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

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Two: Caught With Consequences

Cameron Rivers’ first memory of feeling different to everyone else was when he was eight years old. The other boys liked to play with bikes and toy trucks and toy cars but he much preferred his younger sister’s Barbie. But even then he was smart enough not to say so. He used the excuse that he had to play with her because she was his sister; that gave him an excuse to play with her dolls.

He started dressing in her clothes too. She was a year younger than him but he was slim and he fitted into most of them. He would do it while everyone else was out, or sneak into his sister’s room when she was at a sleepover or staying with friends. His sister Vanessa caught him one day when she came home early from a sleepover feeling sick. She had always suspected that her brother was different but never said anything.

By the time Cameron was twelve he well and truly knew that his family lived a different lifestyle to most people. His daddy was the founding father of the Mother Chapter of the Beasts Of Burden Motorcycle Club, an outlaw motorcycle gang, or OMC, and it was expected that Cameron would ride with the club and likely become President some day.

He was already riding street bikes and ‘rice burners’ off road. But he was also intelligent and his dad wanted him to go to college. When he turned eighteen his father gave him some sage advice.

“Son. Most of those of those one-percenters are dumb as dogshit and that’s why we have smart guys filling the President, Vice-President, and Treasurer’s positions. Otherwise the rest of the crew would likely get themselves locked up in no time and the club would go broke,” Benjamin Rivers said to his son.

“Son, you can already ride a bike better than anyone I know and I’ve seen you fight. You’re scrawny, built more like your mother than like me, but you’re quick and smart and ruthless in a fight and that will do. But you need brains too son,” his dad said.

“One last thing. This thing you have for wearing women’s clothes. Your momma says you’re going to grow out of it but that’s not what that fancy psychiatrist I paid for said. Well son you just gotta stop! You just gotta stop or it’s gonna get you killed; you hear me?” Benjamin shook his son by the shoulders and looked deadly serious into his eyes.

It was one of the last conversations Cameron had with his father before Benjamin died in a head on collision with a Peterbilt cab-over whilst riding on a desert run to Las Vegas with the MC.

Well before that event Cameron had stopped wearing Vanessa’s clothes and was wearing his mother’s. Being a biker’s old lady, her wardrobe was not really to Cameron’s taste. She wore cut-off shorts and tank tops mainly, but she did have some nylons, nice panties and the odd dress and skirt for special occasions. His mom found out of course; and once again Cameron pledged to stop.

He was shipped off to Baton Rouge Community College but it had the obverse effect his mother and father wanted because now he could dress to his heart’s content. He managed to get himself a single room at the college and bought himself a full wardrobe of women’s clothes, heels, and makeup, everything he needed to transform. He was sleight of build and had long flowing locks that were easily styled into a ladies coiffeur.

He made a secret second life for his alter ego Cassandra, or as she preferred, Cassie, a cute, long-legged college girl with a penchant for heavy makeup, sheer nylons and short skirts. Cassie had no real interest in boys per se, but she liked to be admired, to be appreciated; and this often led to what she thought was innocent flirting but some boys took for prick teasing.

Cameron did well with his academia but he snuck out at night dressed as Cassie to go to nightclubs and she twice got into trouble when guys hit on her and wouldn’t take no for an answer and she kicked their asses. The Louisiana State Police were never going to take the word of a ‘faggot transvestite’ over their ‘good-ole-boys’ and on both occasions Cameron was charged with lewd behaviour.

When Cameron’s father died he returned to California for the funeral. Nearly two hundred bikers rode in the funeral procession.

Steve Monahan was voted in as club president at the four-day wake and he offered Cameron Rivers an abbreviated probation as a Prospect with a patch-holder membership guaranteed because he was the son of the founding father of the club.

Cameron accepted, dropped out of college and began working for the club full time, running drugs, weapons, and other contraband to help keep the Club’s coffers filled.

For nearly a year Cameron stopped crossdressing. He fucked the mommas who hung around the clubhouse and partook of all the biker’s manly pursuits. The full members jibed him about his skinny build and beardless face but they treated him with the respect he deserved as the son of Benjamin Rivers.

The prospects and hang-arounds gave him a wide berth.

But as much as he tried, Cameron just couldn’t stop dressing enfemme. He’d rent a hotel room for the weekend and play dressups by himself or ride to San Francisco or Las Vegas and dress as Cassie and go out to trans friendly bars.

He started to dress at home occasionally at the small ranch house he had bought in Reseda. Cameron figured it was safe, no one would come around unannounced.

Then Bendy Wendy bought it all crashing down.

Bendy Wendy was a momma who had had the hots for Cameron since forever. She figured if she could hitch herself to his rising star, him being the son of the founding father and all, she could become his old lady and live on easy street.

She was actually quite attractive, with shoulder length black hair, a buxom figure, killer legs and tight buns. She had a penchant for Daisy Dukes worn with sheer tan pantyhose, tight T-shirts and spiked high heels. Her hair was big and her makeup heavy. She might even have stood a chance; Cameron was still convinced that he was full on hetero, but she couldn’t help putting out for Brin Sarsgaard, the Sargent at Arms, and his friend Kyle Shipton. Cameron hated both of them and so Wendy had no chance, even though she threw herself at him.

It came to a head that fateful evening in the clubhouse. Wendy was playing pool with Cameron and they were getting on fine, drinking beer, smoking and shooting the shit. Brin walked past heading out to the head and he nodded at them both and winked at Wendy and after her shot she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Cameron finished his beer and went out to piss and found Wendy on her hands and knees sucking Brin’s schlong. Not that there was anything wrong with that; that’s what mommas were there to do, but Cameron had no intention of going seconds on her.

An argument developed later when Cameron turned down her advances but rather than stick around and fight with her, he jumped on his bike and rode home.

Things were nice and peaceful at home so he cranked up the air conditioning, turned up the stereo, took a nice long bath and let Cassie out of her closet. After doing her hair and makeup Cassie slipped into red satin panties and matching bra, flesh-toned stay-up stockings, a tight black leather miniskirt and red satin blouse. She accessorised with silver jewellery and black patent leather high heels.

Cassie would have been fine if Wendy hadn’t drunk half a bottle of tequila and drove out to the ranch house with hopes of making up with Cameron.

Wendy staggered down the drive and was about to knock on the door when she heard a woman’s voice from inside the house.

“Fucking asshole had bought some other bitch back here,” she slurred.

Wendy snuck up to one of the windows and found that there was a chink in the curtain that allowed her to see inside. She was confused. There was one very attractive lady in the house but no sign of Cameron. In her drunken state it took her a full ten minutes to figure out the girl was in fact Cameron in drag.

“Mother Fucker!” she hissed.

She nearly left the road and speared into the Laurel Canyon twice on the way back to the clubhouse. Brin Sarsgaard didn’t believe her drunken ramblings at first and neither did Kyle, but both of them hated Cameron and decided it was worth a half-hour drive to see if the drunken whore was telling anything like the truth.

They took the crash truck, turning off the lights and killing the engine and coasting down Cameron’s driveway as quiet as they could. The music in the house drowned out any noise they made anyway and they found the same chinked curtained window and grinned evilly at each other when they saw Cassie dancing in the sunken lounge, oblivious to their presence.

They took a pry bar and a sledge from the crash truck and smashed in Cassie’s front door.

“You fucking homo faggot gay-girl fuck!” Brin snarled at the startled Cassie, caught mid glide.

“You’re one fucked you lady-boy faggot,” Kyle shrieked in unison.

Cassie tried to run but Kyle crash tackled her over the leather lounge.

Kyle held her down while Brin beat her; punching and kicking, venting his fury.

“You wanna be a girl! Well fucking let me help you, you fag!” Brin unzipped and unleashed his eight inches of hard cock.

“I’m going to put this in your mouth and you’re going to suck it. If you don’t suck it or if you try to bite it, I’m gonna take that pry bar and smash all your teeth out so that it slides in your mouth nice and easy understand?” Brin panted.

Cassie was breathless after the attack. She had taken all the beating she could so she just nodded.

Brin poked his erection at Cassie’s lips and she opened her mouth serviantly. Kyle held her tight as Brin thrust his cock in and out of her slack mouth.

“She can’t suck for shit Kyle. She needs incentive,” Brin laughed.

Kyle drew his forty-five semi-auto and put it against her temple.

“Suck it you faggot bitch!” he hissed.

Cassie sucked Brin’s cock enthusiastically after that. She was a novice but soon got the hang and worked her tongue on his glans and her lips on his shaft.

“Goddamn! This bitch is good!” Brin howled and ejaculated in Cassie’s mouth.

He held her mouth closed and pinched her nose so she had no choice but to swallow his load.

“Fuck that looked hot Brin but I think I’m going to fuck the pretty whore’s tight ass,” he laughed.

