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Biker Slave
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Biker Slave
Last weekend I attended a favorite Winter distraction, a Motorcycle
show. This is an annual affair with dealers displaying their parts and
accessories. Tattoo artists come to practise their art. Even though it
is the coldest part of February, people from all around wade through
the ice and snow to shake off the Winter blues and look forward to
better days to follow. The location is little more than a warehouse
but the women still wear their skimpy halter tops and bikini bottoms.
That alone is enough to break my hibernation.
A quick pass around the hall gave a overall view of the show.
Individual exhibitors were mainly located around the outside. Dealers
had the center of the building. Gas fired heaters, placed around the
area, gave warmth while one was right below them but between heaters
it was none too comfortable. At the far end, a semi-trailer provided a
stage for a loud band. Their brand of Rock-N-Roll was low on quality
but high on decibels. The stage had a dozen straw bales with a blue
plastic tarp spread inside them arranged in front. This was the mud
wrestling pit. I toured around the rest of the area and saw the Big
Python Display and The Jap Motorcycle Bash. There was quite a
commotion around the stage and the band had, mercifully, stopped. Mud
wrestlers had begun their contest but it was over before I could get
there. The crowd was packed so thick I couldn't see anyway! On the way
to the mud wrestlers, I passed one of the individual exhibitors that
caught my eye. The bike was nothing special as Harley Shovel-Heads go.
Mild rake, chrome, fancy seat and the usual display. I still don't
know why this situation struck me. The couple were sitting in the
display on folding chairs. She has a black leather skirt, leather vest
(with nothing underneath), heels, and leather collar. Granted the
leather collar is unusual but not at a bike show. He was wearing a
screen print T-shirt, leather vest, boots and pants. I am no foot
fetishist, but the outstanding thing about this guy was the boots.
These dudes were shined like a military school cadet's. Here we are,
dead of winter, snow ass deep and this guy has boots you can see
yourself in! On second glance, she had something too. There was a
gold chain between the front of her vest. I first wrote it off as some
sort of jewelry, but that made no sense. Then it struck me. This
chick had a chain between her tits! When I looked again, she was in
the process of getting up from the folding chair and going the back of
the display where they had a curtain strung up to make a sort of
backdrop for the display and to store their stuff out of the way
during the show.
I saw an old friend at one of the dealer's trailers in the middle
of the building. "Hey Curt!" I went over to shoot the shit for a
while. We swapped gossip and parted later. When leaving the trailer, I
spied the chick with the vest and nothing under it. Remember her?
Well, this time she had changed her stuff a bit while she was behind
the backdrop for the display. She had an even wider collar on and was
pulling her hair out of the way to get to a padlock she was hooking in
the back. In addition, she had put leather cuffs on her ankles that
were padlocked together with about eighteen inches of chain. I could
not help but stare at this sight when the dealer came over and offered
me a convenient folding chair at his booth. "Take a load off. If this
goes like last night, You are going to see quite a show." Well, I
hadn't spent a nickle with this guy but I know hospitality when I see
it. I took him up on his offer. After all, a ringside seat is nothing
to sneeze at! She had gotten her hair untangled from the collar and I
had gotten my dick untangled from my underwear. I sat down to see what
transpired next. Well, she had a problem sitting down. She had
fastened a chrome dog lead to the collar and the guy with the shiny
boots was using it to direct her to the folding chair. She had both
hands on either side of the chair easing her butt down like the thing
was a block of ice. This made no sense at all! Sure it was cold in
there. But their display was near one of the heaters. Finally, she got
parked with a lot of squirming and grimacing. The salesman for the
dealer pulled up a chair next to me and asked for an update. I told
him that nothing much happened.
"She just sat down." He told me that he was taking a break
because he figured that the place was about to get covered by lookers.
"Last night these bikes on display were covered with people drooling
all over themselves." "What for?" I asked. "What's the big deal? Just
a biker chick with half her chest exposed. Nothing special." "You'll
see," He replied. "These two are slave and master. He worked her into
a frenzy last night." Always willing to take advise from a pro, I
prepared for a show.
I did not have long to wait as it turned out. The guy with the
shiny boots, the master, motioned with the dog lead for her to get up.
This she did willingly. She then revealed the reason for the shiny
boots! She pulled out a shoe shine box and proceeded to kneel down
before him and brush the boots to an even higher gloss. She was turned
toward me and occasionally I could see where the gold chain was
connected to. Sure enough, her tits had been pierced and there were
gold rings through them. From my seated vantage point I could see it
all. Slave rings! However, most people passed with little more than a
quick glance. A few stopped and tried to look like they were shopping
for bikes. "Go out there and close a sale." I told my salesman
partner. He laughed and leaned back. "No need to waste my time. Those
bikes won't be selling soon. I can see it happening all over again."
