by K D Grace
Morgan knew only one speed and that was suicidal. The g-force of acceleration strong-armed her back against his chest with a yelp that was fortunately drowned by the roar of the Hog. It seemed to her that Morgan was taking the fastest way out of town, weaving in and out of traffic with such terrifying manoeuvres that she feared heart failure was imminent. They had only gone a few blocks when she gave up shouting at him to stop. He either couldn’t hear, or was ignoring her.
As the traffic lessened, and he headed out on the A3, she realised he was controlling the Hog with one hand. The other arm was wrapped low around her waist. There was an electronic crackle next to her ear, and his voice filled the inside of her helmet. They had contact. ‘Just relax, sweetness. This is gonna be so good.’
His hand slid lower on her belly until it rested against her pubic bone where it began to fumble until she felt a tug and a zip, and suddenly cool air bathed a horizontal swath of flesh exposed to the night. ‘I love zippers. Don’t you?’ His voice was like a kiss against her earlobe.
There was more tugging and zipping until she felt the pressure of the cat suit lessen against her crotch, as though she had just split her trousers. She caught her breath.
‘Mmm, there. Oh that’s nice.’ His voice was inside her helmet again just before his fingers slid down between her folds and pressed up into her in such a way that the vibration of the big bike beneath them seemed amplified as though it were a giant vibrator. She was suddenly in danger of forgetting that she was in danger of losing life and limb. My God, the bloke’s fingers were expressive as he slipped the middle one deep into her cunt while his thumb raked her pebble-hard clit.
He swerved to pass a lorry. ‘We’re gonna die!’ she yelped inside her helmet. Then she bore down against his hand and the vibration of the Hog, hoping he could keep from crashing until after she came.
She didn’t know if he had heard her yelp, but she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts. ‘Lift your bottom,’ his velvety voice filled her helmet again.
‘Are you crazy?’ She gasped.
‘Trust me. Lift your bottom. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. I promised Edward, didn’t I?’
She held her breath, cursing between her teeth, and struggled to do as he said. She grabbed on to the petrol tank until she was sure her fingernails would dig holes in the paint. Then she squealed as another zipping loosened the hug of the cat suit even further until she was certain the whole crotch of the garment had been zipped away. As if to confirm her suspicions, Morgan’s large hand now stroked her from behind, spreading her lips.
‘Sweet Jesus, you’re slippery, kitten. I believe you really like riding a Hog.’ Then she felt him inch forward on the seat.
He wouldn’t … Surely he couldn’t … ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. What was crowding against her bottom and nestling up to her pout was too thick and too stiff to be his finger.
‘That’s my girl,’ came the voice in her helmet. ‘Lift your bottom for me. Just a tiny bit more now. Almost there. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.’ He tightened his arm around her and manoeuvred his hips. ‘That’s it, oh yes that’s the place I want to be. Jesus, Rita Holly, that’s some hot pussy you got there.’ Then all she could hear was accelerated breathing followed by a hard thrust that nearly sent her over the handle bars but for the strong arm wrapped around her. And he was in. Her pussy felt like it would split in two from the sudden, unexpected fullness.
‘That’s my girl. Now lean forward. All the way forward and let the Hog do the work. She felt him change down, and the beast rumbled beneath them. With the substantial length of him so far up inside her, she felt physically compelled to lean forward over the petrol tank until she could feel the cool chains of the cat suit pressing into her bare flesh, until her erect nipples felt like they’d drill clear through the tank.
Then with a hard thrust, Morgan scooted forward again, and she heard him sigh. After that the thrusting and manoeuvring became much more subtle, using the power of the Harley roaring beneath them as the driving force. He had positioned himself perfectly so that each undulation of his hips drove her distended clit against the vibrating leather of the seat. My God, she thought, it was a brilliant way to die.
His breath was soft little grunts inside her helmet coming faster and faster until she thought he must have stopped breathing altogether. The movement of his groin against her became less and less, all the while building in intensity until each minuscule shifting penetrated up her spine clear into the crown of her head, until she was certain the imminent orgasm would surely explode her brain.
