by Alex Dawson
Her corner began to fill up as drunk girls and scruffy-looking men in denim and leather hung out, and she almost couldn't see the guy on the table.
Farrah Joy thought it was a bit of a shame, she didn’t want to stop looking at him.
"Okay, you bunch of ingrates," the guy called cheerfully, "I'm pleased to announce that while you were drinking, we members were arduously wandering around checking out all of the hot babes, and we've picked our Biker Babe for the year!”
A few girls made impatient groaning noises.
“Come on, come on, you’ll all get fucked, don’t worry about that,” he said, to a roar of drunken laughter. “Number 38, get on up here!"
There was a pause, and no one stepped forward.
'Wait, I'm number 38,' Farrah Joy thought, looking down at her chest, where the number was proudly displayed on her perky bosom.
"THIRTY-EIGHT! THIRTY-EIGHT!" the crowd started to chant. People looked this way and that, looking at every pair of breasts in the place, trying to find the sticker. She saw a few people reach out and grab breasts, saying "Whoops, I thought you were 38!" and one guy get slapped.
Shortly, someone spotted Farrah Joy, standing frozen in the corner.
"GOT HER!" they shouted, "MAKE WAY!" and Farrah Joy found herself moving through the crowd. An enormous man whose leathers strained over his bulk had gently taken her arm and started pulling her towards the table at the front.
When they got there, the badass biker gang member who was already standing up there reached down and held his hand out to her. She offered him hers, in a haze of embarrassment, and he pulled her onto the table.
“Hey, hot stuff,” he said to her, in a voice loud enough to carry to the rest of the room, giving her a small, private smile in the middle of this huge room, “What’s your name?”
“Uhh, Farrah Joy,” she said.
“Nice to met you, Farrah Joy, I’m Daryl I’m the boss man around here,” he said, “How old are you?”
“I turned eighteen last month,” she said.
“Awesome! Last year our top choice got disqualified for being jailbait,” he said loudly, and the entire crowd laughed and hooted.
“She still got fucked plenty, though,” one of the badass biker gang members yelled, and the room erupted in cheers.
“No, of course not, that would be very wrong,” Daryl said, and winked at Farrah Joy.
“So, you’re eighteen and you know what the Biker Babe thing is all about, right? If you accept the title, all fifty-seven of us can fuck you somehow in the next forty-eight hours, and you get all of the honor we can stuff you with. We can’t offer you cash prizes, because legally that makes you a whore, but we promise we’ll give you cool shit. Last girl got a nice TV,” he said.
“Well, an offer like that, how can I refuse fifty-seven dicks?” Farrah Joy said, drily. Apparently she was drunker than she had thought, she normally would have kept a comment like that to herself.
Everyone who heard her laughed.
“Fifty-seven GREAT dicks!” one of the members yelled.
"So, what do you say," Daryl pressed, "Are you ready to get fucked by a bunch of horny bikers, and be our party savior?"
Farrah Joy hesitated.
"Come on, you knew what this party was about when you came here, right? What's stopping you?" Daryl asked.
"Um," Farrah Joy said, "I'm a virgin."
Daryl almost fell off the table.
"You're a VIRGIN?" he yelled.
As one, the animalistic crowd began to chant - "VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN!"
Daryl had to stamp hard on the table and gesture for someone else to flick the lights to restore order.
"Well, Farrah Joy, sweetheart, that's okay," he said, "We'd still love to have you as our Biker Babe. In fact, badass biker gang lore says that if you're a virgin, we'll have the best parties of a decade, and we'll all be very, very grateful."
Looking out at the crowd, she saw Monica standing there, arms crossed, looking a little disbelieving. She hoped that her roommate wouldn’t hold a grudge over this, she’d been talking about maybe getting to be the Biker Babe for weeks.
Farrah Joy wasn't sure that she wanted to exchange her virginity for the gratitude of a club. She wasn't sure that she was saving herself for marriage like her mother wanted or anything, but she had thought that she wanted her first time to be with a handsome guy she'd at least been on a few nice dates with, someone who would hold her hand and tell her she was beautiful.
On the other hand, she wanted to get fucked soon anyways, that was part of the point of college, and she did think that the perks of the Biker Babe sounded pretty attractive... Farrah Joy was enough of a realist to know that having a few dozen men like that owe her one could make things easier. Maybe they’d help her pay for college.
And besides, most of these guys were handsome, she reflected. This badass biker gang tended to attract the best of the best, strong and hard-working young men who were muscled all over.
"Okay," she called loudly to the crowd, "I'll be your Biker Babe!"
She giggled as they cheered, flushed with excitement and pleasure at the attention, gratified by their desire for her.
