Slave Time pt. one

I rode into the drive, round past the garage and carefully placed the bike on its side stand before turning off the engine. It felt good, very good in fact, to experience the speed and freedom that the Fireblade gave me even for the hour or so that I was able to ride it at the weekend. Add to that the enhanced feeling I got from the tight all in one leather race suit that not only kept me safe but gave that superb leathery smell and rubbed over my skin in all the right places and I was generally quite erect when I finally swung my leg over the saddle. Being out on the road gave me my other persona; biker, bit hard, bit don't give a damn. Inside my head there was room for both that and the full time slave that I had become. I'd only been out for a matter of 75 minutes but I was already thinking of the pleasure I would get seeing my Master again. I found it fascinating that I could feel like this without actually thinking about it. It wasn't something that I had to construct in my mind, to mentally prepare for, it simply was there. I instinctively knew what I should do and what he would expect of me in my position as his property. I'd signed a contract which gave a sort of legality to the arrangement, permission if you like, showing that everything was quite voluntary and that either one of us could end things once and for all, permanently, but I'd never ever considered that possibility as happening.

As I walked in the back door the house was quiet. It was large. Old thick farmhouse walls kept it cool in summer and warm in winter and kept most sounds from escaping through to the outside world. I unbuckled my biking boots and slipped them off in the kitchen putting them away in a cupboard till the next time I had opportunity to wear them then climbed the carpeted stairs whilst unzipping the leathers, turning at the landing and ascending the final flight of wooden steps up to my own room.
My freedom was part of an unwritten agreement, the other part being my readiness to pleasure my Master in whatever way he willed for at least the same amount of time. Quid pro quo and most suitable in my mind although in reality he could have done anything he liked to me whenever he wanted.

I shed the heavy leathers, full of crash protective armour, stripped naked and resumed my role as his boi. I was wearing the leather slave collar, I rarely took this off on my ride so only had to strap on the leather thong, leash and calf length boots to be presentable. Now came the wait. Sometimes he would make me wait a good length of time, I even made some unnecessary noises once as I presumed he hadn't heard me return, but generally he judged the timing so well I was in position for less than a minute or so before I heard his boots approaching. I knelt facing the door with my nose touching the wooden floorboards, leash between my teeth, and breathing. I say breathing as this time was for me nerve wracking and I often held it in anticipation of what was to come.
His boots appeared under my face, shining that deep mirrored gloss I managed to get onto them, a task I adored. I carefully licked the toe and round the side of each boot feeling the cool leather on my tongue and breathing in that rich leathery polish smell they had. My cock warmed and grew with every new inch my mouth covered. He said various things to me at this point and I listened to a greater or lesser extent depending upon what he was doing. He could be tracing the outline of my shoulder blades with his gloved fingers or running the end of the riding crop up and down my spine. If he did this I was generally in another world as an animal might be whilst his owner was petting it. Sometimes he would simply slice the crop over my back whilst announcing the days amusements, I'd certainly be listening then, answering at precisely the correct moments as well as yelling at the burning cuts of the leather. In either case he would reach down and take the leash leading the way to the dungeon or his bedroom.