Biker Bitch Ch. 01

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Biker Bitch 1
Biker Bitch
Michele Nylons

Chapter One: Cassie

Cassie woke up feeling hungover, hungry, thirsty, beaten and abused.

She was still chained to the billiard table in the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club clubhouse. She rubbed her ankle where the chain was manacled to her leg. Her nylon stocking had worn through and her skin was red and bleeding.

Had it really been four days?

Cassie struggled to her feet. There was a half-drunk bottle of Coors on the rail, Cassie could see a cigarette butt floating inside the bottle but she was so thirsty that it didn’t matter. She raised the bottle to her lips and used her teeth to strain the warm beer as she guzzled it. She knew that what she really needed was water but the mommas who had been looking after her had all hooked up with members of the club to fuck and sleep with in a nice bed. Or had settled on a soft couch in the clubhouse, so there was no one awake to get her anything.

She looked around the clubhouse and saw two of the mommas asleep, snuggled up to a couple of bikers. There was no way she could wake the mommas without rousing their daddies.

Cassie was delighted to find that someone had left a package of Marlboro menthols on the table; it had to be one of the girls. There were three cigarettes left in the pack and a plastic bic lighter on top. Cassie lit a cigarette and inhaled the frosty smoke and drew it deep in her lungs.

She took stock of the situation. Her skirt and blouse were dirty and creased. She could feel dried semen and who knew what caked in the crotch of her panties and her hold-up stockings were torn and full of runners. She sensed that her hair and makeup were a mess and she could feel the pain from her split lip and one of her eyes appeared to be blackened and wouldn’t open properly. She put her hand to her forehead and felt a nice sized mouse. With her tongue she could feel that three of her teeth were broken. She was dazed, confused, still half-drunk, and only able to stand in her high heels with the support of the billiard table.

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re still able to stand up,” a voice grumbled from her left side.

“I would have thought with all the cock we’ve fed you the hard way you would still be out of it,” Kyle Shipton growled.

Cassie shivered with fear and loathing. She had flashbacks of Kyle holding a tequila bottle to her lips and keeping her throat open so she had to chug-a-lug the burning liquor while one of the other bikers fucked her in the ass.

“Well today is your last day bitch so I might as well avail myself of your services while they’re still available,” Kyle laughed.

He sauntered over to the billiard table amused at Cassie’s efforts to escape.

“Come on now bitch. It’s not like this is all new to you now is it?” he hissed.

He pushed Cassie down over that table and kicked her legs apart.

“Jeez, you are some rat-assed skank now honey,” he chucked as he unzipped.

He dragged Cassie’s panties down her thighs, her spread legs stopped them going down any further than her knees but that didn’t matter to Kyle.

He gripped her thighs just above the tops of her stocking-tops and held her. Cassie knew that struggling would only mean more pain and as this was to be her last day on earth she figured why bother.

“For what you are about to receive, may you be truly thankful,” he snickered.

Kyle spat on the hard cock poking out of his stained and dirty jeans and positioned in Cassie’s puckered sphincter.

He pushed his hips forward and his cock slid inside her.

Cassie’s anus was already full of semen, mixed with her blood and who knew what else, but the phallus invading her still hurt like a son of bitch.

Cassie howled as Kyle’s hard cock thrust inside her and Kyle smiled.

“That’s it bitch! You sing for daddy!” he laughed.

He thrust himself vigorously in and out of Cassie’s anus, enjoying the tightness of her back passage; feeling spasm as he fucked her. All Cassie could do was hold onto the billiard table while pushed his groin into her soft buttocks.

Kyle felt his orgasm approaching and he gripped Cassie’s hips and slammed his cock in and out of her, pulling her back against him. Cassie rocked on her high heels and sensing his climax she pushed back and ground her soft creamy buttocks against him, eliciting his climax as a means to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Oh god yeah baby!” Kyle howled as his scalding semen spurted deep inside Cassie.

He fucked her hard and fast until the last of his issue had discharged deep in Cassie’s bowels.

Kyle pulled his cock from Cassie’s ass and watched some of his come dribble from her sphincter.

“Well I guess I definitely earned those pink wings now honey,” he laughed and smacked Cassie on the ass.

