{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"c8d1036a-5f4a-481d-8f82-1d02ab22b285","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-03-04T13:34:37.806Z","title":"Bonking Bikers Ride Their Bitch","slug":"bonking-bikers-ride-their-bitch","shortId":"GdgkzGoH","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Rachel, a university student, is invited to a motorcycle repair workshop by Steve, who has a special offer for her. Intrigued, Rachel visits the workshop and discovers that Steve and his biker friends have a unique fantasy involving her. The story unfolds with Rachel participating in a series of erotic and kinky activities, including being secured to a workbench and pleasured by multiple bikers. The narrative is filled with playful banter and explicit details, highlighting the consensual and adventurous nature of Rachel's encounter with the bikers.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"9b2c7eec-718c-4870-bb5a-c1312a5fac12","title":"I meet a group of bikers looking for a satisfying ride","summary":"'Rachel, Rachel,' I heard someone calling my name across the courtyard between lectures.I waited unt","wordCount":4860,"readTime":24,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"I meet a group of bikers looking for a satisfying ride","content":"

'Rachel, Rachel,' I heard someone calling my name across the courtyard between lectures.

I waited until the person shouting caught up.

'Rachel, so glad I caught you,' Richard said, somewhat out of breath. 'My dad's wondering if you'd like a trip out to his workshop again sometime?'

I had met Richard's father, Steve, when I had fulfilled a forced fantasy organised by some of my fellow students. He owned a motorcycle repair garage about an hour's drive from where I was studying.

'Why does he want me to go out there?' I questioned, knowing full well that there must be some sexual motive for the invitation.

'I think he wants to make an offer to you,' Richard replied, smiling knowingly.

'Okay. I'll have a one thousand cc, Kawasaki,' I responded humorously, trying to think of the name of a motorcycle I knew. 'If he offers me one of those, it's a done deal, whatever he wants.'

'I'll let him know,' Richard replied, laughing. 'How do you know about motorbikes?'

'I don't,' I confessed, 'That was the first name that came into my head. Give your dad my number, ask him to ring me and tell me what he wants. I must dash, or I'll be late for my next lecture.'

It was over a month before I could head out to meet Steve in his workshop once again.

The first time I visited, I played an unwilling kidnap victim and had not paid too much attention to my surroundings. I had almost caused Steve great embarrassment by dashing naked out of his workshop on two occasions.

Now I was going by my own free will, aware that Steve had some sexual reason for the invitation.

'Thanks so much for coming, Rachel,' he gushed, standing in a pair of dirty black overalls and still sporting the goaty beard I remembered from my previous encounter. 'Can I show you around?'

I accepted, not wanting to confess that I had about as much interest in motorbikes as I had in learning the Chinese alphabet backwards.

Once I had been shown around the workshop in the presence of two of Steve's employees, he got to the point.

'Rachel, I'll be blunt with you. I brought you here to ask you a favour.'

'You want to fuck me?' I replied, preempting his question.

'Yes. I do. How did you know?'

I smiled and rolled my eyes. Steve got the point.

'Sorry, I guess that was obvious,' he smiled embarrassingly. 'Not just me. I'm part of a biking club. Not like Hell's Angels or anything like that. We just love our bikes and the open road.'

'And you'd also love a bitch with open legs to go along for a ride, too?' I quipped.

'Oh. Yes. Well. Sort of,' he stammered.

'I'm sorry,' I'll stop butting in.

'That's quite good,' he answered, 'Butting in. I like that. That's pretty much what I had in mind.'

Now it was me who was lost for words. I had no idea what he was hinting.

'As I said, I'll be honest and upfront with you, Rachel. I want you to be the same with me.'

I nodded an acknowledgement.

'Some of my biker friends were not here when you last visited. They feel they missed out, which, to be honest, they did. They wondered if you would visit again, so they can appreciate you too.'

'I could do if you made the day interesting enough.'

'I hope we would do that. Can I explain what I'd love to do with you?'

'Carry on.'

