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Biker life

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So today I was passed by a biker wearing his cut (Vest with club colors on it). It brought back a flood of emotions; not like it was the first time in the last 20 years but today it hit me. Where everything began for me. I was/am the youngest of several sisters. I look nothing like them and the fact that my parents were not together when I conceived has always cast a shadow of doubt on my parentage. I am not vain when I say I am better looking than any of them because it ended up being a curse. At a very young age my step dad took notice and the last time he drugged me to r*pe me because I was 19 and would have fought him. My sisters tried to keep him off me but my mom was too scared to lose her meal ticket to stop him. So before I go to the story let me say that yes I understand the psychology of children of abuse. I became one extreme; hyper sexual but it was a somewhat conscious choice. I decided that I was going to use my sexuality and my “gifts” to my advantage and make it a strength not a weakness. That said let me back up. As I said, I think even my dad knew I wasn’t his so when I ran away to live with them there wasn’t a lot of sympathy for my plight. To be fair he was in a biker gang, a drug dealer, alcoholic, and lived the outlaw lifestyle; a true 1%er as denoted on his cut. I was just another sheep despite being younger than I will admit here. I knew what men liked by that time and alcohol and drugs were readily available so while I hadn’t been turned out yet I was there in the midst of it. A member named Bull took a liking to me and I took on the role of his bitch without an initiation. School became a thing of the past and while the police stopped by often to look for me, along with an FBI raid; I was sheltered. I watched my step mom be passed from member to member and I honestly began to think in those terms. One night a couple of the guys old ladies came to get me. (I was shy of being able to legally drive if that puts it into a time frame for you). They roughly stripped me and handcuffed my hands in front of me. I was literally hurled out of the house and onto the front lawn where a large bonfire was burning. There was a post in the ground that the dog was always chained to and I was handcuffed to that. One of the bitches began to roughly finger me while the other gave me a hard slap across the face. “You had better be real good slut if you want to stay, you been getting it free for long enough!” I was handcuffed to a ring low on the post so that I was bent over naked, skinny, and not near drunk or stoned enough for what was to come. For the next several hours, I was used by everyone in the gang; several times. I cried, fought (for a while), and sometimes I would pass out only to come to being propped up and no one stopped. My parental figure for all his paternal instincts sat on the porch watching me while my step mom either sucked his dick or rode it. At some point I passed out and when I came to I was uncuffed laying in the yard, a blanket covering me and my own cut hanging from the post. From then on I was Puppy Girl. I guess they thought it was funny since I was cuffed to the dog post. I went inside, spent hours soaking in the tub and slowly began the healing process; both emotional and physical. About a year later the police finally caught up with my dad and he was sent off to federal prison. I was caught in the raid and sent to a foster home. After running away from several I found one that I could turn to my advantage. He claimed to be a good Christian but when it was offered up to him he did not turn it down for very long. On my 18th birthday I moved out, moved west, enrolled in a community college, despite never graduating from high school with a fake transcript, walked into the first strip club I could find, sucked off the manager, (because I sure as hell couldn’t dance, and started my plan. I was going to use what I had, what I had learned to love, and what I knew men wanted to get everything I wanted. Along the way of sucking and fucking professors or better grades, learning to dance, being recruited to do bachelor parties; I actually learned something and a degree. I tried a stint in corporate America but it wasn’t that much different, it was about who you blow, so I went back into the sex biz. Hell I was born for it, trained for it, realized the power it gave me, and it was a hell of a lot better money, less work, and a lot more fun than sucking my way up the corporate ladder.

