Date: Fri, 30 May 2014 14:54:35 +0200
From: sharp Harper <sharper@inorbit.com>
Subject: BIKER MATES -- PART TWELVE

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BIKER MATES PART TWELVE

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BIKER MATES PART TWELVE - Tuesday evening ctd.

I put my penis back in Martin's mouth.

He was kneeling at my feet, eyes closed; his lashes spread out over the
upper surface of his cheeks like the tiny feathery legs of a beautiful and
elongated centipede. My bladder was full, and pressing down increased the
semi-, now that he was sliding his lips up and down its length.

"The cuts on his arse must be hurting bad now," I said, with a smile. He
was resting on his bottom, rubbing it against the unforgiving carpet tiles.
Jez looked at Martin's head, the way it was pushing into me, and
smirked. "Aw, baby loves pain," he said. Then he held out a pen and the
delivery note for me to sign. Martin carried on working my cock. My bladder
hurt.

The phone began to ring. I snatched the pen off Jez. I quickly grabbed the
receiver and shoved it under my chin. Martin continued. He pulled his lips
up over the glans, maintaining suction just so as to retain the bulbous
tip, and then sucked it in and swallowed it again, down his
throat. Ba...by...oo.

"Hello?," said Barry before I could speak. "Mike, that you? What's going
on?"  I scrawled my name on Jez's bit of paper, balancing it on my leg, and
handed it back. I made him a sign with my thumb. The paper was a triple
carbon: Jez ripped away the bottom sheet and stuck it on Martin's
sweat-moist back with a slap.

Martin continued, kneeling.  "The delivery's arrived," I said down the
phone to Barry.

Martin eased his mouth slowly in and out; his teeth and tongue and lips
rode pleasantly across me, depositing a glistening juice of mouth slime
over a mangled terrain of thick meandering blood vessels and knotted meat.
"So why didn't you phone me, then?" Barry replied. "I told you to phone
me."  Jez said, "I'll be seeing yah." He made a sign and raced out of the
office, hitting the large green exit button by the door with a thump and
letting the door slam.  "I was about to phone you, just now," I said to
Barry.  I peeled the paper off Martin's back and tossed it on the desk.

Martin's lips still wrapped around my cock, he let it push past the back of
his tongue and buried his face in the mound of hair at the bottom of my
stomach. I felt my head tip past the gag. He held it there. He tightened
his lips in a circle around my root.

Barry said, "...about to phone? Well... Is it all there? You've checked
it?"  "Yeh Barry, o' course."  Martin slid back. He released my dickhead
with a gasp and took a breath, resumed, continued to suck, hands and knees
on the floor, elbows folded, backside bobbing down and up in time with his
head. It was delicious, but I really needed to pee despite myself.

Barry continued, "If it's not all there you're in big trouble. We can't
afford to lose this one. It's the City job."  I started to release my
bladder, straining to force it through the obstruction of my solid state. I
raised my hips and just managed to loosen enough...  Martin sucked. He
jolted when he realised what was happening, but then swallowed smoothly as
I painfully discharged myself into him.  I grunted involuntarily.  "Are you
listening?" asked Barry.

I forced the flow to increase slightly, pushing on my stomach, and then,
held it back.

Martin's lips remained wrapped in a tight juicy seal around me.

"... Eh, yes, Barry, I'm listening. City job. Important."  Martin swallowed
his first mouthful, tickling my head with his tongue as he did so. I made
him have a little bit more. He sucked it up.

"Is he there now?" said Barry. "I knew it!"

Martin was such a good lad.

"What, the delivery guy? No he's just left," I answered.

I ruffled the hair on Martin's head and smiled.  Baby...  "You know exactly
who I mean," moaned Barry. "Your little bit of fluff, your lover boy."  I
forced out some pee in a spurt and then held off again. Martin's lips still
wrapped around my cock, fit me tight, swallowing like a pro, my own
personal urinal. I was as good as Jez.  "Is that not ok?" I said down the
phone.

Martin would make a good skinhead.  He'd make a good show of swallowing my
piss in front of an audience.

"I guess, just so long as you get this right."  I stopped peeing.  Martin
swallowed.

"Everything's fine, Barry. Everything's fine. You can relax."  "You've
checked the delivery against the docket?"