'You see that bench,' he pointed to an old, heavy wooden workbench blackened by grease and covered with tools. 'I want to secure you on that by your arms so that we can fuck your arse and cunt whenever we want. I'd like to see you there all day.'

'How do you want to secure me?' I quizzed.

Steve opened a drawer and pulled out two plastic brackets that looked like large letter 'C's with screw holes at either end.

'Downpipe brackets,' he announced. 'We would screw them over your wrists with sponges between to protect you. We need to ensure the bench is the right height, too, because you are quite tall. Then at some point, I'd like to do something that I'm sure you would never agree to.'

'Try me,' I laughed, 'You won't know unless you ask.'

'See these? They are vice clamps,' he lifted two medium-sized metal pieces of equipment towards me and placed them on the bench. 'It would be a dream of mine to clamp someone's nipples in these. While you were bent over the bench, we could position them and use them. The problem is that I can't find a way to do it without it hurting you.'

'I thought that would be the point,' I added, picking up one of the clamps and inspecting it closely.

'I wanted to place something soft between the jaws and the skin, but anything I try just slips out,' Steve explained.

'I've never had this done to me before,' I explained, 'Let's give it a go using just the metal jaws as they are and see how we get on. Those serrations are tiny, so they will grip without cutting me.'

'Yes, but if it's too painful or sore for you on the day, we would have to remove them again, and it will be disappointing for us.'

'I think as I'm here, we can sort and plan everything now, can't we?'

Steve looked at me in bewilderment, 'What do you mean?'

'You wanted to ensure the bench was the correct height. We need to decide where my hands will rest if you want me standing so long, and let's see if these clamps can work for you?'

'You want to do that now?' Steve questioned almost breathlessly, 'With my staff here?'

'Are they not part of the bike club?'

'Yes, they are.'

'Then that's fine. Just ensure that the door is locked. It might be embarrassing if someone came in while we were working things out.'

'You're not planning on taking your clothes off to do this, are you?'

'How else can we get it right? You want the proper positioning of my bum and pussy, and also my tits. I can't see another way of doing it, can you?

It took just seconds to clear the bench of the various items adorning it. When Steve and his two mechanics had completed the tasks and turned back to me, I had undressed completely.

'Oh fuck,' Steve said as he saw me first.

'Blimey,' one of the men working for him added.

The other just stood staring as if in a trance.

'So you want me something like this?' I said, bending over the bench.

'Yes. Err, yes indeed,' Steve replied, still in apparent shock at my forwardness.

'I think the bench needs raising about four inches for my optimum comfort,' I stated, standing up again.

'Can we manage that?' Steve asked his two colleagues. 'We'll get it to the right height now and ensure the change is permanent and safe for when you come.'

After some work, slipping tiles and wood under the legs, we had the bench in its most comfortable position.

'I think these drain pipe brackets will be too big,' I commented, looking closely at them. 'I have thin arms. Let's see. You place that one over my wrist.'

Steve did so, and I could easily slip my hands out. 'Will you two nip down to the hardware shop and get two smaller versions of this, please?' he ordered his workers.

While the boys were gone, we marked the bench with the position we wanted for the brackets that would secure my wrists.

We then assessed how best to place the vice clamps under my breasts.

'Let's wait for the new brackets to arrive before we do anything else,' Steve advised. We need to get this right.

We made a cup of tea and chatted about his business, my degree and the last time I had visited his workshop.

Eventually, the two men arrived with three pairs of different-sized pipe brackets. The first ones we tried were perfect. Steve placed thin sponges on either side to prevent them chafing.

'I'll cover the top of the bench with some thin but quality foam and then a tarp to make you more comfortable,' Steve explained.

'You won't know where the marks are we have just made if you cover the top,' I protested.

'Easy,' Steve responded, 'I'll drill pilot holes through the wood from the top. When we put the foam and tarp in place, I will secure them with double-sided tape. Then I'll drill up from underneath to mark the spot.'

'Easy as that,' I replied with a smile.

'Now, let's look at the vice clamps,' Steve suggested.