When his ejaculation erupted inside her, she felt as though his cock had suddenly expanded to fill the entire space within her pelvic girdle, and her own orgasm tightened and gripped on him until he cried out.
She would have surely catapulted off the Hog with the double explosion in her pussy had Morgan not held her tightly with his free arm, as they sped down the A3 toward the Guildford exit.
She wasn’t sure she hadn’t passed out completely with the intensity of their dual orgasm atop all that horsepower. They were now hurtling down some back road in rural Surrey. Morgan was still controlling the bike with one hand. The other found its way inside her bomber jacket and between the chains to knead and caress her breasts until she was once again bearing down to take advantage of the vibrations of the Hog.
At last he pulled on to a farm road and drove the Harley inside an open barn. There he turned off the engine, dismounted and took off both their helmets. As he moved to shut the door, she couldn’t help feeling a frisson of fear cold and low against her spine.
Near the door he flipped on a light switch that cast the cavernous space into a wild array of dancing shadows, but at least it wasn’t pitch dark. Then he turned to face her, eyes black in the gloom. ‘Now, kitten, I’ll educate you in the pleasures of a Hog, and more specifically the pleasures of a Hog in that suit you’re wearing. Lose the jacket.’
She hurriedly obeyed.
He shifted her until she straddled the seat with her back now facing the petrol tank and handle bars. Then he climbed aboard the big bike as he would if he were getting ready to take a Sunday drive, pushed forward toward her and reached for her breasts. A loud zipping noise echoed into the room causing her to jump.
Zippers that she thought were to breasts pockets were actually pockets to her breasts. Morgan manipulated her tits from openings similar to those she had seen on night dresses for nursing mothers. And nurse he did, noisily, greedily until she found herself practically humping the big bike just from the feelings being generated in her breasts by his mouth.
While she squirmed he lowered both hands to her thighs, but instead of lifting her onto his lap as she expected, there was more zipping and both legs of her cat suit detached. With a little more tugging and zipping, he pulled the detached leggings free from the high boots and tossed them on the straw-covered floor. She lifted her arse off the seat and whimpered, sighing with hopeful relief as he chucked off his bomber jacket and practically crawled on top of her, pressing her back until her spine arched against the petrol tank.
He raked splayed hands along her ribs, breasts and shoulders then coaxed her arms up over her head until she curled her fingers around the handlebars to brace herself. Metal clinked and jangled, and with a little manoeuvring on Morgan’s part, the chains she thought had been decoration on her sleeves became handcuffs securing her to the handlebars.
She cried out in alarm and struggled, but he pressed his middle finger into her snatch and soothed her fears with pleasure. ‘There, there, sweetness. Trust me. It’ll be so good. So very good.’
Once she stopped struggling, he began to unzip what was left of the suit. She watched in fascinated arousal as Morgan uncovered her bit by bit, a zipper here, a snap there. As the leather fell away, Rita could hear the detaching and reattaching of the chains that had adorned the suit. The heaviest link he had augmented with chains from the panniers of the bike, chains that bound her to the petrol
tank, encircling her just above and below her breasts in tight bindings that crossed and twisted between her tits and forced them upward and outward until they bulged like over-inflated balloons atop her chest. The pressure made her nipples and areolae swell and ache.
The leather cuffs of the sleeves remained to soften the rubbing of the chains that bound her wrists. The high leather neck, now fastened by metal buckles, formed a collar not unlike the blue pet collar she had worn for Leo, but thicker and much more sinister with its heavy metal rivets. It was attached to a strip of leather running down her spine and ending in a buckle just above her coccyx. It was all that was left of the cat suit.
Attached to the front of the collar by a spring clip was another chain, which Morgan had also taken from the panniers. It clipped into the chains that crossed between her breasts, then ran down over her belly where it ended in a buckle that lay loosely just above her pussy.
