by Abby Weeks
Rose had always loved being on the back of a bike. Ever since she was a little girl she’d loved it. Her father was the first man to ever take her out on the road. Ever since, getting on the back of a bike behind a man in leather reminded her of him. He’d been the one who taught her to ride too and she loved that even more. The feeling of riding out across the country, the horizon in front of her, the asphalt of the road beneath her, it filled her with joy. It made her feel alive. It made her feel free and powerful and full of light and life.
She hated that her arms were around Serge’s waist. She hated him with a passion. But apart from that, she almost could have screamed out in joy at being there. It was so long since she’d been on a bike. It had been two years since the DRMC had captured her and the only vehicles she’d been in since that day were the trucks and shitty cars that they used to transport her around or let her drive between the house and the bar.
She leaned back and looked up at the sky. It was the bluest it had been in months. Winter was finally coming to an end. She could feel it. It was the first morning since last fall that it was actually warm enough to ride like that without a full leather bodysuit.
As the bike rolled into the dirty little town of Val-d’Or, Rose leaned back and let her hair fly in the wind. She screamed out. The air was exhilarating. She knew that Serge would think she was enjoying being with him but she didn’t care. It felt so good to be out on the road.
*
THE BIKE PULLED UP OUTSIDE the drug mart and Rose got off. Serge looked at her and for the first time she thought she saw the true man that he might have been if he wasn’t so messed up. If drugs hadn’t taken a hold of him he might have actually been a good man. He smiled at her and there was none of the psycho craziness in his eyes that she’d seen earlier.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you some new things.”
Rose was surprised. She hadn’t expected to be getting anything and now here she was at the drug mart with Serge. He was trying to impress her. She knew he was. He was going to get her a few things in an attempt to make up for what he’d done to her the night before. She didn’t understand how he could even think that buying someone a few things could ever make up for what he’d done but she had to admit, she did need the things.
The drug mart in Val-d’Or wasn’t the kind of place that most girls would ever get overly excited about. It wasn’t the kind of place they would think of for a shopping spree. It was nothing like the malls in Montreal that Rose had been used to before she’d been taken. It was basically a drugstore with a few extra aisles of clothing, underwear, and other things that women might need.
She followed Serge in.
“Just grab a cart,” he said to her. “Get whatever you need.”
“Really?” she said.
He nodded. She felt a little sick to her stomach. He was treating her like she was his girl and she wasn’t his girl. She hated him. He would never be able to win her over like this and she hated that he was even trying. But what she hated most was that she was playing along. She smiled at him before taking the cart and rolled it down the aisle. He’d driven her here on the back of his motorcycle and now he was buying her a cartload of supplies. She should have told him to shove it all up his ass. Instead, she was playing nice. She’d called him daddy. She’d cried out in joy on the back of his bike. Now she was happily pushing a cart around a store.
She was dismayed at how cheaply she was allowing herself to be bought.
The first thing she did was go to the underwear aisle. She filled the cart with bras, panties and every kind of lingerie she could find in her size. She wasn’t being picky at all. She grabbed literally everything that she thought might fit her. The underwear wasn’t high quality, it was cheap and made poorly, but it was better than wearing the same worn out bra and panties, night after night. She was a stripper and the one thing a stripper needed was underwear.
After she’d picked out about six pairs of bras and a few dozen thongs in every color they had she went to the cosmetics aisle and got moisturizer, lotion, mascara, concealer, lipstick, deodorant, perfume. By the time she was done she must have filled the cart with literally hundreds of dollars worth of cosmetics and hygiene products. None of it was fancy. Val-d’Or wasn’t the kind of place where you would buy expensive, imported things. It was all basic stuff, no name brands, but she didn’t care. She needed it badly and she wasn’t going to pass up her one chance to get it. She didn’t know how long it would be before Serge decided to take her here again.
She realized it wasn’t normal how desperate she was to get these things. It was as if she saw the soap and lotion and deodorant as a symbol of her own womanhood, her own humanity. She was constantly afraid of losing herself out there, she was afraid that she would forget who she really was, that her heart would harden and she would become cold and loveless. It was as if she thought that getting these few woman’s things might protect her from that process. She knew it was impossible, she knew it was crazy, but it was as if she thought that getting these few nice things would make up for the fact that she was being raped and abused on a regular basis by Murdoch, Serge and the rest of the Dark Rebel Motorcycle Club.
She brought the cart to the checkout and she was ashamed at herself when Serge came over to pay. He was her sugar daddy. The lady at the checkout would have thought she was his girlfriend. She caught herself smiling at him. She didn’t like him. She just wanted to make sure she got those things, that he didn’t change his mind.
“Thank you,” she said on the way out of the store.
“I told you to call me daddy,” he said.
She looked at the ground. “Thank you, daddy.”
IX
THEY DIDN’T GO BACK TO the Cat after the drug mart. Serge had some business to do at the DRMC clubhouse and he brought Rose with him. It was the first time she’d been back there in two years. She still remembered the place from the night she’d been captured. She’d been kept there for a while before being brought out to the Cat. It gave her a strange feeling to be back.
