Ride by Orca


Ride


I met Grace while I was mountain biking on Mount Tam. We'd both arrived at the top of the hill around sunset and I was taken with her from the first time I saw her. She was taller than I was with broad shoulders and a body that was to die for. Her long, flowing red hair framed her beautiful face in a way that would have made most models cry.

I was trying to think of a way to introduce myself to her when she came over to me. "Nice tattoo," she said, pointing to the one on my left arm. That was all it took.

Once the ice had been broken, we spent the next half an hour talking and watching the sun set. I hadn't come out here to scope women today, but things seemed to be working out well with her. Just before we took off for the bottom of the hill, she gave me her number and told me to call her.

The following week, I did just that. We both had pretty busy schedules, so meeting during the week wasn't possible. She suggested that we go on a mountain bike ride in Santa Cruz on Sunday morning. Sounded great to me. From that time on, I had visions of her amazing body riding beside me while we went up and down the Santa Cruz mountains.

When Sunday morning came, I called her and asked where she wanted to meet. She told me to ride over to her place and that she would drive. She didn't live far, so it didn't take me long to get there. When I did, she told me that she wanted to get some coffee and a Danish before we took off.

The coffee that she got came in the Marsha Clark Super-size that would have powered an Amtrack train from here to Salt Lake City. Not only did she have a Danish with it, but an apple and a banana, too.

We got onto the road and took off for Santa Cruz. On the way down, we talked about our respective biking experiences. She had taken off on a trip down to South America, riding through Columbia and Argentina by herself. I was suitably impressed, but was no slouch, either. After all, I had ridden the Marin Headlands and Mount Tam a number of times, as well as some of the hills in Lake Tahoe. I thought we would be pretty evenly matched.

When we got to the trailhead in Santa Cruz, she parked the car and we got ready for the ride. She looked so hot in her riding shorts, tights, sport top, and short, clip-on riding shoes. She also had a light backpack with her, which I assumed held some water, a few snacks, and a towel, as mine did.

I was just about ready to take off when she came up to me. "This trail goes straight to the top of this mountain. It's about five miles long, and there are no turn-offs."

"Sounds good," I replied.

"Want to make a bet on who gets there first?"

"What do I win," I asked.

"Let's make it interesting. Loser is the slave to the winner for the rest of the day."

Sounded great to me. "You'll do anything I say, huh?"

She nodded. "And you'll do whatever I say."

"You'll have to beat me to the top, first," I said, turning my bike to the beginning of the climb.

"See you there," she said.

The first few legs of the trip were no sweat. The incline wasn't nearly as steep as I had expected, so I was flying up the hill. From the beginning, Grace was behind me and she kept getting further and further back. At one point in time, I was on a straight section about a hundred yards long and when I turned off of it, she was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't wait to see her on her knees in front of me after I had won the bet.

Not long after the straightaway, the incline of the hill took a nasty increase. I was switching into my lower gears to compensate, but it was tough. I focused on my breathing and gave it my all.

A few minutes after beginning this grueling new angle, I heard someone behind me and was astonished to see Grace about fifty feet behind me and gaining fast. I leaned into the bike and gave it everything I had so that I could put some distance between us. Gears changed, muscles strained, and sweat poured off of my forehead.

About a minute later, I turned to look behind me, but never got to look beyond my rear wheel. She was right on top of me and pulling away. I tried to summon more energy from my legs, but I was running at maximum. "See you at the top, slave-boy," she said with a smirk as she passed me.

She pulled way faster than I would have thought possible. Apparently, her South American ride had prepared her well for hills like this one. All I could hope for is that her energy would fail her sometime before the top of the hill, which we were three-quarters of the way up.

I continued to pour myself into the ride, but she continued to pull away, until I could no longer see her. By the time I got to the top, she had her helmet off, her water out, and her feet stretched out in front of her. "Took you long enough," she said. "I hope you're ready to serve me."

"Can I at least get some water first?"

"Sure. You're going to need it. But first, take off all of your clothes."

So this was losing? A gorgeous girl orders me to strip while she watches me? And I had thought losing was supposed to be bad.

I removed my shorts and shirt first, throwing them into a heap a few feet away. Next came the riding shoes and socks. When I was naked, I got out my water bottle and took some long slugs. While I drank, Grace came over to me with her backpack in hand.

"That's enough. Put it down and then put your hands behind your back."

