Biker Mates

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BIKER MATES PART ELEVEN

THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE.

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BIKER MATES PART ELEVEN - Tuesday evening ctd.

Martin was doing as he was told and behaving impeccably, but Jez's piss was running all over the carpet. That's going to smell in the morning. Not really Martin's fault. Jez had made impossible demands, but Martin would have to be punished. I knew it was inevitable. It always had been with Jez.

Jez stopped massaging the final drips and started to hum his calypso tune again, as he popped his penis and scooped his rouged silken purse of testes back into his overalls.

Martin finished swallowing and coughed. "I spilt some," he said as if there was the slightest possibility we had neither of us noticed.

"That's going to smell in the morning," said Jez. "That's ok. You were very good. Very good... and you have to be punished, which is also good. Gold Star, Mike?" Jez looked at me with a grin.

I nodded, excited by the possibilities.

He stepped away from Martin and looked about. I held Martin's head gently in my hands. He would need restraint.

===

PUNISHMENT

Jez cast his eyes over the piles of paper, cardboard tubes and stationery equipment, a landscape of scanners, photocopiers, inkjet printers and three-process machines. He was singing to himself as he wandered about the office, looking for something: "A little bit a' pressure, And a little bit a' praise, Goes a long way, With a fresh slave..."

It fitted the calypso beat he was constantly whistling.

He repeated the refrain until he finally found something suitable for our requirements: A length of the plastic we use to bind reports. Stiff but pliable. Triangular cross section. It comes in various lengths and colours. Jez selected a bit about two foot and white. He flexed it between his fists and gave a flick in the air, like a whip. He bought it down crack on a desk, like a whip. He found another one and handed it to me.

"This is what we need, isn't it Mike?"

I had to admit, it was ideal.

"You know, you did well drinking all my piss. Very well. I'm impressed."

I still held Martin's head. Jez bobbed down to talk to him.

He stroked Martin's face and kissed him on the lips. I could feel Martin shaking. Jez stroked the plastic over Martin's shoulders and down his arms. He stuck it between Martin's legs and tapped it against his dangling bollocks and his dick, which lurched at an uncertain angle.

"Good boy," he said. "Are you excited by this?"

Martin couldn't nod because I was holding his head.

"We are excited, aren't we Mike?"

Almost out of my mind with excitement, I said, "Oh yes."

"You see, Martin, you are going to be punished. And that is going to hurt. A lot. And during your punishment you might want to cry. You might want to cry out. You might want us to stop. But you have to be good and let us decide how much punishment you should have. Ok."

Martin was shaking near uncontrollably now. He tried to twist he head, presumably to look at me for reassurance. I didn't let him. The hardon in my pants had taken over my mind. It pressed against his scalp. I let my fingertips tickle him gently just around the ear, but that was it.

I bent my head closer to his and said, "This is what I want."

Martin froze.

"See?" said Jez.

He stood up and shifted his penis in his overalls. He was raging hard now. Obviously. So was I. Martin had lost all semblance of an erection. His genitals were shrivelled and tight against his body.

"Meanwhile, we are going to have some fun, hurting you, aren't we?"

"Yes," said Martin.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sSir."

"That's right. Mike, I think we need to come over here." Jez indicated a machine that had a wide curved top. Martin could be held there easily while we did what we did. I could hold him down, or Jez could. We could take it in turns.

I lifted Martin's head so that he had to stand. "Face it," I said, indicating the machine.

Martin stumbled over. I gave him a little push between the shoulder blades and he leaned his body against it. Since he had lost his hardon it wasn't a problem getting in the way.

"Put your hands over the top," I said, uncertain whether or not to use his name.

Martin did as he was told whilst I walked to the other side. I grabbed his wrists. It was as simple as that. Now he couldn't move.

"Hold on," said Jez. He grabbed a bit of A4 paper, folded it up into a thick piece, told Martin to open his mouth and close. "You'll be glad of it," he said.

Martin's restricted breathing became immediately apparent.

"A little bit a' pressure, And a little bit a' praise, Goes a long way, With a fresh slave," sang Jez.

Jez felt in his pocket. Much to my surprise he produced a little bottle of poppers. He opened them up and took a hit. "Nhah...!! You want some, Mike?"

I did.

He gave me a hit, reaching behind my head, holding each nostril in turn.

"I know the lad does," he said with a smirk, administering the bottle to Martin in the same way.

My mind started to swim.

I pulled hard on Martin's arms. Suddenly there was a thwack. Martin was screaming. We had started.

Jez didn't set off gently. His put the full force of his whole muscular body into the first blow, curving his back proudly and gathering his might from the air behind him. The plastic cut smartly into Martin's buttocks. Martin juddered like he a pig in an abattoir, screeching and immediately begging us to stop.

Jez didn't stop.

I saw Martin's face, eyes open and strangely empty, then shut in agony, then the way his forehead struck the grey plastic machine shell. I saw a red mark suddenly appear. He wriggled. He struggled to escape.

I held tight onto Martin's wrists. His gorgeously strong shoulders spread out before me, narrowing to where his bum twisted in alarm and curled in like the terrified ass of a defeated hound.

