Her Biker From Mars Read online

  Slaves were supposed to be completely honest and open with their masters, but masters were bound by no such rules. They lied all the time, misled, acted like they were on her side, but ultimately, they only wanted her to do their bidding.

  Without the fear of the camera and the implant, Lita found her respect for anything resembling authority was greatly diminished. Nothing in the world could be worse than what she had already been through. So why was she still treating him like he was her master? She remembered that he’d saved her life by putting his own in danger. Perhaps she ought to be more respectful after all, even if he was pushing her away.

  Sy regarded her with something almost approaching respect. “Cool it. I’m not telling you my plans yet, but they don’t involve handing you over as his slave. Here. You should drink something.”

  He handed her a glass of water. Gratefully, she sipped it. While she drank, Sy asked her to detail all of Croxden’s comings and goings for the last two weeks. She couldn’t answer in as much detail as he wanted, because she was frequently given to people for one or two days at a time, but she told him everything she knew.

  When they went to bed that night, faced with so much uncertainty and confusion, she cried her heart out as soon as he began to snore. Whether she had woken him or if his sleeping self was more kind, she didn’t know, but he wrapped her in his strong arms and held her through the night, until she slept and dreamed of freedom.

  * * *

  The night was not restful. Broken sleep was frequently punctuated by Lita awakening several times in tears. Each time it happened, he held her and hoped she would feel better soon. He surprised himself, but he wanted to take her pain away. He’d never felt like this about any woman before and it was messing up his judgement.

  As dawn broke over the red planet, Sy got up and went out to fetch breakfast. The girl was coming out of a seriously bad situation, but who knew how much they’d messed with her? He didn’t want to share anything with Lita, in case she was lying about that eye-cam being broken. But he needed Lita’s knowledge of Father Croxden. Otherwise, Sy couldn’t save his sister and stop the Mother Theresas from knowing he was here.

  He had to share things with her. It was obvious. That didn’t make it easier. Especially since he kept having to silence that voice in the back of his mind that wanted to tell her everything in his head without pausing for breath.

  Pushing the door open a few minutes later, he returned to Lita with two paper bags of waffles, syrup, coffee and croissants. He shook her awake. With puffy eyes and tangled strawberry-blonde hair, she was still a vision. It was clear why Croxden had made her a slave. She startled for a moment when she realized she was in someone’s bed, then her eye landed on Sy, and she stopped trying to get to the floor. Her silver eye drifted off in a random direction.

  A pang of guilt and pity shot through Sy’s stomach when he realized how badly Lita had been screwed over. His own life wasn’t worth a damn these days, but she probably had a family, friends, maybe a job or something. And it had all been taken from her so someone could make money by whoring her out to people.

  Sending her out as an unwilling and unintentional assassin while Sy tried to kill the Earth president was pure evil. The priest had been trying to kill Sy, which was irritating, but Croxden must have decided Lita was no longer useful or profitable, to send her out to die like this. How long had the bastard been using her? Even if she hadn’t been in range of Sy, she still would have died on that rooftop. Who used humans like that? It was despicable.

  “I got breakfast,” he said, because he wasn’t much for reassurances. He held out a paper bag for her and she fell upon it.

  “Thank-you, mast—uh, thanks,” she finished awkwardly. Sy knew he’d behaved like a jerk the night before. He liked the kinky stuff, but he had very little first-hand experience with slaves, and didn’t really know the best thing to do for her. He didn’t want to control her every action, he wanted her to try and think for herself. Internal enslavement—a complete dependency on her master—was going to be hard to recover from. She didn’t need him acting like a grouch every time she did something she’d been trained to do.

  “Would it make you feel better to call me master?” he asked.

  She looked up at him dolefully and both eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know. Not really,” she decided. That confused him.

  “But you seem to have trouble avoiding it.”

  “Yes, but there’s no point saying it if it isn’t true,” she replied, as tears streaked her cheeks. “So, instead, I will try my best to avoid saying it.”