"You're not going to hurt me, are you," I said, placing the bottle on the ground.

"Shut up. You speak when I tell you to." I felt her put the cuffs on my hands, closing them tightly around my wrists. When she was done with that, she cuffed my ankles together. "Now, slave, you will do exactly as you're told, or else you will suffer. Do you understand?"

"Sure, but what--" she cut me off with the back of her hand, which sent me reeling to the ground. She leaped on me and sat on my chest.

"I told you! You speak only when I tell you to!" A strong slap across the face reinforced the point. "Now, you weak pathetic male, you will serve me, just as you should."

She stood up over me and put her right foot on my chest. The toe of her shoe traced a path from my upper chest to my lips. "Kiss it."

"This isn't what I was--" my sentence was halted by her foot kicking me in the balls, hard enough to make me nearly pass out. Once again, she swooped down on to me, this time with her face a few inches from mine, and her hand wrenching my balls.

"You will learn," she growled.

I screamed as she crushed my testicles in her grip. Her other hand covered my mouth while she continued to inflict agony on me. All at once, she stood up and got in front of me. The last thing I remember seeing at that point was the heel of her foot as it came down onto my balls. After that, I blacked out.

There was something wet in my face when I came to. As my eyes regained their focus, I made out Grace's form over top of me. She was squirting a water bottle into my face, and saying "Wake up!"

When I was fully conscious, she threw the bottle aside and put her foot back into my face. "Now, kiss it."

Without hesitation, I put my lips to the toe of her riding shoe. "Again. Keep doing it until I tell you to stop."

I couldn't believe that I was doing this but couldn't handle the overwhelming pain of another attack on my crotch. My lips worked around the tip of her shoe, and under the sole, as she ran it over my mouth.

"Very good, slave. You're beginning to learn your place." She sat on the ground next to me and took off her shoes. Resting on her hands and lifting her butt off of the ground and onto my stomach, she placed her tights-covered feet in my face. Her damp, musky soles covered my mouth and nose. She rubbed my nose in them while telling me, "Sniff them. Put your nose between my toes and smell them. I want to hear you inhale from here."

My nose found the groove between her toes and sole and dutifully inserted itself. I took deep breaths, each time taking in more and more of her smelly tights. She continued to rub each of her soles over my nostrils, but slower this time, making sure that I got a good sample of the scent.

"Do you like the way they smell, slave?" I murmured through the nylon that I did. "I hope so. This is the third ride that I've worn these on. They should be nice and foul for you."

After a while, she shifted her weight higher up onto my chest and placed her soles against my mouth. "Now clean them, wimp. I want to feel your tongue all over the bottom of my feet and toes, sucking these tights nice and clean."

My tongue moved with a mind of its own, leaping out of my mouth and against the dark fabric in front of my face. I could taste the leather of her riding shoe as I lapped eagerly at both of her feet. She pried her toes into my mouth and I did my best to suck and caress each of them with my lips and tongue.

When Grace was satisfied with my foot cleaning, she stood up over me with her feet on either side of my head. She took off her bike shorts and top, leaving only her tights on. I found myself staring straight up into her crotch. Even with her tights on, I could see that she had a thick bush. There was also a dark spot around the area of her crotch, which fanned out from between her pussy lips and spread to the top of her thighs. I could even make out some white juice at the center of the spot.

"Now, my little captive," she said as she squatted down onto my face, "you will assume another of your rightful places." And with that, I was totally engulfed in her crotch.

Her smell was strong and her already flowing juices smeared against my nose and mouth as she wiped her pussy from side to side across my face. One of her hands grabbed me by the hair and held my face tightly against her cunt.

"I want you to know all of my smells, slave. Now sniff my pussy like the little lapdog that you are."

There was little else I could do. She had me smothered between her legs, and there was no other air to breath than that which came from her cleft. As I had done with her feet, I inhaled deeply, becoming more and more familiar with her particular scent. With each breath I took, more and more of her juice leaked out of her and onto my upper lip. Soon, there was a steady trickle of it running down my cheek.

"Do you smell that, slave? That's the smell of superiority. That's the smell of supremacy. Smells good, doesn't it?"

I moaned in agreement. It did smell good. In fact, it smelled better than good -- it smelled fantastic.

"Do you feel my juices on your face, boy? I want to feel that slave tongue of yours licking them off of my crotch. Clean me good, boy!"

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