I bent over and placed my hands where they would be on the day, allowing him to position the clamps below my sagging tits. He ensured my nipples would drop into the jaws perfectly before I stood up, and he screwed them in place.

'Are you wanting to try them, Rachel?' He questioned.

'No time like the present,' I replied, 'But secure my wrists as well, then I'll get a good feel for things.'

With my wrists held fast in the brackets screwed down on either side, I could feel my nipples touching the top of the jaws of the clamps below them.'

'Will you two place my nipples in the clamps and screw them shut until I scream?' I asked the two mechanics. They didn't require any second bidding as they happily guided my breasts into position and began twiddling the bar that closed the jaws. I felt the metal pinch and then grip my nipples.'

'STOP!' I shouted, 'That's enough.' I knew another half turn, and I have two very flat nipples.

I tried to pull free, but was well and truly held in place by wrists and breasts.

'Now go round and see how well placed I am for entry at the rear,' I ordered the two guys.

Immediately, they left my breasts clamped tight and moved to my exposed arse and pussy.

'Can you access that easily enough?' I enquired.

'I think so. It's not easy trying to guess, but I think you're in the right position,' one replied.

'Would you get your cock out and make sure,' I asked, looking up and winking at Steve, who was standing just in front of the table.

'What,' the two men replied almost in unison.

'I'd like you both to get your cocks out and ensure my bum is in the right position. You don't mind, do you?'

I looked back to see the two unzipping their flies. I hoped that they would enjoy their little job.

'Now, will one of you please check the position of my bum hole? Just push your cock hard up against it.'

I felt his solid erection pushing with some force directly against my arse hole.

'How does that feel to you?' I asked.

'Perfect position. I just want to go in,' he replied.

'You will have to wait for that,' I answered. 'Will you now please check my pussy for position?' I asked the other man.

I felt this could become interesting because being bound, clamped and exposed had made me very wet, just where he would push. His throbbing cock went through my pussy hair to my clit.

'A little harder,' I commanded, 'Is that a good position for you?'

'Oh. It's so fucking good I want to push further.'

'Then do! Let me feel you inside me.'

I did not need to ask again as he opened me up and began thrusting me hard without any further encouragement.

I realised that I would have to hold myself very still as the jaws of the clamps dug into my sensitive nipples as he pounded away. Suddenly, with a groan of satisfaction that I had heard so often, I knew he had accomplished what he wanted to do.

'Do you want a practice too?' I asked the other man. He never answered as he went straight for my now gaping pussy and pressed deep, unconcerned for his colleagues' cum already there.

He pumped even more vigorously than his mate as he sought a few moments of satisfaction within my expectant cunt.

His similar groan and stiffening body told me that he, too, had accomplished his mission and added another load of lovely sticky cum inside me.

'You look so delightfully sexy in that position,' Steve commented, 'I don't know how we will keep everyone under control when you come.'

'I'm sure you will find a way,' I laughed, 'Otherwise, I'll be in big trouble. Anyway, I have discovered today that I won't be able to have my tits clamped all through our meet. I think two guys fucking me, as we have just done, is my limit. I'm sorry.'

'That's okay, Rachel,' Steve replied, 'I fully understand. Thanks for trying anyway. I appreciate that, and it was a massive turn-on to me. Perhaps if we just do it as a different type of torture on the day that only lasts for a few minutes?'

'Yes, that will be fine with me,' I conceded, 'I could cope with that.'

After releasing me and allowing me to massage my nipples back into shape, Steve looked around. 'I can't decide how to play this. I'd like it to be a forced type thing as it was before. It was so hot. Then I think that it would be better to have you offering your services to us. What do you think?'

'If you want to do a forced thing, everyone needs to be in on it,' I suggested. 'You cannot have guys watching, thinking this is the real deal and being terrified of being linked to some awful crime.'

'I see what you mean,' Steve conceded, 'You're right. That's just how I wanted it. I wanted some of the guys to think it was a real thing. It maybe wasn't very wise of me?'

'You bring me in and introduce me to your gang. If you wanted to degrade me somehow at that point, you could do if that would work. You could get me to write a form of consent for what's going to happen. How's that sound.'

