“Dammit, it’s hot,” Buck said and pulled his red handkerchief from his pants pocket. Only Chicca, his beautiful brown mare, was there to hear him and as if in answer, she snorted and shrug her head. Buck took his hat off and wiped his forehead with the handkerchief. Pearls of sweat instantly formed again. He wiped once more, gave it up, put his hat back on and pushed his spurs against Chicca’s flanks to get her moving again.
Buck noticed the mirage in the distant. It looked like water, but he knew it wasn’t. He also knew that he would never get to the mirage, that it would forever elude him. Minutes later though, the mirage was closer. Buck shook his head. Was the extreme heat getting to him? Or was there really water over there? Even though he had enough water still, he could fill up the one empty water pouch. He spurred Chicca on a bit more and the closer he got to what he thought was a mirage, the more convinced he was that it was indeed water. It also got hotter, probably because of the water reflecting the sun in his direction.
Only meters away from the glaring light Buck realized that something was wrong. The mirage wasn’t a mirage at all and neither was it water. It was something he had never seen before. His instinct was to steer Chicca away from it, but it was too late. For him, not for Chicca. The horse went in one direction and Buck in another. Something pulled at his body; pulled him closer to the light. He shielded his eyes from the flash and wanted to cover his ears when a loud bang chilled his bones, but then there was silence. A serene silence. It enveloped him like a comforting blanket. It soothed and relaxed him; he wanted to stay in this silence forever.
Buck slowly opened his eyes…
The serenity dissolved around him as he became aware of his precarious position. He turned his head, first to the one side, then the other. Ropes held his arms to the side, tied to branches of the trees on either side of him. He pulled at the rope but soon realized there’d be no way he would be able to break it. Not only his hands were tied. His feet too. His body was tied in a ‘X’ between the two trees. The desert was gone. How did he end up in this forest? Who tied him up like this? What did the ‘mirage’ do to him? But most important, how the hell was he going to get out of this and get back to Chicca?
Then Buck understood. This was but a dream. If he woke up, he would be back in the desert, sleeping somewhere under the stars with Chicca close-by. Obviously the hot day was just too much and had him in a delirious state. Buck willed himself to wake up. He shook his head, wriggled with his body, pulled at the ropes. He fought hard to open his eyes, even though they were open. This forest he saw was an image from his dream. He had to open his eyes and wake.
“Fighting won’t help,” a women said behind him and a red-hot string of pain flashed across his behind.
Buck looked down and, for what must have been the first time in his life, he blushed. He was naked. Stark naked. Again the string of pain flashed across his bottom. Buck, still looking down, turned even redder when he noticed his cock hardening. The pain excited him.
A woman came into view. She wore tight black leather pants, a black top, a leather jacket with the logo of a biker club on the back and black biker boots. In her hand she held a black bull whip.
“What the f…?” Buck started, but she interrupted him.
“I’ve totally had it with you, you know!” she said. Her voice was stern, but she smiled. “I just want to teach you a lesson.”
“I don’t know you,” Buck said, “you are an image from my dream.”
“Then keep on dreaming, Buck,” the woman said, “but tell me, does this feel like a dream?”
She swung the whip and curled it around his body. He felt the same pain as before.
“Ah, I see you like it.”
The woman walked towards Buck and stopped in front of him, her body just not touching his. Except for her hand, closing around his erect cock.
“You like that, don’t you? Do you still think you’re dreaming?”
Buck nodded. He wasn’t able to speak.
“Shall I help you to wake up?”
Buck nodded again.
The woman instantly let go of his cock and Buck winced as she stepped away and raised her arm. Soon he was moaning and groaning as she repeatedly whipped his buttocks and his upper legs. The whip curled around his body, sending sensations of pain and lust through him. His cock had never been this hard and he had never experienced this kind of pain.
“Please stop,” Buck begged.
“Stop? Have you ever listened to me when I asked you to stop?”
Buck looked at her, forgetting his pain, forgetting that he wanted her to stop.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Do you know me? Do you know me?” the words spat from her mouth. “You’ve hurt me so many times and you dare ask whether you know me. How many times have I begged you not to push those damn spurs against my flanks. You keep on doing it. They fucking hurt!”
Buck stared, his mouth open.
“Now we are getting somewhere!” she said angrily.
This dream was absurd! Buck started fighting against the ropes again, shook his head, shook his body. He needed to wake up. The scorching pain brought his attention back to the biker-woman.
“Pay attention. I need you to understand. You hurt me, I hurt you,” Chicca said and to emphasize her words she swung the whip again, lashing out until Buck begged again.
“Stop, please stop, please, I won’t hurt you no more.”
Slowly and with hips swinging from one side to the other – damn, that looks hot, Buck thought – she stopped in front of him again. Her hand closed around his erectness and she whispered, her mouth almost touching his.
“Still dreaming, Buck?”
“I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t know.”
“A nightmare,” Chicca said and chuckled, “excuse the pun.”
Buck only grunted, enjoying the sensations as she wanked him. Chicca leaned closer and whispered in his ear: “Let’s make this a wet dream, Buck.”
Chicca crouched down and closed her lips around his shaft.
© Rebel’s Notes