Long Weekend30 minutes of an awesome read

Long Weekend

By Rob

Illustrated by Sean

The shiny black boot eased off the accelerator pedal, as Mel’s eye caught sight of the four big choppers at the far end of the parking lot at the roadside tavern he was just passing. “Is it worth it?’” he pondered. “I’ve cruised bike and bikers so many times and got nowhere.” He turned his black and red Cougar XR7 and headed back toward the tavern. A cool beer on a hot Friday afternoon sounds pretty good, anyway, he reasoned with himself. He pulled his Cougar into a space beside the choppers, which were almost hidden from view by a big truck parked on the near side of the bikes. He slid out of the car. adjusted his belt so the buckle was well on the right hip, locked his car and clipped the keys on the right side belt loop of his very tight faded jeans.

He then turned his attention to the choppers, noting that they were expensive, well cared for and, as far as he could see, packed for a holiday weekend. The lucky shits, he thought as he paused to examine the big black bike. His heart began to pound a little harder as he noticed the chromed tank had a heavy black chain painted around the circumference and a black painted wrist and fist attached to it at the rear.

That was enough for Mel and he headed for the tavern, checking his belt, keys and crotch as he paused at the door. It took only one glance around the room to identify the guys he was interested in. He moved toward a table that would give him a chance of showing the keys on his right hip as he passed them, but still give him a good view of the “scenery.”

The quartet did not seem to be the grubby dangerous type, but they were all rugged, masculine, and most interesting. There was a blond youth—probably the youngest—who was exceptionally handsome. The biggest of the four was a football type, and obviously strong, with massive arms and thighs. The third member of the group—the last whom Mel could see clearly-was very dark with wavy hair and wearing a neatly trimmed beard. Shit, thought Mel to himself. I sure could go for him, as his eyes moved slowly and admiringly over the third figure. He got off on the tight fit of the guy’s jeans, the rippling muscles under a tapered T-shirt, tucked under a big black leather belt at the waist. The big black snoot boots needed cleaning, he noted as he smiled inwardly. This dark guy, like the rest, wore a denim overlay; but Mel could not read the insignia as the fourth biker, with his back to him, was slouched down in his seat.

As Mel looked back to the wavy-haired one, he licked his lips a couple of times, then suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned red as he saw the blond watching him. He knew he had been caught staring, and he should have known better.

The blond made some comment to the others and two more pairs of eyes turned in Mel’s direction. The dark man’s stare burned into him as their gaze locked momentarily.

The bearded biker rose, placed his booted feet wide apart, put his strong hands behind his head and he stretched. As he moved his skin-clinging Levi’s outlined his ass. and Mel could see the keys dangling tauntingly on his left hip. black gloves stuck into the pocket on the same side.

The man moved toward the washroom, allowing Mel a fleeting glimpse of the overlay as he passed. Startled, he seemed to see a large S and M in the design. Couldn’t be, he thought, not so obviously…. I’ve got to have a better look at that. He rose to follow the guy into the can.

Mel swallowed hard as he pushed the washroom door open. The bearded youth was standing at the urinal with his back to him, and it was an “S and M” he had seen. Then, a closer look showed the large letter S was followed by the remainder of the word “Seaside” in smaller letters, just as the large M was followed by the rest of the word “Motorcycle.” A small “Club” was underneath.

Christ, thought an astounded Mel to himself, is that just coincidence… or a subtle message?

The guy finished and turned, allowing Mel a brief glimpse of his tool as he slipped it back into his jeans and moved to the sink. Mel stepped up to the urinal, hauled out his equipment, pleased to note that the guy was watching him in the mirror.

Certainly not ashamed of his own endowment. Mel let the young man have a good look. As he finished and tucked his cock away, the guy moved over to him with a cigarette in his hand.

“Got a light?” he asked.

“Oh ah—” sputtered Mel, “I’m sorry. I don’t smoke.”

The guy’s hand slipped into his own pocket and took out a folder of matches. He slipped these into the pocket of Mel’s tight jeans, slowly pushing them down with his index finger. He allowed his hand to slide down Mel’s thigh, over the increasingly obvious lump at the crotch.

