The Exercise Bike
The glorious and infallible, Female Court has decided to ‘kill two birds with one stone’, so to speak. I have been sentenced to be a female exercise-bike, which will also, of course, help the young women of the Gynarchy who decide to take me for a ride to keep fit!
I am bent over backwards, in the middle of the town square, with a metal spike digging into my painfully-curved spine that causes me a truly penetrating agony – even before the electrical current that runs through it is switched on! My groin is the exercising lady’s bicycle-seat, and next to my near-ground-level head are the stirrup-like pedals in which she places her sneakered, ballet-flated, loafered or booted feet.
Of course, the larger the lady seated over me, the greater my pain as the spike digs deeper into my spine under her female weight; and the faster she pedals, the greater the electric current that sears into my spinal nerve-endings (so, even the slender, more agile exercise-mistresses cause me a great deal of pain as they simultaneously get even fitter!)
Like I said – two birds with one stone; or even one bird with 15 stone. Whichever it is, I am truly made to suffer!
And I suffer not just intense physical pain and discomfort, but also the indignity of having to watch the ladies’ feet and footwear as they pedal furiously above me. Up and down their stirruped feet go on either side of my agony-ridden face; so close – I can even see their socks underneath their tracksuit, or bootcut, trouser-hems (for not all young women change into their keep-fit gear before jumping on the footslave exercise-bike; some hop on in their office attire – pinstriped trouser-suits and all!)
Here is a selection of just some of the sights for sore eyes above my bicycle-imprisoned face:
· The plain, white, fluffy, ankle-length, towelling socks – over shiny black, spandex leggings – of a black leotard-wearing, black-sneakered, fit and slender, young black woman, who is nonchalantly listening to black music on her MP3 player whilst she exercises above me. She exercises hard – her sneakered and socked feet pedalling furiously as she breaks into a self-induced sweat (including a foot sweat), thereby causing a concomitant cacophony of pain to spear into my back through the electric-current inducing spike so cruelly positioned in the middle of my arched, spinal column. I too am sweating – with pain; but at least her thick, white, towelling socks graciously wipe the sweat off the sides of my face with each turn of the pedals – even if it’s not a deliberate act of kindness on the young black woman’s part. She has no need or intention to mop my fevered brow with her socks; it’s just an unavoidable consequence of the closeness of her shapely, white-socked anklebones to the sides of my imprisoned face! She never even speaks to me – nor does she hear my cries of pain with every electricity-generating turn of the pedals, thanks to the loud rap music echoing in her ears. She ain’t heavy; she’s my sista!
· The black leather, chunky-heeled and round-toed, zip-up, leather ankleboots – and occasional glimpses of red, green and black patterned socktop – of the grey-pinstripe-trouser-wearing, fat, young, blonde businesswoman. As she huffs and puffs unhealthily on the spiked bike above me, her somewhat lacklustre efforts, in her somewhat scuffmarked and lacklustre office ankleboots, fail to generate quite so much electricity-pain in my spinal column as the black-power girl before her, but what she lacks in energy she sure makes up for in weight as her fat body repeatedly pummels my poor, maleslave groin. Ironically, the more she slacks, the more her bootcut-slacks seem to ride up her ankles to reveal her multicoloured socktops inside her business boots, proving that she truly means business when it comes to making me suffer in line with the wishes of the Female Court!
· The, aptly-named, black leather, heavily-buckled, calf-length, biker boots of a black-leather-jacket and black-denim-jeans-wearing, jet-black-haired, crazy biker chick. Judging by the cruel smile on this pasty-white girl’s gothic-pale face, she really loves taking me for a ride, even though I’m not going anywhere – other than towards the perilous pinnacle of ever-increasing pain! Frustratingly for me, her jeans are tucked into the tops of her buckled-up, biker boots, so no glimpses of hidden, biker-chick sock for me. But I don’t buckle under the pressure. I manage to remain conscious of her biker-girl beauty above me, despite the lack of sock whizzing past my face with every turn of the female pedals!
· Q: How can the redheaded girl’s soft, bright red, canvas, high-top sneakers weigh so heavily on the pedals that they almost pull my face off?
A: Because she’s standing up whilst she’s riding me! My groin may be momentarily free, but my head hangs heavily beneath the weight of her dainty, converse-besneakered feet. At least, unlike the biker-chick before her, she does me the dishonour of wearing a grubby-looking pair of plain, grey anklesocks inside her high-tops – only the elasticated, grey-cotton rims of which are visible with each tortuous turn of the punishing pedals. She may not be standing on ceremony; but the redhead is sure standing on top of my poor head, and giving me a throbbing headache into the bargain!
· I do wish this next young, Asian-Oriental woman had gotten the tube to work this morning, instead of deciding to have a work-out on the slave exercise-bike in her red and white tubesocks! She’s the only exercise-bike mistress thus far to be wearing a skirt – a short and sexy, blue denim skirt, not that I get a chance to see ‘upskirt’. My field of painful vision is very much restricted to looking ‘upsock’ – all the way up her knee-high tubesocks as far as the two sexy, red hoops at the folded-over cuffs. And besides, if my eyes were to stray any further up her shapely legs I would doubtless experience the cuffs of her accompanying, oriental boyfriend’s manly fists on my face – or in my exposed solar plexus – since I have no business lusting after his beautiful girlfriend’s bare, Asian legs! I’m just a male prisoner-slave being punished by pedal-power – and judiciously so!
Perhaps attracted by their oriental sister’s vigorous work-out on me, a gaggle of Japanese female tourists gather round to take pictures of my anguished expression next to the pain-pedalling, red and white tubesocks. This only encourages the young oriental woman seated above me to pump harder in her shiny, black leather pumps, causing my aching, maleslave heart to pump with the extra pain coursing through my electrocuted spine!
And so it continues – this cycle of pain. Agony! Agony! All is agony! And yet I must ride out the pain as best I can. After all, I don't have much choice, being a very bespoke, female-exercise bike!
