by Abby Weeks
But from the look on his face it was clear he was getting pleasure from it. He was fingering her with one hand and stroking his own penis with the other. Rose felt horrible. She was covered in pee. It was a disgusting feeling. All dignity was lost, all respect. Everything about the situation was perfectly calculated to be as degrading and humiliating as possible.
Fat Boy was rubbing his cock, sliding his palm over the bulbous head of his penis, bringing himself close to orgasm. He was fingering Rose harder and harder and it was everything she could do just to stop herself from screaming. She tried to dissociate herself from the experience. She told herself that it would all be over soon. If she could just keep her mind away from what Fat Boy was doing to her, if she could just keep herself separate from the experience, it would come to an end by itself.
Fat Boy was breathing harder and harder and he got up on his knees and leaned over her. He stopped fingering her, which was a relief. He was right over her, on his knees, holding himself up with one hand while rubbing his cock with the other.
Then he gasped, right in her face, and at the same moment, she felt the squirt of his jizz shoot out of his cock and land on her leg. She wanted to shut her eyes but for some reason she couldn’t. She just stared into Fat Boy’s awful face, the throes of orgasm spread all over it. He squirted again and another string of jizz landed on her and began to slowly slide down the inside of her thigh. It felt slimy and sticky and disgusting.
“Fuck, yeah,” Fat Boy sighed as he finished his orgasm.
Rose lay there, utterly in shock. She was lying in her own urine, in a soaking wet bed, with Fat Boy’s slimy semen sliding down her thigh. She’d stopped crying at some point and was now just staring up at the ceiling, the fan blades continuing in their incessant circular paths above her like the stars of the night sky.
She wanted to scream but she felt as if her throat was blocked. Emotion and pain and sadness had a hold of her chest and throat and prevented her from making any sound. She just lay there in silence as Fat Boy dozed in his chair. She didn’t know if she slept or not but at some point in that endless night the light of the dawn began to rise up in the east and flood into the room through its single window.
XIV
WHEN FAT BOY WOKE UP in the morning he looked like a man who’d slept in a chair. He was disheveled and unwashed. His stubble looked even more scraggly and rough than it had the night before. Rose wouldn’t have thought he could have looked any messier than he had the night before but he did. He stretched in the chair and then stood.
He looked down at Rose. She was wide awake, still in shock because of what he’d done to her the night before, and she just stared at him. The smell of urine coming from the bed was overpowering and revolting.
For some reason, he looked away. Rose wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of what he’d done, or just disgusted at the sight of her. She’d been lying in her own urine for the entire night, completely tied up. His jizz had slowly dripped down off her leg during the night and added itself to the stains on the bedsheets.
Rose felt that she was so disgusting that not even Fat Boy could look at her. She wondered if she’d ever be able to recover from this feeling. Would she ever be able to feel clean and beautiful again? Would she ever be able to get the stink of urine and semen from her body? Would she ever again feel the way she had before she’d been taken?
She didn’t know.
“Untie me,” she said to Fat Boy.
She surprised herself. She hadn’t known she was able to speak. Fat Boy looked at her as if determining whether or not to do as she’d asked. Surely he couldn’t just leave her like this. He may be a fully patched member of the DRMC but he wasn’t the chapter president and he couldn’t do something like this to club property and expect to get away with it. She wasn’t his property, she was the club’s property. It was his job to guard her not cover her in semen and urine and leave her ruined so that no other man would want to touch her.
Before he could finish making up his mind, there was a knock at the door.
Fat Boy looked at his watch. He seemed worried.
“Who is it?” he called out.
“It’s Patrice. I’m taking over guard duty. Why is the door locked?”
“Just wait,” Fat Boy said. “I’m coming now.”
Fat Boy looked around the room. He seemed panicked. That confirmed Rose’s suspicion. He wasn’t supposed to do this to her. If Patrice told Serge how he’d found her, covered in piss and jizz, Fat Boy would get in deep trouble. At least that was what Rose hoped.
Fat Boy went into the washroom and came back with a towel. Rose thought he was going to wipe her legs and pussy in some desperate attempt to remove the evidence of what he’d been doing to her. But he didn’t. He knew he was out of time, his number was up. He left the towel by the television and got a strange grin on his face.
“Patrice!” Rose called out.
“Shut up,” Fat Boy growled.
Patrice knocked on the door again. “What’s going on in there? Fat Boy, open the door.”
Fat Boy looked down at Rose with a fierce look on his face.
“You just shut the fuck up, bitch. If you don’t want to see your little boyfriend out there get hurt.”
What did he mean? Was he threatening Patrice? He must really not have wanted anyone to see what he’d done. Rose was scared. She didn’t want to see anything bad happen to Patrice.
“Just untie me,” she said to Fat Boy. “I’ll go clean up.”
It was the best way she could help diffuse the situation.
“Fat Boy,” Patrice called from outside the door. “Open up right now or I’m calling Serge.”
“Just wait,” Fat Boy said.
He began opening the cords around Rose’s wrists.
“Hurry,” she said.
