Biker Mates

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

BIKER MATES PART SIX

THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE.

CONTACT sharper@inorbit.com IF YOU LIKE.

SEARCH NIFTY FOR sharper@inorbit.com TO READ OTHER TALES BY ME.

REMEMBER TO DONATE TO WWW.NIFTY.ORG !! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

BIKER MATES PART SIX

"You know what," said Hud, "I always said Kawasaki was a gay bike..."

Minutes later, Wayne was still laughing, brushing his head with his palm. "Lacie was so right. She say that Mar he too sof'. Sof' alrigh' he gone sof' on Mike an now he Mike's girlfriend! You know what, you're alright, you two, an' you go for it. You just go for it if that's what you want. People said Lacie was no good for me but they is wrong. She's fine. We don' care what they say. We're fine."

Hud flicked his hair away from his face and put his hand in his jacket to scratch a nipple.

"So when were you going to share this secret?" He asked, pointing a finger at us each in turn like we were items in a shop window.

"We did just tell you," said Martin.

"Yeh, but when were you going to tell us? How long were you going to let us sit here like lemons before you let us in on it, if we hadn't found out?"

Martins shook his head. "Dunno," he said shiftily.

"See, it only just happened," I said. I was as confused as they were, quite honestly,

"Well it's a bit much," Hud said, "you not sayin' anything." He said it like he wondered what other evil secrets were harboured in our lavender heads.

"It only just happened, didn't it?" said Martin.

"But you must've known." Hud tapped the table as if waiting for the truth.

"I didn't know," I said. "How could we know?"

I looked towards Martin for corroboration.

"I knew," said Martin, quietly.

"You knew?" I said. "What did you know?"

"I... knew what I wanted."

"But you didn't say anything? I cannot believe it, man," exclaimed Hud, seizing on this admission. "I just can not believe it: Last week you was straight; Monday, you're a poof? How d'you spend half your life into skirt and then just suddenly flip for the other team? It's like ... suddenly ... flipping ... to ... support ... Hartlepool United, or summat..."

And Hud and everyone else burst out laughing at the absurdity of such a conjecture.

Wayne slapped Hud on the back, saying, "Good one Hud, good one."

Hud bent under the force and put out a defensive arm.

Martin laughed too but he didn't say anything to clear up Hud's confusion. He laughed and I laughed and we held eachother's hands under the table.

It was all so good natured that I was surprised by what occurred later. We were all laughing.

"Fuckin' queer? I don't get it," said Hud with a shrug.

"Look, let's change the subject, eh?" moaned Wayne. "We know now don't we? Nuthn's gonna change, 'n' it's getting on, 'n' I promised Lacie... 'n', well who cares?"

He pushed himself up and pulled his leg from the small table bench. He stood searching round his balls for his zip. He found the zip and ripped it up to his neck. He patted his chest over to check for something.

"'N' we never got hear about Mike's new bike, did we Mike?" he said. "Next time, eh?"

"Sure," I nodded.

"Fine. Boys I'll be seein'ye."

"Regards to Lacie, man," said Hud, slapping Wayne's palm.

Martin held up a hand and Wayne slapped it, leaning over the table and pressing his crotch thoughtlessly against its hard aluminium edge. I knew he had a monster in there. Lacie was a lucky girl and she was going to get its full benefit this evening. I could tell Wayne was turned on and meant to give her his every inch.

"Mar, Mike, Hud..." said Wayne, "I'm off."

He spun on his heels and marched out, pushing the heavy glass swing doors ruthlessly. They reflected his serious determined face for a moment, then the black of the night, and then came to rest reflecting the harsh neon lights, the stainless steel counter and the white laminate floor of the chippie.

"He's in a hurry," observed Martin.

Hud smirked and tapped his plate knowingly, and after a pause he continued with his questions:

"So you padlocked that collar onto Mar, did you, Mike?"

I nodded.

"So what does mean in gay-speak, then? That YOU own HIM? That he's your pet? That you're the man and he's like the woman? That he's like your domestic slave? He does the washing up? What?"

"Err, dunno. Just thought it looked horny, and it gives me some thing to hold on to..."

"You need something to hold on to?" Hud asked as though he was bored, wasn't listening and didn't care. Like he was just making conversation. But Martin was listening. He sat rock still, alert to every word.

"Well, like if I need to..." I said, hesitantly.

Hud looked up.