“Hey you homo tranny fuck! You always wanted a Fat Boy between your legs; well now you’re going to get one!” Kyle howled.

“Hold her Brin,” Kyle grunted as he pulled down his pants and got behind Cassie’s ass.

“You gotta give her A for effort. Except for that piece of meat between her legs she’s pretty fucking hot,” Kyle laughed.

He dribbled spit on his erection as he pulled the gusset of Cassie’s red satin panties aside to reveal her puckered sphincter.

“Here we go sugar, I know you probably ain’t prepared but I can stand the shit if you can stand the pain,” he sniggered and thrust his cock into Cassie’s tight puckered bud.

Cassie screamed.

“Oh come on girly this can’t really be your first time,” Kyle chuckled.

He gripped Cassie’s hips and thrust until he was buried in her ass and her buttocks rested against his groin. Cassie was sobbing.

“Stop that shit girly,” Kyle spanked her ass and began to fuck her.

She wasn’t clean but he didn’t care. This was biker fucking! He’d fucked women in the ass when they weren’t clean either and had his brown wings to prove it.

He gripped Cassie’s thighs and settled into a steady rhythm enjoying fucking her tight ass and feeling her soft pillowy buttocks against him.

Cassie just bore the pain and sobbed with shame and disgust.

“You know what? None of the MCs have wings for fucking a tranny in the ass. I think we should create the pink wings Brin; what do you think?” Kyle grunted as he fucked her.

Brin was getting hard again watching Kyle fuck the pretty transvestite. It was easy to forget that she was really a guy, a brother! She looked hot and sexy and Brin wanted to fuck her too.

Cassie would never admit it but something was happening. Now that the initial pain was past, she could feel a tingling from her sphincter but more disturbingly, a deep feeling of pleasure was beginning to emanate from her prostate as Kyle’s cock pressed against it.

Kyle pulled her back hard against him and ejaculated. He screamed obscenities as he did and his throbbing cock pressed on Cassie’s prostate and caused her to ejaculate too. She spent into her panties so neither of the bikers suspected she had orgasmed.

Brin took Kyle’s place but because Kyle had already come inside her she was well lubricated. Brin didn’t last long before he came and Cassie found that his cock actually felt very nice as it pounded her anus but there was no way she was letting on.

Cassie’s panties were now soaked. Semen and other secretions that she’d rather not know about dribbled from her anus.

Wendy had found a bottle of scotch and drank it as she watched the bikers fuck the tranny whore.

Kyle punched Cassie again, splitting her lip this time.

“You fucking tranny faggot!” he hissed.

Despite the pain, Cassie figured Kyle was justifying to himself that he had fucked the transvestite to punish her, not because he actually enjoyed it.

They threw her into the back of the crash truck and took her back to the clubhouse and lashed her to billiard table and told everyone they could fuck the tranny or get a blowjob from her.

Someone called the Club President and Steve Monahan came into the club and was disgusted with what he found. He called a meeting of the membership right there and then.

“Alright! Alright! All right!” he yelled over the clamour and banged his gavel as he held court in the meeting room where the club held ‘church’.

The members blood was up. Their exalted founder’s son had turned out to be a faggot crossdressing, tranny whore!

The reality was that most of that statement was untrue, Cameron/Cassie was neither a faggot nor a whore, but Steve Monahan knew the members wanted blood.

“Here’s my decision! That thing stays lashed to the billiard table for the next four days and any patch-holder or prospect can do what they feel is appropriate with it. After four days it is to be cut loose and taken out into the desert to be buried where its dishonour cannot besmirch its father’s name. I have spoken!” The President left the clubhouse leaving Cassie to the angry drunken, stoned rabble.

Steve knew they needed to vent their fury but he didn’t want to see it.

The next four days were quite bizarre. Some of the mommas asked for and got the keys to Cassie’s restraints and every few hours or so they took her to the bathroom so she could relieve herself, clean herself as best she could and fix her makeup and straighten her clothes. Cassie had become their toy. They gave her drinks and cigarettes when she was not being used by gang members.

The bikers didn’t mind because every time she came back from the bathroom cleaned up with her makeup fixed, Cassie looked quite attractive and they lined up to get some head or to fuck her. None of them would admit it outright but she looked a lot prettier than most of the mommas that hung around the clubhouse.

And so it went until Cassie was taken out to the desert to be disposed of and was saved at the last minute by the FBI.

During those four days Cassie experienced only one bizarre moment of kindness. On the third night of her capture, the club went on a short road trip. The trip was compulsory but Dale Clifford volunteered to remain at the clubhouse and keep an eye on things.

When the gang hit the road and the clubhouse was deserted Dale came over to Cassie who cringed in expectation of a beating or of being used sexually. She was surprised when Dale unlocked the chain holding her to the billiard table.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Dale pointed to the back of the club where the john was located.

“And don’t try to escape; this place is locked and alarmed as it always is when the guys are away on a run,” he called after her.

Cassie hobbled out back of the clubhouse and went to the ladies rest room. The bikers old ladies insisted that the place be kept clean and the mommas and prospects had a cleaning roster and got an ass kicking if they didn’t keep the place spotless.

The old ladies were the biker’s wives and girlfriends and wore ‘property patches’ and although not members of the club, they carried the standing of their ‘old man’ and were not to be fucked with.

Cassie sat on the toilet, a couple of the bikers had fucked her before they went on their ride and she expelled their mess as best she could. She hadn’t eaten for two days so she had nothing else to evacuate. There was a single shower adjoining the men’s and ladies toilets and Cassie took the opportunity to use it. She found an old toothbrush and brushed her teeth, gargling with soapy water which was the best she could do. She washed her hair which was filthy and matted with stale beer and dried cum.

She carefully cleaned her cuts and scratches with antiseptic and then went looking for whatever she could find to make herself look presentable. She knew that she was only going to be further abused and eventually killed but she intended to spend the last hours of her life with as much dignity as she could.

There were a couple of lockers in the ladies room but they were both locked. She found a screwdriver and busted the locks. Bingo! In one of the lockers was a reasonably well provisioned cosmetics case. There was also a hair brush and some underwear. It obviously belonged to one of the old ladies.

“Fuck it! What else can they do to me?” Cassie shrugged her shoulders and helped herself to the contents of the locker.

She fixed her makeup, brushed her hair and stepped into the clean pair of black satin panties she had stolen from the locker. They were a tight fit but her own red panties were disgusting rags as were her stockings. She’d found a package of beige hold-up stockings in the locker and she unwrapped them and pulled them on.

There was nothing else of use to her, the other clothes were too small, so she used a damp cloth and soap to clean her leather miniskirt which came up quite well except for being ripped here and there. Her red satin bra and blouse were both stained, her blouse was ripped and missing a couple of buttons, but she did the best she could to clean them up and then put them on.

She put here jewellery back on, it was costume jewellery otherwise the mommas would have stolen it off her, and stepped into her scuffed highheels.

She sprayed herself liberally with perfume and checked herself in the mirror. She still looked a little rough but she was one hundred percent improved compared to what she looked like when she had walked into the john.

Dale was sitting on a stool at the bar drinking a beer and turned his head when he heard the click-clacking of her highheels.

He appraised her critically. Damn if you didn’t know who she was under that lipstick and powder you would have taken her for a hot chick.

Dale was one of a few club members who hadn’t fucked her or taken a blowjob from her while she was chained up; not that it hadn’t passed his mind but he just couldn’t get past the fact that Cameron Rivers was inside that babe.

“Thanks for this. I feel so much better,” Cassie gave him a wan smile.

“You know they’re just gonna start up on you again when they’re back from the ride. They ain’t gone far and they’re going to come back drunk and horny,” Dale took a slug of his Coors.

He tilted the bottle at her asking her a voiceless question.

“You bet. I’m thirsty as hell and I’d prefer to be drunk or stoned when they start on me again,” Cassie sat on the stool next to Dale, she winced at the pain throbbing in her ass.

Dale reached over the bar into the ice chest, took out a Miller Light, and flicked off the cap and handed it to her. He hadn’t noticed before that her fingernails were long and painted with chipped red nailpolish.

That is to say a couple of the guys had noticed Cameron had long delicate fingers and manicured nails and they had ragged on him about it; that and his lithe figure and mellow voice. He even remembered one of the prospects saying something about Cameron being effeminate and Cameron turning and striking like a snake and kicking the pobie’s ass good and proper.

Dale shrugged.

“Hindsight’s a wonderful thing,” he mumbled.

“Sorry did you say something?” Cassie flicked the damp bangs out of her eyes.

“I was talking to myself,” Dale said gruffly.

They finished their beers in silence and then Dale took two more from the ice chest and snatched a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. They drank two more beers and as many shots.

The silence was awkward.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to me?” Cassie asked finally.

