exhilaration. The bike vibrates between my legs, I can feel it's purr through the leather seat which cushions me. But I'm more interested in the guy whose machine this is.

He rides the bike like he's part of it. Every bend in the road is flowed into. His whole body leans with the curves. I can see his shoulders flex through the leather of his jacket. I feel his legs brace against the footrests. The leather presses against my legs as I grip the bike, and him, just to stay on. At every curve I can feel his arse rub against my crotch, already hard from the vibration of the bike. I let go of the parcel rail at the back of the seat and wrap one hand round the bikers waist, the other I let rest on his jeans, just inches from grabbing his crotch. I know he's smiling under his helmet as he winds the throttle up another notch, and pushes himself further back in the seat.

We're into the countryside now, trees flashing by on either side of the road. Finally he takes a turning off: a dirt track that winds into the trees, away from the road. The bike slows and stops.

I swing myself off the bike, and pull off the helmet. He kicks the bike's stand into place. The warm engine is still ticking. Other than that there's no sound; not even from the road the other side of the trees.

The guy on the bike sits there, relaxed into the leather saddle, one shiny boot still up on the foot rest. I can't see his eyes for my reflection in his mirrored shades. I can feel him surveying me, checking me out like some purchase for his bike.

  "Enjoy the ride?"

Finally he speaks, his tone as relaxed as his posture on the machine.

  "Yeah, thank's. That's one beautiful machine you have there... "

I try to sound as nonchalant as him, but I know I'm failing. There's silence again for a moment, then:

  "Going to show a little gratitude then, or what. Boy?"

He stares me out for a second, then gestures to his boots.

Slowly I walk back towards him. I can smell the warmth of the engine, the sharp tang of the oil, and the dust of the road. I know what he wants, and I know I want to give it to him - I want to please this man.

I sink to my knees in the dirt and lower my face to his boot. I can see where the road dust has dulled the shine of their leather. My face is inches from their soles. My mouth is wet with anticipation. I can smell the boot oil on them, and I know I want to rub my face into their shiny surface. To really show this guy some gratitude.

Here on my knees, in the dirt, I want to show my subservience to this man. I bend my face to his boots and kiss them...


To be continued...?




© bootbrush/tattdragon