I thought about it a bit and half turned towards Martin to visualise what I was talking about.

"Like... if I'm fucking Mar, you know, fucking him up the arse from behind, and I need to pull him towards me a little so I can get in to his hole even deeper, you know, fuck him harder and deeper... Or if I want to choke him a little, like to turn him on and like make him more compliant, more willing... Or, like, if when he's sucking my cock, you know, my hardon's stuck down his throat and... and I want to hold his head steady with just one hand, rather than use two, while I, say, slap him round the head a little, or I want to ... Well, just so as I've still got one hand free while I can still control him, keep him still, make him do what I say, whatever's turning me on... That's what it's for. It's a control." I lapsed into silence, pleased with what I had just put into words, and pleased with the wood pulsing between my legs.

Hud eyes widened. He grinned in amazement and exhaled. He looked at Martin and pointed a lazy finger in my direction. "Whew... So you're ok with that, Mar, are you?" he said.

Martin put his finger through the tight gap between the collar and his throat, making the little padlock rock in its ring. It caught the light and reflected a tiny spot onto the underside of his jaw. "I guess," he said. He looked at me with a confused smile.

I reached over and grabbed Martin by the collar to demonstrate. I shook his head a few times and dragged him over so that his face was near mine. Martin had to quickly grab the table and the back if his chair to support himself. I looked at him with a grin and spat, or pretended to, in his eyes. I let him go and he fell back in his seat, startled, wiping himself.

"See?" I laughed. "It's good!"

"Mar, you're so not the man you were on Thursday!" said Hud in awe (Thursday was the last time we four had all met, before the weekend). "And Mike, you are the man. I'd no idea you were into all this. I thought you were just some gentle poof, but you're not. You're a total perv!"

We laughed and Martin laughed like he was thinking of something else, like his mind was somewhere else completely. He was no longer looking at me. He was looking at his plate.

"I guess I am a perv," I said. "I'm dude-a-lly perv-a-cious!"

I laughed at this but no one else did. Martin continued staring at his plate. His strange dark eyes focused on matters distantly submerged in his own head. Hud looked serious as well, like he hadn't noticed I was joking, and like he too was, internally, somewhere else. For me, everything had become incredible and difficult to express. I was wondering how long this strange affair would last? How long would Martin let things to carry on like this? How long would he put up with being as submissive as this? How long before things moved on and our feelings were left stranded in the past, implausible, impossible, and trapped in disappointment?

Hud was just about to speak, but as he opened his mouth he stopped himself, because Martin had levered himself out of his seat and was jumping neatly over the back of his chair to get out.

"Going to the toilet?" I said, still in control mode.

"I think I wanna leave," he replied. "What are you doing?"

"Going back to your place are you?" Hud asked. They both lived in the same direction.

"Am I?" Martin asked, looking at me.

The question surprised me.

"He gonna move in with you now, Mike?" asked Hud.

I hesitated.

"Well... He can if he wants... I guess... If he wants... I hadn't thought about it. It's up to Mar."

"Suddenly he has a choice?" Hud quipped. "I thought you made all his decisions now!"

"You're taking this collar thing too seriously, Hud," I said. "It's just a thing."

"Oh? Great! So can he take it off?"

"Course he can if he wants."

I looked at Martin. He was listening to our talk. He was still waiting for an answer.

"Where's the key?" said Hud. "In your pocket?"

"I think so..." I pushed up my pelvis and squeezed my hand awkwardly into my trouser pocket, conscious of the hardon taking up space and tightening the opening still further. I eased a bunch of keys out with some difficulty, and selected the little silver padlock key that would release Martin, if he wanted. It waved on the ring like a shiny tree ornament. "...here."

"Let's see it. Give it to me."

"You wha'? Wha'for"

"It's like a game," Hud smiled. "Give it to me."

He held out his tanned fingers and beckoned for it. So I handed him my whole keyring.

Hud took the keys and selected the little silver one. He quickly twisted it off from the others and and just as quickly put it in a pocket inside his jean-jacket, flashing his hard smooth stomach again as he did so. He tossed the rest of my keys on the table and I retrieved them.

"Now he'll have to ask me," he said with a completely deadpan face.

Martin looked crestfallen.

"Mike?" he said, with a face that was annoyed, exasperated, irritated, and sad.