Dale was getting angry as he got drunker, he was seething, trying to comprehend why he was sitting next to this tranny drinking beer. A tranny who had once been a probationary member, a prospect, and fellow biker. The prospect he had sponsored at the request of the club president.

“I’m sorry I just don’t get it! I don’t know why you dress like that, talk like that, act like that!” Dale sighed.

“Dale you’re smart; not like most of these assholes, have you heard of gender dysphoria?” Cassie asked meekly.

“Fuck who hasn’t! That shit is everywhere now, on TV, the radio, the internet. Even the fucking military is allowing it,” Dale seethed.

“It’s not something that is allowed. It’s something you’re born with,” Cassie whispered.

She went on to explain her own experiences as a closet transvestite, finishing with Bendy Wendy outing her to Brin and Kyle.

They’d had two more drinks while Cassie told her account of her life story.

“Is that it? Is that all you got for me Cassie? Cassie is what you like to be called right?” Dale was angry.

Cassie nodded meekly.

“Well fuck you Cassie!” Dale knocked her off her stool and onto the hard floor.

He jumped on top of her, straddling her body, his face red and enraged. He raised a fist and bought it down hard and fast, stopping an inch from her face. Cassie didn’t flinch or try to defend herself.

“Go on. I deserve it,” Cassie whimpered.

Tears were falling from her eyes.

“You fucking damn well do deserve it you…you bitch!” Dale’s fury dissipated with his wry joke.

“You called me a bitch,” Cassie smiled meekly, still sniffling.

“Does that mean you think of me as a girl,” her smile widened.

Dale gently wiped at her tears with his finger tips.

“That’s what has got me so angry. That’s all I can see. I see a beautiful young woman,” he conceded.

“Beautiful?” Cassie looked up at him quizzically.

“Beautiful,” Dale whispered.

He lowered his face and softly placed his lips on Cassie’s.

Cassie gasped. This was just so different to how she had been treated the last three days. Dale was being tender and treating her like a woman.

Dale kissed her and tentatively slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like beer and tequila, but she also tasted sweet, just like a young woman.

Cassie didn’t consider herself gay, she hadn’t really thought about the sexual side of her gender dysphoria and had spurned the advances of men in the past. But this was different, she felt something for Dale.

She opened her mouth and pressed her lips to Dale’s, returning the kiss, she gently placed her tongue in his mouth.

Dale climbed off Cassie and lifted her up in her arms and carried her. She was very light and she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up so she could kiss him while he carried her across the clubhouse to one of the large, overstuffed sofas where he lay her down.

She kept her arms around his neck and he lay down on top of her still kissing. She could feel his erection through his jeans and her hand snaked between their bodies and she squeezed it.

Dale was intensely aroused and impatient. He lifted himself up slightly; enough so that he could push his jeans down to his knees and shuck out of his shirt. Then he lowered himself back down and began to kiss her again; this time with more ardour and passion.

Cassie was becoming erect too but she didn’t want Dale to feel it. She felt it would spoil the moment. Dale was moving his body against hers and she trapped his cock between her legs, and he fucked her stocking-clad thighs, the sheer nylon felt sumptuous on his sensitive cock.

Cassie could feel his precum soaking her stockings and sensed he was ready. He was kissing her passionately and moaning and she opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She guided his cock inside her panties and pressed his glans against her sphincter.

Cassie’s anus had been continually abused for three days and it was sore and dilated. Dale’s cock slid into her easily, although she had cleaned as best she could, there was still plenty of semen inside her and it served to lubricate her as Dale began to fuck her.

He pulled her close, he wanted to feel her body against his, her stockinged legs on his flesh goaded him to fuck her harder and she was feverishly kissing him, bucking under him, meeting his thrusts.

Cassie felt genuinely aroused and feminine and after the abuse of the last few days this felt wonderful. Dale was making love to her, not abusing her. His cock was pushing on that special place and her own penis, trapped in her satin panties, was rubbing on his hard flat belly.

They came together, gasping and groaning, and rutting and fucking. Cassie used her legs to spur him on and Dale pushed against her soft buttocks as hard as could as he ejaculated deep inside her, kissing her and pulling her close.

Cassie felt him come and she orgasmed with him, filling her panties with her seed.

They lay in each other’s arms, in no rush to break their embrace.

Dale smiled down at her and stroked her face. He kissed her gently this time.

She smiled back up at him.

“Thank you for that kindness; it was wonderful,” she breathed softly.

Dale look at her quizzically.

“It was a magnificent and loving gesture for a woman who doesn’t have long left to live,” she smiled up at him.

His expression changed as he realised what she meant.

“I can let you go! You can leave the state, never return, go into hiding,” he proposed.

She smiled up at him and touched his face gently.

“No. They’d kill you, they’d at least cripple you,” she replied.

“And they’d find me no matter what.”

“We could go together. You and me on the run,” he said excitedly.

“Don’t be silly. You don’t want to be with me that way and we still come back to the fact that they’d do anything to find us,” Cassie reasoned.

She leaned up and kissed him.

“If you have it in you, please make love to me again and then get me get drunk before they return,” Cassie begged.

And that’s what they did. They made love like two lovers having their first tryst and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. Cassie hadn’t slept properly for three days and Dale had trouble waking her.

“Come on. We got about two hours before the riders get back; lets have those drinks,” he helped her up from the couch.

“One last kiss please,” Cassie asked.

They kissed.

They went back to the bar and did some serious drinking and after a while Dale started looking at his watch repeatedly.

“It’s time, isn’t it Dale?” Cassie said, conviction in her voice.

“One last offer of escape,” he said drunkenly.

“Nope. Now you have to rough me up a little,” Cassie said slurring her words.

“What?” Dale looked at her confused.

“If they find me cleaned up they’ll know you did it. They won’t like it and they won’t be happy with you at all,” Cassie giggled drunkenly.

“Hit me,” she said.

“What?” Dale said again.

“Hit me you fucker! Hit me and knock me around a bit; it’s for my own good,” Cassie said a little more sober now.

Dale nodded his head. He saw Cassie’s logic but he hated himself for what he was about to do.

He punched her in the mouth and split her lip. He wiped the blood across her face until it started to dry. He slapped her face a couple times and messed up her hair. He raked his hands on her stockings and put runners in them. Cassie ripped open her blouse a little and pulled her skirt skewiff.

As Dale locked the chain around her ankle, shackling her to billiard table, they both heard the distant rumble of big motorcycles.

“Thank you,” Cassie sighed and lay down on the cigarette butt strewn dirty floor.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Three: Super Glide

Natalie Styles wore her usual uniform of tight-fitting navy blue business suit, cream silk blouse, heavy black mascara, bright-red lipstick, ultra-sheer pantyhose and Christian Louboutin high heels.

“So here’s the deal. We’ve made you into half a girl. You have the tits. The rest comes later if you cooperate and get us what we want; provided you survive of course,” Natalie lit two cigarettes and gave one to Cassie.

“We’re going to send you back to the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club. You’ll convince them to take you back with open arms…but you’ll be working for us,” Natalie smiled.

“You’re fucking crazy. Those fuckers will kill me as soon as they see me,” Cassie blew smoke at the ceiling.

“We have a back story for you already. We paid and or persuaded some people down in Mexico to corroborate everything in your story. All you have to do is learn it by heart. There are hospital, hotel, and police records in Mexico that will confirm that you entered the country illegally and got a local doctor to tend to your wounds after your escape. He is a doctor the Beasts of Burden have used before to treat gunshot wounds so they can check,” Natalie lazily swung an expensive highheel from her toes.

“There are hospital records that will confirm that you undertook breast augmentation surgery there. The hotel records will reflect a four month stay and the police records will reflect arrests for solicitation and dealing drugs,” Natalie smiled evilly.

“Solicitation? Seriously?” Cassie coughed on her cigarette.

“Hey a girl’s gotta make a living and the drug busts will explain how you got the money to survive, paid for your tits, and set you up for your return to California” Natalie grinned.

“Ok you cunt. So I turn up as some transsexual goddess, wanna be biker. Even if they don’t tear me apart just for that; I’ll never get away with it. They will find out I’m a narc and fucking slice and dice me,” Cassie replied.

“You ever hear about Charles Falco? The California police invited him to infiltrate several California OMC’s or go to prison for drug dealing. He’s now in witness protection but he worked undercover for four years,” Natalie countered.

“We fix your face and teeth, teach you a bit more about to how to be a more convincing female, ramp up your self defence skills and teach you undercover tradecraft. When you’ve given us everything we want, we complete your sex reassignment surgery.”

“We’ll give you a cunt more realistic than mine and put you in Wit Sec. Other than being unable to spit out babies you will be a card carrying member of the fairer sex,” Natalie dropped her cigarette into her coffee cup.

“Something tells you didn’t volunteer for this assignment,” Cassie smirked.

Natalie just stared nonplussed at her shoe.