Martin had sucked up the last drops. He held still as I pushed a bit mor of
my urine into him. His closed eyes were moist with tears; he had choked a
little on the drink. The pressure on my bladder was less now; it was easier
to piss.

"I've checked the docket. Everything's there, Barry."  A little bit more
left my slit. Martin gripped the head of my cock and hoovered it up,
drawing out the last, breathing awkwardly: His nose must be so full of me,
engulfed in my smell, and the hairs sweat with his shit, drawing it in,
laboured, breaths pulled at intervals as my piss let him grab.

"I don't need to come round and check, do I?" asked Barry.

Martin had more to get down.

"N-no. Not at all. It's fine.  Anyway, I thought you were too busy. Can I
go home now, Barry? " Martin sucked up and down on my dick. Martin's
bladder must be full itself by now!  Barry said, "Never you mind whether
I'm too busy! Yeh. Lock up."  I turned the receiver round in my hand and
watched Martin drawing on me, the last drips. I put the phone down.
Martin's lips still wrapped, sucked, held and pulled. I stroked his
hair. We were both in heaven.  "Ok, I think I'm gonna cum inside you one
more time and then we'd better head home. Wha'd'ya think?"  It wasn't a
real question. Martin was in doglike attendance to my cock. Open your
mouth. He held still whilst I wanked myself into his gaping jaw. He gulped
the thick spurts of cum as they hit the roof of his mouth and then held his
lips round the pulsating dickthroat as it relaxed.

That was good.  I pulled it out. Cum dribbled from his lips. He opened his
eyelids and looked at me hanging at an angle towards him.

"Tomorrow's g'na be heavy. I need to rest," I said.

I patted him on the head. I let him stand.

"Bring your stuff."  I got myself ready, switched everything off and walked
to the door. He followed me, struggling with an untidy bundle of clothes,
his helmet and boots.

In the loading bay, next to our bikes, a gleaming cellophane wrapped stack
of print sat on its pallet. Next to it there was another, exactly the
same. Under the bay lights the stacks looked alien, weird, silently capable
of mischief. Martin, his arms full, waited for instructions. He looked at
the stacks, no doubt imagining how he could be spread across them and
tortured; thinking, no doubt, about how the sharp cellophane would feel
pressed against his skin.

I had a sudden thought.

"Wait here," I said. Then I had a second thought: "On your knees."  Martin
dropped slowly to the floor. I didn't watch. I ran back to the office,
unlocking doors and switching lights. I ran to the front desk and grabbed
the delivery note carbon I had signed for Jez.

"Three," I read. "Aw shit."  I pulled out my phone and fished out the
number Barry had given to me. It might do some good. My heart rate had hit
the roof: This might mean my job. I pressed the phone button.

"Yeh." Jez's voice on the other end.  "S'Mike. Yeh, listen mate, wa's goin'
on? There's only two pallets. We ordered three."  "What the fuck..."  "Yeh,
we ordered three. Where's the other one, mate?"  "For fucksake Mike! Why
didn't y'say anything?"  "We need that paper."  I walked while I talked,
back through the doors to the bay. Martin was kneeling like I had told him
to, his naked skin luminous, his arms still full of his gear, his helmet,
his boots.

"Drop that," I told him.

Martin turned from the waist and placed the bundle of clothes to the
ground. He turned back to face me. Now he was kneeling upright with his
hands held behind his back so that his knuckles rested on the top of the
mounds of his buttocks and his stomach stretched in a flat hairy plane down
to his dick root.

"I'm done. I'm all in," argued Jez.

"The fuck you are," I replied.

I went straight up to Martin and pointed to my crotch. He lifted His hands
up and opened me carefully, carefully lifted my cock out and moved towards
it with his broad wet tongue extended.

I put a hand over the receiver.  "Get the balls out as well," I said.

"Look at the fuckin' time..." moaned Jez.  "Forget that, mate: Where's the
order?"  Martin's lips wrapped once more around my cock which he also
gripped with one fist. His other hand held onto my ball sack, pulling on
it, squeezing it and exciting me. His fingers played with my cock hair.

"Can't we do it tomorrow?" Jez pleaded.

"Sorry, mate, that's a no. Where are you now?"  "On me way back."  "Back to
the depot?"  "Back home."  Martin's tongue was working on my cock. I was
hardening up again. I was still hard. He paused with it in his mouth,
opened his lips to grab a deep breath. Then he resumed working it, taking
it deep and then letting it emerge fully from him: an obedient, servile
performance.