Ignoring this, I kept my cool and said, "There's no reason for him to remove his collar as far as I'm concerned; It doesn't matter who has the fuckin' key. You can keep it as far as I'm concerned!"

I wish now I hadn't said that, but you can't turn back the clock, can you?

Hud relaxed back into the corner formed by his seat and the wall. He stretched out his arms across the chair to one side of him and the table to the other. His hair spilled over his shoulders. His jacket fell open exposing his breast-bone and the brown skin between his nipples. His thighs fell apart as he kicked his feet forward nonchalantly under the table. His lips were parted but tense.

"What do you think, Mar? Now we both own you," he said. "How's that feel?"

Hud's face took on an expression of disdainful, triumph - like he'd proven something.

Martin grabbed his helmet from under his seat. Bending down his leathers creaked and strained pleasingly over his back and buttocks.

He stood up, facing me, his boots were planted firmly apart on the laminate floor, the zipper of his suit open to expose a narrow slice of shirt and pants - there was a tiny patch of hairy skin where they didn't quite meet. I founded myself looking straight at it.

He waited for a moment, staring down at me. I kooked up at him but when I didn't speak he said, "I'll see you outside."

I into his eyes. He looked wounded and angry. I loved that.

"You can wait outside if you want," I said playfully, "but I don't know how long we'll be."

"Awh, we won't be long," said Hud.

"I'll wait outside," Martin repeated. He started towards the door.

"Mar, stop," I said.

He stopped.

I selected one Yale-type key from the bunch in my hand and held it up to him, the rest of the bunch dangling down.

"Mar, take this key, why don'cher, and let yourself into the garage. Make yourself comfortable. You can wait for me there. I'll be along shortly. How's that?"

Martin took the bunch from my hand. He was emotional and breathing deeply. He slowly wound the garage key off its ring - staring at it hard - and then handed the rest back to me. His breathing was like he was fighting to stop himself crying. He looked so sweet. I wanted to beat him up!

"So what are you going to do, Mar?" I said.

"I'll wait for you at your garage," he replied, still breathing heavily and holding the Yale key tight in his fingers.

"OK, that's good, go on," I said. "Be careful: that's the only key!"

I was joking. I had a spare.

Martin raised his helmet over his head and pushed it over his face. He was gripping the key in his fist.

"Don't lose it."

He pulled up the long zip of his suit. The leather came together and tightened over his body. He stood for a moment before me like a robot man.

"Go on," I said. "You're fine. You're fine."

I was safely back in control mode. I was suddenly picturing kicking the crap put of his crouching frightened body. I saw him on the mattress in my garage begging me to stop, so turned on, begging me to fuck him and stop beating him up. It was so real.

Martin turned round on his heels and walked towards the glass door; his robot body reflected in it as he got closer; his suit twisted sexily when he walked, planting each boot step like a spaceman. There was a breeze, and he left. The door swung shut with a bump. I watched him walk to his bike. He planted his vulnerable inviting backside astride and fired up the engine. We could hear it roar. His headlamp burst on and without looking back at us he slid off, onto the road, into the night, and out of sight.

"I own that ass," I thought.

=== === ===

Hud and I were left silently regarding each other across the Formica table, our arms pressing the aluminium edging; between us the empty plates and dirty cutlery shone under the bright neon. The muzak sang "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart"...

I took a breath. "So Hud, what the fuck are you playing at?"

"Nuthn', just interested," he said, but he didn't smile.

"What the fuck are you interested in? Takin' that key, what's the fuckin' point of that? You just freaked Mar out."

"Why'd you give it me 'en?"

"I wanted to know what the fuck you was playin' at, cunt."

"Yeh, well, I mean... you two ... What're you up to? You've like crucified Mar. He's all odd now: quiet and stupid and its like he's lost part of himself an' become like your adoring doggie toy. An' there's that stupid haircut: where'd that come from?"

"He fuck'n' did that. It surprised me too. He just did it during his lunch break. I don't know the fuck why."

"You fuck'n' like it though."

"Yeh, I think it's kind of horney. Yeh."

"You cunt... you've always wanted this. You had your eyes on his bonce from the day you met. You've been waiting to get your slimy mitts on him. You knew he'd turn gay. You've been biding your time cos you knew he'd eventually come round..."

"I had no idea... he was up for it... gay. I didn't know. I'm glad he is."

"No idea?"

"He was fucking girls. He was hanging with you guys. He was talking about sports. He was a biker. He was ..."