  Was she so desperate for a master that she would accept anyone, or was there something more between them? Sy couldn’t figure her out. He put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. She smiled at him weakly through her tears.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder to not say it. And to be more agreeable,” she promised.

  “You know you don’t have to be, right?” Sy asked. “No-one, not even the real Mother Theresa, was ever nice to people all the time.”

  “I don’t know how else to be. I mean, I know I get disagreeable sometimes, but then I feel bad about it, and I don’t think I’d like to ever feel like it was okay to be grumpy.”

  “It’ll take time. Eat.” He stuffed a croissant in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Was it better to keep her in the structure she was used to, or try to show her what normal looked like? No-one ever said finding a sexy slave girl was fraught with this many complications.

  “And when I did bad, sometimes I felt better after they punished me,” Lita whispered, her cheeks coloring red. Sy fixed her with a stare and tried to ignore the twitching from his cock.

  “What else happened to you when you got punished?” he asked. “Be truthful.”

  “I’m always truthful. And…uh…sometimes, my pussy got wet.” She kept her gaze on her waffle as her voice fell to a whisper once more. Sy raised an eyebrow. If a punishment got her wet, she was probably submissive even before the priest got his hands on her.

  “I know you’ve been punished plenty, but did you ever have a sexy spanking?” Sy asked, his pulse pounding in his ears as he waited to hear her response.

  “No, mas—I mean, no.”

  “Oh good,” Sy replied. “Maybe there’s something I can teach to the experienced little slave girl. See, spanking is like hot coffee. When it’s the perfect heat, it feels real good. But if it’s hotter than that, it burns too much. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “I think so.” She finished the waffle and occupied herself with the coffee instead.

  “Good. Because once this nonsense with Croxden is settled, I intend to put you over my knee and give you a long, thorough, sexy spanking. Would you want that?”

  Lita paused for a moment in surprise, then she uncharacteristically looked straight at him. “Yes,” she replied, with the most certainty he’d ever heard from her.

  “I need to take him out,” Sy mused. “My sister is in danger every minute of the day right now. The MCs are all over a barrel with him. I want to teach him the error of his ways. Fatally.”

  “Can… can I come?” Lita asked.

  Sy looked at her for a long minute. The task was going to be dangerous, that much was obvious. That didn’t seem like a good reason to stop her from going. He wanted to keep her safe, but she deserved to have closure on this, probably more than he did. There was no way of knowing how long she’d been at the mercy of Father Croxden and his doctor friend. Why did Sy’s heart want to protect her so bad?

  “Fine, but if you turn out to be a sleeper agent in disguise, we’re not having sex ever again.”

  Lita giggled. It was a beautiful sound.

  “If I’m a sleeper agent, I’ll make it up to you any way you like,” she replied, wiggling her ass suggestively. Sy smiled and his heart glowed at a rare glimpse of Lita’s underlying personality. She got his dry sense of humor and matched him with her own wit. He only hoped she wouldn’t wind up dead anytime soo
n.

  * * *

  Sy handed Lita a helmet and a leather one-piece suit that he’d just bought in her size.

  “What’s this for?” she asked.

  “It doubles up as an airtight spacesuit and it’s body armor for if you come off the bike on a road. We probably should’ve used them last time but I only had one, which would have been too big for you, and all the stores were closed. There’s a parachute in the back, so if you fall off in the air, you’ll be safe.”

  “Won’t we burn up on re-entry?” Lita asked.

  “No. Well, sort of. The leather gear will protect you. It’s specially treated to be heatproof, so it’ll burn a little, but the heat won’t reach you. I’ve done this lots of times. You’ll be fine.”

  Lita didn’t look reassured. Sy helped her put her protective gear on, then they walked down to the parking garage, to his motorbike.

  “We’re really going to Earth on a motorbike?” Lita asked doubtfully.