Mel looked up at the smirking face before him. “Let’s try that again.” the dark youth said, watching Mel react to the exploration of his finger. “Got a light, man?”

Just a little startled at the aggressiveness of this guy, Mel responded with an “Oh. yes, sure…” as he submissively retrieved the matches, lit one, and held it up to the cigarette. His companion took in a long drag, then blew the smoke slowly and deliberately into Mel’s face. Mel held his expression steady, although the smoke caused him to blink his eyes. His bearded friend smiled knowingly and turned to leave.

Mel’s mind was racing. “Your… your matches,” he blurted out.

“You keep them. You might need to give another man a light, man… maybe sooner than you think.” He laughed, turned away and left the washroom.

Mel’s heart sank. Had he failed, been rejected, he wondered. Or had this stud just been toying with him to see if he could be had. The thought rancored as he left the washroom… just in time to see, to his dismay, (hat the foursome was leaving the tavern, obviously laughing at the comments of the dark-bearded guy from the can.

He sal down, angry and disappointed. Not only had his plans for the holiday weekend with Garry been canceled by the death of Garry’s father, but after getting his hopes up over these four leather jocks, this went sour too. He finished his beer, expecting to hear the roar of the bikes at any moment. But the sound didn’t come. Were they waiting for him. he wondered, and if so. what for?

He rose with mounting excitement, feeling the pressure grow in his crotch as he headed for his car and hopefully-an encounter with the four bikers. As he rounded the end of the truck, there they were… all four leaning against their choppers, watching as he neared them. The bearded guy was pulling on his black leather gloves… wrist length, very, very tight.

“Hey. man.” the blond called out. “if that Cougar is yours you’ve got a flat.”

“Oh shit,” said Mel quietly, “what more can go wrong?”

“Don’t get up tight, man.” the blond said warmly. “Give me your keys and I’ll help you.”

The blond reached for Mel’s keys and unsnapped them as he rubbed the back of his hand against Mel’s thigh. Their eyes met and exchanged a knowing look. The touch of the handsome man’s hand at his side sent the blood rushing through Mel’s cock. He stood looking at the fiat, wondering how it happened and weighing the possibility that these fuckers had done it purposely. His attention was jolted back to reality as he heard the blond’s voice call out, “Hey, Hab, look what this fucking asshole has in his trunk.”

Oh-oh, Mel said inwardly. He remembered that the S&M magazine he was taking to Garry was lying in the open, inside his trunk.

Hab, the dark guy with the beard, moved over to the car and took the magazine into his leather-covered hand, starting to thumb his way through it. Mel joined the blond at the trunk and tried to be as easy as he could, leaning inside to loosen the spare.

He was conscious of the one called Hab standing directly behind him. He fell the gentle pressure of the other’s body pushing against his ass. He started to straighten up, but Hab’s hand forced him down and held him in place. “You go for this kind of action?” demanded the bearded man. He held a page of the magazine, showing a slave kneeling before a booted master, open before Mel’s face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” answered Mel. “…With the right guy, I mean.”

Hab was rhythmically pushing into Mel’s backside. “And would I happen to be the right kind of guy?” he asked.

Mel swallowed hard. “Yeah, you sure are. man,” he replied.

Hab backed off a little, allowing Mel to stand and turn around. The other three had gathered in a close circle around them. “We’re going out to the Coast, to a campsite I know… nice and private. It’s a real good place for a weekend outing if you have no other plans.”

Mel could hardly believe this was really happening! “Man, I’d sure like to.” he replied quickly and eagerly. “I had some plans, but they were canceled.”

Hab placed his gloved index finger under Mel’s chin, lifting him onto his toes as the pressure began to hurt. The biker’s eyes steeled as he spoke. “But let’s get it clear, boy: you come as our slave, understand?”

“Yes. sir,” replied Mel obediently, accepting the lowly position these studs were thrusting on him.

“And just you remember that ‘sir’ and everything that goes with it, all fucking weekend.” Hab added. “Now get that flat fixed or we won’t get to the beach before dark.”