"He was gay! We all knew!" Hud exclaimed. "Him and his gay walk..."

"You knew?" I said. "So now you knew..."

"We thought so. He was... A bit soft, like. We wasn't sure. Wayne never said much, but he didn't deny it. He used to say stuff, like he wasn't sure... But we definitely knew. All it took was a little push, like, and you know, he turned. But no one knew he'd just suddenly up and flip! What's happened to him? I'm just interested."

"Interested...?"

"Interested. Like, how did you turn him, how far gone is he, and how much further he'll go?"

"He isn't fucking 'gone', Hud, you wanker."

"C'mon!"

"He isn't 'gone', you cunt. He just, well, found out something about himself - probably something he already knew but wouldn't admit. I don't understand it, but I do like it. You don't like it, do you?"

Hud smirked. "I don't like to see a brother go like that ... like he's lost his wits."

"Or found them'" I said.

"Look, mate, he's unhinged. He's lost it. He's given in. There's no need for it. You've led him astray."

"Whatever. There's much much more to it than that, and you well know." I took a breath. "So, what's with the key? When're you going to fuckin' give it back?" I said.

"Why should I? Are you going to take that stupid dog-collar off him? It's fucking ridiculous. You're going to hurt him, you are." Hud pointed his finger at me. "He needs someone who's gonna look after him not abuse him and get him into all loads of weird shit. He doesn't need that. You're going to hurt him. I mean, you're going to do him some damage and he'll let you, cos he's like that. You don't seem to realise what you're dealing with. He soft. He'll let you do any thing and you're not goin' to know when to stop. I can see it. He's going to get hurt. I just want you to stop it before its too serious. Thinking of him; He's a mate, for christsake!"

"He needs a man," I replied, calmly. "And now I'm going. I'm going home and I'm going to fuck him til he pleads for mercy. I'm going to fuck him raw and beat him purple and there's nothing you a can do to stop it happening! You can fuck off, you cunt, and stop interfering." I stood up.

Hud grabbed his helmet and dragged himself up from the table as well.

"I'll be seein' ya," I said, conscious, now we were standing, that I was the bigger man of the two of us. Hud's hair hung around his shoulders like a girl's, in Silvikrin profusion, and his body, though fit and well-formed, was slimmer, slight compared to mine. He wasn't a weakling - none of us were - but he hadn't my strength, I could see that. What he lacked in manly power he made up for in shrill self-righteousness. He stood for a moment confronting me, his hard flat stomach exposed, but then he caved, suddenly. He reached in his pocket and found the key he had taken. He slapped it on the table with a loud tap.

"Here," he said, "...there's no point," and strode off.

I watched his tight bum as he marched through the glass door.

I was bursting, so I went to the toilet for a whizz. There was a little frosted and grimy window ajar for ventilation. Through it I heard Hud's engine bark into life, and the zoom as he took off towards his home, as I took out my fat excited drain at the trough. It took some moments before I could get any water to pass. My bladder was full but my dick was engorged. Eventually I was able to get somewhere and soon I relaxed enough to empty myself in a hot steaming rush. I stood for some seconds massaging the last out of it, flicking and pulling my foreskin. My penis felt full and satisfying in my hand - something for Martin to adore.

There was a mirror above the urinal in front of me. Hey, Good-Looking! My short cropped hair, dark eyebrows and beard-shadow made my pale skin seem to glow with luminous health in the harsh flourescent light. I stared my reflection in the eye. I looked the part. Strong, confident and in charge, with an enjoyable glint of evil. As I gave my todger a final flick, tucked it home and zipped up, I gave myself a conspiratorial wink, preparing myself to go home and have fun.

In another mirror above the sink, as I washed my hands I caught sight of my big solid body, my bulge, and the way I spread my legs as I stooped to soap. I looked like I was on top of the world and in charge of anything it threw at me - but most of all, I was in charge of Martin and keeping him gagging.

I exited the building. I went to my bike, climbed on and raced home. I felt cruel, unemotional and alive. I was as excited as I have ever been in my life.