The clubhouse was a dingy biker bar on the filthy main street of Val-d’Or. The whole town knew that the DRMC operated out of it. They also knew that the club had the police and the local politicians on its payroll and that they pretty much ran the town.
There were rarely any outsiders in Val-d’Or but if someone from out of town did arrive, they would immediately know not to enter the clubhouse. It looked like a bar but it was clear that it wasn’t the kind of place that was open to the public. Day or night, seven days a week, two armed members stood at the door looking like bouncers outside a nightclub. The skull logo of the club was posted in a blacked out window facing the street. A small sign on the door said 1 percent, indicating to anyone who would understand it that the club was engaged in criminal activity and was proud of the fact.
Rose had been in clubhouses like that a lot in her life, it wasn’t that different from the Sioux Rangers clubhouse she’d grown up in, but somehow it had a different atmosphere. Something about the DRMC clubhouse made her uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been taken there so soon after her capture. That was bound to leave some sort of emotional scar. But she thought the place also had a sinister feel all its own, something that came from the cruel and violent men that ran the club and the horrific activities they were engaged in.
*
SERGE PULLED UP IN FRONT and Rose got off the bike. It was nice to be in the town, to be away from the Cat where she spent every waking minute with Murdoch, but it still made her sick that Serge was treating her like his girl, driving her around on the back of his bike, buying her things. If this was all a sign of what was to come in the future, if Serge was planning on making her his old lady, then the hell of her experience with the DRMC really was just beginning.
She followed Serge into the clubhouse past the two guards at the door and they both nodded in respect at Serge.
Inside, two club members were playing pool. Rock music came from
an old jukebox. Behind the pool table was a bar with a fat bartender. Rose remembered him from when she’d last been there. She’d never be able to forget him. She didn’t know his name but they called him Fat Boy. He’d been the first member of the DRMC to rape her.
She would never forget that night no matter how hard she tried. It was soon after her capture. She was being kept in the motel. Fat Boy had been assigned to watch her room. She’d heard the chapter president give him the order. There was no way he was supposed to sleep with her but as soon as the others all left she heard him at the door. He crept into the room. She was tied to the bed, completely vulnerable.
The floor of the room creaked under the enormous weight of his fat body. He must have weighed over three-hundred pounds. Rose thought he was going to crush her when he put his weight on her. It had been an unthinkable experience. Everything was still so fresh in her mind. She wasn’t used to any of it yet. Just a few days earlier she’d been free, with a normal life. She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined that she was going to be captured and forced into slavery. Now she had this three-hundred pound monster pressing down on her.
Fat Boy had carefully unzipped her bodysuit and pulled it down around her ankles. It was tough to get someone out of a leather suit like that, especially when she was struggling, but he’d managed. She could still remember how vulnerable she’d felt. She’d been terrified.
He got onto the bed between her legs and she thought he was going to break it. The whole bed seemed to tilt down toward the ground at his end. He put his face between her legs and began licking her vagina, eating her pussy like a horrible dog slobbering over a plate of food. The sound of slobbering that he made sickened her. The disgust of the experience, mixed with her terror at being taken captive like that, was almost too much to bear. He was lapping her up, drinking any juice that escaped from her, getting his tongue right inside her. She’d wanted to scream but she was too frightened.
After he’d made her nice and wet and slippery he got up and lay on top of her. That was the worst part. He was so heavy she couldn’t breath. He guided his cock to the mouth of her pussy and no matter how much she struggled and squirmed under the enormous weight of his body, it did no good. He slid inside her and began rhythmically fucking her. To make it worse, he’d licked her face while he did it. She thought he was going to come inside her. She wanted him to hurry because the licking was so disgusting with his horrible, slimy tongue all over her face. But he didn’t come in her pussy. He pulled out at the last minute and then kneeled up over her and shot his entire load in her face. She could still remember what it felt like. She could taste the metallic stickiness of his semen, she could still smell it. Looking at him now brought back the memory of it and it still sickened her.
“Fat Boy,” Serge said to him, “I’ll have a beer and Rose will have something too. What do you want, Rose?”
They were both looking at her. It was difficult for Rose to picture two more vile faces.
“I’ll have a beer too,” she said. “She didn’t want a beer, least of all from Fat Boy, but she didn’t want to create a scene either. She took a seat at the bar next to Serge and watched Fat Boy clean some glasses. The two guys playing pool were pretty senior members of the club. Rose didn’t know them well but she could tell from their patches that they weren’t prospects. She’d also seen them a few times out at the Cat. They came out that way to party sometimes. She’d had both of their cocks in her mouth at one point or another. She’d probably sucked off the entire club at this point.
She felt like crying but she knew that it would do no good. It wouldn’t help. Serge was obviously trying to make like she was his girl for the day and it might hurt his ego if she made a scene. He might get mad. She didn’t want that. What had happened to Jérôme’s face could just as easily happen to hers.
They seemed to be waiting for something and a few minutes later she learned what it was. The president of the Val-d’Or chapter, a real tough biker in his early sixties that went by the name of Deuce came to the door of the office at the far side of the room and called Serge over. Serge left her alone at the bar and went into the office.