At last, Morgan stepped back and inspected his work. ‘Almost finished sweetness. Just have to add the finishing touches.’ Once again he dug in the panniers and pulled out a leather strap about as wide as the crotch of her knickers. It contained two holes.
She squirmed as Morgan attached it to the chain resting low on her belly. He offered her a wicked, but somehow reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, darlin’, a chastity belt this ain’t.’
Then he rummaged in the panniers again, bringing out a thick black dildo, which he secured into the belt before he inserted it into her grudging cunt making her gasp. ‘There, now wasn’t that easy, just slipped right in, didn’t it?’
The butt plug came next, but not before he lubricated it well with his own saliva. She was surprised that the invasion of her back hole served only to make her cunt more slippery.
As he secured the attachments, he spoke softly to her. ‘You’re scared, kitten. I can see it in your eyes. I won’t tell you there’s no need to be because the one thing I’m not is a liar. What I will say is that you’d be amazed at what other feelings can erupt out of a little bit of fear and a little bit of pain.’ He leaned over to suckle each of her breasts in turn as he cinched the butt plug and the dildo into place and tightened the straps until Rita cried out.
‘There,’ he said, rubbing his hands together and approving the over-all effect. ‘That’s perfect.’
Then he left.
Rita waited.
The light was on. It wasn’t so bad, she told herself.
And she waited some more.
Outside somewhere in the trees an owl trilled.
Morgan couldn’t have gone far, she reassured herself. After all, she had the Harley.
But what if there was a car nearby? What if someone had been waiting to take him away? What if this was that dreadful end she had imagined back the first time Aurora had locked her in the office and spanked her.
Oh that spanking. That delicious spanking. She felt her pussy clench against the dildo and her anus tightened on the butt plug in sympathy.
She pulled her thoughts back to the rather disturbing situation in which she found herself. They wouldn’t do that to her. They wouldn’t leave her here. Everyone but Vivienne had been straightforward and above board. Of course it was all a part of the initiation, but surely they wouldn’t hurt her. Not really.
Would they?
She waited a little longer and began to wonder if she should try to get loose. She lay chained over the petrol tank, her breasts saluting the ceiling, and her knees bent with her feet on the seat. The position created a delicious fullness low in her belly, and the shifting of her hips caused the front of the leather gusset to rake against her distended clit, which caused her pussy to clench, which caused her arse to clench, and when it all happened together, the sensation was much too powerful to ignore. The thought that she could be left to die crossed her mind, but there was nothing for it. Die or not. She had to come.
She concentrated on gripping and releasing the attachments that filled her. She couldn’t play with her tits, but the way they were trussed up was the next best thing. Once she got the grip and release just right, she began shifting her bottom, grinding her hips against the big leather seat.
With each shifting and gripping, the scent of her pussy grew stronger and all the training as a pet helped her to pick up Morgan’s scent as well, which had more horsepower than the Harley and was all over her body. When the first orgasm broke, she cried out, shuddered hard and had to brace herself to keep from falling off the Hog. It was a big machine, and if in her heat, she pulled it over on top of her, that probably wouldn’t end well.
Once she was stabilised and able to breathe again, she found that nothing had diminished. She still had both holes stuffed. She was still wet and her clit was still thrumming. By the third orgasm she had perfected her technique. As she lifted her hips and tightened her thighs, she wondered if she could OD on orgasms. With only her own pleasure to concentrate on and with movement restricted each orgasm built on itself, and instead of leaving her more tired, each time she came she felt more energised. Her head buzzed with endorphins, and she was certain that if Morgan returned this second, she could easily race the Harley back to London and win.
For a second fear gripped her belly. Had Morgan given her some sort of drug, maybe introduced through her skin? Maybe she really would die of orgasm overdose. But then she came again, and the orgasm was so fantastic, it really didn’t matter. Everybody had to die of something. The smell of leather and metal and pussy and sweaty male mixed with the undertones of clean stable straw and motor oil washed over her in a pheromonal cocktail that pushed her into an altered state, and it was from that altered state, just after a particularly earth-shaking orgasm, her eyelids fluttered open to find Morgan standing next to her with his cock in his hand.