'Pretty damn hot!'

'The other thing is just telling everyone it's a fantasy, and I will do my best to oblige. I think I did alright last time, didn't I?'

'You certainly did that, Rachel. If some of the other units had been occupied on the two occasions you broke out naked, I'd have had some serious explaining to do!

'I won't do that to you again, then, I promise.'

'That might work. I like that forced idea. It gets me so hard and horny.' Then, gazing at his two workers who were still looking mighty pleased with themselves, having taken me from behind, Steve asked, 'What do you think?'

'A forced scene will be so much hotter for us all,' the first replied.

'Especially if we can strip you and secure you while you are trying to fight us off?' the second added.

'Looks like your problem is solved,' I said as I started replacing my shoes, socks, knickers, bra, and the rest of my clothes.

'There is one other thing I want to do, but I doubt that you will let me?'

'What's that?' I enquired again.

'I got the idea when you were here last time. You had the word 'Pig' written on your forehead.'

'I did,' I confessed, 'And the word 'Whore' across my face, belly, thighs and bum.'

'Do you remember how we used lubricating jelly in our nipple guns?'

'Yes, I do.'

'I wondered if we could grease you like a pig. I got such a hard-on thinking about it. It's a massive fantasy of mine.'

'So, what do you want to do?' I enquired, now totally intrigued.

'You see that big blue drum there?'

'Yes.'

'It's full of grease, over twelve kilos of it. It's all new, clean and won't harm you. I'd love to fill a grease gun, the nipple one would not provide enough when used, and fill your pussy and arse with it.'

I laughed. 'You'd never get twelve kilos into me.'

'The rest I'd tip over your head. I would plan to push the tin down over your head, so you go right into it. Once I have pulled it off, and your head is plastered, the guys could rub it over your body, around your pussy, down your legs and into your bum crack.'

'So you really do want to grease me like a pig.'

'Yes, but it will be much more exciting.'

'You never mentioned my mouth,' I chuckled.

'I'd like to fill that from a grease gun as well as your pussy and arse hole, but I thought that might be asking too much.'

'My dad always says that if you're going to do a job, do it right. You may as well go the whole hog with this hog!

'Can I do that to you?'

'Yes. As long as the grease really is safe, although I confess that I have never had anything remotely like that done to me before.'

'Wow! I don't know what to say,' Steve answered, 'I'll be having wet dreams about it until the day you come.'

'How will I get cleaned up afterwards?' I asked, looking around.

'I was afraid you'd ask me that. We have an exterior tap at the back of the unit, cold water, I'm afraid. We also have a hot tap in the kitchen area, and I'll run a hosepipe from that out to you so you can have a proper wash.'

'Thanks, but how private is it outside?'

'No one will venture around that side of the building. I have never seen anyone from another unit at the back. I think I'm the only one with a back door. It means we can powerwash the bikes there.'

Two months and many phone calls later, I drove back to Steve's workshop early one bank holiday morning when all the other units would be closed. We had arranged for me to go enquiring about motorcycles, a subject about which I knew nothing.

My attire for the day had been meticulously picked by the members of Steve's bike club. I was to wear tights, a knee-length denim skirt, a matching bra and knickers, a white blouse, and a denim jacket. It was all relatively modest and decided upon by votes among those taking part.

I walked into the workshop and conversed with Steve and his two assistants, fully aware that others were hiding somewhere. I made up for my lack of biker knowledge by having done some homework on biker terminology.

'Hello,' I commenced in my Lothian accent, 'I'm looking for a little assistance in choosing a bike.'

'How can I help you?' Steve replied as gentlemanly as he could.

'I thought I'd come here as those motorbike salespeople are so pushy. They are always looking to thrust their products forward, filling me with unnecessary information without giving the full monty.'

'I see,' Steve said, his eyes smiling at my introduction, ' Tell me more of what you have in mind.'

'I want something that's an easy ride,' I replied innocently. 'I'm pretty open about most possibilities. I don't want anything too wide as I need to get my leg over easily.'

