The biker #6 - flight


I hang mid-air...


I hang - mid-air, weightless.

My body is suspended, spread-eagled, cocooned by the leather and straps and chains... every minute twitch or jerk of my muscles sets my body swinging within the straps - each is so perfectly balanced that every move in one direction creates a pull in another part of my body. I am strung up, strung out, pulled and supported...

The hood - dark, damp, controlling - seals me off from the reality of the outside world - it is just me and this strange sense of weightlessness...

I hang - weightless; breathless; waiting...

And then I feel my Master's hands upon my hanging, helpless body - feel the warmth of his flesh through the gloves upon his hands. I grunt with equal amounts of pleasure and surprise - grunt to let Him know how I am melding to His hand, his Will.

His hand moves across my body - strokes the exposed inside of my thighs, runs a gloved finger along the sensitive line of my rib cage, under my arms... they reach my chest, as they tweak my nipples another gasp and a moan escapes around the gag that stuffs my mouth within the dark confines of the rubber hood... His hands move on, stroke up the sides of my chest... and then I feel them caress the sides of the hood that enfolds my head and seals me into this dark, blind world of heat and sex and submission...

I hear His voice through the rubber:

  "I told you you'd like this, didn't I boy?" He growls.

I feel his hands work around the hood to the breathing tube; for a moment He closes off the supply with one gloved palm - I struggle to draw air, and the hood clamps itself tighter to my sweating face; I feel my body jerk helplessly in it's urgency to draw breath against the obstruction. I hear a quiet laugh, and then he lets the tube hang free - with relief I draw a deep breath and as I do I recognise the sweet tang of poppers - and realise that He must have soaked a cotton bud or something in them and attached them to the tube in some way...

Each breath draws more of the poppers into me; I feel my head begin to pulse again - my aching tits and hanging cock take up the beat, and as the rush begins to come over me I realise that this time it is accompanied by an incredible sensation of weightlessness - more intense than before - almost as if my body were literally flying...

I find myself breathing deeper - more poppers flood into my already swollen brain - I can hear a buzzing in my ears and my lips begin to tingle - another, weaker grunt escapes me and I feel myself sag into the bonds, melt into the harness - and I give myself over to the poppers and the suspension...


his hand closes over the breathing tube...


I am dully aware of sensation at my tits and balls - in my dizzy state it is almost as if they float free from the rest of me - hot points of light in the mist that used to be my body-identity... a distant part of me is fuzzily aware that my Master has once again fastened the clamps to my already bruised nipples, and is strapping some form of parachute to my cock and balls; there's a movement and then I feel an incredible pulling on them - and realise He must have fastened some kind of weight to all three: tits, cock and balls burn as they are pulled away from the rest of me... I am aware I should be gasping in pain, but the poppers and the suspension conspire against me - and the only sound I hear escape from my suddenly dry mouth is a deep and animal-like grunt.

I feel another movement at the breathing tube - once again I feel my Master clasp his gloved hand to the air-way - once again I feel my body twitch and strain for breath; when He take his hand away, there is again the tang of poppers - even stronger now - I feel the burning as it pours through my body and brain, feel the heat of them washing across my body - helpless and hanging as it is; I feel my self dissolving in the heat, and the strangeness and the rightness of what this Master is doing to me - know that he is dissolving my resistance to him, and pouring into me a new hunger, a new need - one that only he can satisfy...

Again, I feel movement around my suspended body, feel the swing of the harness and hear the muffled chink of the chains through the hood that continues to feed me the poppers that fogs my brain and heats my blood - I feel the brush of His leathered thighs against the inside of my bare, spread- eagled legs; a distant part of me weakly protests - I know what he is going to do next, but I've never been fucked, never wanted to be fucked... but it's a small part, a distant part, and weak...

I feel something cool smear itself across my arse cheeks; a cold finger strokes across my hole, leaving a cool, wet trail... it circles slowly, massaging, tempting, teasing - probing. With each circle I feel a strange sensation build in my arse - like a heat or a hunger... my swollen brain is drawn down along my strained and hanging body by those brushing, probing fingers to just one small hungry spot...

And then I'm gasping as I feel first one, and then two of those lubed and probing fingers slip past that hungry, virginal ring of muscle; feel them circle inside - slowly, slowly - each stroke in merely stoking the hunger more... and then I feel Him touch something inside me - feel a pressure and a tingling that shoots its way up my spine...

... and then I'm amazed to find myself swaying in time to those fingers - my body pushing itself back in the rock and sway of the harness and the chains that contain it - more groans and whines escape my gagged mouth; I realise I am trying to push myself back onto those tempting fingers - I realise my arse, my body and my brain are hungry to feel Him inside me - every boundary dissolved in the heat of my aching body and those probing fingers deep in my suddenly hot and hungry arse...

...and I feel Him laugh again: He knows that now I'm ready to be taken - knows that if it wasn't for the hood and the gag within which he has sealed me I would be begging for him to take me, fill me Fuck me...

...and then I feel Him greased and hard - and feel myself yield, push apart, split open - open mouthed and panting, moaning, grunting and growling around the gag. I grab for the chains with desperate hands - try to swing myself back upon Him - to spear myself onto Him: desperate to have him deep inside me - to physically take me and control me - shocked at the intensity of my need and my hunger...

But He stays there - buried deep inside me; He fights my struggling attempts - stands still and solid; hands placed around my waist, holding me still, calming my thrashing... and I can almost feel the still, rootedness of him pass into me...

...and I still; and feel the hardness of Him inside me, feel how he fills me - feel the solidity of him, the heat and the stillness in equal measure - a Man in control - and it is almost as if I feel myself literally become rooted in Him, in his stillness and in the sensation of Him filling me.


the ropes tighten around me...


And only then, as if he was waiting for that stillness, does he start to move - slowly - inch by agonisingly hungry inch - he pulls himself back out - almost all of the way - I feel the swelling of his head press outwards against my ring... and then just as slowly back in - slowly in, slowly out - slow as breathing, long as the tide - a long, slow, rhythm that sends shudders through me... and each stroke is like He's pressing himself deeper into me, deeper into my body and my mind - I feel myself ride the strokes, feel my breathing fall into step with them - feel myself becoming an extension of him...

And slowly he speeds up - pushes deeper in, pushes faster in - and with his slow increase i feel my body building too - feel the breath becoming ragged, feel my arse begin to burn - and as his strokes become more violent, feel the weights at balls and tits begin to swing - adding their own pull and burn to the pendulum beat of His body into mine - No! - no longer mine - HIS!...

...this strung-out body swings in time to His pumping, feels the weightlessness give way to His thrust and swing - His own grunts begin to match those that escape the gag - His gloved hands grab a tighter hold around the harnessed waist and pull the bound body closer, deeper - thrusting Himself fully in, His balls slapping against the sweating flesh, the leather of his jeans creaking against the leather of the harness that contains and constrains his bound and gasping boy - the shiny black rubber hooded head swinging in time to his thrusts as he pushes Himself deeper and harder into this helpless piece of bound flesh - riding His boy - beating the resistance and the old life out of him - riding him, taming him - taking him - making him his own...


...and inside the hood - speared and taken, gagged and begging - the boy that was once me knows that now it is owned...


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