"All right! I, Daryl, officially ask you, Farrah Joy, if, in sound mind, you consent to being the Biker Babe, and sating the enormous sexual desires of all of us for the next forty-eight hours!" he declared.
"I do get to sleep, right?" she asked.
"Of course, of course," he said,
"All right," she said, "What now?"
"Now," Daryl said, "As president, I'm claiming the right of popping that cherry of yours! It's been a long time since I've had a virgin."
Farrah Joy was helped off the table and led by the wrist in the direction of the basement, where she'd never been. As nearly everyone at the party grabbed a drink and headed on their way, a cute blond guy, smaller than the rest, pulled Farrah Joy aside.
"Look, Farrah Joy, are you sober?" he asked. He looked concerned.
"No," she said honestly, "But I'm not super drunk, and I did know about the Biker Babe thing before I came to the party with Monica."
"Okay, good. For all the macho posturing that goes on around here, we aren't total assholes. If you're drunk or scared, we'll disqualify you on the grounds of being too blonde and demand to switch to a redhead or something. We've done it before," he said.
"Honestly," Farrah Joy said, blushing to the roots of her hair and grateful for the bustling party that granted them a strange sort of privacy within their niche, "I've had a weird gangbang fantasy for a long time, and when else am I gonna get a chance to fulfill it?"
She was drunker than she had admitted to being, she'd never, ever, ever told anyone about her secret fantasy before.
The blond guy laughed.
"Right, we can't say this super loudly or it will get back to the cops from one of these pretty little idiots, and we'll be in big trouble, we’re very careful when there’s a lot of strange tail in the house, but there really are cash prizes for you if you can take it," he said, handing her a series of checks, neatly made out to her. She gasped. Each check got significantly larger. Even the first one was enough to pay for her next semester.
"Here's the deal," he said bluntly, "If you decide you can't take it and quit before the weekend is over, you get the smallest check. You'll have five vetos for people or activities, spend them wisely - if you run out, that's it. I'd personally recommend holding onto one until the very end, people get freaky-weird in the last hour or two."
She gulped.
"If you make it through the weekend without using a single veto, though," he said, "you'll get the first two checks, like you would if you used a veto or five, but you’ll get the last check as a bonus. No girl has ever made it, but you're more than welcome to strive for it."
“So, basically,” she said, “You’re betting me I can’t take your cocks.”
He grinned at her.
“That’s exactly it, princess,” he said, “This
is one big bet between you and all of us. Which side will call the other’s bluff? Let’s see what happens…”
She hesitated.
“Are they going to want to do weird stuff? Like, maybe, uh, one or two will try for… butt stuff?” she asked, not wanting to say “anal sex” to a strange guy.
He laughed at her, but not unkindly.
“Sweetheart, each and every one of us wants to fuck your ass. I’ve heard one guy talking about how your hair would be hot pee-yellow and he wanted to piss on it. If you get that twenty-five grand, you’ll earn the hell out of it,” he said, matter-of-factly. “If you say ‘no,’ or ‘stop,’ or beg for mercy, no one will listen to you. We’ll only stop if you say the word ‘veto.’ We’re big into BSDM here, and a lot of little slutty subs like screaming ‘no, no, no’ when they’re enjoying themselves, so we’re in the habit of ignoring that.”
Shit, what had she gotten herself into? She would have turned away and walked out the door… but she wasn’t confident that she’d make that much money in her whole first year out of college, and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, even if she got her English degree, she wasn’t sure that becoming a reporter would work out.
"I'm game," she said, privately hoping that the guy who wanted to pee on her would become violently ill and spend the next two days in bed.
"In that case, to the basement!" the blond guy said, taking her arm and hustling her down to the open door and dark stairway beyond.
When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Farrah Joy gasped.
The room was enormous, and full of what was either weird sex stuff or medieval torture stuff. There were multiple large beds, multiple places with chains and rings on the wall, tables that looked just the right height to bend a girl over to get fucked, piles of brightly colored sex toys, and more than she could really take in in a glance.
When everyone who seemed interested had gathered in the big basement room, Farrah Joy found herself on a platform at the far end, with a twin bed and Daryl, who was stripping his clothing off.
"Okay, Biker Babe, show us those virgin titties!" he yelled, and the crowd, mostly male at this point, cheered.
As Farrah Joy, scarlet with embarrassment, pulled off her t-shirt and worked on getting her bra off, she saw that the girls in the crowd, her roommate among them, were mostly getting to their knees and having hard cocks shoved in their faces.
Farrah Joy knew that that was going to happen to her, soon, and she was a little terrified, now that she was actually on the stage, actually seeing other girls, including Monica, getting face-fucked not fifteen feet away from her.