Steve's smile broadened, and I could hear titters from another room. I was glad I had memorised my opening introduction.

'I don't want any apes; they are too hard to handle. On the other hand, I'm not looking for a tiddler. I need something bigger to fill the hole in my life better. A two-stroke option that my hands can control will suit well, but it must also have plenty of torque.'

The titters became gasps, and Steve's smile seemed to set into stone. His two mechanics turned away in fits of mirth.

'I want a saddle that allows me to ride easy but also lets me carry a pillion passenger who can squeeze in behind me and press my magic button if required. I don't want a hardtail, but I always enjoy a good hard ride going through the gears until I reach the apex. I'd also like to get some good leather around me for protection.'

By now, Steve was stuffing a handkerchief into his mouth to suppress bursting out into fits of laughter.

'I think... I think... I'm sure we can help you... young lady,' he stammered with tears rolling down his cheeks.

I had practised, altered and amended my speech so many times that by now, I had little difficulty in rolling it out straight-faced.

'Let's see what we can do,' Steve added, moving behind a partition.

'Boys,' he announced, 'We have a young lady here who wants to go through the gears and have a hard ride to fill a hole or two in her life. Can we help?'

Suddenly, leather-glad guys seemed to appear from everywhere. I knew there was no turning back now.

'Grab the bitch,' Steve said. 'Well, darling, you'll have the ride of your life today. You're going to be the bike, and we are going to ride you hard, thrust you deep and give you lots of torque. Tie her down, boys!'

My arms were pulled into position atop a black tarp, beneath which I could feel the promised foam. The plastic pipe brackets were screwed in place, while others took little time to remove my skirt, tights, panties, and shoes.

I felt the familiar cold feeling of lubricating gel being applied to my anus and cunt before Steve ensured he took first place in entering my pussy. I held myself in position with my elbows, thankful for the thoughtfulness of the added foam.

One after another fucked me hard in either my bum or cunt. I was pretty sure after the fifth had pleasured himself that my rear end must have been oozing cum. As the sixth entered my back passage, another of the men realised that he could kneel on the table and receive a blow job from my mouth. I was now fully occupied at both ends, satisfying the sexual cravings of one and all.

Soon enough, my mouth, along with my rear, was overflowing with creamy white cum deposited by those looking for oral pleasure. As soon as one man finished and moved away, another took his place.

I had no choice but to remain in position, bent over the bench, bum and pussy exposed, as many of the men removed leather trousers and took me hard, some a multitude of times.

When all had been sufficiently satisfied, my anal passage was incredibly sore, and I felt that it was being rubbed with sandpaper each time another cock entered or reentered it.

Lunch seemed to arrive very quickly, and Steve and his buddies had carefully thought through and planned what I should eat and how. I was to remain in position as sausages, sausage rolls, cucumber, carrots, and various chocolate bars were provided, each of which I was made to eat in as seductive and suggestive a way as possible.

The men enjoyed using the chocolate bars in my mouth most as the chocolate melted and stuck to my lips. Occasionally, they rubbed the bars on my cheeks to make them gooey with the melted chocolate.

After lunch, my hands were released and my blouse and bra removed whilst Steve placed the vice clamps in position. Once all was set up, I was repositioned with my wrists secured and my tits dangling perfectly over the little serrated jaws of the clamps.

My breasts were guided into position while two men held me down to ensure I did not seek to escape the coming torture. The men formed an orderly queue on either side of me and circulated, twisting the tightening bar half a turn as they passed. Things got more exciting for them and more exasperating for me as the jaws tightened around my sensitive flesh.

I began to squirm, then gasp and finally scream as the jaws were closed further, trapping my nipples firmly in their grasp. The sensation was like having a burning needle thrust through each boob, deep into my chest. The pain was extreme. In the end, it was more tolerable for me to remain perfectly still and whimper like an injured puppy than scream like a demented cat.

'Let's give her ten strokes on her bare bum,' Steve announced, removing his belt, which I had experienced on a previous visit.