Mel hopped to his job, eagerly anticipating the weekend ahead. As he knelt to tighten the last lug, Hab raised his booted foot and stuck it into the well, atop the tire, right at Mel’s eye level. Mel looked up al his new master, wondering what the man intended.

“Well,” demanded Hab, “what does a cocksucking slave do when his master’s boots are as dusty as mine?”

Before the other finished speaking, Mel had dropped his face onto the leather, kissing it a few times before he started licking the road dust off the boot, enjoying the mingled odors of leather and male sweat. When he finished the first boot, he was ordered onto the second one as Hab placed the clean boot against Mel’s neck, crushing him down until he heard a stifled groan from his slave. He leaned over and. laughing, gave Mel a wallop on his upturned ass.

“Kurt, get this stuff in the car and lock it up.” Hab commanded. He was obviously the leader. Turning to Mel, he added, “Get up, you fucking slave. We got to make you feel like what you are, and look like it, too.’* He held a half-inch chain in his hand, about four or five feet long. The big football-type guy moved in behind Mel and drew the slave’s hands behind his back and held them there while Hab undid Mel’s fly and pulled out his tool. It hardened immediately in the grasp of the smooth warm leather. Hab’s fingers enclosed both cock and balls as the other hand slipped the chain around them three times and locked it tight with a small padlock. He then dropped the length of the chain down Mel’s pant leg and told the slave to put his meat away. But as Mel took hold of his cock he was stunned by a sharp slap on the face from Hab’s gloved hand.

“Don’t you know any better?” he growled. “A slave never touches his meat unless he’s told to by his master. Now get it in there without touching it.”

Mel took the ends of his jeans, wriggled his dick inside and carefully did up the fly. Kurt handed him an overlay, just like the others, except above the club insignia were the words “SLAVE. PROPERTY OF.” A little embarrassed at making his place so public, he put it on.

Moments later, Mel was riding behind Hab as the bikes roared down the highway. Hab raised his booted feet onto the pegs and leaned into Mel, using him as a back rest. The slave, in turn, curled his body forward, kissing his master’s overlay, gently tracing the large letter “S” with his tongue… loving every moment.

About six-thirty, they rolled into a small resort village on the coast. Mel was conscious of people looking at the four big choppers as they rode through and he wondered if his “slave” designation could be seen. At the far end of the town Hab pulled up to a coffee shop. As the others got off the bikes Mel started to follow suit, suddenly feeling Hab’s strong hand grip his shoulder.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” demanded his master. “I didn’t tell you to get off.” He quickly kneed Mel with fair force in the groin, half doubling up the slave.

“I’m sorry. Sir,” grunted Mel. “I thought….’’

“You hustle your ass back on that bike.” Hab interrupted, “and maybe, just maybe, if I feel like it, I might bring you something to eat. No fucking slave has the right to think he can eat with his masters, right, men?” And the others added their agreement.

“Sir?” asked Mel submissively, “I do need to piss. Sir.”

“Well, go ahead,” Hab replied.

“What, here?” asked Mel.

“You aren’t going anywhere else, boy.” Hab chuckled at Mel’s predicament.

Mel started to undo his fly, but received another slap, this time with the folded black gloves Hab held in his hand. “I didn’t tell you to take it out’ Just piss, damn you!”

Mel stammered in disbelief, “In my jeans?”

“Fuck, this slave has a lot of learning to do,” Hab remarked to the others.

Kurt responded with a laugh. “He’s got a lot of weekend for learning,” and they all laughed.

Mel was crimson with shame, but knew he had no choice. He bowed his head and let the warm liquid fill his crotch, run down his leg. His jeans darkened with wetness as the four bikers ridiculed him for wetting his pants. When he was finished. Hab ordered him back onto the bike. Kurt dug the chain out of Mel’s pant leg, down by his boot, and padlocked it onto the frame of the chopper.

“Don’t go away,” Kun whispered mockingly as he gently jabbed Mel’s jaw with his fist. Hab pushed his helmet into Mel’s gut and dropped his gloves into it. Then the four bikers left him.

