The Biker

She was the kind of woman that always survives in horror films. Fearless, bold, adventurous, strong, resourceful, intelligent, and highly unconventional. Ellen Ripley with long dark hair, a slightly thicker and more toned figure, and tattoo sleeves on both her arms. She had no need of low cut shirts or tight pants that most women her size would have to squeeze into. Men would turn their heads regardless of what she wore, their curiosity peaked by the confidence of her gait and the striking outline of her face and shoulders. But most importantly, she didn't care about any of that. If the rest of the world disliked her look, they could go fuck themselves. She was the kind of woman that your father warned you about.

He watched her walking towards where he sat on the motorcycle. They had spoken online and over text for a couple days before agreeing to meet up. He was well-framed himself, with defined shoulders, an angular jaw, strong legs, and large hands, not to mention the tattoo adorning his back. From an outside view, they looked like any average Harley couple. As she approached him, he swallowed nervously.

"You like it?" she asked. "I got it used for only five grand. Restored most of it myself. Scoot back a bit."

He inched back to the passenger seat as she sat down in front of him at the handlebars. She fired up the ignition with a roar before looking over her shoulder to say, "You're gonna have to hold on to me. I promise not to bite. Yet."

He leaned forward and put his arms around her waist as the bike began to move. She could feel his heart beat faster against her body. He must be a little nervous about what the on-lookers are thinking, she thought to herself. As they picked up speed, she moved her head back against the side of his head.

"You know what they call that seat?" she said into his ear. "The bitch seat."

She felt his pulse rise a little more and a big devilish grin came across her face.

"Ha ha ha," he said sarcastically. "Maybe I have a better vantage point back here?"

Raising an eyebrow and smirking a bit, she replied, "That may be, but don't forget that this ride has an end and you don't know what that end is gonna be yet!"

He grinned and flattened his hands against her stomach. Although her pulse remained steady, he could tell she liked it by her slight tilt of the head. Off they went, down the road.

-

As they neared their destination, she let off the throttle and hit a button for the garage door. She coasted slowly inside until she could put down her black boots and bring the bike to a stop. Another push of the button and the door closed.

She got up and turned around on her seat, facing him. For a silent ten seconds her eyes examined him and then fixated on his eyes. He feared he'd done something wrong.

"I need you to be honest with me. You know why you're here, you remember all we've talked about, and you know I don't kid around. I mean what I say."

"Yes, I do."

"What seat are you sitting in?"

"What seat? The passenger seat?"

"No."

"Um. The... the bitch seat."

"That's right. So what does that make you?"

"...uh..."

"We could've taken your car. I could've let you drive. But I didn't. I told you to sit where I wanted you to sit, and you know why. Now don't make me ask again. What does it make you to sit in the bitch seat?"

"The bitch."

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Tell me why I had you ride in the bitch seat on my bike."

"Because I'm your bitch."

"And you knew that when you went and sat on my bike like I told you to, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to follow my orders from here on, like a good little bitch?"

"Yes."

"Then say, 'Yes, Mistress'."

"Yes, Mistress."

She reached out and put her hand against his cheek. Suddenly it moved down to his chest. He began to panic with this intimidating creature sitting in front of him, staring at him intensely, her hand placed firm against his heart. She could feel every fluctuation, every movement, every rhythm of his pulse and breath, as if she was soaking up every sign of embarrassment and anxiety that he had. As she smiled carnivorously at him, he felt violated in a way he'd never known possible, and he realized he would never be able to hide anything from her.

"Good bitch," she said. She stood up and walked around behind him, sliding her hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. "Let's see if you followed the other orders I gave you. Bend over the back of my bike."

As he got up, she pulled the shirt off his body and gleefully watched him obediently bend over. She pressed her lips against his back and kissed it, while her hands worked their way down his chest to his pants. Before the zipper was half way down, she stuck one hand into the top of his pants. He gasped excitedly.

The pants came off and there he was, bent over the bike in her garage, wearing nothing but bright pink lace panties. She laughed a cruel laugh through an evil smile.

"Very good! Those are definitely what I'd call bitch panties." She further showed her approval by gently clasping her right hand over his right buttock. Then she squeezed. Then her left hand ran up his left leg, under his panties, and clenched his left buttock. At last, she untangled her hands from him and planted a firm slap on his right ass cheek.

"Turn around," she commanded. "Lick my boots."

He obeyed and bent forward, licking the black leather. She looked down on him with pleasure, occasionally ordering him to switch to the other boot. He felt degraded and humiliated, yet filled with nervous excitement that she was able to lower him to such a state.