“What’s the alternative?” Cassie asked.

“Remember that shallow grave? We drop you there and call the Beasts’ clubhouse. When they turn up you try to explain what happened to the prospect they left to bury you and why you have tits. I think they will gang rape you for a while and then put you back in the hole you were supposed to be in,” Natalie lit another cigarette.

“Did your mother have any children who lived?” Cassie said sardonically.

“Fuck you,” Natalie blew smoke.

“Ok it’s a deal,” Cassie sighed.

“But I want two things,” she went on.

“A carton of Marlboro Menthol Lights,” she grinned.

“Oh you are such a faggot!” Natalie laughed.

“And a Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide,” Cassie smirked.

“Of course we were going to get you a bike anyway; even we know that you need an American made motorcycle to join an OMC,” Natalie said offhandedly.

“You can tell the Doc to put me under and do the tracheal shave, fix my nose and teeth in one go. Tell him to put in a bellybutton ring too while he’s at it,” Cassie said cynically.

“That’s a lot of surgery to do at once. There won’t be much time left after you recover to train you,” Natalie actually sounded concerned.

“Fuck that! Where do I sign?” Cassie asked.

Natalie produced a clipboard with a four page contract clipped to it and put in on the overbed table with a ballpoint pen. Cassie didn’t even read it before she signed it.

“Make sure you have my menthols when I come out of the shit!” Cassie barked and rolled over.

“Doctor!” Natalie screeched as she left the room and strutted down the corridor.

Cassie didn’t get any Negro-nurse sex when she woke up in the recovery room this time. A male agent was there to brief her on undercover tradecraft, surveillance, counter surveillance, and how to use the bugging and video capture devices she would be issued with.

As her trachea and nose healed a voice coach was bought in to teach her to talk with a feminine vociferation. The tracheal shave didn’t really change the timbre of Cassie’s voice but as she already had a high pitched voice, after the shave, it was simply a matter of educating Cassie to talk at all times with a feminine inflection. The man they bought in taught her to use dark, liquid, delicate releases, which gave her a smoky sexy voice.

She was given lessons in feminine deportment, makeup, mannerisms, and clothes sense. The all important feminine stride and glide would be taught to her once she was up and about.

After a week Cassie was allowed out of bed and began physical therapy. She ached a lot but was glad to be able to exercise again. At least her tits were fully healed.

“Come on bitch lets go for a run!” Natalie arrived in spandex tights, expensive Nikes and full makeup.

Cassie had been moved to a private room and was provided with a full wardrobe. She changed into the same PT attire as Natalie but sans makeup.

For a woman who smoked at least twenty cigarettes a day, Natalie put up a brutal pace and Cassie struggled to keep up with her. It was just great after all this time to be outside in the fresh air, running under trees turning to gold as autumn approached.

It was Cassie’s first outing as a woman wearing a sports bra, spandex leggings, and midriff T-shirt. It was exhilarating and a trifle unnerving feeling her breasts bounce for the first time as she ran. They ran for forty five minutes and when they arrived back at the accommodation block where Cassie now lived, Natalie wasn’t even puffing and her makeup was still perfect.

Natalie snatched her smokes out of her gym bag and lit one up.

“Tomorrow we do it for an hour, and then your self-defence training begins. Time’s ticking sister. Also you need to pay attention to your tutor regarding tucking, you appear to have a meatball sandwich in your leotard,” Natalie flicked her cigarette into the garden, picked up her gym bag and sprinted away.

Outside of instruction, Cassie was confined to her room which was a self contained unit with everything she needed. A fully stocked fridge and bar, clothes, cosmetics, shoes, were all provided. The place even had Fox cable. Meals were bought to her room and all she had do was pick up the phone if she needed anything. But she was given no outside phone line, internet access, or cell phone.

The next day they did the run again. Then Cassie was taken to a gym where her instructor asked her to show him what she could do in a fight. There was no Sense and Kohai shit; the guy was an ex Marine and was there to help her improve her already impressive fighting skills. He also showed her how to use a knife properly and how to turn almost anything that was in the immediate proximity into a weapon.

These lessons were programmed every day for the final four weeks and Cassie looked forward to them.

She was also given a regimen of drugs. The doctors had diagnosed that she had both chlamydia and gonorrhoea from her ordeal at the clubhouse and had prescribed drugs to cure the infections. She was given some pain relief but most of her wounds had healed and she didn’t take them. She was also taking a course of female hormones which were playing havoc with her moods but she had to admit that she now felt quite feminine and was seriously looking forward to the final reassignment surgery.

Cassie was required to learn her back-story by heart and recite it perfectly; every minute detail and embellishment.

Cassie had a daily meeting with FBI Agent Natalie Styles who would continue being her handler while she was in the field and they formed a recreant friendship that was more of an alliance.

They both knew that they had to be a team if this was going to work and they had to trust each other.

“Ok Cassie you’ve had your final briefing and you’re as ready as you will ever be,” Natalie said on their final day together at the facility.

“I’m ready I guess. So where are we? Quantico? Nah! But somewhere in Virginia or New England though,” Cassie raised her perfectly plucked brows.

Natalie just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t telling.

“Come with me and let me show you the toys you will leaving with,” she took Cassie’s hand, which surprised her, and led her to a hangar like structure.

“First off here is your Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide, with a custom painted cherry red Fat Bob fuel tank as per your instructions,” Natalie pulled a sheet off the bike and Cassie spent a good fifteen minutes checking it out.

She kicked it over and was impressed with the sound and steady hum of the engine, then she shut it down.

“Come over here. You have your new toy, now here is the shit,” Natalie led Cassie to a table covered with another dust cloth which she pulled off.

There first item that caught Cassie’s eye was the Glock G43 9mm pistol. Beside it was a Gerber Guardian back-up Tanto boot knife.

“No biker wannabe comes back from Mexico without the tools. Neither of those weapons can be traced and the ammunition is self loads but highly reliable. This is last resort shit ok?” Natalie turned Cassie to face her and she nodded.

“This pelican case holds all your surveillance gear. If it all goes to shit and you get the chance, close it and dial 666 on both latches and it will self destruct,” Natalie explained.

“And finally here is your iphone. My number is in there but it appears blank, just hit call with no number selected and that will be me, I’m available twenty-four seven,” she smiled disparagingly.

Natalie took both of Cassie’s hands in hers.

“Look; I’ve been a bitch to you. I didn’t want this job but I’ve come to respect you. I still don’t understand the whole gender bender thing really; but I respect it and I respect you. I only think of you as a woman named Cassandra now; Cameron has long gone,” Natalie looked down at her shoes, a little embarrassed at her sentimentality.

“It’s not going to be easy, what you are about to do, but if anyone has the balls, pardon the pun, to pull it off, oops there I go again, you do Cassie.”

“Just concentrate on getting back into the MC at first. Just be a biker. Once you're established we can work on surveillance and making cases ok?” Natalie’s voice was a little hoarse.

“Ok I got it from here. It’s not that hard. All I’ve got to do is convince a bunch of testosterone fuelled, vicious, misogynist, bigoted, retards to let a transsexual woman into their club as a fully-patched member and then start spying on the fuckers and the other MCs they do business with. What the fuck could possibly go wrong with that?” Cassie said sarcastically.

Natalie pulled Cassie to her and kissed her softly and briefly on the lips.

“Just be careful,” she whispered.

“Ok boys wrap this shit up. Blindfold this bitch and drop her off at this address,” Natalie gave one of the other operatives a post-it note with the address of a house in Reseda.

Cassie was blindfolded until she got on the plane which turned out to be a small executive jet.

“It’s a long flight ma’am but I’ll get you anything you need during the journey,” the flight attendant said.

He was a handsome young man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking out Cassie’s ass, legs, and tits as he welcomed her on board and seated her. He deliberately leaned into her when he helped her with her seatbelt. Other than the two pilots up front, they were the only two on the plane.

Cassie smiled to herself. She was attractive and did have sex appeal after all. Part of her training had been in seduction. At first she had laughed, but the female agent assigned to teach her took the subject very seriously.

“Female operatives have huge advantages over our male counterparts. We have our looks, our bodies, our tits, our legs, and our cu… well you don’t have one of those but you do have a great ass; and I’m here to teach you how to use them to your advantage,” the agent said.

“There is no room for a prude in the field when you’re undercover. You fuck the ugliest guy in the room if you have to so you can gain that vital piece of information, or to get yourself out of a scrape. You may have to gangbang a bunch of assholes to save your ass but you live to fight another day”

“I’ll teach you all about seduction, foreplay, fellatio and anal sex. From what I’ve heard you are no novice, but techniques can always be improved,” she grinned.

But for all of her training in dress sense, deportment, voice coaching, and seduction; this was her first time out in the real world as the new improved Cassie and she was pleased to see the effect she was having on the flight attendant.