Martin didn't have time to avoid the second strike, hard as the first. Now he was screaming at the top of his voice and it was all I could do to hold him down. I held on to his wrists tightly and pulled, leaning back. Martin was breathing audibly around the paper chew, flecks of snot appearing at his nostrils. His eyes were open and angry. Then they were closed. The bruise adorned his forehead like a sacred anointment.

"Stay still," ordered Jez calmly, "or I might hurt you."

He laughed.

I laughed; amused, alarmed, and crazy-headed with insane arousal.

Martin tried to kick, but it made no difference.

"Martin, keep still," said Jez. "Tell him," he said to me. "If I accidentally juice his balls he'll go crackers."

He laughed.

"You need to stop struggling, Mar," I said, pulling on his arms and giggling, conscious mainly of penis rocketing up inside my pants, plus an amazing feeling of elated rage.

"And shut," CRACK, "the fuck," CRACK, "up!" added Jez.

Jez had so far only administered four blows to Martin's backside - but they had been stupendously powerful and well-aimed. He stepped back, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

Then he rushed forward, grabbed Martin's neck, pushed his face forward into the machine and administered a number of blows (I didn't count) to Martin's vulnerable quaking buttocks. On and on, with Martin screaming and struggling and shaking his arms like a wild animal willing to lose its paws to escape from a trap.

Jez jumped back, sweating and shivering and, sort of frenzied, laughing and spitting drool. "FUCK!" He shouted. "That felt good. That felt great!"

Martin was still screaming, saliva bubbling around the chew; snot and stuff smeared on the machine cover in front of him. He kicked out randomly in case he could hit Jez should Jez come near. He looked at me with pure unforgiving hatred. It was so fucking horny. It was amazing.

"Jesus, that felt good," said Jez.

Then he felled Martin's back with another one. That took even me by surprise. A bright red line appeared across the shining dorsal arch where Martin's muscular back bent, glowing and shining with sweat. Martin was screaming and screaming and screaming.

Putting the whip to one side, Jez felt inside his fly, dragging his stuff out in one fistful. His cock stood up thick, tall and angry, stretching out his foreskin. His balls hung outside his trousers, heavy charged eggs dragging out the flesh of his red sack. He groped himself. He fondled and wanked himself, all the while admiring Martin's distraught corpse.

Martin squirmed like an eel. He twisted his arms, trying to be free, and shouted, but I didn't dare let him go in case he ran amok. Jez came back and stood behind him, avoiding his hooves, grabbed him swiftly about the waist like a piece of loose machinery. He held on. He was whispering in Martin's ear, "There's good, good lad. There's good. Good lad. Come now. Come now. Calm your tears."

"Get off me," screamed Martin. He struggled and snorted with rage. "Cunt."

Jez held onto him, hugging him, open hands fingering his chest, nob riding up the crevice of his backside.

"You need to accept it," said Jez, "cs this is happening."

Now Martin whimpered, "No, no...", but he was calming down. He finally stopped. He stopped twisting his arms. He stopped kicking and squealing. He stopped snorting; his breathing slowed and became less laboured. The feeling of Jez's penis rubbing his hole and Jez breathing against his neck was gradually having some effect. He was breathing normally now. The chew was between his teeth but he wasn't biting it with any force, just enough to keep it in his mouth.

Jez kissed his neck, just above the collar. He kissed the collar.

"I like this," he said, "being here like this, holding you, feeling you relax, feeling the situation, feeling you let me hold you and feeling your trust and acceptance of your Masters' wants and needs and desires. It's nice."

He was a psychopath.

His hands felt Martin up and down, searching him. He fondled his nipples. He gripped his pecs with hard fingers. His hands ran down his chest and played with his tummy and bollocks. He wanked Martin's shrivelled dick and pushed his own rock solid penis harder and persistently against Martin's butt crack. He rubbed it gently up and down the hairy line, pressing into his soft wet smelly pucker. I watched jealously.

"Lad you're so hot. You're doing so well," he said.

Martin was still snivelling.

"Don't worry about hating us," said Jez. "It's normal," he said. "You know how I know that?" he said. "My father told me."

His sex was standing thick and hard and massively engorged like it would take a monster of massive self-control not to shove its contents deep into Martin's gut. But Jez was nothing if not a monster of self-control, and now it was my turn to do some punishment.

Jez looked up, winked at me and let go of Martin. He stepped away from the body. Martin whimpered and pushed back slightly with his bottom as if he could tempt Jez's manhood back in. Jez gave it a little pat, then he came round to where I stood and took Martin's wrists from me.

"A little bit a' pressure, And a little bit a' praise, Goes a long way, With a fresh slave," he sang with a laugh.

I picked up my sharp plastic whip and gave it a snap in the air. It slapped onto the top of the machine just next to Martin's hand.

Martin immediately started to wail, "Don't do this Mike, please, I can't take any more. I can't take it," he wept. "Please, please!"

It sounded hilarious the way he said it, without releasing the chew from between his lips.

I walked round and inspected. The line across his back was broad red but not cut. His backside was criss-crossed with scorching bruised lines. There was blood. I was shocked and excited and amazed and thrilled.

