Saturday, December 21, 2013

Sir's biker slut

Daddy told me, from across the seas that I must, "Write in your long neglected blog, girl"

"Yes Daddy"

Sir took me motoring. Not in a jalopy, not in a high price motor car but on the back of his pride and joy. His big and powerful motorbike.

A few weeks ago Sir took me to the local motorcycle heaven to purchase a helmet and riding gloves. I grew up on motorcycles, living in and around motorcycle shops. The smell of spare parts and oil and grease still plays in my memory. The modern motorcycle shop has not got this smell. It is slick and packed with new shiny bikes with carpeted showrooms. Confidence in their product I thought, no dropping of any oil or grease. I admit however I missed that smell when we were in the shiny shop.

I loved getting my helmet. Sir told one modern man that commented on me having a bike I had taken a shine to;

"She won't be riding that one, she's not allowed to have a bike."  Sir left the comment hanging in the air as he swept his 6ft plus frame away.

I grinned and winked at the shocked young man in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable.  His mouth gaping in disbelief, he fought his confusion in a world of the post feminist voice of women; a world where the post feminist male does not quite know how to navigate an all or nothing approach to women's independence.

Sir found me a helmet.  I tried on size and shape after size and shape, finally settling on a small size with black and white shiny design. I was very excited and grateful to Sir for treating me.

The question of having my own bike still hangs between us. I am not sure that I have come to terms with this degree of control. I have always wanted one, just a scooter. I used to ride a scooter when I was a student. I have  ridden bikes since early childhood but only in an occasional capacity, never an everyday owner of a bike. Sir is very experienced with motorcycle riding. I hunger to get a scooter. I think to myself...I will just go and get one, can't really stop me! Then I think about risking his wrath or more terrifying and more accurately, his disappointment. I don't think I have ever seen his anger, but I have tasted his disappointment.

We walked out of the shop, Sir carrying my helmet and gloves. The excitement and anticipation of the rides through the countryside to come. Knowing Sir there would be some unexpected surprises too.

photographer unknown

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

a present from Sir

This girl is His.

He gave this to me yesterday and then required I bent over for a good spanking. It hung in my line of sight...SLAVE! it screamed at me.

photographer: little