I patted his head with one hand, holding the receiver with the other.

"Jez," I said, "you gotta go back, get that third pallet, come here. Then
you can go to bed!"  Martin carried on sucking and licking. I let his head
move about underneath my palm.

"Gi's a break," groaned Jez.

Martin was doing so well. His mouth was so good. He was such a good lad. A
good cock slave. I grabbed his Mohican and directed his head so that he was
licking my balls now.

"It's gotta be, Jez," I said. "It's my job on the line here. " "You
should'a fuckin' checked!"  "You should'a got it right, moron."  Martin was
sucking my ballsack. Jez didn't speak. Then at last he did speak.

"Tell you what, Mike..." said Jez.  "Just do it!" I barked, holding
Martin's face against my crotch. "How long?"  "'Bout half an hour," said
Jez.

"Just be as quick as you can."  I hung up and turned my full attention to
Martin, directing him back onto my dick which had grown proudly tall and
thick above his slavering face. He drew it into his neck, inhaling, then
carried on sucking. I loved feeling the back of his throat; he always
paused there, breath held, heart beating. I put my hand on his head and
pushed my fingers once more though the Mohican stripe of hair running
across his scalp, gripping it and tightening my hand.  "That was quite a
display you put on for us back there," I said.  Martin couldn't speak. His
face was mashed against my bush. His nose was blocked off. He was
motionless.  "Looks like we're gonna be here all night..." I said, and,
"It's time to eat," as I pushed Martin away. He sat back on his heels still
looking hungry to serve. I stood, bollocks hanging out and hardon
cantilevered out like an improbable building, and lumbered over to the
office fridge where I knew there were some scraps - a sandwich past it's
date and a pot of fromage frais. Brought them back and sat down. Martin
shuffled nearer to me; folded like a dog between my legs. I picked off bits
of bread and fed them to him. He swallowed them hesitantly. Then I fed him
the fromage frais by dipping my finger into it and letting him lick it
off. It turned me on. I smiled: It was like cum.

I finished the food for myself and then wanked a load of my own man's cum
into his stomach. Now that's a slave's meal.

Then Martin carried on sucking my cock.  It was great: Him naked and
kneeling and serving in stupid obedience. I told him to suck on my aching
cock. I told him to lick over my aching balls. I told him to remove my
boots. I told him to remove my socks. I told him to worship my feet and I
pushed my cheesy toes into his face.

Before Jez arrived there was plenty of time for Martin to drool over my
feet and make them thoroughly clean.

There was all the time in the world.

=== It was nearly eleven o'clock when I heard the approach of Jez's van
reversing in. He emerged from beside the van looking grim. Then he saw us.

We hadn't moved.  Martin's clothes were in a heap on the floor. His face
was against my toes, licking them obsessively. His whip-marked ass pointed
up in the air, twin halves separating, rose-hole winking and wet. His hands
were spread on the cold concrete floor. I was sitting with lazily spread
thighs, fingering my stuff, looking down on him, beaming with pleasure and
pride.

Jez smiled and groaned, "You never let up, you two!"  I grinned. Martin and
I stayed as we were whilst Jez lowered the back of his van and used a hand
cart to lift the pallet out.  "Thanks, Jez," I said without getting
up. "Sorry, but we'd both'a been in trouble. It had to be done."  Martin
continued licking my feet and ankles with the distracted attentiveness of a
cat.

"You owe me one," said Jez, standing by the open van, wiping his hands and
staring at Martin, mainly at Martin's ass.

"Yeh," I said sarcastically, "I owe you."  "No. You do owe me. I didn't
have to come back. You'd signed it off. It was your problem."  "It doesn't
matter now. We're square... Ok, mate, I owe you," I said. Like I could give
a toss.

Stood in front of us, Jez didn't move. He held a bit of rag and kept
rubbing his fingers, watching Martin lick me obediently and Martin's arse
going up and down and winking. He smiled.

I held one foot up.  Martin took it in his hands automatically. His fingers
were like electric points on my skin. He transferred his attention to the
sole. He'd already cleaned it once. It was clean.