Motorcycle clubs used the wing insignia to denote certain feats by their members. Black wings meant sex with a black girl, white wings sex with a virgin, brown wings anal sex, yellow wings sex with an oriental girl, red wings sex with a girl on her period, grey wings meant sex with an woman over 50 and do on.

There were no wings for fucking a tranny up the ass so the Beasts of Burden had invented the pink wings only four days ago.

Kyle pulled up Cassie’s stained and tattered panties and wiped his cock on them. He moved from behind her and she fell to the filthy floor.

The clubhouse door banged open and Steve Monahan, the Club President, strode into club and cast his gaze around the smoke-hazed room. Drunk and stoned bikers slept where they had fallen, some snuggled up to mommas or their old ladies but most were just collapsed bundles of tattooed muscle, denim and leather.

His eyes fell on Cassie and Kyle zipping his pants.

“I told you guys I want that gone. You’ve had your fun with it; now get rid of it like I said,” Steve growled.

“Yes boss,” Kyle replied.

He lifted Cassie’s head and sucker punched her and knocked her out cold.

Cassie had fleeting moments of consciousness. She vaguely remembered being unchained and carried out into the Club’s crash truck which usually carried beer, spare motorcycle parts, weapons, and dope on the Club’s runs.

She remembered lying in the hot sun on burning sand while a prospect dug a hole in the desert soil. She remembered Brin Sarsgaard, the Burden’s Sargent at Arms putting a forty-five to her head and cocking the action.

“No need. The fucker’s close enough to dead and will be soon enough when we fill this grave. Give him some respect, his father founded this club,” Dale Clifford, a patch-holder and Cameron Rivers’ sponsor, pushed the barrel of the gun away from Cassie’s head.

“He’s a fucking disgrace. A fucking crossdressing homo fag!” Brin spat.

“As far as we know he hadn’t done anything homo until you and Kyle made him suck your cocks and fucked him up the ass,” Dale squinted into the sun.

“Bendy Wendy found the cocksucker dressed like a girl! We fucking dragged the fucking thing from his house to the club dressed like a hooker for fuck sake!” Brin snarled.

“Yeah! And you fuckers gave him no chance to explain what the fuck he was doing dressed as a girl. You beat him. Chained him to the pool table and fucked him in the mouth and in the ass for the last four days!” Dale was shaking with anger.

“He’s a fucking fag!” Brin spat into the red desert sand.

“And you and the others who fucked him aren’t?” Dale reasoned.

“Fuck Brin…I don’t know what the fuck; but he was a high ranking prospect. His father founded the Beasts of Burden for fuck sake! He was gonna be a full-patch member. Now you wanna blow his brains out! Well fuck that!” Dale seethed.

Dale kicked Cassie into the hole.

“Cover her…him…whatever the fuck!” he snapped at the prospect.

The prospect looked at Brin who nodded his assent.

“Come back to the clubhouse when you’ve finished,” Brin ordered.

Brin and Kyle got into the crash truck and Dale kicked over his Harley and they beat feet out of the dry wash onto the blacktop and headed back to the club.

The Probie looked down at the body in the hole. It looked like a cute little mini-skirted whore. Long blonde hair, dishevelled makeup, open blouse, little miniskirt hiked up showing off those cute buns clad in black satin panties and long legs clad in beige hold-up stockings and cute red high heels.

The Probie looked around and seeing nothing other than his bike parked a way back, he took out his Johnson and masturbated over the pretty dead whore. His semen splattered on her stockings and panties and he smiled.

“Fuck I aughtta get some wings for that,” he chuckled.

He never heard the shovel coursing through the air until it connected with his skull.

Cassie woke up in a hospital room. She opened her eyes, closed them again against the fierce bright light, and then forced herself to open them again.

She realised that she was in a hospital bed and restrained. She had a drip going into each of her arms and a patient monitoring system was connected to her by various wires and pinged away on its colourful flat screen.

Cassie ached all over, but it was a dull ache, old wounds close to being healed; except for her breasts which felt like a little fire had been lit under each of them. She realised that she had been sedated and was still partially tranquillised. She had no reason to feel any more pain and she squeezed the trigger of the attachment taped to her palm and felt the opiates enter her veins take immediate effect and she drifted back to sleep.

