There was just something about seeing him in his black leather biker’s gear that always turned her on. Whether it was the look, or the smell, or the sound of it creaking as he moved, she didn’t really know or care. He was well aware of the effect, too and often wore it when he had sex with her.

The day he surprised her by donning a leather half-face hood, tying her up with her own stockings and “forcing” her to submit was one she would remember forever because of her enormous multiple climaxes. He had “forced” her several times since then and it just got better and better for her ... especially when he arrived one day with a  full set of antique manacles.

With her wrist and ankle cuffs linked by chains that kept her arms pulled down as far as her buttocks and a heavy collar with a short chain leash around her throat, there was no chance of escape and she loved the feeling of absolute helplessness they imposed on her when he clicked the locks shut and showed her the keys before tucking them away well out of her reach.

Until he chose to release her, she was his prisoner and she always had amazing orgasms when she imagined herself being forced to serve her “Master” ... not because she wanted to, but because she was a real slave and had no choice.

When he phoned and told her he wanted her in her new “toys” and ready to play when he got back, she agreed eagerly, not even asking what he had in mind. Rushing to her bedroom, she showered, washed her hair and did her make-up, then selected and donned her sexiest quarter-cup bra and garter-belt, sheerest stockings and highest heels ... his favourite outfit and hers, too.

Once dressed, she picked up the collar and locked it closed around her throat, shivering to the thrilling touch of cold, implacable iron on her skin. Her ankles were next and when she was hobbled, she carried her wrist cuffs in her hand as she made her slow, careful way back downstairs to the front hall, enjoying the restriction of only being able to take twelve inch paces.

In the hallway, she padlocked the last link of the short chain dangling from her collar to the unobtrusive ring screwed into the newel post at the foot of the banisters, knowing she would be unable to free herself until he arrived with the key. The final step was to cuff her hands behind her back and as the locks clicked shut with delicious finality, she gasped in immediate arousal, bound by her own hands to endure the erotic frustration for as long as it took him to get to her.

After what felt like hours of waiting, she heard the throbbing rumble of his bike and straightened her spine to display her body in its self-imposed bondage. His heavy boots came towards her from the garage at the back of the house and as she saw that he was wearing his full leathers and the hood, her nipples stiffened and her sex grew wet with anticipation. He grinned and reached for her, his gloved hands capturing her breasts and she squirmed and wriggled to his touch as fierce arousal and need swept through her body.

Unlocking the chain to her collar, he pulled firmly, but to her surprise and dismay, she found herself being led towards the garage instead of the bedroom. With her hobble-chain clinking at every restricted step, she followed in helpless obedience until her curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask where he was taking her and why?

He stopped and turned to face her and as he explained what was going to happen, her eyes bulged and her jaw dropped in disbelief and appalled shock. She already knew, he told her calmly, that it had always been his dream to own what he considered the ultimate motorcycle and after weeks of negotiation, he had finally reached a deal with a biker friend who had one of the only three in the country, but there was a snag.

Even after trading-in his old bike, he was still a long way short of the asking price and so he had had no option but to add a “sweetener” to persuade his friend to sell and that was where she came in. She was the “sweetener” and under the terms of the bargain, he had agreed to lend her to his friend for three months, as a slave, to be used however his friend wanted ...

She gaped at him, her brain reeling at the incredible idea that he had offered her body to a total stranger as a sort of bargaining-chip, without even asking her if she was willing. Her mouth opened, furious protests hovering on the tip of her tongue, but before the words had the chance to emerge and to her horrified shame, a towering, foaming orgasm exploded into her belly at the thought of being made to serve an unknown “Master” as a chained and collared slave.

Just as in her secret fantasies, she would have no choice and as her climax overwhelmed her, she knew that she couldn’t resist her own desires, no matter where they might lead her. She simply had to find out what real slavery was like and this was her opportunity ... if she was brave enough to take it and risk the possible consequences. Fighting to control the tumultuous havoc raging through her shuddering belly, she lifted her head and gazed into his eyes, then nodded firmly, accepting her fate.

Her lover drew in a relieved breath and as she realised that he had been worried that she would refuse to cooperate, she managed a wan smile to reassure him that she was fine and everything was all right. She only hoped that it was, because she knew she was committed and it was too late to change her mind ...

As he led her into the garage and leashed her to a ring to await the arrival of her temporary new “owner” and the handover which would deliver her into three months of total slavery, making her lover the proud possessor of his dream motorbike, she trembled in fearful anxiety and ferocious arousal mixed with an undeniable curiosity about what would be demanded of her.

Would he be kind and considerate and gentle, or harsh and strict and cruel? What if he kept her chained for the entire three months? What if he wanted to keep her permanently and made another “bargain” with her lover? What if she found she liked being a full-time slave?

Maybe that was what her lover wanted and this was only the start of a whole lifetime of slavery? Would she really mind if it was?

In any case, there was very little she could do about it while she wearing her manacles and collar. She had agreed to the bargain and now she would just have to live with her decision and couldn’t help hoping that her new “Master” would wear tight black leather motorcycle gear ... and maybe a hood ...

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