Mel blushed every time anyone walked nearby or looked in his direction. He had never been publicly humiliated before. He bowed his head and his eyes fell upon the gloves. Hesitantly, he pulled one of them onto his hand, smelling the fine leather as the aroma made his cock harden within its chains. He kissed and licked the fingers when no one was watching. He was thirsty, he realized; licking those boots had really dried his throat.

He was pleased when he saw his masters returning, grateful when he noticed a can of beer in Hab’s hand. They had brought him a packet of crackers for his supper, but he could hardly swallow them he was so dry. When he asked for a drink of the beer, he was told to finish the crackers first. Only then did Hab hand him the can.

Shit, he thought to himself, it isn’t even cold… wait a minute, it’s almost warm. He held the can to his nose and realized that one of the guys had filled it with piss. He handed it back to Hab.

“Don’t you like the brand we brought you, cocksucker?” he jeered. “I thought you were thirsty.”

“Not that thirsty. Sir,” Mel countered with a shake of his head.

Hab moved close, pushed his knee into Mel’s crotch, forcing him to open his legs. “Let me tell you something, slave,” Hab said coldly, “that’s just about all you’re going to get to drink all fucking weekend. And you’ll be begging for it before long.” He raised the can over Mel’s head and spilled the contents over his blushing slave.

Half an hour after leaving the coffee shop they turned off the main highway onto a secondary road, then down a seldom- used dirt track for a mile or so until they came to a large tree fallen across the road. Two of the guys went into the bush and pulled out two large planks, setting these on the tree so they could push the bikes over. Finished, they hid the planks again. The road narrowed still further and ended in a small clearing. Mel could hear the surf pounding as their motors fell silent. Hie five of them quickly unpacked the bikes and piled their gear on the ground. Hab placed his large pack on Mel’s back, a sleeping bag in one hand and a small case in the other. He then picked up his leather jacket and stuck it between Mel’s teeth.

“Don’t drop it.” he said pointedly, as he opened Mel’s fly and pulled out the chained equipment. Using the chain as a leash, he led them into the bushes and onto a small rugged trail that wound down a steep bluff to the beach below. It was a sheltered gravel beach, with a grassy point breaking the surf on the outward shore, the bluff on the inward side.

Man, what a place for a campsite, thought Mel as Hab unloaded the gear and locked the free end of chain around the slave’s neck.

“Now you just hustle your ass back up that hill and get the rest of the gear down here,” he ordered firmly. “On the double, cocksucker. Understand?”

“Yes Sir,” Mel replied. He trotted off on the double, across the beach and up the trail.

By the time he got the next load down to the campsite he was sweating.

“Hey man,” commented the big guy, “you’re soaking wet. Must have too many clothes on.”

“Yeah,” added Hab. “He should be stripped anyway, Dave.”

Dave, thought Mel. That’s three names now… just one to go.

His thoughts were interrupted by the big guy’s hand on his shoulder as Hab unlocked the chain from around his neck. “Strip,” was the stern, monosyllabic command.

As Mel obeyed, Kurt picked up his discarded boots. Smiling. he looked them over, then pulled his own off and replaced them with Mel’s. “I don’t figure a slave should wear new boots like these,” the biker commented. “Don’t you think I’d better take care of them for him?” The others all agreed.

Mel was naked now, except for the chain that joined his cock and balls to his neck. Kurt picked up a handful of gravel from the beach, flicked out the larger stones and dropped the rest into his own old boots, handing them to Mel. “That’s just to keep reminding you that you’re nothing but a fucking slave.” Kurt said. Mel pulled the boots onto his feet and headed again for the cliff. He was limping even before he reached the trail and had to stop several times during his climb to dislodge some of the more painful stones. He was almost crawling when he reached the top where he surveyed the remaining gear, trying to estimate the number of additional trips he would have to make. Reluctantly, he grabbed one of the packs; but the extra weight made his legs buckle from the pain in his feet. He put the pack down, pulled off a boot and flicked away a couple of the stones that were sticking into his feet.

He almost froze to the spot when he heard Kurt’s sharp voice ring in his ear. “That wasn’t very smart!”

Mel dropped to his knees in front of Kurt… naked slave apologizing to his master.

