Marianne always rode her motorcycle as if her life depended on it. This time it did. If not her life, then at least her ass. Before she worried about saving her ass, though, she had to worry about saving her life. That was difficult considering the fact that she was riding the gravel brim of I-65 at an extremely high speed ( about thirty miles per hour over the speed limit give or take a few m.p.h.) and she was headed south on the north bound side.

Dangerous, to be sure, but it was the only way she could see to keep the state cop from following her. Obviously he couldn’t turn his car around and follow her. In half a mile she’d be off at the Keystone exit and could duck though some side street, find a quiet little store to browse though and lay low for an hour or so. A quick glance in her side mirror and Marianne saw the helpless police car parked off the road, red lights flashing angrily. She could imagine the frustration the cop felt at being unable to do anything but watch her retreating figure disappear.

Blistered Bottom

Marianne chuckled then shivered as she realized how close she had come to getting another speeding ticket. Bernice, her brother, had let her know in no uncertain terms that if she got one more ticket not only would he take the keys to her bike, he’d blister her bottom like never before.

She knew he’d do it, too. Since she had moved here to live with him two years ago, he had spanked her infrequently but very efficiently. It didn’t take many spankings “Bernice style” to con­vince her to be mighty careful. Unfortunately for Bernice, he didn’t know that, to Marianne, being careful meant careful to not get caught. She felt that she had the right to live her life the way she wanted to. She never did anything really wrong. She just had a part of her that loved to live life to the fullest, on the edge where her adrenaline flowed hot. She loved danger for the rush it gave her.

She knew that Bernice worried. He was only concerned for her safety. He loved her. And he didn’t understand her need to take risks.

Their last confrontation was over her helmet. Marianne always had it with her but rarely had it on. The wind roaring in her ears and tearing at her shoulder length black hair was half the fun of riding her bike. Bernice, an Michigan policeman, had seen too many crushed heads to think the wind in her hair was justifi­cation for gambling with her life. Two months ago he had lifted her leather mini-skirt, stripped her panties off and walloped her bare bottom until the skin was fire engine red. She didn’t sit for a week. Worst of all, he had spanked her in front of his new girlfriend, Linda. The mortification from that had lasted far longer than the pain of her physical punishment. She had been unable to be in the same room with Linda for weeks. It was still difficult.

Now, Marianne was glad she had worn her helmet for a change. Dressed as she was with jeans, black biker boots and a leather jacket, the helmet had completed an outfit that would make recog­nizing her difficult. All the better to escape possibility of being identified later. Most cops wouldn’t expect her kind of riding in a woman anyway. They’d be thinking she was a slender, daring young man. With a last glance back at the distant car, she darted off the interstate, going down the on-ramp, and slipped past the traffic waiting at the stop light, ignoring the blare of a horn behind her.

Hours later, Marianne glided her bike into the driveway of the house she and Bernice shared, pulling all the way forward to leave room for Bernice when he got home from work. He was a detective now, working evenings, and wasn’t home much anymore.

Peeling off her leather jacket, she draped it over the seat of her bike and walked around to the cool shade at the back of the house. Lost in thought, she undid the snap of her helmet and tossed it onto the grass. A second later her boots joined her helmet and she climbed into the hammock slung between two old trees. Marianne felt a moment of sadness. With his work and the time he spent with Linda, she saw little of her brother. She was happy for him and Linda but longed for a love of her own.

Finding a man she could be attracted to was difficult. Most of the men she met were wimps, even the policemen who worked with Bernice. Too tame, with no sense of adventure. The only guys she had met lately that weren’t totally boring were Mark Gardner and Joe Freeman. Mark, Bernice’s long time friend, had a girl. She’d only met Joe once and that had been enough to spark her interest but she wasn’t one to chase a man. If he didn’t find her appeal­ing, or worse yet, was too intimidated by her to seek her out, then he wasn’t man enough to attract her for more than an instant.

The Pain Files

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