  “This bike’s special. You probably didn’t notice before. Look.” Sy showed her the thrusters that had been fixed either side of the back wheel, in place of an exhaust pipe. Then, he rotated them. “See? When they’re in one position, they work for liftoff, and in another position, they move the bike forward. There’s plenty of jetbikes that do the trip regularly, so don’t worry about it.”

  Lita didn’t look convinced.

  “Just put your hands around me real tight, and everything will be fine,” he told her.

  Sy started the bike with a roar, waited for the engine to sound right, then got on it. Lita climbed on behind him, and her soft, leather-clad hands wrapped around his middle. When she pressed her breasts into his back, Sy’s cock stirred. He loved when a beautiful woman rode pillion on his bike.

  He twisted the handle and revved the engine, which growled like the wild tiger she was. The machine was his pride and joy, and whenever she had any problems, he refused to let anyone else work on her. She was his.

  Gently rolling out into the street, Sy glanced back to check Lita was okay. Through her helmet, she looked terrified but oddly calm. He wanted to reassure her that her gear had iron in various places, and the bike had a magnetic field that would keep her in her seat more strongly, the faster they went, but she wouldn’t hear him through the helmet.

  Instead, he turned a button and the thrusters changed position so they pushed downwards. He opened the throttle as hard as it went, and in a shower of sparks the bike took off.

  Surging into the air, the bike was in its element. It powered out of Mars’s atmosphere fairly quickly, constantly accelerating until they zoomed past Phobos, one of Mars’s moons. Then, they were in the featureless vastness of space. It was beautiful, except for the constant stream of traffic traveling between Earth and Mars. There were specific lanes for different types of traffic, but with no-one out here to police them, it wasn’t uncommon to find slow-moving rockets in the wrong lane.

  Sy’s bike would do the trip to Earth in five hours. He wove between the rockets, spaceships, shuttles and flying saucers all traveling slower than his bike, and they reached Earth’s atmosphere as the sun was setting over the huge continent of North America.

  Father Croxden owned a quarter of the island of Jamaica. By all accounts, he had no Jamaican heritage, but he felt compelled to buy it anyway. Sy adjusted his course slightly to wind up in the West Indies, then the juddering impact of re-entry hit the bike.

  He gripped his handlebars and braced himself. Lita’s hands held him more tightly, then the heat enveloped them both, turning their protective leather gear bright orange as it heated, although it wouldn’t penetrate the outer layer of their clothing. That didn’t stop it becoming extremely warm, and Sy set his jaw against the suffocating blast of hotness. The bike turned white, like a comet, and bright sparks flew off it in every direction. Sy powered the thrusters so the bike didn’t slow in freefall, although the engine would make them burn up for longer.

  He waited until he clearly saw Jamaica beneath him; a beautiful island amongst many others, surrounded by a deceptively cushiony looking sea, and then he engaged the reverse thrusters, slowing their descent faster than a parachute. By the time they reached the island, the bike glowed red. He used a highway as a landing strip and gently rolled to a halt, then pulled aside to avoid any traffic while he checked on Lita.

  She looked slightly dazed. Sy unpeeled her hands from his waist and dismounted, then lifted her off the bike and placed her carefully on a grass verge.

  “You okay?” he asked, once both their helmets were off.

  She giggled and nodded. “That was awesome!” she breathed. “How was it even possible?”

  Sy grinned. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

  She nodded again, then, unexpectedly, she leaned up and kissed him.

  “Thank-you,” she said. “For showing me what life can be like outside enslavement.”

  “Now let’s go show that bastard what’s what,” Sy growled. Inwardly, though, he was pretty chuffed that Lita had kissed him.

  They got back on the bike, which was cooler already, and set off for Croxden’s place.

  Chapter 3

  Lita was a little apprehensive on the journey along half-remembered roads. On the bumpy tarmac, Sy’s bike rumbled between her parted legs. The angle at which she sat ground her clit into the seat. Her existence focused on that one small morsel of flesh, and she wriggled her hips a little to enjoy the tingles that radiated through her core, all the while hoping no-one would notice how much of a slut she was being.