Jez strolled close and ran his palm respectfully on Martin's shoulders and
stroked him over his back where one blow mark of the whip was still
visible. He reached down and felt Martin's ass, big hand cupping the buns
in turn, searching the space, finding the opening and pressing in like he
was calling a lift.

"Mm.  Nice. Sore. Pussy," he said, teasing the hole. "You know how you can
repay me, Mike. You know what I'd like, Mike?"  I waited.

"I'd like to borrow it... for a bit."  "You'd like that would you?" I said.

Martin, concentrating on licking my foot, looked as though he hadn't heard,
lifting up the opening gap of his shitter, offering Jez some deeper
access. Jez poked a finger deep into him. It came out wet.

"Yeh. You know, for my trouble," he said, tickling Martin behind the ear
with the finger that had just been groping Martin's anus.

"Well. No, is the obvious answer to that stupid idea. I don't owe you!"
"Why not?"

"Cos he's mine, Jez!"  "I know he is. He's a real property. You'd get him
back, promise."  Jez held his finger under Martin's nose. Martin sniffed.

"He could use the experience," said Jez. "Oh, and he'll get that."  "So
what did you have in mind?"  "Well, keep him in my van...  drive him
around... introduce him to a few people."  Jez was a good looking fellow;
he probably had some horny looking friends. Horny, sadistic,
dirty... whatever.

Martin carried on licking my foot. I shook it from his grasp and lowered it
to the ground. Jez grabbed Martin by the collar so that he couldn't follow;
he hung there like a pet rabbit held by the fur on its neck, choking a
bit. He looked at me.  "He's got work tomorrow."  "I'd be willing to let
him phone in sick."  "How long?"  "A few days."  "Look here, mate, that's a
big ask.  Like I said, I don't owe you!"  "No. I'd owe you."  "What?"
"Well, I'd find something for you... part exchange, like."  "I don't know
what you think I'd want."  "Oh, you would. You'd want. And if you weren't
happy I'd find something else. There's slaves out there, asslickers,
cocksuckers, pansies, subs, bootboys...  pigs, gimps, masochists,
trannies...  Disco-bunnies. Whatever you fancy, I can get it. You'd have a
good time, guaranteed. I'll send something round I'm sure you'd like. Look,
mate, it's payment in kind," said Jez. "It's just, I'd really appreciate
it. I know lots of guys. They'd be very grateful..."  "What, are you some
kind of pimp now Jez? You going to rent him out?"  "Like I said, I'd really
appreciate it. I'll cut you in. How's that? A percentage. Think of it as a
proposition. A deal. A piece of business."  "Jez, you're a goon. It's
laughable."  "No, I'm serious. I'm serious. We'd both profit."  Jez was
holding Martin by one finger through his collar and Martin was swinging by
the neck, as if Martin's head were a big plant pot he'd found in a
gardening centre and was proposing to buy for the patio.  Martin's wide
shoulders kept brushing against Jez's overalls.

"An' what about him?  What does he get?"  "Like I say, it's the
experience..."  Jez laughed like a drain. So did I, though possibly for
different reasons. Martin, held by Jez's hand through his collar, like a
rabbit about to be garrotted, looked stupid, like he couldn't tell what he
might have to endure, and like he didn't care, staring into an imaginary
distance, nowhere.

"Will you play safe?"  Jez laughed. "Would you?"  I laughed in despair.

"And will you return him undamaged?"  Jez laughed.  "Probably not!"  We
laughed again.  I looked into the van. Now I could see loads of things that
could be used as restraints, old sheets that could cover things up... The
sides of the van had numerous bars and straps attached. It was a mobile
fucking dungeon!  "So'r'we on?" Jez persisted.

Just for once, I wished Martin would express an opinion.  What did he want?
If he wanted to go, try out this new experience, I'd let him. If he said he
wanted to stay here with me for, I guess, more of the same, I'd be happy.

I mean, I'd only had my own boy a few days and already I was sending him
off like an apprentice.

Jez still held Martin's collar. Martin's head lolled to one side. He
couldn't move. His hands twitched. His prick curved up to one side,
excited, thick, and vulnerable. So what did that mean? He wanted it badly,
I guess. He looked so stupid, hanging there, rubbing against Jez's
trousers, probably not even thinking about my feelings. He really was a pig
slave.

Did I really have any choice?  "Why not?" I said. I didn't look at Martin
and he didn't look at me. Could it be that he already found me boring?  Jez
broke into an absolutely massive grin. "Game on!" he cried, and Martin
grinned too. His eyes lit up, I swear. So that was it.