When she awoke again the tubes and the monitoring system had been removed; she was now cuffed to the bed only by one wrist. An attractive looking black, forty-something nurse was taking her pulse.

“Ah, back to the land of living are we?” the nurse smiled.

“Agent Styles, she’s awake now,” the nurse called.

The nurse put a tray of ice chips on the overbed table.

“Just suck them honey. Don’t try to drink yet. From what I’ve heard; sucking shouldn’t be too hard for you to do,” the nurse winked.

Cassie watched the nurse as she left the room and for some reason was fascinated by the nurse’s white opaque pantyhose on her dark-skinned legs. The hem of her white uniform dress was short and tight and showed off the nurse’s well-developed thighs and calves and bubble-butt to advantage.

Cassie shook her head to try to ward off the drugs then she took a small handful of ice chips and put them in her mouth. They felt heavenly and she had to use all her control not crush and swallow them and allow them to melt instead.

A trim, redheaded woman in a tight-fitting navy blue business suit and cream silk blouse entered the room. Her ginger hair was styled with layered bangs and rested on her shoulders, her makeup emphasised her peaches-and-cream complexion although she favoured heavy black mascara and bright-red lipstick. She wore ultra-sheer pantyhose that gave her long well formed legs a lustrous sheen. She was wearing what appeared to be very expensive high heels.

“You won’t chase down many criminals in those shoes,” Cassie was able to grunt.

The woman in the business suit said nothing and pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. When she crossed her legs her nylons swished.

“You’re so FBI you might as well wear one of those silly blue jackets with the yellow lettering that you fuckers like to wear during your busts,” Cassie wheezed.

The woman said nothing. She put down her coffee and opened a slim manilla folder and started to read in a Southern accented voice.

“Cameron Rivers born 1983, son of Benjamin Rivers, founding father of the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club. Benjamin Rivers, born 1948, died 2008,” the woman began.

She continued reading from the file.

“Cameron Rivers started to show signs of gender dysphoria early in life but Benjamin had never guessed that his son would be a crossdresser.”

“When he found Cameron dressed in his mother’s clothes aged twelve, Benjamin sent his son to a psychiatrist. He had previously found a collection of lingerie and fashion magazines under his son’s bed. The psychiatrist diagnosed Cameron with gender dysphoria and advised Benjamin that his son could try to suppress his urge to crossdress but that it was most likely that the urge would become irresistible as his son matured,” the woman opened her purse.

“The psychiatrist disappeared one night not long after he gave Benjamin the diagnosis.”

“Benjamin put his son in college because he wanted his son and heir and the successor of his MC Club Presidency to be well educated. Cameron Rivers was arrested twice for lewd behaviour in Louisiana nightclubs whilst attending Baton Rouge Community College. Both times he was dressed as a woman and was using the name Cassie.”

The woman produced a package of Marlboro menthols and shook two out.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t smoke in here with all the oxygen and shit and this being a hospital and all,” Cassie said.

“Stop talking like an uneducated redneck. This place isn’t a hospital but we’ll come back to that,” she lit two cigarettes with a gold plated gas lighter.

“Now do you want one of these or not?” she waved the long tobacco-filled tube at Cassie.

Cassie took the cigarette and drew on it and immediately began to cough.

“Stop that you fucking sissy! You’re supposed to be a tough biker!” the woman grunted.

“Who the fuck are you?” Cassie spoke around the cigarette.

“Natalie Styles. I’m your case manager from now one,” she blew smoke at the ceiling through pursed ruby-red lips.

“So anyway…I got interrupted so let me continue. The Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club took you on as a prospect after you graduated; because of who your dad was. Of course they didn’t know you were a closet crossdressing faggot!” she blew more smoke.

“I was never a faggot! I just dressed like a girl. I even had sex with girls!” Cassie was angry and pulled on the handcuffs but to no avail.

“Yeah well a girl tripped you up and blew your secret; and for the four days they held you in the clubhouse you had more dick in you than a Mexican hooker. So I guess you sorta got the gay like a girl thing worked out for you,” Natalie blew on the end of her cigarette making it glow.