  When they went up a hill, the growling bike pressed harder into her sex, and she gripped Sy tightly as she slid back into the leather saddle. She whimpered at the building pressure inside her, while her breasts chafed against the oversized leather jacket she wore on top of the one-piece leather suit.

  She was thrown against Sy’s muscular back as the bike slowed. Straining to see over his shoulder, her eye fell on some sort of blockade across the road, with a barrier and armed men, a half-mile away. This must be the beginning of Father Croxden’s part of the island.

  Sy pulled his bike off the road. Hidden amongst some trees, he turned the engine off and dismounted, before helping Lita down. He removed his helmet again and turned to her.

  “If you don’t want to see him, if you’ve changed your mind, you can stay here with the bike. You’ll be safe here,” he told her. She wanted nothing more than to hide and never see the fake priest again, but this was important. If she didn’t do something about him herself, with her own two hands, she knew she would never feel right.

  “I have to,” she whispered, and he seemed to understand how she felt, because he pressed his lips hard against hers, and her heart skipped in her chest as he claimed her with his tongue. Between her legs, warmth spread deeper, and she sighed, wishing they could stay like this but knowing she would never rest and never feel safe until she knew Croxden was gone for good.

  “C’mon, then, let’s get this over with so I can give you that sexy spanking,” he growled.

  They left the helmets with the bike, which was balanced on its kickstand behind some big leafy plants. Then, they quietly made their way through the tropical woodland until they reached a metal fence. Sy paused then looked around for something.

  “You want to find out if it’s electric or not?” Lita checked. He nodded. She clamped one hand over her mouth to silence herself, then reached out with the other and touched it.

  “No!” Sy growled, as her fingers brushed the cold metal. It wasn’t electrified. She giggled with relief.

  “I’m fine,” she pointed out. Now they just had to figure out how to get over the razor wire at the top.

  “That was stupid as fuck,” Sy scolded her. “You could have been killed.”

  “Or we could have just saved a lot of time,” she pointed out, feeling sassier than usual. “And I don’t think it would have killed me.”

  “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Pain is
temporary.”

  “That’s not an appropriate attitude, young lady. I should spank you right now.”

  Lita sighed and stood before him passively, waiting for him to make good on the threat. She bowed her head to show she accepted his punishment.

  “Bend over,” he told her. “Touch your toes.”

  She did. He unbuttoned her leather pants and slid them down, so her bottom was so exposed in the open air. Bracing her against his bent knee, balancing on the other leg, he brought his hand down hard. Lita hissed through her teeth as his huge, leather-gloved hand landed on her sit spot. The pain radiated straight down her hungry slit and across the surface of her bottom cheeks. She gritted her teeth when his hand landed again. The fire was instant and it traveled straight through her, setting her nerves alight. Her pussy spasmed with need. His hand connected a third time, and the sharp sting made her regret her recent recklessness.

  “You know why I’m spanking you? Because I care. I want you to value your own life as much as I do. You want me to be your master? That’s your first order.” He punctuated his harsh words with equally hard swats.

  Despite having had punishments that were far more painful, this one quickly brought her to tears. It wasn’t about the pain. Usually she cried at the hopelessness of her situation, and the unfairness of any given punishment, coupled with the humiliation of having to apologize and beg for forgiveness for whatever the priest found issue with this time. With Sy, however, that wasn’t why she cried. It was because she cared about Sy’s opinion of her, and she knew she had let him down.

  Perhaps she didn’t fully believe her life was worth preserving, but she understood that she had let him down, and he was the most important man in the world. She only wanted to bring happiness and pleasure to him, she wanted her entire world to revolve around him, and even though he didn’t want to be her master, she cared too much about him to ever wish to displease him. Her recklessness had made him unhappy, although she had been trying to help. She cried and the pain got inside her, scouring her soul, until the rest of his words finally caught up with her.