=== === ===

Driving through the streets of Manchester that night I felt strangely isolated, as if I had crossed a line of sorts. I was in a new place. Everything was different. Something about the way Hud had spoken to me had given me a feeling of transgression, a feeling of delicious guilt, like I had evolved beyond mundane values and was free to express myself and enjoy myself using Martin in any way I could imagine. The buildings were gliding past in the orange-tinted light of the urban night-time like the mawkish ghost houses of some gothic horror. They seemed to contain the unyielding power to condemn a man to an extended and unnatural level of suffering. It was as though the whole city had taken on the physical shape of judgement and placed me into a limbo of rejection and distrust. And as I sped through this landscape, I laughed, the moisture from my breath collecting on the padded lining of my helmet. I knew that Martin was waiting for me in the concrete silence of my garage. That's all I needed.

Any feelings I had, any anger, any fears, any hatred, any love, I could release on him and his quivering body.

There was no light showing at the doors of my garage when I rode up and nudged the doors with my front tyre, engine still running.

"Mar, open up!" I shouted.

After a moment there was a click and the black doors shook open. Mar was standing inside in his underpants and teeshirt, and his collar. I rolled into the garage on the back of my machine and parked it just inside. I turned it off. The bike fell silent but for a slight ticking as it cooled. Mar shut the doors behind me.

We were in darkness.

"Why don't you put the fuck'n' lights on, Mar? You idiot."

He flicked a switch and the fluorescent bars crackled into life, bursting into my eyes unexpectedly. I pulled myself off my hot engine and removed my gloves and helmet.

"Sorry Mike, I was taking a nap," he said, looking at my feet.

I stood in front of him in my leathers, my helmet under my arm and the bike ticking behind me.

"Help me out of this stuff," I said.

I undid my top. He walked behind me to help it off my shoulders, like a valet. I pulled my tee off and handed it to him. Now he stood before me with my tee in a useless ball in his hands. I grabbed it from his hands and threw it onto the mattress.

"C'm'ere," I said, reaching an arm round his beautiful waist. I pulled him tightly in front of me, turning him round so that his face was in the light. I pushed my face into his and let him kiss me passionately.

"Have you missed me?" I said sternly.

"Yes," he replied, tightening his arms around my neck and rubbing his nose against mine.

"Do you love me?" I said.

He smiled. "Yes," he said, pushing his knob against my knob.

"Would you let me do anything to you I want to do."

"Haven't I always?"

"I've held back."

"Don't hold back. Do what you want. Do anything."

My hands curled round his bottom and gripped him hard. He stood on his toes, his legs separating and his backside raised up so I could reach it more easily. He tucked his face into my neck, panting into my ear.

"Ahhh... Fucboy," I said.

I stepped away from him. He stood still in front of me expectantly. I was clearly supposed to come up with some delirious new level of erotic experience. He was a newbie and wanted to make up for lost time. That's what this was all about.

"Mar," I said, "what exactly is it you expect from me?"

His face drooped a little and he started looking at my crotch.

"Er, sex, I guess," he said, looking at my crotch.

"Is that all?" I said.

"Don't you want to fuck me?" he said, looking at my crotch.

"Yeh," I said. "Course I do... Just checking."

I grinned and took his hand. I led him to the mattress and pushed him down so he was kneeling on it. I unzipped the last of the zipper on my bike suit and pulled my prick out. It had softened somewhat and sat in my palm fat and floppy, though still engorged. I held it in front of his face.

"Go on," I said.

He opened his mouth and started to suck it. I let him work without encouragement.

"What's wrong?" asked Martin at last.

"You need to do better," I said. "You need to work it. You can't just expect me to switch on. You need to give me a reason."

"You w'a'?" He said, his wet lips millimetres from my cock tip.

I said, "Turn me on... fucboy."

Martin thought for a bit. He pulled his tee off his head and let it drop to the ground. He was kneeling on the mattress, naked except for his pants which were full of the massive arch of his curved hardon.

"What can I do?" he said.

I bent down, reaching for his right nipple which I caught and nipped between my fingernails.

He yelped.

"Yeh. Like you have a low pain threshold."

"You surprised me, that's all," he said with a smile. But his dick was pressing against the thin fabric of his briefs, and its moist tip was pushing out against the elastic waistband.

"What is your pain threshold, do you think?"

"How would I know?"

"But, you like it."

"I guess..."

"Let's find out."

I pushed my dick back in my trews.

"So do you trust me?" I said.

"Course."

"But you're makin' me lose me hardon you idiot."

"W-what'm I doin' wrong, Mike?"

"Lie down on your back and close your eyes," I said. "'N' take those fuckin' pants off!"