Unmoved, Kurt sternly ordered him to remove the other boot. Without further comment, he fastened them with a leather thong onto the chain around Mel’s balls, making them swing as he did so. He then loaded the slave with gear and ordered him down the trail.

Mel stumbled down the incline as quickly as he could, balls in agony from the swaying boots, and jumping every step or two as Kurt cracked his bare ass with a heavy leather belt.

Back at the campsite, Kurt explained the slave’s misdemeanor. The four bikers finally decided that one handful of stones in each boot, from each master, would teach this asshole an appropriate lesson. Thus the last two trips—with the stabbing pain in his groin at every step-completely exhausted the naked, sweating slave. After unloading the last of their gear. Mel collapsed to his knees on the gravel beach. The sun was just setting and it was getting cool. But he was not allowed to rest. Hab ordered him to get up and gather driftwood for a fire.

Mel was tired and aching, so thirsty his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. After gathering two loads of wood, he dropped on his knees before Hab. placing his face down onto his master’s boots.

“Please, Master.” he begged, “please, may I have something to drink?”

Hab paused a moment before he replied. “You know what you’re asking for, don’t you?”

“Please. Master, may I have a drink of piss?” conceded the slave.

“That’s better,” Hab said, chuckling. “But I don’t need to piss right now.” he added coldly.

The guy whose name Mel didn’t know spoke up. “I think I could deliver a gut full, Hab.”

“Shit, but you’re a lucky bastard, kid,” Hab quipped. “Chuck’s got some of Mother Nature’s own champagne, all ready and waiting… his own special brew.” At this, the others gathered around to watch this further humiliation of their slave.

Chuck loosened one of the boots from Mel’s balls, dumped out the gravel and placed the boot strap inside the slave’s mouth. He opened his fly, stuck his cock into the boot, and pissed, occasionally allowing the warm flow to splash onto Mel’s grimacing face. When he was finally drained, he handed the boot to Mel, telling him to drink.

Mel was so thirsty he forced himself not to think about it. Taking a deep breath, he gulped the first mouthful. It was bitter and well flavored with beer. But he swallowed it down, his only response being a shiver that passed through his shoulders and down his back. When he paused, he felt Hab’s body behind him. The big, bearded biker was wearing his leather jacket, now, and the pressure of cool leather against his naked body made him tremble.

“All of it,” hissed Hab, and the slave drained it all. Hab continued, “Kurt, you ready to prep this asshole for his slave initiation?”

“Sure am,” Kurt replied. “Got everything we need… all ready.”

Hab pushed their slave toward Kurt, where a large log lay half buried in the sand. The bark had been worn away by time and tides, but a few rusty metal eyes remained embedded here and there. On the log, Kurt had arranged an assortment of leather straps which he proceeded to place onto the slave’s wrists, ankles, and waist, lacing them with thongs. Each strap was equipped with at least one “D” ring. A leather training harness replaced the chain on Mel’s balls, fastened tightly to stretch them down and separate them. The top part of the harness was placed against his hardening cock which Kurt now forced downward between the slave’s legs. Working quickly, the biker was able to lace his stiff leather sheath around the slave’s shank before it could reach a full erection.

Still standing, Mel was turned around by Hab, whose experienced hands began to explore the slave’s bound, naked body. He stroked the thighs, teased the head of the restrained cock, finally squeezed the tightly separated balls till Mel begged for mercy. Then the gloved hands moved upward, thumbs rubbing the protruding tits, pinching them to make his victim writhe in pain. Hab spat on the subjugated face which bowed before him, rubbed the spittle over the lips and cheeks with his gloved hand, making sure some found its way into the slave’s mouth as Mel licked the spattered gloves.

At Hab’s signal, Kurt slipped a leather hood over their subject’s head, adjusting the padded eye portions so that all light and vision was obliterated. The blond youth checked the nose holes and the zipper mouthpiece, then laced the hood tightly about the captive’s head, locking it on with a large, heavy, two-inch collar. Hab, standing in front of the slave, gently pushed the helpless body backward until Mel’s legs were against the log. Opening the mouthpiece of the hood, Hab took Mel into his strong arms, embracing him tightly and bending the slave’s body backward over the curve of wood. His victim was thus arched across the table which nature and the sea had provided. Violently, Hab kissed his love slave, pushing his tongue deeply into the willing mouth as Mel responded by sucking eagerly on the dominating tongue of his master.

