And, again I have to be completely honest, this starting episode doesn't feature any bondage action at all, please believe me later episodes WILL do so, but it's the "foundation" of the story, introducing the characters and explaining WHY and by whom on whom, said action will occur.
Again this is a work of complete fiction, NONE of characters included are based on any real person, and exist only in the dark depths of my imagination. Except one, and that's not a human figure at all. For I'm a complete petrolhead, a total motorsport nut, and while i enjoy 4-wheel motor racing it's bikes where my REAL passion lies. And this story commences with me riding a bike, one I REALLY did own in reality. A two-stroke engined replica of the sort of bike that competed in Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing for many years, a "V4" Yamaha RD 500 LC, that REALLY did have the registration number, A69 TAR. Try saying that as a sentence when your sexual partner asks you how you'd like it tonight!
And bearing in mind that this IS complete fiction, I'm going to ask for a little bit of, I believe it's referred to as "poetic license" here. For, trying not to give away too many details of my plot, there may be some Police proceedures etc, that I describe, that just would NOT happen in reality.
Anyway, here goes.
I’d got it completely right. As my right knee gently skimmed the asphalt surface of the road, the tacho needle was just over seven thousand, in other words just over the start of the “power band.” So, as I passed the apex of the corner, and the road began to straighten out, I nailed the throttle, and the “V4” two-stroke engine of the Yamaha RD500 motorcycle I was riding responded by increasing the revs rapidly, right up to ten thousand and therefore delivering the full ninety odd brake horsepower available. Up a gear, screw the twistgrip again and the other needle, the speedo, also rose quickly. Over the “ton,” still moving upwards, one-twenty and still climbing up towards one hundred and thirty miles per hour!
OH MY GOD! NOOOOOOO!!!! For there, parked on the side of the road was a white car, complete with a fluorescent yellow stripe, and the word “POLICE” written on the side. Surely not, at this early in the morning, it wasn’t even six o’clock yet, the whole point of getting up this early, it was mid-June incidentally and therefore fully light, was to avoid traffic and the attentions of the occupants of said vehicle. Well, I’d got that one VERY wrong it seemed.
So, what do I do now? I mean I was on a VERY quick sports Bike, if I continued at the same rate, it was quite possible that I could outrun the Police vehicle. But had they already “clocked” me, did they have a device that would have captured my registration, so they would be able to trace me, even if I did lose them? In the end another legal device trapped me.
Shortly up the road was a junction controlled by traffic lights, and I knew that said lights also had a camera monitoring them. But they were green, could I get through in time? No, luck wasn’t on my side at all that morning, just as I thought I might be able to pass through, the amber light came on, and I knew that even at the speed I was travelling at, I’d NEVER pass before the red light illuminated. Which meant, I’d be “snapped” and even IF the Police Patrol hadn’t yet got my number, the traffic light camera would give it to them. And add yet another charge to my list of misdemeanours! DAMN!
It appeared that I had NO choice but to stop, and I only just managed to pull up by the white line, I had been travelling at over twice the legal limit after all. Well, that was it then, I was clearly going to be “nicked,” and as I just sat there, my final hope dis-appeared. For looking behind, I could see the Police Car approaching, they HAD decided it was worth trying to follow me. They hadn’t quite reached me when the light turned green, so I did start off again, obviously riding at a “sensible” speed now. But they caught up with me, and just before a “lay-by” roughly a mile down the road, the inevitable siren and blue lights came on, ordering me to pull in there. I indicated and then obeyed, sitting forlornly on the Bike as my heart sunk.
Because IF they HAD clocked me, then we weren’t looking at the standard, one hundred quid fine and three points on my driving licence, speeding ticket here. Oh no, I’d receive a driving ban, of least six months. And I wouldn’t just lose the right to ride bikes, no I’d lose the complete licence, meaning I wouldn’t be able to drive cars either, and, because of that, I’d lose my job!
Despite my despair, it did strike me as strange that there was only one Police Officer, instead of the two I’d expected, who climbed out of the car and approached me. And I also noticed that it was a Female Officer, and one that in different circumstances I would have quite WELCOMED a chat with. For she was utterly beautiful, stunningly sexy indeed!
“Could you take your helmet off please, I want a good look at you!” I obeyed, and she actually smiled, not a reaction I expected, perhaps it was just to confuse me. If so, it worked. She continued. “Nice bike, had it long?”
“Yes Ma’am, for many years now.”
“And I can see that you’re REALLY looked after it, it’s clearly in superb condition.” She was right there, this bike was my “Baby,” make no mistake about that. “Be a shame to see it all smashed up, wouldn’t it? And what would your wife or girlfriend say about that, I’ll bet they’ve gone without a few things so you could buy and maintain this, I know fully well that fast bikes aren’t cheap!”
“Actually Ma’am, I’m single. I’m not married or in any relationship with a woman at all.”
“Really?” Now, as I mentioned earlier, she HAD rather “unhinged” my state of mind, because although I couldn’t be entirely sure, I thought I actually saw her lick her own lips.