Cassie raged against her bonds but all she succeeded in doing was giving herself more cuts and bruises on her wrist.

“If we hadn’t had surveillance on you, you would now be a rotting tranny corpse in a shallow grave,” Natalie dropped the butt of her cigarette into the Styrofoam cup of coffee.

“Anyway, Cameron has gone forever. There is only Cassandra left. You’ve got one chance left; and that’s to work for us now. If you fuck us over you will either revisit that shallow grave in the desert; or end up sucking off drunken cowboys in New Mexico at twenty dollars a pop. Your choice! I’ll be back tomorrow. Get some sleep darling you look like shit,” Natalie strode out of the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

She peered around the door briefly and lifted her foot to show off a red-bottomed high-heel.

“By the way darling, these are Christian Louboutin’s. Four hundred bucks worth of sex appeal; and I can run the FBI fitness test in them and then score perfect on the live fire range. You wanna hope like shit you can too when you leave here or one of those bikers is gonna make you his bitch before he drops you in a hole in the sand.”

Cassie fell asleep again and was awakened by the black nurse early the next day. She was leaning over Cassie fussing with some equipment at the back of the bed and Cassie inhaled her perfume. The black nurse had a large bust and her bosom was right over Cassie’s face and her voluptuous body rubbed against Cassie.

Cassie began to become erect.

“Well sugar what have we got here?” the nurse gripped Cassie’s erection through the bedclothes.

“I saw you when they first bought you in. You was quite a wreck but even with what was left of your makeup and clothes I could see you got potential. Being a girly-boy and all I didn’t figure for you wanting any of what I got to offer but that don’t appear to be the case now do it?” the nurse closed and locked the door.

“What are you doing? What do you mean?” Cassie was still restrained to the bed by one wrist.

“Well you came here all dressed up like a twenty dollar hooker and with what the doctor did for you I figured you for a gay boy,” the nurse pulled back the covers.

Cassie was dressed in a hospital gown with no underwear.

“Why does everyone think I’m gay!” Cassie shouted.

“No need to yell at me sugar; I can see by that thing sticking up you still hot for momma and anyways, these walls are soundproof,” she smiled.

“I was about to give you a bed bath but we might as well take care of this and lets not let it go to waste shall we,” the nurse had long fingernails painted red and she ran them along Cassie’s erect penis.

“Mmm. Look at that!” the nurse touched the pad of her index finger to the globule of clear preseminal fluid that had formed at the eye of Cassie’s cock.

Cassie shuddered and strained against her bonds.

The nurse lowered her face and her mouth engulfed Cassie’s phallus; she sucked on Cassie’s shaft with her big red lips and flicked her tongue on the purple glans. She unbuttoned her white tunic and Cassie could see the white bra holding up those double-D tits. Her opaque white pantyhose had a control-top of heavier white spandex material to hold in the nurse’s substantial tummy. Her white satin granny-panties were worn over her pantyhose and pulled right up to the top of her waist.

The nurse reached between her legs.

“No point in wasting a good pair of pantyhose for what I’m figuring won’t take more than a couple of minutes,” the nurse grunted as she used her sharp nails to poke a little hole in the gusset of her pantyhose.

The nurse hoisted herself on the bed and straddled Cassie. The bed groaned in protest at her weight.

She pulled the crotch of her baggy panties to one side and Cassie could see the tangle of wiry black pubic hair poking from the hole in the nurse’s pantyhose.

“Hey!” Cassie was about to protest when the nurse lowered her hot, sloppy vagina onto Cassie’s hard cock.

“Oh god!” Cassie groaned.

The nurse’s cunt was by no means tight but it was warm, slick and meaty, the flesh of the nurse’s vagina clung to Cassie's cock as the nurse rode up and down. The pungent smell of sexually aroused cunt rose to Cassie’s nose. The nurse pushed down hard on her downstroke so that her clitty rubbed on Cassie’s pubic bone. Cassie used her free hand to stroke the nurse’s clitoris, hidden in the folds of her steamy cunt.