“Ok Cassie. Let’s take this new body of yours out for a spin shall we?” she grinned to herself.

“I’ll have a Martini, dirty please, Andrew,” she read his name badge and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry ma’am. I’ve been instructed not to serve alcohol on this flight,” Andrew stammered.

Cassie gave him a seductive smile and crossed her legs, swishing her nylons and showing off plenty of thigh.

“I’ll have a dirty Martini, Andrew. Right now please,” she beamed at him and raised an eyebrow.

Andrew clamoured away down the back of the plane to get her drink.

“This is going to be fun,” Cassie smiled and loosened her seatbelt a smidgen.

She waited for the plane to level out and then pressed the call button and Andrew came running.

Cassie was wearing a black pencil skirt with a kick-pleat, a white satin blouse, nearly-nude fifteen denier stockings, black microfibre full-cut panties and a matching bra to support her new B-cups. Her makeup was heavy but perfect, just as she liked it. The deportment instructor had complained about Cassie’s makeup choices, saying that she looked like a hooker. Natalie had responded that for all intents and purposes Cassie was just that; and they left it at that.

Cassie had had her hair professionally coloured and styled. She’d changed her hair colour to black with subtle ruby highlights. It was straight, shoulder-length, with bangs.

Cassie removed her seatbelt so she could relax and spread out to take full advantage of the large leather seat and she stretched her long legs in front of her on the small table. One highheel dangled from a nylon-clad toe, her ruby-red toenails visible through the gauzy nylon.

Andrew seemed fascinated by her shoe, watching it swing slowly back and forth. It was almost like he was hypnotised.

“You like that don’t you Andrew?” Cassie smiled salaciously at him.

Andrew just nodded, captivated.

“Would you like to touch it?”

Andrew gulped. Perspiration beaded his forehead.

“Sit!” Cassie pointed to the seat opposite her with her other foot.

Andrew sat down as if entranced.

“Take off my heels, my feet are sore,” Cassie instructed.

Andrew swallowed and carefully removed each of her black patent-leather spiked pumps. His hands were visibly shaking. He touched the toes of her left foot briefly while doing so and you could almost feel the sparks fly.

“Don’t be naughty; leave my feet alone.”

Andrew nodded and carefully placed Cassie’s highheels on the seat next to him.

“Do my feet smell?” Cassie raised an eyebrow.

“I err…I don’t think so,” Andrew mumbled.

“What do you mean you don’t think so! Sniff my shoes idiot and see if they do!” Cassie was having fun teasing this young man.

Trying out her seduction tradecraft.

Andrew eagerly bought one of her highheels to his nose and inhaled deeply. His face contorted with lust and a visible bulge tented his trousers.

“Try the other one,” Cassie instructed and dropped a foot in his lap.

She thought Andrew was going to come there and then but he contained his excitement and bought her other shoe to his face and breathed deeply.

“Well?” Cassie smiled.

“They smell wonderful Miss,” Andrew murmured.

“But we really don’t know do we? Not until you sniff my actual feet,” Cassie’s smile widened.

Andrew was visibly shaking.

“Well?” Cassie barked.

Andrew reached for the foot sitting in his lap but Cassie snatched it back.

“Don’t you dare touch my feet unless I tell you to do so! Understand!” Cassie snapped.

Andrew was taken aback.

“Lean forward you idiot!” Cassie ordered.

When he did Cassie slid her stocking-sheathed foot under his nose.

Andrew inhaled deeply and a look of pure pleasure passed over his face. Cassie let him sniff her foot for a minute or two.

“Ok. My foot is getting tired. You can hold it in place now.”

Andrew’s shaking, trembling hand caressed her foot. He held it by the ankle and lifted it closer to his face and savoured it like it was a precious blend of wine.

“Well?”

“Magnificent,” he breathed.

“Really? That good?”

Andrew nodded ardently.

“So good that you would lick it? Suck my toes through that gauzy reinforced nylon?” Cassie smiled.

Andrew’s began to shudder.

Cassie pressed her foot to his mouth and Andrew extended his tongue and explored her toes and then her sole. Finally he took all of her toes into his mouth and began to suckle them. His hand fell to his groin.

“Hey! You don’t get to play with your joystick, junior!” Cassie teased.

Andrew was stroking her calf, caressing her stocking-clad leg while sucking on her foot. His trousers looked like they were about to burst.

Cassie placed her other foot in his lap. Doing so she had to scoot forward and lay back on the seat and her tight skirt rode up so she was able to open her legs a little. Andrew got an eyeful of her panties and sweat started to run down his face.

“Alright. Take it out but don’t play with it!” Cassie instructed and Andrew eagerly opened his fly and freed his erection.

It was long, hard, and quivering. Almost angry, the red bulbous glans was dripping clear precum.

Cassie dipped a toe in the precum and Andrew gasped and his cock quivered. She teased him for as long as she thought he could hold back his orgasm, lightly stroking his cock now and then with her nyloned toes, and pushing her other foot further in his mouth. When she figured he couldn’t take anymore she gave him release.

She pressed the reinforced, dark stocking against his throbbing cock and stroked it with her foot. His cock exploded, spraying her foot and her calf with hot glutinous semen. Andrew gasped and sucked enthusiastically at her other foot while he ejaculated. He pushed his cock against her foot as the last of his spend spouted from his rigid member.

Cassie grinned. Yep she has what it takes!

“Ok. Clean it up now,” Cassie demanded taking her foot from his mouth.

Andrew looked perplexed. Then he smiled and reached for the napkin on the table.

“Not with that you idiot! You know what I mean!”

Realisation appeared on Andrew’s face. At first he looked reluctant but then he bowed to his task and eagerly lapped up his cum from Cassie’s foot and leg.

Cassie retracted her feet and put her legs up on the seat, leaving her heels on the floor. She smoothed down her skirt and was all business. Andrew put away his cock, zipped his fly and straightened himself up.

“Don’t just sit there Andrew! Go and get me another drink,” Cassie opened a magazine and purposely ignored him.

Fifteen minutes later as she sipped her drink, one of pilots came out of the cockpit and asked if everything was ok.

“Oh everything is wonderful,” she smiled up at him.

The pilot got an eyeful of her tits and long legs too before he returned to the cabin.

Cassie slept for most of the flight after that, waking just before landing. She used the bathroom and changed into a pair of sheer pantyhose she had taken from her carry on luggage. On the way back to her seat she saw Andrew was seated for landing. She dropped her cum-stained stockings in his lap as she walked past.

The FBI had rented Cassie a ranch house in her name in Reseda, not that far from her last abode. When she arrived she found all her personal belongings had been delivered and her bike was in the garage. Parked beside it was a small BMW coupe with a note hanging from the rear vision mirror.

The card read ‘A girl can’t spread her legs every time she needs a ride. Enjoy the Beamer, Natalie’ Natalie had put a bright red lipstick kiss on the note.

Cassie smiled and got to work unpacking and making the place her own. On the counter in the kitchen diner was a carton of Marlboro Menthol Lights.

She took a package of cigarettes from the carton and lit one up.

“Right! Let’s get this party started,” she said to herself, smiling at the empty room.

To be continued

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Four: Felony

Dressing Cassie for her role had been the subject of much conversation and consternation during her training. She needed to dress in attire suitable for her to safely ride her bike and she needed to look attractive to the other bikers; but she couldn’t look like ‘fender fluff’, she needed credibility.

She and Natalie had finally decided on what she would wear. She would squeeze into black skinny jeans, she also had some tight leather pants but they decided on denim for her first outing. The jeans were so tight that Cassie wore a pair of black pantyhose under them to make it easier for her to slide the jeans up her legs.

The pantyhose and skinny jeans also helped hold Cassie’s gaff in place. She had been taught how to push her testes up inside her body and then tuck her penis between her legs, wrap her empty scrotum around it and then tape it in place so that she had a smooth mound in her panties and pants. She could even sit down to urinate without removing the gaff.

For her tops Cassie had selected some black spandex-cotton-blend longsleeved T-shirts. They were form-fitted and showed off her trim figure and her new pert titties to advantage.

Over her T-shirt she wore a fitted black leather jacket that zipped up the front. The outfit was complete with a pair of Falco Ayda black leather calf-high boots. At three hundred dollars and change they looked great, were comfortable, and most of all, practical.

California had compulsory helmet laws which a lot of bikers spurned or they wore ‘Brain Buckets’, small beanie-style helmets, but Cassie chose a black, full-face helmet with a tinted visor.

Dressed in tight black denim and leather with her helmet on and visor down she looked like a real mean sled-riding bitch. She also looked very fucking sexy, which was her intention.

Dressed like that with her usual heavy makeup and her black shoulder-length hair brushed out, she looked quite formidable as she mounted her bike. She kicked it over and revved it; she had played around with the baffles so that the Super Glide custom sounded mean. Not traditionally a one percenter sled, Cassie liked the bike regardless and had always wanted one.

