 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
|
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Author's Notes: This story was written between 1-4:30pm PST on Friday, 8 December 2000, while I was riding the Greyhound from Portland to Seattle to visit co-List Momma Kat.
Dedication: For MommaKat, who wanted more stories of the "one-upmanship in sexual torture" type, so this came about....
"You're not getting me on that thing, Sam. No way. No how."
"Janet," comes the soft purr in my ear, lips just grazing my skin. "You'll love it. Trust me."
Trust me, she says. I do trust you, Sam. But that thing terrifies me.
"Janet, please?" Her voice is petulant, almost a whine. "I even bought you this outfit for the occasion."
I glance down at my outfit and grin, hands gliding over my thighs. Skin tight, practically painted on jeans tucked into a pair of black leather, mid-calf, four-inch chunk-heeled "fuck me" boots; above that, an equally painted on black midriff halter top, leaving my stomach bare, spilling my cleavage over the top; and over that, a waist-length, fitted black leather jacket with "Momma Doc" airbrushed across the back in purple and silver. Oh, and I dare not forget the silver belly chain and the purple bandanna in my hair to complete the picture.
I chuckle at the name on my jacket. "Why Momma Doc?" I ask, never receiving an answer yet.
"You're a mother and a doctor," she quips.
"Smartass!" I retort, slapping that very same part of her anatomy. "Seriously, Sam."
"I *am* serious," she replies, then grins mischievously. "Besides 'Fuck Me Fraiser' wouldn't be appropriate."
"'Fuck Me Fraiser?' Isn't that *your* line?"
"Exactly," she replies, capturing my lips for a quick kiss. "Besides I don't need anybody thinking Killer's bitch is easy," she adds, slipping on her slightly longer, looser leather jacket with "Killer Carter" in blood-red on the back.
"So now I'm your bitch?" I ask coyly, fingers restless at her waist. She blushes and I bite back a chuckle.
"It's just part of the lingo, Janet. Nothing derogatory," she murmurs, tracing a finger along the belly chain. "Every bike needs a bitch to complete the picture. Jack has Daniel."
*That* makes me laugh, which makes her laugh.
"Yes, Daniel's definitely Jack's bitch." And then it hits me. "We're going to go see them, aren't we? You want to show off me and the bike."
Sam nods, excitement in her eyes. "Jack doesn't know she's all fixed up now. We're gonna meet Sarge and his girl over there, get them to join us on her maiden voyage."
I can't help but grin at her enthusiasm. "You're sure it's safe?"
Sam nods again, handing me a helmet. "Just put this on and hold onto me. You won't believe the rush this ride'll give you."
"Hell, just the thought of the guys' faces when they see me in this outfit is enough now," I toss back, grinning as I slip on my helmet. "So what are we waiting for, Killer?"
The smile that lights up her face at my question makes me moist and weak in the knees. I climb onto the bike and set my feet where she shows me, then slip my hands around her waist as she starts the bike. And the rush as the bike roars to life? Oh god, talk about a turn on!
We ride over to Siler's place, then over to Jack's. By the time we get to Jack's, I'm squirming from the constant hum between my legs, and I want Sam. Siler blasts the horn on his bike as Sam hollers, "Yo! Dark Boy! Get yer butt out here!"
After a moment or two, the door opens to let Jack and Daniel out onto the front step. Sam and I remove our helmets as they stare at us. I shake out my hair and precariously balance on the back of the bike as Sam gets off, running gloved fingers through her short, tousled hair. From the corner of my eye, I see Siler and his girlfriend doing the same things.
"Damn, Carter!" Jack exclaims, coming to inspect the bike. "This is sweet!" Then he notices me and his jaw drops. "Doc?"
"That's Momma Doc to you, Flyboy," I reply, smirking as he openly stares at me.
"Black Jack," he stammers.
"Whatever," I quip, unzipping the jacket. I swear, his eyes nearly fall out of his head at that.
"Hey Sam, Janet," Daniel says, coming closer. "Oh, very nice."
"Danny, in the house and change. Now!" Jack growls. "We gotta show Killer who's boss on the bike."
A few minutes later, they emerge from the garage, Jack wheeling his bike out. I nearly burst out laughing as I read the names on their jackets: Black Jack and Space Monkey. And Siler's got a huge red 'S' on his, with "Sarge" across it in white. His girlfriend's jacket simply says "Maria."
"Mics on, campers," Jack calls out before slipping his helmet on. The bikes all roar to life and we make our way to the highway. Once we're out on the open road, Jack's voice comes into my helmet. "Take the lead, Killer. Let's see how you and your bitch handle that beauty."
"Eat my dust, Dark Boy," she retorts as she guns the engine and pulls out in front.
I nearly cry out at the surge of power between my legs, and my arms reflexively tighten around Sam's waist. This causes her to gun it again, chuckling.