She smiled up at him and opened her legs. ‘Wanna play?’
‘Could do.’
She nodded down to her attachments. ‘You’ll have to make room.’
He straddled the bike and scooted into position, his big cock anxiously stretched between them with just enough of his groin exposed to give her a glimpse of the leopard skin tattoo. He unhooked the front of the gusset and removed only the dildo.
For a brief second she felt the void, but only for a second, then his warm, dark cock slipped into place, she half perched on his lap, half reclined over the petrol tank straining against the chains. His rough fingers pinched her nipples to cherry liquorice peaks, then pinched and stroked her clit until she flinched and thrust alternately, right at the threshold of pain until she reached the tipping point. Then she screamed and grunted the orgasm that tore through her until her throat was raw, tightening her hold on Morgan until he grabbed her buttocks in a bruising grip and pistoned out his load, his own growls echoing off the rafters.
Some time after that a limo came. Two women dressed in black suits and ties, not unlike the bouncers, or Aurora, carefully cleaned her, dressed her in a soft velour track suit, and returned her home just before dawn. As she got out of the limo, she looked around for signs of Edward, but there were none. She felt disappointed.
Chapter Fourteen
Edward switched off the DVD player and cursed out loud into the darkened room. He sat on the leather sofa in a pair of faded jeans and nothing else. The fly was open and he gripped his cock in a strangle hold. Fuck it! He could easily come in his hand watching the DVD of Rita. He could pretend he was Morgan pushing his way into her exquisite snatch, but that’s all it would be, just pretending. Hell, if he just wanted pussy, it wasn’t hard to get at The Mount, but it wasn’t pussy he wanted. It was Rita he wanted. And he wanted all of her, every inch of her, non-stop until they were both completely sated. He figured that would take a very long time.
Then he wanted to start all over again.
She was doing great with the initiation. Morgan couldn’t stop talking about how she had ridden him on the Hog. Christ! She was doing magnificent; he was the one not handling it very well. Damn it, everyone got to experience Rita but him. He would ne
ver forgive Vivienne for that.
There was a soft knock on the door. He wrestled his cock back into the jeans and answered it.
Alex stood before him still dressed in his dance costume. ‘Leo has a couple of his men keeping an eye on Rita tonight. She’ll never know he’s there. But if anyone else shows up snooping around, we’ll know about it.’
‘I should be there myself,’ Edward growled.
‘You can’t risk any further contact, and you know it. Whatever else, if anything else, is going on with Rita, it has nothing to do with you. Personally, I wouldn’t put it past that sleazy boss of hers.’ Suddenly the dancer was shifting from foot to foot and avoiding Edward’s gaze.
‘What? What is it, Alex?’
He cleared his throat. ‘She wants you.’
‘Bloody hell! I don’t want her.’
‘Not like you have much choice, is it?’ Alex took in Edward’s state of undress and the unsettled bulge in his jeans. ‘Morgan gave you the DVD?’
Edward nodded.
‘You’ll be back in the cock stock if she finds out about it.’
Edward winced at the thought of the chastity belt and his hand came to rest protectively against his overworked fly.
‘I heard about the bet,’ Alex said. ‘Do you really think she’ll honour it?’
‘She has to. She had Lorelei write it up, and now everyone knows.’
Alex let out a low whistle. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe she’d even make such a bet. I wouldn’t trust her, Edward. She has everything to lose.’
‘And I have everything to gain. I’ll have my life back. Don’t you think that’s worth the risk?’
‘Of course it’s worth the risk. All I’m saying is be careful.’ Alex kicked off his shoes and padded to the refrigerator. ‘Mind if I watch a little telly. Mine’s on the blink again.’ He helped himself to a beer.
‘Just let yourself out when you’re done.’ Edward reached for the door.