She knew that the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club monthly meeting or ‘church’ would be taking place when she arrived at the clubhouse. All patch-holders and prospects had to attend unless they had a damn good excuse. They would all have ridden to the meeting on their bikes, wearing their colours as required by the by-laws of the club.

Civilians have this image that biker gangs are huge, mostly because the only time they see bikers is when the chapters get together and ride on mass. In reality most chapters are small, consisting of the six office holders, President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, Road Captain and Sargent at Arms, and ten or twelve Patch-Holders. There will also likely be as many Prospects or Probies as they were often called. Any bigger and the chapters become unruly and factions develop. The biker mantra is brotherhood. Every brother supports every other brother, no matter what. Unless of course they breach the by-laws.

There were about twenty bikes parked in the yard at the Beasts of Burden clubhouse and Cassie reckoned she knew who owned every one of them. Cassie took a deep breath and rode into the fenced-in yard and stopped right next to the clubhouse. She revved her engine loud and hard and the perplexed looking probie, keeping anybody who shouldn’t be there out of church and watching the bikes, ran over her way to investigate the cause of the raucous.

The chick on the bike looked hot in all that denim and leather but she would need to kill her engine before the guys inside came out to see what the commotion was about. The prospect would get ragged on for not doing his duty so he was in no mood for fucking around. Besides if this hot chick was curious about the MC he might just take her aside and teach her a thing or two, he thought as he ran over to her.

“Hey you can’t….”

He never finished his sentence because Cassie punched him in the throat, using her knuckles to choke him. His hands flew to his neck and Cassie put a roundhouse punch on his jaw and knocked him out cold.

Then she went back to revving the fuck out the engine of her bike.

Inside the clubhouse Steve Monahan was trying to talk to the assembled bikers and was getting really pissed off; no one interrupted the President and some asshole was revving his bike right outside the window behind him.

“Fuck!” he slammed his gavel on the table and went to the window.

He pulled the curtain aside just enough to see outside.

“What the fuck?” he was not expecting to see a tight-assed woman on a bike.

Cassie saw the curtain move and she killed the engine, put the bike on its stand, and dismounted. Steve had a great view of her ass as she did so and figured once he had this bitch disciplined, he might take a piece.

Cassie knew that no weapons were allowed at monthly meeting, nor mobile phones for that matter. But there was still a lot of guys in there and even though she figured she could beat them all one on one, as a group they were a formidable bunch. This was going to be the most dangerous thing she had done since she got out of that hole in the desert.

“Here we go!” she whispered and opened the door to the clubhouse.

Her presence took everyone by surprise and she waited until she was inside until she took off her helmet and shook out her hair for full effect. Most of the guys gasped and some murmured, but they were still at a club meeting so there was no talking without the president’s permission.

She doubted any of them had figured out who she was. They were just amazed to see this gorgeous babe in leathers interrupt their meeting.

She made her way unscathed through the members to the long oak table where the Office Bearers sat. Brin Sarsgaard, the Sargent at Arms pushed back his chair but Steve put out his arm to keep him seated.

“What the fuck do want missy? You got thirty seconds to speak your piece then I’m going to let this guy loose on you,” Steve grinned at her ruthlessly.

“Oh he’s been let loose on me before Mister President. But next time I won’t be so accommodating,” Cassie replied confidently.

“Anyway I’ll tell you what I want. I want the patch I’m entitled to, having been your prospect for years, having abided by all the chapter’s by-laws, and completed all tasks required of me.”

There was another murmur from the membership but the flash of anger in Steve and Brin’s eyes was enough to silence them.

“My father founded the Beasts of Burden MC He was the founding member of the original chapter, and membership is my right,” Cassie declared.

Recognition flashed across the eyes of the Office Bearers and other bikers seated near the front of the meeting. Steve and Brin jumped to their feet.

“I thought you were rotting in the dessert! I should have guessed something was wrong when that probie didn’t return,” Brin snarled.

“And yet you never thought to dig up the grave and check? Some Sargent at Arms you are,” Cassie said sarcastically.

“Anyway there are a thousand reasons why you can’t be a patch-holder,” Brin snapped.

“Name one!” Cassie challenged him.

“You’re a chick; well you certainly look like one anyway,” he snapped back at her.

“Nothing in the by-laws or the mother club constitution says a woman can’t join. Besides technically I’m not a chick,” Cassie grinned.

Every set of eyes in the clubhouse zeroed in on her crotch. It looked like a chick’s crotch; there was no bulge to see, in fact a nice camel-toe was presented.

Cassie laughed.

“You’re all looking in the wrong place. This is where the real stuff is,” Cassie unzipped her jacket.

The skin-tight shirt beneath it showed off her rack to full advantage.

“Any more reasons Brin?”

Brin flinched when she used his name. It was the poorest of etiquette to use a biker’s name unless you were a full-patch member of the same club or his friend.

“Even if we let you in, and it would have to be a near unanimous vote, how would you handle yourself? How could you, a weedy guy in the first instance now returned as a woman, protect other brothers or help out in a fight,” Brin was seething.

“Why don’t you come here and find out. When I knock you out, that will be one less vote against me,” Cassie baited him.

“Fuck this! I know there’s no fighting in church but let me take this bitch out!” Brin was enraged.

Stave Monahan nodded and Brin leapt at Cassie which was exactly what she expected him to do. She stepped aside with lightning speed and Brin breezed past her and crashed into the wall. Cassie shouted olé and kicked him in the ass.

A couple of members snickered seeing the Sargent at Arms outwitted by a girl. This made Brin angrier which was exactly what she wanted. He turned and charged at her and Cassie used his momentum to smash his head into the oak table. He fell to the ground and she punched him twice in the face although she didn’t need to, he was out cold.

She kicked him hard; right in groin.

“You know what that’s for you rapist fuck!” she seethed.

She got her emotions back under control.

“May I address the meeting?” she politely asked the club president who was too stunned to say no.

She turned so that she was side-on, facing both the Office Bearers and the assembly.

“Are you dumbasses too stupid to see how having a patched chick would work to your advantage?”

“Having a good looking cooze in the room when you’re making a deal can be real advantageous. No one suspects the hot babe to be packing and you certainly ain't gonna let anyone pat me down, just like you wouldn’t let anyone touch your old ladies.”

“The other guys will be off guard and distracted.”

“I can go into places you guys would never get into. I can be dressed in a evening gown or a lady’s business suit and blend in. I can case potential jobs for you, collect intelligence. Fuck I could probably infiltrate other clubs if you wanted.”

“I meet all the requirements in the by-laws for membership. Even though half of you fuckers used me like a whore and then tried to kill me I kept my mouth shut and I came back to where I belong.”

“It’s my heritage! Fuck it! It’s my right!” she said impassionedly.

“Besides, it’s 2013 and this club is way behind on it’s gender diversity quotient,” she grinned at her own joke.

The members all laughed at her gag and then one of the bikers stood and spoke.

“So who nominates her? Who is her sponsor? The rules are rules and if it’s ok for a chick to be patched then all she need do is to follow the protocol.”

The room went quiet and then Dale Clifford stood.

“I’ve been Cameron, now Cassandra Rivers, sponsor since he, I mean she, became a prospect. Her credentials are beyond reproach. Sure ‘he’ is now a ‘she’ but it is 2013 for fuck sake! Give her a chance,” Dale said.

The president of the club, Steve Monahan banged his gavel.

“Well? What do you say?” he asked the assembly.

Everyone except for Kyle Shipton raised their hands.

“In accordance with our by-laws Cassie Rivers becomes a full member and patch-holder of the Beasts of Burden Motorcycle Club. But this shit ain’t finished! Cassie, you and the office holders stay behind, and so do you Dale. We got shit needs to be sorted!” Steve banged his gavel and the rest of the MC members retired to the bar.

“Ok. This is difficult on all sorts of fucking levels. You were a guy, now you’re a girl. Your dad founded the MC but I approved your dispatch and disposal. So what the fuck? You really wanna ride with the Beasts; even after what we did to you?” Steve lit a cigarette.

Cassie nodded.

“I’ve earned it,” she replied.

“Yeah. You might have, but I want insurance,” Steve said flicking ash off his cigarette.

“You prove your loyalty to the club by committing a felony. Not some lazy ass DUI or assault, something that will put you away for life if you get convicted. Also you need to contribute. You need to do something that will add to the Club’s coffers to prove your worth.”

“And you, you smiling jerk. You make sure she comes up with the goods, otherwise you will both end up as lone wolves with no protection,” Steve snarled at Dale Clifford and the rest of the office holders nodded.

“You got a week to prove yourself Cassie.”

Cassie turned on her heels and strutted out of the meeting room with Dale following closely behind. He couldn’t help but stare at her tight buns in those skintight jeans.