She was captivated by the sight, staring at the dripping member going in and out of Monica’s perfectly-made-up mouth, her long blonde hair gripped tightly in the hand of the large man in dirty jeans. She knew that Monica had been talking about all the times she’d been fucked and on her knees since they’d met, but that didn’t look comfortable or pleasant - how could her friend keep seeking this sort of treatment out?
Another guy got up onto the platform and started to pull at the waistband of Farrah Joy’s jean shorts. She whirled on him and opened her mouth to tell him off, but he grabbed her and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
When he pulled away, as she was still gasping in outrage and shock, he said "You're ours for two days, sweetheart, and you're not stripping fast enough. Turn around and show off those titties, and I'll help you move a little faster."
She did as she was commanded, but her hands were trembling with anger. The only thing stopping her was the chance, not of the payout, but the bonus. That would buy her a nice little bit of financial security so she could finish college and find someone to hire a qualified applicant… who happened to be female.
Her future was riding on how well she could take the abuse from this weekend, and she had no doubt that she would be abused.
That was confirmed when she found the strange guy reaching around her in a parody of a hug, undoing her shorts and forcing them roughly down over her hips. She couldn't help it, she struggled in his grasp, and other members jumped onto the stage to hold her arms and hips as the first one pulled her shorts off of her. She was lifted up a foot off the floor so that he could pull them all the way off her, and her thong soon followed.
She was naked in front of a crowd of men, many of whom were stripping, and all of whom wanted to fuck her.
The girls in the crowd were, somehow, even more frightening. Farrah Joy knew that the men wanted to touch her and claim her body, but many of the girls who were not actively sucking cock were staring at her with jealousy and irritation, or even loathing.
Even worse, a few of the girls without numbers on their chests were looking at her with undisguised pity. They looked a little older than the rest, and were mostly sitting on laps, fully dressed, not naked and on their knees. She supposed that these were girlfriends of members, not one-time toys.
One of the three guys currently manhandling her took advantage of her nudity to run his hands over her soft skin, seeming to simply enjoy the feel of her under his broad palms.
Another went straight to her previously-untouched breasts, grasping them firmly enough to hurt and squeezing them both repeatedly, and then bending down to take her nipple into his mouth and squeeze.
She hated the feeling of him touching her, it was alien and irritating, but her body responded to it and she gasped. Instantly, he bit down on her nipple and she yelled with pain and tried to kick him.
“Ah, ah, bad girl!” the third cried, “No one fucks with a Devil’s Cowboy. Time to get punished.”
The crowd cheered. Farrah noticed that the girls who had been glaring at her were yelling loudest of all, and felt dread pool in her stomach.
One of the gang members grabbed her wrists and held her there in a grip like iron while another pulled her ass closer to him, leaving her teetering on her toes and leaning on the man holding her wrists.
He was enormous, well over six feet tall, and built like a barn. She saw a wild forest of chest hair poking out of his leather vest that he wore without a shirt. The ancient jeans that he was wearing were straining at the crotch, and she stared at the bulge, terrified at how large the cock of a man built like that could be.
“Are you ready for your punishment, bitch?” someone behind her asked.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted.
“I don’t fucking care,” the smaller, rattier member who had bitten her nipple said. “You tried to kick me, and you need to learn how to be a good bitch.”
Farrah Joy trembled with fear. What did they consider a reasonable punishment?
“Let’s spank that ass,” someone else yelled.
The first blow came hard and fast, startling Farrah and making her yelp.
She squirmed in the grasp of the man holding her, but she had no real hope of getting free.
Half dozen blows in all rained down on her ass, hard enough to make her squirm and whimper. She thought about Monica, though, on her knees, head being shoved roughly back and forth on a biker’s cock, and decided that she was getting off light.
“Did that teach you a lesson?” the ratty biker asked.
Farrah nodded quickly. “Yes, sir,” she said softly.
“Good bitch!” one of the other men on the platform said loudly.
Farrah Joy flinched a little, but did not protest.
The man who was holding her wrists released her briefly and grabbed her around the waist, holding her from behind as he thrust two fingers between her thighs, searching for her entrance.
“The slut is dripping wet,” he shouted, to general approval from the massed men.
Finding her entrance, he thrust two fingers in roughly. She struggled against him as the invading digits found the barrier they sought.
“Yeah, Daryl,” he said loudly, “She’s a virgin, so she’s all yours.”
“And that’s why it pays to become president!” one of the badass biker gang boys shouted.
The b
oss laughed and stripped down, tossing his clothing to a girl who folded them and put them aside, and passing his leathers to the small blond man who had spoken with Farrah Joy earlier, who carefully walked away with them.
The sight of this man naked almost took her breath away. He was even more attractive than she’d pictured, with rough tattoos accentuating his muscular strength. She found herself staring at the eagle on his upper thigh, with the red, white, and blue banner, next to his cock.