We head north, out of Colorado Springs, and I start on relax against Sam, trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs. I glance back to see Jack and Siler's bikes side by side about thirty feet behind us.
"Okay, boys, we're taking the old pass road," Sam's voice crackles over the mic. "I wanna see how she handles the curves."
"The bike or the Doc?" Jack quips back.
Sam doesn't respond, but lifts her left hand above our heads, flipping him the bird. That's my Sam.
"How ya doing up there, Doc?" Siler asks, chuckling.
"Hanging on for dear life," I reply, but none of them see the grin or the desire on my face.
"Hang on tighter, Janet," Daniel warns. "The old pass road is-"
"Shut up, Space Monkey!" Jack cuts him off. "The Doc's a big girl. I'm sure she can take it. If not, Carter's found a pretty pansy-assed bitch."
They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And so, imitating my lover, I lift my right hand and flip him off. Then I return my hand to Sam's waist as we turn onto the old pass road.
To say this road is twisted would be an extreme understatement. We no more than complete one turn when we're starting to go the other way. I relax against Sam and the bike, moving as one with them. The throbbing between my legs is growing and I shift minutely to alleviate the ache.
"Think she'll take it if you really open it up, Killer?" Jack asks, but I barely hear him as I feel Sam speed up a little, and a whimper escapes my lips. "Relax, Doc, Sam knows what she's doing."
I can't acknowledge him or anything else. I don't even know if he was talking about me or the bike. All my concentration is focused on keeping myself on that bike behind Sam. That and the orgasm threatening to overwhelm me. The heat and vibration of the bike beneath me is forcing the damp denim at the crotch of my jeans to rub against my exposed clit. Now I understand Sam's insistence that I not wear any underwear beneath my jeans, beyond on the obvious panty line issues. This is like having a huge vibrator between my legs, mercilessly teasing my clit.
And then we hit a bump in the road, slamming me tighter to the bike. "Oh god! Sam!" I cry out, coming from the intensity.
"You're okay, Janet," she replies, chuckling. "Just hold on and relax. We're almost at our stopping point."
I bite my lower lip until I taste blood, riding out the waves of my climax as we speed across the road. By the time we slow to a stop at the little camping area, my body is only spasming slightly. Sam hops off the bike, removing her helmet and shaking her head slightly to loosen her sweat-dampened hair.
She reaches over to remove my helmet, then smiles at the lust in my eyes. Leaning in closely, she looks at me through half-closed eyes and murmurs, "So, did you like the ride, my bitch?" I whimper, nodding in response, still unable to speak properly, my heart still trip hammering. "Good," she replies, then kisses me, accepting my lust eagerly.
"Damn, Killer!" Siler shouts. "Give the poor woman a break!"
Sam pulls back from the kiss to stare at him. "You just handle your own bitch, Sarge, and I'll handle mine!"
As she says this, I take a deep, calming breath and let my eyes travel over the familiar contours of her body. I barely pay attention to the other four people in our party as they set up the food we've brought. And then my breath catches as my eyes, and then my fingers, confirm the slight bulge beneath her button fly.
"Sam?" I squeak, glancing into her bright blue eyes as she nods and smiles.
She lifts me off the bike and pulls me tight for another kiss, and there's no mistaking that she's packing. I feel weak in the knees at that thought, my desire flooding my already wet jeans. Sam nibbles her way to my ear to hotly whisper, "Who's your daddy, bitch?"
"You are," I whimper, thoroughly under her spell.
"That's right," she replies, then leads me to the table. Sitting next to me, she drapes a possessive arm around my shoulders, but speaks to the others. "Hey, Sarge, the timing felt a little sluggish on those really sharp curves. Think we can tweak that later?"
"See how it is on the way down," he replies, drinking from his Dr. Pepper. "If it's still sluggish on the way home, we'll see what we can do."
My heart rate is gradually slowing to normal, but I am constantly aware of Sam next to me. I nibble at the food she gives me, but I barely taste it. Suddenly, I yawn loudly, causing the others to chuckle.
"Best take your bitch off for a nap, Killer," Jack replies. "I'll be doing the same soon enough."
Sam grins. "Say two hours before we head out again?" When the men nod, she grabs my hand and heads me off into the woods with a blanket. Spreading out the blanket, she lays her jacket down as a pillow, then motions for me to join her. I curl up next to her, my hand straying to her fly. "Sleep," she commands lightly, moving my hand. "You can have that later."
"Okay," I murmur, eyes closing.
Just before I fall asleep, I hear her softly say, "Oh and Janet? I do believe that tops your little trick when we went camping."
"Bitch," I mumble, falling asleep to the sound of her chuckle rumbling in her chest beneath my ear.
On to Joyride, the next story in the series