Cassie stopped at the bar and nodded at the cooler and the prospect behind the bar gave her a beer. Dale nodded and took a beer too and stood beside Cassie.

“You sure know how to make an entrance,” he held out his beer and Cassie clinked hers to it.

Cassie sipped her beer as the wheels turned in her head.

“Ok I gotta ask. When we took you out to the desert you were a decent looking transvestite, but that was obviously what you were. Now you’re this hot looking babe with great tits. Fuck you even talk like a chick! What the fuck happened to you?”

Cassie smiled and spun her back story.

“You know we are gonna check down in Mexico with Doctor Hernandez about him fixing you up after you escaped. The hotel and medical records will also be easy to verify.”

“But you seriously worked as a hooker and then started dealing drugs, saving money to get your tits done? And then put together enough cash to buy a bike and move back here?” Dale sounded quite astounded.

“I have busts down there for both solicitation and drug dealing; neither of which I am proud of but I had to make a living. Then I met up with Diego Martinez, he’s connected to one of the cartels and he got a forged American passport for me and I switched to smuggling drugs across the border. Those Border Guards just loved feeling me up when they frisked me but they were too stupid to check the false bottom of my fuel tank. I was only smuggling five kilos a time but it paid well,” Cassie grinned.

“Fuck you’ve come a long way in four months Cassie,” Dale grinned.

“But none of that will trade with Steve Monahan, he want’s you to do a job here in the USA where he can use the threat of handing you over for a felony conviction to keep you in line.”

“Yeah well I have a few ideas. A few irons in the fire so to speak,” Cassie sipped her beer.

“I suppose it’s way to early for me to ask to take you home?” Dale gave her his handsomest smile.

Cassie leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“You still let them put me in a hole Dale; I haven’t forgiven you for that yet,” Cassie smiled wanly and hopped off her stool.

Dale watched her ass right up until she left the clubhouse.

Cassie pulled out her iphone and called Natalie Styles.

“Ok I’m in; I survived the first day. But we got our first problem; I need to meet you and get this fixed,” Cassie spoke into the phone.

“Ok. I’ll meet you at the place,” Cassie ended the call and climbed on her bike.

Cassie met Natalie in a rest stop just outside of the city and explained the situation. Natalie took it all in and took a few notes.

“I think I got something that will work well for you. I’ll email you the details tomorrow and then call to sort out the finer points,” Natalie said.

“So you’re a fucking bees-dick away from becoming a full-patch member of the Beasts of Burden MC? Who the fuck would have thought,” Natalie shook her head.

“You must have been confident I could pull it off. All the time, effort and money the FBI has put into me,” Cassie looked at her questioningly.

“I gave you fifty, fifty,” Natalie said and got out of Cassie’s BMW and slammed the door.

Five days later Cassie and Dale sat in a stolen Ford Mustang sipping coffee staring across the road at the façade of the Slater and Gordon Development Bank. It was located across the state line in Nevada and its main purpose was to funnel money for a small mob syndicate and for the Vikings MC, an outlaw motorcycle club that had no love for the Beasts of Burden.

“So the deal is that the bank manager and his assistant arrive early and do their administration and shit before the time lock on the vault kicks in. Then the manager uses his combination to open that fucker up,” Cassie explained.

“It’s only a small branch with two tellers who won’t arrive until ten anyway; the place is really just a clearing house for laundered money from the Vikings and a small time mob boss but on most days there is north of three hundred K in the vault,” Cassie smiled.

“How do you know this shit?” Dale asked.

“Hey, during my sabbatical I not only got my tits and face done; I made some connections,” Cassie winked and tapped the side of her nose.

“And our story is that we represent a Californian developer who needs to park a lot a cash out of state but needs it readily available when required. Some sort of semi-legit land baron,” Dale said.

“Yep. And that’s why we are both dressed in business suits and have an early appointment, as requested by our non-existent boss. These guys are just too greedy,” Cassie smiled reaching for the door handle.

“Get your game face on and remember how we planned this to go,” Cassie eased out of the driver’s seat of the big saloon and Dale got a nice view of her gossamer-clad legs as her tight skirt rode up.

Cassie smoothed her skirt and waited for Dale to join her; they both carried slim briefcases and looked the very picture of business professionals as they crossed the deserted street to the bank.

Cassie’s highheels click-clacked on the pavement and as they approached the bank Cassie nodded at Dale who nodded back. They opened the door to the bank, stepped inside and closed it behind them. Dale turned the lock.

The place looked just like the plans and pictures they had perused; a small open space with two teller windows, two small offices for the manager and his assistant and not much else. But security was tight. They checked out the security cameras, one in each corner of the bank ceiling, one in each office and, unseen but known to Cassie and Dale, two in the vault.

“Ah! Mister Knowles and Miz Jenkins from Bradford developments,” the manager came out of his office extending his hand, followed by his assistant.

They were expecting an early morning business meeting but their smiles turned to frowns as both Cassie and Dale pulled out their pistols and levelled them at the two bank employees.

“You both know the drill. In event of a robbery you comply with the robbers wishes and do nothing to endanger your staff or yourself,” Dale pointed his gun into the manager’s face.

Cassie pointed hers at the female assistant.

The manager looked to be in his forties and was well dressed in a dark business suit. He was trim and good looking; he obviously took care of himself.

The assistant was in her late twenties. She was tall and leggy, wearing a grey business suit, the skirt of which rested a little too high on her thighs, a white blouse that looked like it might be chiffon, sheer tan hosiery and black pumps. Her dark hair was swept back and rested on her shoulders and her dark eye makeup and red lipstick made her look almost like a forties era movie starlet.

Cassie and Dale herded the two employees over to the wall where there was a counter for customers to fill-in deposit and withdrawal slips; it looked like it had never been used. They both put a finger to their lips indicating for the bank staff to remain silent.

The manager looked around angrily but the woman looked absolutely terrified.

“You’ll never get away this! Do you know whose money is deposited in this bank!” the manager snarled.

Dale smacked him on the side of his face with his revolver.

“Shut the fuck up and do what you’re told,” he said menacingly.

“I can’t open the vault until the time lock activates and anyway I refuse to open the safe or give you the combination!” the manager was trying to show bravado.

Dale waived the pistol and the manager shut up.

They herded the manager and his assistant together and Cassie covered them while Dale took a can black spray paint out of his briefcase and sprayed the lenses of all the surveillance cameras.

“That won’t achieve a thing! You’ve both already been caught on camera!” the manager said angrily.

Cassie patted his cheek and then she led them both into the manager’s office. She seated the manger in his big leather chair and indicated for the assistant to sit on a straight-backed wooden chair. Cassie pulled the woman’s arms behind the chair and bound her wrists with cable ties while Dale covered them. Then she loosely tied each of the woman’s ankles to the legs of the chair with stockings she had bought for that purpose, she didn’t want to cut off the girl’s circulation.

Cassie appraised her work. The assistant was securely bound to the chair; her skirt had ridden up high on her thighs and her breasts strained at her blouse because her hands were bound behind her. The stockings binding her ankles allowed for some movement and she kicked her legs for a bit but all that did was make her skirt rise higher up her legs so she stopped.

Cassie looked up and caught the manager looking up his assistant’s skirt before he snatched his eyes away. She smiled to herself and an idea germinated.

They didn’t need the assistant manager and so she would remain bound to the chair but they needed the manager to open the safe. Cassie had told Dale that the manager would be very reluctant to capitulate given the type of people who whose money was entrusted to him and there would be no FDIC to fall back on.

Their original plan was to either beat the combination out of the manager; or threaten the assistant manager and rely on the manager’s chivalry, but looking at the growing erection in the bank manager’s pants Cassie had thought of a better plan. She winked at Dale.

“So you won’t open the safe no matter what?” Cassie said to the manager.

“You know whose money is in that safe; those fuckers will make me and my family pay dearly if I hand over their money,” the manager replied.

“Well there’s a saying that you catch more flies with honey. So I’m going to take me some honey while we wait for that time clock to tick over,” Cassie grinned.

Cassie approached the assistant manager and lowered her face to the struggling young woman and forced a kiss on her.

“Mmm, sweet,” Cassie smiled.

“Bring the manager over here so he can get a good look; keep your gun on him,” Cassie said to Dale who looked perplexed.

This was not part of the plan.

Dale waved his gun and made the manager stand directly in front of his assistant as Cassie continued to kiss the attractive girl tied to the chair. Cassie slid her hand inside the assistant’s jacket and tore open her blouse. Both Dale and the manager gasped.

The globes of the beautiful young woman’s breasts heaved inside her white satin bra as she struggled and mewed but Cassie continued to kiss her, sliding her tongue into the assistant’s mouth. Cassie freed the girl’s breasts from her bra and squeezed them, her red fingernail polish contrasting with the girl’s milky white skin. Cassie tweaked the girl’s nipples and the assistant gasped and her nipples hardened.