“Yeah! That’s the stuff!” the nurse grunted as she fucked Cassie.

The nurse lowered her face to Cassie’s and those big red lips locked on hers and the nurse’s fat tongue invaded Cassie’s mouth.

The nurse humped her bubble-butt, clad in spandex hose and satin panties, up and down and gasped into Cassie’s mouth as she became more and more excited. Finally the nurse came, she howled like a banshee and swivelled her cunt hard against Cassie’s cock, her cunt quivered and undulated, milking Cassie of her semen. The musty stink of semen combined with the pungent aroma of cunt juices.

The nurse ground her silken-encased ass against Cassie’s sensitive skin as she drained the last of Cassie’s cum. Cassie held a big hip with her one free hand and pushed the nurse down on her cock.

“That’s a good girl sugar. Give me that good stuff. You fuck pretty good for a pretty little girly-boy,” the nurse coaxed Cassie and Cassie raised her groin off the bed and pushed herself deep inside the big black nurse.

“Ok. I’m done!” the nurse dismounted, and as she did, a puddle of cummy fluids spilled onto Cassie’s belly.

“Oops!” the nurse grabbed a handful of tissues and dabbed at the mess.

She wiped at her slushy pussy, straightened her underwear, and buttoned her tunic.

“Well that was nice. Did you like that sugar?” the nurse grinned down at Cassie.

Cassie’s head was laid back and she was panting and shaking with exertion. She realised just how weak she was. Her chest still hurt; the activity had aggravated whatever wounds she had there, she guessed they were stab wounds.

The door to the private ward rattled and then swung open.

“Why was this door locked?” Natalie Styles strode into the room, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor.

“I was just about to give the patient a bed bath and I thought some privacy might be in order,” the nurse grinned.

“Well judging by the stench in here, our patient’s semi-erect penis, and those pulled down bedclothes, I would say you have already given her some sort of immersion treatment,” Natalie said sarcastically.

The nurse quickly rubbed down Cassie’s body, arms and legs with the soapy sponge and let her wash her own face and genitals. The bandage around her chest prevented that part of Cassie’s body from being cleaned; a faint meaty smell of healing flesh issued from the bandage.

After the bath the nurse bought coffee for both Cassie and Natalie, who sat patiently reading a file while the nurse did her duty.

“You feeling better?” Natalie offered Cassie her cigarettes.

There was no smartass comment from Cassie this time and she took the proffered cigarette and accepted a light. She sipped coffee and enjoyed the smoke.

“Questions?” Natalie pulled up the chair and crossed her legs with the same swish of nylons.

She was dressed exactly as she had been the day before.

“Yeah. How many of those suits and blouses you got? Does the FBI issue you with them? You got one for each day of the week?” Cassie quipped.

“Ah! Sarcasm! A waste of time given your position and what I told you yesterday,” Natalie studied the end of her smoke.

“Ok; seriously. Now that most of the drugs have worn off I do have a couple of questions. What did the nurse mean when she said ‘after what the doctor did for you’? And what did you mean by ‘Cameron has gone forever; there is only Cassie left’?”

“Oh I can answer both those questions with one answer,” Natalie got up out of chair and approached the bed.

She opened Cassie’s gown and reached inside and ripped the bandage off Cassie’s chest.

“What the fuck!” Cassie was astonished.

She looked down and saw that she now had a pair of B-cup size breasts. The bruising and swelling was still evident and as she lifted one of her new breasts she could see the line of stiches where the implant had been inserted.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she gasped.

“You get the tracheal shave when you’ve recovered from the breast augmentation. The plastic surgeon says your facial features are feminine enough but he will have to straighten your nose where they broke it and cap those busted teeth,” Natalie looked down on the stricken patient.

“What the fuck have you done to me?” Cassie sobbed.

“We’ve done exactly what you’ve always wanted. We’ve turned you into a girl…well sort of,” Natalie exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke and smiled.

To be continued

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Donna T's picture



If she gets out of this alive

Brooke Erickson's picture

If she gets out of this alive, she'll *own* those fucking FBI agents. Assuming she can find somebody who will listen.

Brooke brooke at shadowgard dot com
Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
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