Martin quickly pulled his briefs down. He got them off his feet and threw them aside. His stiff prick bobbed about in front of him. He lay down on his back, looking up at me with his dark uncertain innocent eyes.

"Put your hands behind your back."

He arched his back so that his penis reached for the sky and hid his hands behind. I still had my boots on.

"Spread your legs."

He did so and I positioned myself with I one boot by his side and the other between his thighs, up near his vulnerable bollocks.

I raised my right toe and lowered it against his balls and pressed down on them.

His body tensed.

"Hold still," I said. "This is a test. Open your legs wider."

He separated his solid muscular legs further, making access to his bollocks that bit easier so I could hurt him that much more if I wished. He knew what I was going to do, but as I started to kick his balls harder he spread his legs still further making my access still easier and the pain that much greater and his vulnerability that much more assured.

"That's it, baby," I said. "This is going to hurt."

I kicked his balls harder and then ground the sole of my foot against his prick.

"How's that?"

"Yeh.... Mike."

I turned my foot on his penis and held it there with my toe against him whilst he coed with the pain and panted, like a seal. He tensed. His stomach hardened showing off his smart six-pack tummy.

I lifted my toe and he relaxed momentarily until I returned my weight to his balls, raised my other foot and stepped down on his arm so that I was balanced and resting on him like a surfer on his board, one boot printing his bicep, the other mashing he testicles.

He winced and his jaw compressed manfully.

"P... pl... pl..."

"Y'wha?" I mocked.

"Please, Mike. "

I rocked forward and gave his body even more of my weight. He started to screech and opened his eyes. I gave him a bit more still.

"Pl... Please..."

Putting all my weight again on his bollocks, and twisting my foot against him, I raised my other foot and rested it in his face, stifling his yelp. He arched his back helplessly but resisted the urge to grab my boot as it ground his nose. The heel was hovering over his mouth.

"Lick."

Martin stuck out his tongue tentatively and started licking. I lifted my foot and scraped it over his mouth. Search me what kind of crap he was ingesting. Filthy cunt. Now I was hardening up.

"There's a good boy. You like being filthy."

He mumbled from beneath my boot. "Yes Sir,"

It was like hearing a baby speak its first word. He was calling me Sir.

"What's that?" I said

"YesSir," he repeated.

I dug my foot into his head and twisted and pushed my other foot into his gonads. His body arched and turned in discomfort and pain.

"That's it..."

I stepped off him so that I stood astride him.

"Look at me."

Martin looked up straight into my eyes. I knelt down, resting my arse on his stomach and leaned forward so that I was looking straight into his face.

"What made you say that?" I said.

Martin gave me one of his empty innocent looks and said, "I was trying to think of ways to please you, Sir, I thought you'd like it. Did you, Sir?"

I smiled. "Open," I said.

He opened his jaw and I gobbed a big ball of saliva into the back of his throat. He swallowed it with a grin and said, "ThankyouSir."

"You'll do," I said patting his cheek.

I put a finger between his moist lips and let him suck on it a little. As I withdrew it he kept sucking it like he didn't want to let go. He kept turning me on. I stroked his face and played with the rings attached to his collar.

"You cool?" I said.

He nodded.

"Ready for some more?" I said.

He nodded.

I ran my hands over his hairy pecs and pinched his nips hard. He gritted his teeth. I needed some clips. I stood up and stepped over him. I had something I could use in a drawer somewhere. I rooted around the garage. Here's something.

I came back to him and reassumed my position sitting on his belly, resting my bum on him, crushing his hardon. He tightened his stomach to support my weight. I took the alligator clips I had found and applied them carefully to first one then the other nipple. Martin breathed in sharply and looked at them eating into his tender pink flesh. I flicked them with my forefinger. Martin winced.

"Ok?"

"Ye," he said with a concerned look into my eyes. He was fighting the sting from his nipples.

"Nice," I said.

He looked pleased as punch. I touched them again. He closed his eyes. He was in pain.

"You touch them," I said.

He nodded, with his eyes still shut.

"I mean it," I said. "Go on... touch them."

Martin raised his bum, his hardon pointing at his chin, and drew his hands out from behind his back where I had told him to keep them. He touched the clips gingerly with his fingertips.

"Yow," he said when they moved.

"Go on," I said, "go on. I want to see you hurt yourself. That's what I want to see."