She had a reason of her own for wanting him to hurry. She didn’t want Patrice to see her like this. She felt disgusting, like a pig, and she was sure that Patrice would never see her the same way again if he saw her looking like this. He’d be repulsed by her.
“What the hell’s going on in there?” Patrice said.
Rose heard him bang his shoulder against the door. He was trying to burst in.
“I told you to fucking wait a minute,” Fat Boy said and continued to fumble with the cords on Rose’s wrists.
Rose looked up at him desperately.
“This is no good,” he said. “I can’t fucking untie them.”
He got up from the bed and went over to his jacket.
“What are you doing?” Rose said.
But before he answered she saw that he’d taken a handgun from his jacket and was checking to see that it was loaded. Rose saw everything. They were headed for disaster. Someone was going to get hurt.
“Patrice,” she called out, but it was already too late.
Right at that moment Patrice crashed against the door and the lock broke. The door burst open and Patrice came rushing in after it, falling to the ground.
Rose saw it all unfold before her eyes like a nightmare. She didn’t know what it was that terrified her most. Was it the fact that Patrice was about to see her tied naked to the bed in a pool of her own urine? Or the fact that Fat Boy was standing in the corner with a gun, ready to hurt someone?
Patrice shook himself off as he got to his feet. He glanced wildly around the room and when he saw Rose his eyes widened.
“What the fuck?” he said.
Rose knew that this was going to change everything. In that instant that he laid eyes on her she could see everything in her life change. The future she had briefly imagined with Patrice, it was never going to happen now. It had been a pipe dream anyway, how could she hope to have a future with a prospect for the DRMC, the gang that was going to use her as a slave? But at least it had been a dream. In the second it took for Patrice to take in that view of her, she knew that none of it was ever going to happen.
Whatever happened now, it wouldn’t be what she’d been hoping fo
r. Patrice wouldn’t be able to get this out of his mind. He couldn’t unsee what he’d already seen. She was lying there, in urine and jizz, and she was disgusting. That’s all she was, a worthless, disgusting, whore. That’s all she was and that was all she would ever be and she knew it.
XV
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO her?” Patrice said to Fat Boy.
Fat Boy was smirking cruelly. He had his handgun drawn and pointed right at Patrice.
“What do you mean?” he said to Patrice. “She did all that to herself.”
“She didn’t tie herself up?” Patrice said.
“No, I did that. But she’s the one that pissed all over herself. She’s the one that took off her clothes. She’s the fucking slut she always was, and it’s not my fault that she managed to pull the wool over your eyes.”
“She’s not a slut,” Patrice said.
He looked down at Rose and she tried to look away but she couldn’t. There was such confusion in his face. It was like he didn’t know what he was looking at. He didn’t seem to be sure even if Rose was the same girl he’d spent the previous day with. She could understand his confusion. He’d left her barely eight hours earlier and she’d been dressed in clean clothes, she’d looked together, like someone who might be able to work her way out of slavery and become someone’s old lady.
Now she looked utterly worthless. She looked disgusting, like a whore. There’d be no recovering from this for her. Patrice would never look at her the same way.
“Look at her,” Fat Boy said. “She’s a disgusting mess. You can’t fucking trust a woman like that, Patrice.”
Patrice nodded slowly. He looked at Rose and then at Fat Boy. Fat Boy was still pointing his gun at him.
“What’s the gun for?” Patrice said.
Fat Boy smiled. He lowered the weapon and began talking.
“You don’t want anything to do with a girl like this, Patrice,” he said. “I know you were getting attached to her. Serge knew. He told me to make sure you saw her for what she was.”
“So you pissed all over her?”
“I already told you, that’s her own fucking piss, Patrice. That aint mine. She spent the night drinking beer and flirting with me and then I tied her up for safety. I woke up and this was what I saw. This fucking disgusting mess.”
Rose was shaking her head.
“What?” she said in disbelief. “What are you saying? Patrice, you can’t believe this.”
Patrice looked at her. He genuinely looked pained, as if he didn’t know who to believe. Rose’s heart was breaking. She knew that she couldn’t win this. It didn’t matter who’d done this to her. What mattered was that it had been done. How could he ever consider forming a relationship with her now? She was property of the MC and the MC could do whatever the hell they liked to her.
“Listen,” Fat Boy said. “Take a seat.”
Patrice was shaking his head. He looked from Rose to Fat Boy and then leaned against the dresser that the television was on. Rose noticed that he didn’t want to sit anywhere near her. She couldn’t blame him. The smell of urine must have been revolting to him.
“I know this can’t be easy for you to hear,” Fat Boy said. “But you’ve got to listen. If you want to ride with a club like the DRMC then you’ve got to listen to me. Serge planned all this. It’s part of your training.”
“This is part of my training?”
“Yes it is.”
“What the fuck?” Patrice said.
Rose was thinking the same thing. If this was part of the training of a new DRMC member, then the club was crueler and more brutal than even she’d imagined.
“What’s going on?” Patrice said.