"C'mon Piss!"  He dragged Martin, who was only nearly on his feet, in the
direction of his van. Martin scrambled along without a murmur. Jez dropped
him down by the tailgate.

"Hop on, Piss!"  I watched Martin's whip marked dimpled arse as he climbed
into the back of the van. He could hardly wait, the little slut. He could
hardly wait to be raped and spunk-pumped by a gang of anonymous cocks. Was
that all I'd been to him?  Once on the van, he turned and knelt facing Jez,
like Jez was his new master and I didn't exist.

Jez jumped up as well. "Mike!" he said, beckoning me to join him.

I made a sign. I preferred to watch as Jez dragged Martin over to the back
of the van where that arrangement of buckled straps decorated the wall. He
pushed Martin's back against it, telling him to spread his legs wide and
raise his arms in a St.Andrew's crucifix.

Martin did as he was told. Jez fitted him into position, fixing the
restraints around his wrists and ankles.

I watched. Jez tightened each of the straps in turn, gradually immobilising
Martin in a diagonal cross against the van side. By the time he had
finished, Martin had blended into the wall of the van like the van had
grown a man in its skin. His marvellous, straining erection jutted out, a
fungal van-branch reaching out into the void. Like the van was growing and
trying to spread. A mushroom loaded and ready to fire its spores. Difficult
not to bump; Jez gave it a painful flick with his fingertip. Martin winced
and said, "Ehh." Jez flicked it again. This time Martin remained silent.

Then he said, "Right, he's done. Ready to rock." He looked at me and
grinned. Martin looked at Jez. "Oh, hold on..." said Jez. He looked around
on the floor and found a bit of cloth which he tied to Martin as a
blindfold. He leaned in and gave Martin a kiss, licking Martin's face with
his big tongue and groping his tight muscular body with his big
hands. Martin responded passionately. He opened his mouth wide. He was
hungry for Jez and Jez's sadism.

Jez said, "Yeh." He took hold of Martin's erection and gave it a vicious
squeeze. He took another bit of rag and tied it inti Martin's mouth as a
gag.

I'll never forget that picture of Martin completely unable to move or see
or speak, his dick proud and his flesh tied down to the metal skin of the
van. Obviously, a voice inside me wanted me to go along with them, to watch
and take part in the ritual torture and humiliation of Martin. I was
thinking about it. It looked like I'd be in the way. Jez had ideas; he had
plans. I'd only be in the way, and, anyway, I was dog tired, and, anyway,
next day was a biggee at work, and, anyway, I couldn't risk queering my
pitch with Barry. So, don't think I wasn't thinking about it; because, I
was thinking about it.  But it didn't make any difference.

"There's his clothes and stuff here," I said.

"Won't be need'n'em."  "Mobile?"  "You look after it."  "You'll need it to
phone him in sick. It'll have the number."  Jez looked irritated.

"Ok. Giss't."  I got up and searched through Martin's shit. Why was I doing
all the work? I found the phone and handed it up to Jez in back of the van,
standing there, all almighty, like he owned everything.  Well, I guess he
owned Martin, and I seemed to have turned into just one of his fools.

Later on, I would put Martin's gear a box under my desk and carry his keys
and wallet with me. His bike would have to stay. I would put it out back
where Barry wouldn't see it.  "Just one request," I said. "Don't let him
cum. I want him on heat when I get him back."  "That shouldn't be a
problem," said Jez.

"Haven't you got some kind of cock and ball cage to control him?" I added.

"No, but he won't touch it. He won't cum, Mike. That's a promise. He won't
want to. He'll want to remain available for treatment. If he cums he'll be
useless as a slave. We all know that."  I knew Jez's style, he'd keep
Martin tied up like that, total restraint, except for when he was needed to
move about, like if he was needed to kneel to be used for anything, or if
he needed to have his position made more accessible.  Jez bent forward and
jumped down from the van with his arms out for balance. He turned and
forced the back shut with a smart bang. Martin was locked up inside. Jez
held out his a hand to me.

"Deal?" he said.

"Yeh," I said. "Deal."  We shook.

"I've got your number. I'll be in touch," he said.

Next thing, he was driving off.

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END OF PART TWELVE