All fear and sense of inhibition suddenly melted away, and Mel seemed possessed by a strange euphoria. The strong body was holding him down; leathered arms surrounded him; the demanding tongue fired his lust while the smell of leather, mixed with dried piss and old cum in the hood drove him wild. His raging hard struggled against his cock’s leather bondage and he moaned quietly. Mel hardly noticed that busy hands had tied his arms outward, onto the metal eyes on the log as he had responded to the pressure of Hab’s leather-clad body against his own nakedness.

Hab pulled free, bracing his hands against the taut, arched form of his slave. Once balanced, squatting beside the helpless, hooded figure, he fastened Mel’s collar to another of the metal eyes on the log. Still another pair of hands stretched Mel’s legs apart and tied them onto a three-foot metal bar. The bar was lifted high by two of the bikers, exposing the slave’s upturned butt. A rough finger worked its way slowly into the tensed asshole, moving back and forward to spread the tightened muscles. A leather dildo was eased into the waiting orifice, eliciting a deep groan from the captive. After the dildo was thrust in and out several times, the four masters seemed satisfied by their slave’s obvious discomfort. Mel’s legs were finally lowered, the pressure of his body keeping the dildo into its painful position.

Once again, Hab’s cool leathered hands stroked Mel’s chest. But this time Hab knelt by his captive’s head. Mel’s tongue reached out from the hood’s open mouthpiece to lick the tight denim-covered crotch that pushed against him. Hab’s fingers deftly fastened a couple of clothespins onto Mel’s rigid, pointed tits. Again, pain flashed across the prisoner’s chest, as a dull and growing pain in his gut reached up from the heavy weight that someone hung on his balls. He groaned loudly, tried to move to lessen the discomfort, then suddenly relaxed as he seemed to have been left by himself. Unexpectedly, a warm stream of liquid splashed down upon him, as one of the bikers stood on the log above his imprisoned body. The piss ran down his chest, across his stomach toward the aching groin, finally being directed freely on his leather hood at the still gaping orifice above his mouth. Then someone closed the zipper and Mel was again out of contact with his tormentors. all of whom stood back and watched their helpless victim shift and writhe in his cruel, painful bondage. It was several minutes before Mel was aware of someone near him. He could smell cigarette smoke blown at his hood. “You O.K., cocksucker?” Hab asked quietly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” grunted Mel in reply, belatedly, adding the forgotten “Sir.”

Hab’s hand opened the zipper and placed his hardening tool into the obedient mouth. Mel sucked it down and began to work it with his tongue. The invading shaft worked back and forth as it became hard and larger. Mel was choking and gagging as Hab forced his slave to deep-throat his massive tool. Then Hab spoke to the others, something Mel could not quite understand. But a moment later his legs were drawn high over the log, tied upward to a tree that overhung the scene. Mel could feel the dildo ooze out of his ass and fall onto the beach.

“Warm that fucking butt for me,” Hab ordered. “Get it nice and hot.”

Mel felt the cool touch of a leather belt against his upturned ass. Its smooth caress slid down his thigh and into his crotch, finally a gentle whack across his cheeks, then a harder one. Mel jerked from the sting, drawing in his breath when he could to tense himself for the next punishing blow. Mel would have begged for them to stop as the belt fell ever harder, but his mouth was still full of driving, demanding cock. His backside fairly glowed with pain when Hab finally withdrew his steely rod and moved to kneel against the upturned ass. Mel started to plead for his master to go slowly but the chin portion of his hood was pulled down, exposing his jaw, and his cries were stifled by a big bare ass sliding into place over his mouth. Resigned and obedient. Mei started licking the hairy cheeks until his searching tongue had found the dark, puckered opening. He pushed deep inside, enjoying the bitter flavor of a master’s body that possessed his face.