Martin gripped the clips and slowly began twisting and turning them, wincing and panting as he did so. He opened his eyes and looked at mine. He was excited and totally in the moment. As he played with himself like this I slowly lifted myself off his body and knelt between his legs. The heat coming off him was like an industrial fan. I pushed back his legs and pushed my tongue all over his genitals, breathing in his scent and sogging his hole and crotch until his area was dripping and steaming.

"Oh jesus," Martin moaned. He was tugging at the clips like they were wired to some pleasure engine. He raised his head to watch me muffing him out.

"Oh ye, oh ye," he said lifting up his legs and behind and presenting his hairy shitter to me like a virgin whore.

"Oh please please, Mike, Sir..."

I continued to feast him out, dumping loads of spit and slurping it around him, mooshing him shamelessly and hungrily. He pushed his legs up into the air in abandoned arousal, jerking his tits and begging me to enter him and hurt hurt him.

There was one more thing I wanted to do.

Stay there, I said, standing up and going over to my box of tricks. I found my cane.

Get on your doggy legs, I said.

Martin released his nipples reluctantly and assumed the position as ordered. He had seen the stick. He raised his backside, clearly eager for me to strike him.

"That's right," I said, "good boy."

I knelt beside him. I wanted to get my nob out, it was hurting in my trews so much, fighting against the hard leather. I smoothed my hand over the hairy surface of his buttocks which he arched in the air like a total slut. He was so hot for a beating. His dick was engorged and purple. I grabbed it and hurt it with my left hand. Yeh. In my right hand I raised the stick and brought it down CRACK on his backside. Martin yelped and momentarily crumpled but then he was up again. He arched his back and opened his legs and buttocks wide, asking forCRACKmore.

"Thank you boy."

"Thank you Mike. Ssir..."

CRACK!

Each time harder. Each one on a different patch of his sore bottom.

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!!

He was starting to buckle. I released his bent prong and grabbed his collar in my fist to keep him steadyCRACK!

CRACKMartin was beyond my dreams, arched his bottom into the airCRACKmore and moreCRACKasking for anotherCRACKbegging for it over pleaseSir and overCRACKCRACKtil his bottomCRACKwas on fire andCRACKstriped with line afterCRACKCRACKCRACKline where my cane struck repeCRACKatedlyCRACKagainst himCRACKbreaking the skinCRACK. I stopped. He was weeping and snivelling. The collar was digging into his neck, and my palm as well, so I let it go. His elbows went and his chest slumped down towards the mattress. His red striped arse was sticking straight up at me, an open door.

I wiped my sweaty palm repeatedly over his area, patting down the redness and smoothing off the smart pain whilst Martin hyperventilated through his tears. I took out my fat prong and rubbed it up and down against him, plopping it in and out of him, squishing it about on his bum. His hole was stuck up in the air like a cat's, opening and puckering and loosening and tightening its hungry lips. I stuck my thumb in there, wanking myself gently, feeling the sperm building inside us both. Then in one fast move I fucked the thing up there excavating him brutally, pumping into his intestines, him grunting and struggling against falling forward, weeping like a baby.

"Fucking cunt bitch," I said stupidly. "Filth. Fuck. Bitch."

Again and again my solid head struck his stomach wall, bouncing against his insides, til I could contain no more and shot a flood of my hot men into his anal cavity so full they squirted out the sides and ran down his knees to the mattress.

"That's what I'm talking about, boy," I groaned, falling forward and juddering with my pelvis pressed solidly against his cunt.

Martin was quick to play his cock into orgasm. He fired thick lacey ropes across the bed beneath, screaming like a woman.

"Oh baby, Mar..." I said.

"Mmike..."

I reached around his chest and grabbed the clips in my fingers.

"Scream," I ordered, opening them and dragging them off. He did! I rubbed his scarlet buds hard, reinvigorating them, dispersing the agony. Martin crumpled into my embrace and I was kissing his neck and back, fondling his pecs, stroking his pack and his belly, pumping my exhausted cock in a squelch mud of shit and cum as the final spasms of ecstasy fired up and down us both.

"That was fucking amazing," I said, and we fell apart, laughing, onto the stinking bed.

That was fucking amazing.

Martin climbed on top of me, his leaking prick leaving a trickle of his spunk over my belly.

He was kissing me and holding me tight, crossing his legs across me and folding his body into my shape. He held on so tight I couldn't breath.

But that was alright.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

END OF PART SIX