But what she said next confirmed that I had been right, as her smile now intensified. “Well then, “Mr Speed King,” it could be your lucky day after all. I’m offering you a choice.” Now she produced her “Speed Gun,” and in particular the display, which clearly showed 127.6 MPH. “Now, I can press one of the two buttons here. If I hit this one,” which I could see was labelled “Confirm,” and she kept her figure over it for a second, “then you’re heading for a Court Appearance and a ban of at least six months. My Superiors might even decide to throw a “Dangerous Driving” charge at you. Or,” pausing again to move her finger over to the other button labelled “Delete,” and again letting it linger before continuing, “I could press this one. If I do that, then the entry will be erased, that figure WILL dis-appear and there’ll be NO way of resurrecting it. Sure, the gun WILL register that an entry had been made, but the actual speed will not be recorded. All I have to do is tell my Sargeant that I thought a car was going faster than I it really was, and when I took a reading, it was actually under the limit, so I deleted it. So, as I say I could simply press this, and you’ll keep your Licence!”
“But?”
“No flies on you are there? Because, yes, there is a “but.” You see, instead of “Police Constable” Jessica Hawkins taking you into any sort of “legal” custody, in order for me to press the “Delete” button, you will agree that “plain” Jessica Hawkins will take you into her “sexual” custody! Basically, I’m about to clock off shift, and as I won’t be on duty again until Tuesday, I quite fancy having you as my Sex Slave for the rest of the weekend! So, there it is, whichever button I press is now up to you!”
Blimey! What do I do now? Jessica was staring at me quite intensely, clearly pressing me for an answer. Stalling for a bit of time, I decided to ask what EXACTLY she meant by the term “Sex Slave.” Looking straight at her, I asked, “what precisely do you have in mind?”
“Quite simple really, you WILL surrender yourself to me. I’ll write down my address, and you’ll report there in a couple of hours, wearing as few clothes as you need to remain decent. Because, believe me, you will NOT need any clothing for what I have in mind, although I MIGHT put you in some of mine, and let’s face it you know ALL about wearing leather, don’t you? But, once you’re in my domain, you will be MINE, and you’ll agree that I can do ANYTHING I like to you. I’m going to tie you up, or cuff you, tease and tickle and generally “play” with you to my heart’s desire. And I might even shag you. One thing I DO promise though, is that I WILL pay attention to your welfare, I WON’T do anything that will endanger your life at all, I DO guarantee that. So, what’s it to be then?” As her finger hovered over the “Confirm” button.
Well, I didn’t really have much choice, did I? As I’ve already said IF she DID hit THAT button, then my job’s gone. Add the fact that, again as I’ve pointed out, she WAS stunning in the looks department, well I’d just HAVE to agree. “Yes Jessica, I WILL surrender to you.”
Her finger immediately moved away from the button that would have condemned me, but it didn’t hit the other one just yet either. “No, I’ll just wait until you’ve turned up at my place,” and now she wrote an address on a piece of paper which she handed to me. “If you do, I’ll hit it then, but of course, if you don’t, well I’ll just have to hit the other one, won’t I? Oh, and please, don’t drive there, it’s easy to get from yours,” she’d seen my address when I’d shown her my Licence, “to mine by bus. And don’t bring you mobile ’phone with you, we don’t want ANY trace of you being with me, now do we?” And after going through a couple more details we parted company, well for now anyway.
Once I reached home, I left the bike outside to cool down for a while, whereas normally I’d give her a full “post-ride” clean, Jessica’s deadline gave me NO time for that. As soon as I’d changed out of my leathers and other riding gear, I, again bearing her instructions in mind, simply dressed in a “T” shirt and “traccies,” before putting the Bike away in the garage. Now I headed to the nearest bus stop, she’d been right about the ease of travelling to hers by that method of transport, making sure I’d left my ’phone behind, again as she’d ordered, as well as my wallet and any other form of identification. Before five minutes had passed a bus arrived, and after a journey of roughly twenty minutes I alighted, just a few hundred yards from the address Jessica had supplied me with. I was early and walked that short distance with mixed feelings. For there, most certainly, was a feeling of trepidation within me, I was just about to deliver myself COMPLETELY into the hands of somebody else, somebody who I didn’t know at all. But, well, there was NOTHING I could do to stop what she clearly had in mind for me, so I thought that I might as well just try to enjoy it. After all, she HAD guaranteed to look after my safety, and I DID believe her on that score.
Well, here was the point of NO return, I was standing in front of her door, and, still with those mixed emotions, I pressed the Doorbell. The door opened and a black leather clad hand and arm beckoned me inside. Here we go, then!
As I entered, I noticed several things. The Speed Gun lay on a small table, got to admit I was surprised to see it, I rather thought that “Police Constable” Hawkins would have been required to leave it at the Police Station. I also clocked a large type of “holdall” style bag, with a zip opening, and the zip fastener itself had a small padlock hanging off it. But the “centrepiece” was P.C. Hawkins herself, or as she was now officially “off-duty,” how had she put it, “plain” Jessica Hawkins. Because, believe me, there was NOTHING “plain” in the manner in which she was now attired!
To be continued.......