At this same time, Hab was positioning his swollen, pulsing cockhead at the entrance to his slave’s tender asshole. He pushed in gently, evoking a deep, stifled groan. Ignoring the further sounds of protest, Hab drove in deeper, further with every thrust as he gradually achieved a faster, more violent pace, engulfed by the ecstasy he had been anticipating from the start. He maintained the fierce, accelerating cadence until uncontrolled spasms bolted through him, and his hot cum boiled from his balls into the helpless, groaning slave. After a moment’s rest, Hab drew his cock, moved around to the slave’s inverted head and took the other’s place. The servile mouth was now required to clean his cock of cum and slave shit. One after another, the other three bikers used and abused Mel’s two openings-first his mouth, then his ass, and back to his mouth for cleaning. Only when all had finished with him was his zipper closed, and he was left to catch his breath. Again he was alone, this time for several minutes.

Mel startled a little as Hab’s cold hand touched his chest, and he drew in a breath as the biker removed the clothespins from his tits. But he let it out with a moan, crying in pain as his master’s firm fingers rubbed the nipples. “You want a drink?” Hab offered.

“Yes, please, Master,” Mel responded weakly.

The zipper opened and Hab’s cock slipped into the thirsting mouth- Instinctively, his lips closed about the shaft. “Don’t suck it, damn you!” Hab cried sharply. “You’ll make it hard, and I won’t be able to piss.”

Mel realized that his master was giving him a drink all right, but straight from the source, and he quivered as the hot fluid began to spurt into his mouth. He gulped it down, gagging on it, and a little trickled out of his mouth.

“Don’t lose any!” Hab ordered. “Not a single drop’s to be wasted, understand?”

Mel submissively accepted the full gut-load his master gave him.

When Hab finished, he told the others to release Mel, declaring the slave’s initiation completed for the night. They untied him from the log, but left the straps and training harness in place.

Mel was given a blanket and allowed to warm himself at the side of the fire. Kurt handed him a cup of coffee. The five men talked, then, and Mel was questioned about his personal life… and, of course, his sex life. After an hour or so they decided to bed down. Mel was given one more load to drink, relieving someone’s bladder for the night.

“You can bunk with me,” Hab said, “that is, if you can sleep with your master’s cock up your ass all night.” With that, the bearded biker pushed Mel onto his sleeping bag where the slave knelt uncertainly, trying to find which end was which. His wrists were pulled together in front, and Hab tied them onto the balls. He then pushed Mel over into the opened bag. The captive could feel his master’s naked body crawl in beside him. He wanted to touch it, love it, run his hands all over it; but he could not—

Hab put his powerful arms under Mel’s head drawing him onto his shoulder as body stretched against body. Mel found his tied hands were touching Hab’s manhood and he stroked it gently, pleased that it responded by hardening to his touch. His master’s warm, masculine smell turned Mel on. and the odor of Hab’s armpit-strong and sweaty-filled him with desire. He slipped his tongue between his lips, touching his master’s chest. Running his moist probe along the smooth flesh, he began to lick the sweat from his master’s skin.

Hab’s firm fingers grasped Mel’s jaw, raising his head so that the pair of them could again lock in a warm, deep kiss. Mel sucked desperately on the tongue as his cock strained fiercely at its leather bonds. He was aware of Hab’s rod as it hardened and pressed against him, and he realized he had never before felt so completely a part of another person.

“Turn over and let me climb into that fucking ass of yours.” Hab commanded.

Mel obeyed and could feel the hard rod search for his opening, find its goal and slide inside. Mel murmured a little as his aching ass was again invaded by the hard intruder. Hab began to fuck him with a regular relentless thrust. “You’re really mine, baby,” Hab murmured. “My fucking slave… this is when you know a guy belongs to you, when he’s your possession, when you’re full length up his ass.” Hab made it last a long, long time, enjoying every moment. Finally, the climax could be held off no longer and Hab’s body exploded in stabs of racking pleasure. The hot white cum spewed deep into the slave’s body and soon Hab’s full weight relaxed on top of Mel.

“Get to sleep,” Hab ordered quietly. “You’re going to need all the rest you can get for what we’ve got planned for tomorrow. It’s going to be a long, long weekend, cocksucker.”