He was having a hard time with this information. He kept looking at Rose, the girl he’d been falling for just the day before. He looked back at Fat Boy and it didn’t make sense. There she was, a humiliated, degraded wreck. How could they do that to a girl? What was the point of it? They’d ruined her.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Patrice said. “It’s a waste. She was a good girl. Someone could have had her. Now, she’s just disgusting. Why would you ruin a girl for no good reason?”
“We have our reasons. There are things you’ve got to know,” Fat Boy continued. “Serge needs to know he can trust you. He needs to know he can rely on you to get the job done. Any job. The MC is going to be asking you to do some very difficult things once you become fully patched and Serge needs to know that you’re man enough to do them. He needs to know you’re not soft.”
“Of course I’m man enough,” Patrice said.
“Are you?” Fat Boy said, looking Patrice up and down.
Fat Boy seemed to be assessing Patrice, weighing him up.
“Yes. I’d do anything for the MC. Serge knows that.”
“Well that’s a good thing,” Fat Boy said, because Serge is on his way here right now.
“What?” Patrice said.
He looked shocked, frightened even. He wasn’t used to dealing directly with the VP of the chapter and Serge had a tough reputation, even among members of his own club. He looked at Rose then and she knew it was the end of everything she’d been hoping to create with Patrice.
He’d been her one ray of hope, her one chance at making something bearable of her new life here under the DRMC, and she could see it all slipping away before her eyes. She squirmed under Patrice’s gaze. She felt ashamed, humiliated. She was horrible. She was worthless. What would he see when he looked at her now? He wouldn’t see the girl she’d been. He’d see the girl she was now. He’d see what she’d become. She’d become a filthy, disgusting, worthless animal.
XVI
WHEN ROSE HEARD SERGE’S MOTORCYCLE pull up outside the motel she knew she was in trouble. Everything that had happened to her since being captured by the DRMC had been leading up to this point and it was going to be her hardest test yet.
Patrice and Fat Boy were standing in the room looking down at her and they both seemed a little more nervous than they had before. She hated that they were looking at her. She felt so ashamed. All she wanted was for someone to cover her up with a blanket. Even being dead would have been better than this, she thought. She knew she shouldn’t let herself think like that but it was how she felt. She could smell the stench of her urine on the sheets around her. She could look down at her naked body and see how exposed she was. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to die.
When Serge entered the room Rose almost felt as if the other men bowed a little to him. They had their heads down and they were looking at the ground. They gave him such respect and she knew it was out of nothing more than fear.
“What’s going on?” Serge said when he came in.
He was smoking a cigar and he flicked the ash onto the floor. Fat Boy spoke up.
“I was just telling Patrice the deal.”
“Good,” Serge said, looking at Patrice. “You ready to become a man, boy.”
Patrice looked at him. Then he looked at Rose. She begged him with her eyes not to do whatever it was that Serge was going to make him do. She begged him to have mercy on her. At least that was the message she tried to express to him in her look.
“Yes,” Patrice said, holding her gaze.
“It’s no small thing,” Serge continued, “becoming a fully patched member of the Dark Rebel Motorcycle Club.”
“Really? A fully patched member?”
“That’s what I said,” Serge said. “Are you sure you’ve got what it takes?”
“I’m sure,” Patrice said.
“Good,” Serge said.
He walked slowly over to the bed and looked down at Rose.
“What happened here?”
Fat Boy cleared his throat.
“I think she had an accident,” he said.
“You mean you made her piss herself.”
Fat Boy didn’t say anything to that but he nodded his head.
“You’re a mean bastard, Fat Boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
>
Serge was shaking his head but he was smiling.
“Look at her,” he said to Patrice. “She’s pissed herself.”
Patrice looked into her eyes. Again she tried to plead with him but she was too afraid to speak. She said nothing. She just looked into his eyes with a mixture of terror and desperation.
“She’s disgusting,” Serge said. “Isn’t she?”
Patrice was still looking at her. Rose was begging him with her eyes not to give in, not to do whatever it was they were going to ask him to do. It wasn’t too late. He could still fight this. Men like Serge Gauthier didn’t have to rule the world. If good men stood up to them, the world could be a better place.
“Isn’t she?” Serge said again.
Patrice looked up at him and Rose saw something in his eyes. It was a hint of resistance, like he was going to fight back. She thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to let Serge dictate everything. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her. Maybe she could still fight this. Maybe Patrice was able to see past everything that Fat Boy had done to her, everything that this place had done to her. It wasn’t her fault she was covered in piss. Maybe Patrice was willing to fight for her.
But then Patrice spoke.
“She is,” he said. “She’s disgusting.”
“That’s my boy,” Serge said with a big grin spreading on his face. “Maybe you’re ready for your patch, after all.”
“I’m ready,” Patrice said. “I’m ready for anything.”
“Are you ready to do whatever the club needs from you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you ready to become a man?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrice said louder.
“Are you ready to get your patch tonight?”
Patrice looked up at him. “You mean it?”
“If you say you’re ready,” Serge said, “then I mean it. There’s just one thing I need you to do to prove yourself.”
Patrice was already nodding. “Anything,” he said.
“I need you to fuck her.”