Rose sipped her beer and waited. The two guys at the pool table paid her no mind and continued with their game.
She looked across the bar at Fat Boy and saw that he was leering at her suggestively. He put his two fingers up to his mouth and stuck his tongue out between them, mimicking the action of licking a woman’s pussy.
“Fuck you,” Rose said.
Fat Boy just laughed. “Fuck me?” he said tauntingly, “fuck me?”
“Yeah,” Rose said, “fuck you, Fat Boy.”
Fat Boy just laughed. He went back to washing glasses but he kept looking up at Rose, suggestively running his tongue over his lips, winking at her, making kissing motions with his lips.
While most members of the club would be too scared to flirt with Serge’s girl, it seemed that Fat Boy got a kick out of it. He liked to live dangerously. Two years ago when he’d snuck into her room and raped her, he would have known that the president or vice-president was supposed to have the honor of first fuck. He’d got a kick out of living dangerously that night too. That was his thing. He wanted to touch what he wasn’t supposed to touch. Now he was doing it again. It excited him.
He came over to her and said under his breath, “Remember the time I showered you in cum?”
“You say another word like that to me and I’ll tell Serge,” she said.
Fat Boy just laughed. “Fuck that,” he said. “You think Serge gives a fuck what I say to you. If he liked you so much he wouldn’t have you turning tricks out at the Cat for a couple hundred bucks a week. You’re not Serge’s girl, you’re just a whore.”
Rose knew there was some truth in that. She knew that there was no way the vice-president would whore out his main girl, and Fat Boy and everyone else knew it too. The fact that she was a dancer out at the Cat meant that no one gave a shit about her, no one was laying claim to her, least of all Serge. It also meant that any member of the club who wanted her could just take her.
But Serge had been getting so jealous lately that there was no telling how he might react. He was unpredictable. He’d been acting out of character, doing things he wouldn’t ordinarily have done, like beating the crap out of paying customers at his strip clubs for one thing. That didn’t make a bit of sense. It would be one brave or foolish biker who decided to hit on the girl who’d rode in on the back of Serge’s bike.
“Maybe you haven’t heard,” she said to Fat Boy with as wicked a grin as she could muster, “but Serge had been getting pretty jealous lately.”
“That’s with customers you stupid cunt, he wouldn’t get jealous of one of his brothers.”
As if to prove his point, Fat Boy took a hold of Rose’s face and pulled her close to him. Then he stuck out his tongue and licked her across the mouth. It wasn’t a kiss, a kiss would have at least had some sort of dignity to it, he just licked her like a horrible animal.
Rose hated it. She hated the feeling of his wet, slippery tongue on her face. She also hated the memory that it brought back of that night in the motel. She cringed.
“See, you stupid bitch, I can do whatever the fuck I want to you. You’re club property, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She knew it was true. Any member of the club could take her, right then and there, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
But she also knew that Serge had been going off the handle, getting wildly jealous for no good reason. He seemed to be sweet on her, at least today he did. It wasn’t like him to take a dancer from one of his bars into town with him. It had to mean something.
“Well, why don’t you prove it, you fat piece of shit,” she said to Fat Boy.
“What did you say?”
“If you can have me,” she said, “prove it. Take me. Right here on this bar, give me that long hard cock of yours. Give it to me good.”
“You’re fucking crazy,�
�� Fat Boy said.
She knew she had him. She’d called his bluff. He was crazy but he wasn’t that crazy. If he tried to fuck a girl Serge had brought in he was likely to get his balls blown off with a shotgun.
“Come on, show me what a big boy you are, Fat Boy. Show me just how fat you really are. Fill me up with that special sauce.”
“You’ve lost it, you crazy cunt,” Fat Boy said.
He was afraid now. She could tell. If Serge came out of that office and saw this he might lose it.
Rose took Fat Boy’s hand and pulled it onto her chest. “You like these?” she said as she held Fat Boy’s hand on her breasts. “You want them?”
She looked into Fat Boy’s eyes and saw that he was genuinely panicked. He was afraid of Serge after all. He was all talk. No one could flirt with Serge’s girl and if she rode in on Serge’s bike, that made her his girl, at least until Serge made it clear that she wasn’t.
And then the office door opened and Serge came back out, holding a white package wrapped in paper.
“Hey,” he called out across the bar.
Rose and Fat Boy and the two members playing pool looked up.
“What the fuck are you doing with my bitch?” Serge called out to Fat Boy.
Fat Boy didn’t know what to say. He’d been caught with his hand on Rose’s chest. It served him right for being such a prick.
Before Fat Boy could even say anything, Serge was striding across the room. He slammed the package he was carrying down on the bar and then vaulted over it into the serving area.
“Serge,” Fat Boy said, holding his hands up in front of his face.
It didn’t do him any good. In a single, fluid motion, Serge was on top of Fat Boy.
Serge moved like an animal, a killer animal. He was fast and he knew exactly what he was doing. It was like he knew he couldn’t be hurt. He didn’t even think about that. He just got on top of whoever he set his sights on, moved like a cat and was on them. Before anyone even realized it, the fight was over. Serge never lost.