"That's enough," she said after a while. "Get back on your knees."

He stayed there, wondering and worrying over what she would have him do next. His lips began to moisten when she removed her boots and started unzipping her pants. But then her hand reached in and pulled out something quite unexpected. Waiting for him underneath her pants the whole time was a long and thick pink dildo she wore in a harness. She stepped towards him with it and startled him.

"Wait a min--"

"Yes, I know you didn't like the idea when we discussed it. But listen carefully..."

She leaned forward and quickly put her hand around his neck. He immediately sat up straight and listened quietly.

"YOU. ARE. MY. BITCH. NOW." she said a few inches from his face, with a tone that none would dare confuse with anything less than absolute. "You're here to serve me, not argue. You can say no to this cock for now, but every time you do, your ass is going to take one hell of a paddling instead, until you eventually change your mind. Either way, you're going to learn that being the bitch means submission. So think long and hard before you resist. The only way you're getting out of this is if you can honestly look at me and tell me you don't want my cock. Otherwise, you're going to have to beg for it now."

His eyes widened. She took her shirt off while she watched him. Next came the bra, as her naked breasts fell out beautifully against her chest. She grabbed her cock and began stroking it. She smiled as she watched him struggle, already well aware of what he would do.

"Do you want your Mistress' big long cock, my little bitch?"

"Yes, Mistress!" he nearly shouted.

"How badly do you want it?"

"I- uhhh, I want it badly, Mistress."

"Oh, that doesn't sound so bad to me."

"Please let me take your cock, Mistress!"

"I'm not sure you want it that much."

"I need your hard, thick cock, Mistress, please!"

The devilish grin returned to her face as she opened his mouth and put her pink cock down his throat. "Suck it," she barked. He sucked it, licked it, and kissed it. She delighted in the sight of this man on his knees, wearing lace panties, taking her strap-on dick like a good cocksucker. And she told him as much in many ways, repeatedly.

When she decided he had sucked enough cock for the moment, she ordered him to bend over the back of her bike again. She grabbed a riding crop from elsewhere in the garage.

"Let's refresh your memory. What do bitches do?" she asked, putting her fingers through the sides of his panties.

"Sit in the bitch seat."

"Good. You will sit there every time we go out. What else?"

"Uhh, wear panties?"

"Yes! My bitch needs to keep his ass looking pretty. What else?"

"...suck your cock?"

"Absolutely. No bitch of mine will ever get away without sucking his Mistress' cock. Anything else?"

"Ummm... I don't know..."

"Yes, you do. Tell Mistress what else you need. She knows you crave it."

"Oh. You mean take your cock in my ass?"

"Say it like the cock-hungry slut you are. You begged to suck it, you can beg for it in your ass."

"Oh fuck."

"Yes, I will fuck your ass, but you need to beg first." She rubbed lube on her long cock.

"Please..."

"Out with it, bitch boy."

"...may I..."

"Come on, your ass is bent over in my garage, you're wearing fucking panties, and you just sucked my fucking cock like the little bitch boy you are. Now quit stalling and BEG for me to pound your ass!"

"PLEASE WOULD YOU POUND MY ASS WITH YOUR BIG, HARD DICK, MISTRESS??!"

"You want this dick in your asshole, do you?"

"Oh fuck, yes. I want it deep inside me, I want your hands on my ass. Fuck me like your bitch!"

With a rapid yank, the panties descended to his knees, she pushed apart his butt cheeks, and gradually slid her dick into his hole. He gasped, grunted, and moaned. "All the way," she said softly. "All the way."

A sudden smack on his bare ass from the riding crop forced a surprised yelp out of him. She laughed a sinister laugh and thrust her cock back and forth, in and out. With her free hand, she grabbed his hip and drove her dildo as deep into him as she could. He cried out in pleasure, as she reached below and felt up his cock. Rock hard. What a bitch, she thought, smiling profusely.

She lashed him with the crop again and again, smacked his ass with her bare hands, and pounded his hole until she was satisfied. She pulled out slowly, leaving his dangling cock still as stiff as ever. Chuckling to herself, she brought a chair over and sat down behind him, admiring the work in front of her as she took a drink of cool water.

He collapsed to the floor, eventually crawling over to where she sat. As she took another drink, he lifted his head up to ask for some. She poured the last of the glass onto his face as he sighed contentedly, then pushed his head down to her feet. He clutched them and kissed them while she sat proudly.

"Good bitch."