After she had shined on his boots for a while, he pulled her up
and said something to her. She nodded her head and, holding the lead
in her left hand, walked back behind the backdrop. Walking is really
not the proper term. Although her ankles were hobbled, she was not
limited to the point that she should walk all that bad. Something else
was going on here. Maybe she had kneeled too long and her legs had not
yet regained circulation. That was probably it, I prided myself on my
deductive powers. "Did you see her walk?" My partner spoke. "Looks
like she has a cob up her ass!" An old saying but I never thought it
would apply here.
She brought out a stand with a sign on it. "Shoe Shine 25 Cents."
Now there's an old fashioned bargain if ever I saw one! Quickly a line
formed. Let me describe this as best I can. This biker chick, slave if
you will, is facing away from me. She is shining boots that have been
out in the slop and snow and walking around this show and mud and
crap. Well, you get the picture. These are messy boots! Anyway, the
leather skirt is not covering her butt as well as it did earlier
because her master picks it up occasionally to give her a swat with
his hand because she is not doing a good enough job. "Maybe you can't
see well enough." He tells her. So to improve her view, he connects
the dog lead to the shoe shine box. I can't imagine her being that
far-sighted. He has her nose about 10 inches from this customer's
grubby boot. It becomes obvious that this will take some time and
most of these patrons are not much on waiting their turn. They join
the crowd of spectators that is growing by the minute. "Told you that
there was no need to get excited. There won't be any bikes sold here
'til this show is over." My salesman friend said.
The slave girl is busting her brushes now but the results are
not pleasing the master. He raises the hem more often for a spank now
and from my ringside seat I can see her bottom is turning red. Once he
raised it higher than usual and I got a glimpse of some angry red
stripes across her butt. My hypothesis of her sitting down so
carefully was at once formulated and shattered. Those stripes, from
some kind of whip, could not be the reason she approached the chair so
carefully. She had been sitting in that very chair only minutes
earlier. This has my curiosity aroused as well as some other parts of
me aroused.
The master is acting pissed now. I know he is acting because,
regularly, he bends to her ear and asks her something. She nods her
head affirmatively and he proceeds. He has gone over to the bike and
picked up a short whip from the display. The crowd backs up a bit when
they see what he has in mind. I silently thank them for improving my
view. Master raises her skirt to expose her whole butt. The crowd goes
nuts with whooping and cheering at the sight of her rounded hips.
Slavegirl pauses her buffing momentarily when she feels the cold on
her exposed flesh. Her red cheeks don't stay cold long as master
applies the whip to her. I have to marvel at this whole spectacle.
Here I am, not five feet away from this naked assed slave girl, and
all my mind can think of is the leather strap up the crack of her
butt. I figured she was wearing leather panties or maybe nothing. But
this! There is a belt around her waist that has another belt connected
that goes between her legs. This whole affair is locked by a padlock
in front. I can see it swinging as she moves. Now she doesn't move
much. Her ankles were still connected and her collar was connected to
the shoeshine box. And yes, she was still brushing. This pair of boots
was beginning to show some results!
This leather strap is drawing my attention again. I believe, yes
it is, there is a dildo in her! Two of them! No wonder she can't sit
down. The dilemma is solved. At least for me. Slavegirl's problems,
however, continue. In order to get a satisfactory luster, these boots
will have to get a spitshine. Master tells her to lick the boots. She
does this willingly while he eases off on the whip a bit. Her red
bottom is still moving around with the dildoes still working their
magic within her. She starts breathing heavier and the crowd is
yelling. Her master puts his boot next to the customers and she licks
both of them at almost the same time. Suddenly, she pauses and
stretches her neck as far as the chain will allow and makes a sound
like none I have ever heard before. A sound that echoes throughout the
hall and causes the crowd to silence for a moment in wonder.
"MMMAAASSSTTTEEERRRRRR!" And then she goes limp like a puddle of
pudding.
She lays there breathing slowly and shaking a bit periodically.
Master unfastened the collar chain and carried her back to the
display. The customer with the now-shiny boots picked up the shoe
shine box and carried it to them. Master thanked him. He dug down in
his jeans. "Here's your quarter, lady." He replied. "Thanks for the
shine." Master gets the dildo belt removed and straightens her up a
bit. She has her eyes open but is crying a bit. She is smiling too so
she must be OK.
"Told you there was a hell of a show." My partner broke the
moment. I had to agree with him. "Thanks for the ringside seat. Now
that we can talk, what is the price on the bike over there?" "I can
give you a bikeshow special on that under one condition." "What?" "You
don't make me clean the damn thing up after this show tonight. These
lookers make a mess of everything." "Deal!" Well I was the proud owner
of new wheels and had witnessed the show of my life. "You know," He
said. "The guy that sat in your chair last night bought one the same
way you did." I guess his evening wasn't a total loss either.
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