I hadn’t been to my home town or hardly spoken to my family in nearly 10 years. I kept in touch with my sisters, but I moved past the life that I escaped from. Word came through my sister that my father had passed away and that I had been “requested” to come home for the funeral. It seemed that the years of chemical and alcohol abuse had caught up with him but that he had managed to “put some things away” for his kids. “yeah”, I thought, “he knew he was going to hell so now he is trying to buy a little more comfortable spot”. I decided I was going to show that shit hole of a town what I had become. I looked in the mirror as I cleaned up. Big 34DD tits bought and paid for. Fairly flat stomach, nice ass and legs, lips that were made to suck cock, and green eyes that made even the best cocks man spill his load when I batted them. In the next days I slept uneasily, images flowed through my subconscious sleep, bonfire, chains, cocks, cum, collars, motor cycles… I would wake up dripping both with sweat and pussy juice; to say I was conflicted was a big understatement. I checked into the nicest hotel in town prior to the funeral, stripped and laid on the bed and fucked my pussy and ass to a hard orgasm as images of cocks spraying cum on a young girl framed in fire light flowed through my mind. Even though I had shaved that morning I shaved again, applied lotion, body spray, my favorite perfume and slid into stockings, a garter belt, black demi bra that had my tits spilling out over the top nicely. A short black skirt, and sheer silk blouse capped the look. I was a pure look of sophisticated sex incarnate. I strolled through the lobby on six inch stilettos noticing, with satisfaction, the looks I was getting. I stepped into the limo I had arranged and we headed to the funeral home. As we pulled up I noticed lines of bikes all over the lot and a small tingle ran over me. I stepped out and strutted in as if I was walking onto a stage; wait until these fucks get a look at me! I stood in the entry way for a minute and looked for someone familiar. I spotted my step mom near the casket, a pair of jeans, a shirt undoubtedly bought at Wal-Mart and no bra, as usual. My belt cost more than everything she was wearing. I strolled over and gave her a hug and expressed my sympathies. She broke down sobbing that they had just fucked two days before. “Wow”, I thought, “some things never change”. We sat through the service listening to all the wonderful things these jack asses said about him while I looked around. There was no attempt to hide some of the stares I got and I tried to put names on some of the faces I saw staring through 20 years of time. The service ended, I said my goodbyes, was told about the wake after at a local biker bar, “yeah like I would show up there”, I thought and headed towards my waiting limo. Being family the funeral home was pretty much empty when I left and we were a block away when I realized I had left my purse at the home. I walked in, retrieved my bag, and was headed back towards the door when I heard a noise. “Forget something Puppy?” I shivered at that name and turned to see Bull blocking my way. “Oh hi Bull”, I said uneasily as I noticed other guys standing near. “You going to the party Puppy?" I shivered again but ignored it. "No I am just going back to my hotel and then flying out in the morning.” “No, I don’t think so”, he said, “once a member, always a member bitch." Two guys I didn’t recognize grabbed me and I was pushed and drug to the men’s restroom. I tried to scream and fight but received a hard slap across the face for my trouble. There were 3 guys already in the room snorting coke off the sink. "Get a couple of lines set up for Puppy Jester”, Bull said. “Bull I don’t know what you are doing but I am not getting high.” I got another slap and was pushed towards the counter. My head was pulled back by my hair and a straw full of coke was blown up each nostril and my mouth was covered. I had no choice but to breathe in. The euphoria of the coke hit me immediately and I was cuffed to a stall support. Rough hands pawed at me, tearing my blouse off and slapping my tits, tearing my thong off, pushing fingers into dripping pussy and tingling ass. I looked back as Bull dusted his cock with coke and sunk it into me making my pussy tingle even more. I moaned and a cock slid between my lips. Something in the back of my head was screaming but the whore I had been bred to be started fucking back and sucking with a renewed vigor. For the next several hours I fucked them hard screaming at them to fuck me harder, begging for their cum and for them to take my ass. Cell phone clicked as the whole thing was captured, me covered in cum and sweat with my expensive clothing nothing but rags. After several turns each the crowd thinned and I was allowed to clean up. I was told to do another line, this time not questioning, and given some liquid X. I was pushed back to the dirty whore I knew I was deep inside; my brain literally devolved. “I need more Bull”, I said to my shock. “I know Puppy, and you are going to get it.” I was provided my cut, (I found out later my dad had saved it), and a denim skirt that didn’t cover my ass at 16 and it sure didn’t now. The vest didn’t cover my tits and I was allowed to put my heels back on. I climbed onto Bull’s bike and we headed to the bar. I was led in to a cheer, led to the stage and handed a huge vibrator. I spread my legs and began putting on a show. In the front row was my step mom, riding a cock and smiling. “Welcome back Puppy”, she said proudly. “What the fuck”, I thought, “this is as much a part of me as the rest, probably more.” For the next week I moved back into the club house, stayed drunk and fucked for a week and enjoyed every second of it. The humiliation, the animal nature of the sex. I was dropped off at the airport by Bull and a couple of other members with a different look than I had arrived. Cut offs, boots, and a white beater with no bra. I was not the typical first class passenger as I got on the plane. Oh well fuck them if they can’t take it. Every year I join the club at Sturgis for a week of getting back to my roots so if you see a big titted blonde in a vest with Puppy on the back get in line, I am likely getting fucked lol

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