I braced myself as best I could, secured, and clamped to the workbench as I was.

The swishing sound told me the belt was on its trajectory towards my well-used and very sticky backside.

'Thwack!' It struck home painfully across both my buttocks. I reflexed forward, pulling hard at my compressed tits. The agony was beyond anything I could describe as I again screeched in response.

Time and again, the belt landed across my bare bum, leaving its broad reddening lines much to the delight of all watching. Every time the belt landed, I made a blood-curdling shriek that I was sure could have been heard in the adjoining town.

When the punishment had ceased, I realised that I was dripping with sweat. It was running off my forehead, into my eyes, and dripping down my chin. Others noticed it too, probably from the fact that I was by now quite smelly.

'Release her tits,' Steve ordered.

Two guys carefully unwound the bar on the clamps to release the pressure on my nipples. I knew that the pain of the blood rush could initially be worse than that of the jaws. I was not wrong. As the blood flowed back, I realised that I had been breathing very shallowly to help ease the pain in my breasts. Now I took great gulps like some floundering fish flapping on the shore.

I saw the grease guns before anything was announced. Perhaps this was the reason that nothing was said, and I just felt one being thrust into my cunt and releasing its gooey contents into my vagina.

Once it was considered full, I felt the nozzle press hard into my still sore rectum and release another load of grease deep into my arse. It was both profoundly humiliating and hugely exciting.

Again, my wrists were released only to be cuffed behind my back while I was carefully placed kneeling on another piece of tarp laid on the floor. I watched wide-eyed as a giant blue tin of grease was carried towards me by two of the bikers. The top was carefully removed before Steve, and two others lifted the can and, inverting it, pushed it down over my head. I closed my eyes and held my breath as my head disappeared inside, swallowed up in a sticky, greasy mess.

The three men rested the tin on my shoulders before giving it a few turns in either direction. I could feel the contents rolling out over my chest and dropping into my lap while more slithered down my back.

The tin was removed, and I was assisted to my feet. Being unable to see, I could only imagine what I looked like as my feet were parted and hands went to work on ensuring that I was utterly plastered.

The men took their time applying and reapplying copious amounts of grease over every part of my exposed flesh. Some ensured that my head had been wholly catered for as they ran further handfuls through my long auburn hair.

At last, everyone seemed satisfied with the result as I stood before them looking more like a giant slug than an attractive young woman.

Then Steve approached me with his grease gun, 'Open your mouth slut,' he ordered.

In all the excitement and chaos, I had forgotten my promise that he could fill my mouth.

Despite having my eyes tightly closed, I was forced back down onto my knees and made to face upwards as he pushed the end of the grease tube into my mouth and began to pull the trigger. I tasted the oily substance as it began to flow into my waiting mouth. I tried not to gag as I felt it filling up behind my lip under my tongue and pushing out my cheeks.

'Shut it slut,' I was commanded.

I shut my mouth.

There were a few minutes of silence as everyone waited with bated breath to see how long I could hold the foul-tasting stuff in my mouth before I spat it out. I tried to put on a brave show, but after five minutes I had to succumb and spit it out.

Following that, I was marched through the workshop and out into a small yard at the rear. Here I was washed down, thankfully, with warm water and given two bottles of shower gel to assist my efforts to remove the grease.

Once I was in a much better condition of cleanliness, I discovered several males became eager to assist me in my washing endeavours, especially if it involved pushing shower gel into my pussy or bum.

I confess relief at being clean again, having my clothes returned to me, and being allowed to dress.

As I walked back into the workshop, I was greeted like a celebrity, with the guys cheering and clapping before lifting me onto their shoulders and carrying me around the premises.

When I finally left to drive back to my room at the University, I was handed a large plastic bag. Inside was a big box wrapped in gift paper.

Later that night, as I nursed my sore pussy and anus, I opened the box. Inside were a remote-control model of a Kawasaki motorcycle and an envelope containing a hefty sum of money.

After a day being ridden over a bench, I now had my own little motorbike. All these years later, I still have it in its original box, a memento of the time I bent over for the bonking bikers!

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