"Jez, you've gone too far!" I said.

Jez grinned. "Yeh, I know."

Martin was so hot. I was so lucky. I was so proud of him. He was so lovely.

I went up to him and rubbed his ass cheeks. They were burning good. I enjoyed soothing him. I rubbed his back and his shoulders, patting him like a farmyard animal. Then I stepped back and prepared my shot.

"Stick out your arse," I instructed him.

"Hold on!" said Jez suddenly. "Poppers. In my pocket. Left side."

I wheeled round and put my hand down Jez's pocket. His hardon was jutting out like one of those bizarre rocky outcrops you see in Arizona, the ones you photograph because they are shaped like a penis. Red rock.

I found the tiny bottle and withdrew it, opened it, and took another hit. Then I reached round Jez to administer it to him. His broad shoulders filled my arms. I could feel his beard on my thumb and fingertips as I pressed the vial onto his nose.

I glanced at the cut on Martin's head. It was oozing a bit, but it wasn't serious. It might hurt in the morning, but there again, everything would.

I strolled round to stand behind Martin. I pushed myself against him to hold first one nostril, Martin took a massive desperate snort, and the other one, Martin did it again. He dragged on the fumes like a drowning man desperate for air.

I dropped the poppers back into Jez's overalls and walked back round, positioned myself behind Martin, looking at his nervous animal body tensed against the machine. I flexed the whip in my hands and... just felt this flood of enormous satisfaction and power and excitement flow through my body. I filled my lungs with a breath, heart beating madly from the drugs. My chest filled with strength.

"Stick out your arse," I ordered.

Martin immediately started weeping and begging, but did as he was told, pushed his bottom out with desperate and terrified determination. I didn't want to hit his balls. He was trying to protect them as well. It was an odd contortion.

The woozy poppers feeling engulfed my head and my ears wooshed, my heart thundered. I felt clarity and euphoria. The first blow struck smartly just below the buttocks, with a force that I wasn't expecting. A bright welt, visible through the hair, appeared across the backs of his thighs. Martin shouted and collapsed. Jez pulled his arms tight. "F'christsake, shut up!! Get used to it," he ordered through hysterical laughter. I rushed forward, bending to administer a cauterising rub to Martin's quaking limbs; it sometimes helps.

Martin wept.

"Please Mike. P-leeeeeee-ease," he moaned through the chew.

"I'm enjoying this so much, love. You're giving us so much pleasure. You're so good at this. I can't stop. I don't want to and I can't. Just three more. Four. "

"Nooo Pleeeeease!"

"Just three then. I promise."

I wasn't sure if three would be enough.

"No, stop! No more!" screamed Martin. He didn't want to lose the chew. He breathed through his nose and blew more snot down his face.

"Just fuck'n' hit it, for fucksake Mike," said Jez. "I can't stand here all day."

I whipped him again, as forcefully as I could. The blow took him by surprise despite my warnings. His balls were exposed. Suddenly Martin was squealing and begging and struggling and crying and fighting and kicking all at once. It was all Jez could do to hold him. It was so cool. Martin's screams shook the building. I'll never forget it. It was so hot. Martin's the sexiest man I have ever met. It was so fantastic.

"Two. More." I said quickly and followed it up with a couple of blows much less forceful. Martin was a wreck. He thought it was all over.

I held up a single finger to indicate that I hadn't finished yet. Jez held on to Martin's wrists.

"THREE!!"

The blow fell massively and squarely across the railway yard of marks already accumulated over his curvaceous furry backside.

Man, that was real.

Basically, Martin didn't have any screams left. He just panted like he was lowering himself into a cold bath or pushing his arm into a bowl of scalding water.

Man, that was real.

Jez let him go and he fell to the floor in agony, his hands between his legs. I crouched beside him gathering his soft broken form in my arms. I gripped his face. The chew was still present, caught traumatically in his jaw. I tugged it out, squeezed his lips and forced my tongue between them. I could taste blood. I held him tight.

Jez stood over us, wanking.

"Ohh ma-an," he groaned. "Mike, give me its face."

I pulled Martin's head away from mine and presented it to Jez, who quickly yanked several yoghurty gobs onto it. Martin's face was splattered and the cum ran over my fingers. It ran down my arms and down his neck. Some of it even went in his mouth...

Martin swallowed and licked his lips, blinking through the cum mess in his eyes.

Jez pushed his gooey knob-head against Martin's lips, milking it finally out onto his teeth and tongue.

Martin licked his lips, and swallowed.

When Jez finished he squeezed his gear back behind in his fly, his excitement subsided, perspiring, still breathing heavily, he started patting his pockets, looking for a pen and the delivery note I had to sign.

Martin swallowed, and licked his lips.

I released Martin's head and he flopped once more to the ground.

I took out my sticky dick and pushed it towards him.

Martin opened his mouth and leaned forward. His hands on the ground for support almost touched my feet.

Martin sucked, his rose lips gripping my shaft. His eyes closed, like his mind was blank.

I pulled back.

"What do you say?"

He blinked, looking at my penis.

"Thank you Mike. Sir."

"Aww, baby," I said.

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