Cassie broke the kiss and the assistant gasped for air. She was panting but had stopped struggling. Cassie looked at the two men and was pleased to see they both had erections tenting their suit pants.

“Keep your gun on the manager but take out your phone and start filming. This is going to get interesting,” Cassie ordered Dale and lowered her red lips to the assistant who offered no resistance as Cassie kissed her passionately and stroked her breasts.

Cassie could hear the heavy breathing of the manager and he moaned as Cassie reached out and squeezed his penis through his trousers. He made to back away but Dale poked him with his gun indicating for the manager to stay put. He filmed the unfolding scene as best he could.

It was difficult for Cassie, leaning over the pretty assistant, kissing her, stroking her breasts and playing with manager’s cock through his trousers at the same time but she smiled to herself as she dropped her hand into the assistant’s lap and found her skirt hiked up and her panties already wet.

Cassie unzipped the manager and freed a sizeable erection as she tore out the crotch of the girl’s pantyhose with her other hand and slipped her fingers inside the girl’s panties. The girl’s cunt was soaked and as Cassie slid a finger inside her labia the girl moaned. She felt the bank manger’s cock harden even more.

Cassie pulled her face away from the girl but continued to stroke her clitty and masturbate the manager. The assistant had thrown back her head and closed her eyes, she was humiliated but also highly stimulated by this public forced fondling.

Cassie dropped to her knees.

Cassie guided the manager’s cock to her mouth and she suckled it; the manager’s knees nearly gave out but he remained standing as Cassie slid her tongue up and down the shaft of his cock and used her lips on his glans.

Cassie pressed harder and faster on the young girls clitoris and slid a finger inside the girl’s sodden pussy while she sucked and slathered at the managers cock. She looked up and saw that the manager’s eyes were firmly locked on his young assistant as she writhed in lust, tied to the chair.

The time was right.

Cassie leapt to feet and pushed the bank manager towards the young woman pushing him down on his knees. His cock quivered inches away from the girl’s pussy as he knelt between her legs.

Dale cocked his pistol.

“You know what to do,” he said, his throat dry.

“Forgive me Carol,” the manager whimpered.

“You have no choice,” the girl whispered back; the stockings binding her ankles to the chair legs allowed her some movement and she opened her legs wider.

The manager leaned forward and slid his long thick cock into the assistant’s buttery cunt; she pulled him to her with gossamer-clad legs and lowered her face to his.

The kissed as they fucked each other frantically and it was over in seconds. They both groaned and squealed as they came, rutting at each other with wonton lust.

Cassie grabbed the manager by the shoulders and pulled him away from his assistant as his orgasm was nearly finished and his last few ejaculations sprayed creamy white semen all over the girls pantyhosed thighs.

Dale caught every nuance on video.

The young woman in the chair dropped her head in shame as she tried to bring her breathing under control and the manager, his desire abated, climbed shakily to his feet, putting away his cock and zipping up.

“You got all that Dale?” Cassie grinned and lit a cigarette.

“Every single frame,” Dale smiled back.

“So it’s like this. We can show this video to your clients, I’m sure they won’t take kindly to you two fucking each other while their bank got robbed. We can also show it to your wife Mister manager or to your husband, boyfriend, whatever the fuck Carol. We could even post it online; it’s guaranteed to go viral,” Cassie blew smoke towards the bank manager and the assistant.

“Or you can open the fucking safe and we delete the video and nothing like that ever happened. Two nasty people put a gun to her pretty head and made you open the safe,” Cassie grinned.

“They still gonna get pissed at me,” the manager shook his head.

“Your choice. They gonna get more pissed seeing you two fuck during a bank holdup and your missus and family won’t like seeing daddy fucking his assistant on Youtube,” Cassie dropped her cigarette and crushed it with her shoe.

“Just open the safe Henry!” the young woman shouted.

Sitting there with her blouse ripped open, her legs lashed open with her skirt rucked up and her thighs covered in cooling gobbets of semen she wanted the robbery over and done with.

When the time clock ticked over and the safe’s main security mechanism deactivated, the manager used his combination to open the safe. The cash was loaded into two suitcases that Cassie fetched from the car. Dale made the manager bring up the bank’s security video and satisfied he had the right computer, he smashed it open and threw the hard drive into one of the suitcases.

“Ok you two. You have plenty of time before the tellers arrive to get cleaned up and agree on a story you can tell to the cops and your bosses. Don’t raise any alarms or leave the bank for fifteen minutes or that video goes viral,” Cassie waved her gun at the manager and his assistant, still tied to the chair.

Cassie and Dale took a suitcase each, pulling them along on their wheels. When they got to the door Cassie stopped and looked at Dale.

“That fucker shouldn’t have given us such a fucking hard time. He should have just capitulated,” Cassie hissed.

She strode back over to the bank manager, put her gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Red gore splashed against the wall as he slumped to the ground. The assistant started to scream and Cassie pointed the pistol at her and she shut up.

She snatched up the assistant manager’s purse and took out her ID and driver’s licence and glared at the assistant manager.

“Who did this! Who committed the robbery and killed the manager?” Cassie snarled, holding up the woman’s ID.

“Two big Latino gangbangers,” the assistant manager whimpered.

Cassie smiled and stuffed the ID and driver’s licence into her pocket.

“Lets go!” Cassie yanked a shocked Dale out the door.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Five: Fuck The Business!

“What the fuck was that!” Dale was shocked and angry.

“Shut up and lookout to make sure we aren’t followed while I concentrate on driving,” Cassie was driving at high speed to the arroyo where she had parked her BMW.

Cassie pulled off the short blonde wig she had worn as a disguise and Steve ripped off the salt ‘n pepper wig he was wearing.

They ditched the stolen Mustang after wiping it down and transferred the two suitcases full of cash and the two brief cases to the trunk of her car.

Cassie drove silently and carefully back to her ranch house in Reseda. As soon as the car stopped Dale jumped out and angrily slammed the door.

Cassie got out of the driver’s side and came around to confront Dale.

“What the fuck Cassie! That wasn’t…” Dale never got to finish his sentence as Cassie threw herself at him.

She pressed herself against him and crushed her lips against his and stabbed at his mouth with her tongue. Dale was stunned momentary and then he responded, wrapping his arms around Cassie as she moulded her body to his.

She broke the kiss briefly.

“Inside now!” Cassie dragged Dale through the front door of her house; she was obviously excited by the events of the morning.

She almost threw Dale on the couch and launched herself on him. She kissed him fervently and started ripping at his clothes. His jacket followed his shirt onto the tiled floor and then she fumbled with his belt and flies, never breaking the kiss.

Once she had Dale’s erection free of his pants she scooted forward so that her buttocks hovered over his rampant member. Dale tried to unzip her skirt but she impatiently smacked his hand away and rucked her skirt up around her waist. She was wearing sheer thigh-high holdup stockings so she simply pulled the gusset of her panties aside, ripped off her gaff, and lowered herself, impaling herself on Dale’s hard throbbing cock.

“Fuck me Dale!” Cassie gasped through bruised lips.

Dale clung to Cassie’s hard body and drove upwards, driving his cock deep inside her ass. Cassie squealed and pushed down, meeting Dale’s thrusts. Dale pulled his cock nearly all the way out of Cassie’s anus, leaving just the tip of his glans inside her sphincter; then he thrust upward as Cassie pushed her buttocks down.

They fucked like that, gradually increasing the pace. Cassie wriggled her ass so that Dale’s cock pressed on her prostate and Dale hugged her body to his and kissed her passionately. They grunted and groaned as they lecherously used each other’s bodies.

“Fuck me Dale! Fuck me Dale! Oh god, fuck me!” Cassie was close to coming and she broke the kiss and sat upright, arching her back as she rode Dale’s cock cowgirl style.

Dale held her by the waist and gazed into her beautiful face as she guided herself up and down on his pulsing manhood, he was holding his orgasm back so he could come with her. He could see Cassie’s cock poking out the front of her panties dripping clear pre-seminal fluid; she was close too.

Cassie’s makeup was smeared over her face from their wanton kissing and her hair was dishevelled but she still looked magnificent. Dale reached up and popped open her blouse and extracted her pert titties from her bra. They were firm and delicious and he rubbed his thumbs on her hard nipples as he squeezed the pale globes.

That was enough to send Cassie over; she screamed as Dale triggered her orgasm.

“Oh god Dale I’m coming! I’m coming! Fuck me!” she wailed, writhing above him as he hung on for the ride.

Her anus spasmed and Dale released himself inside her, he spent his sperm deep in her ass, his cock pushing on her prostate eliciting deep and pleasurable sensations from the sensitive gland. Cassie took herself in hand and stroked her cock as she ejaculated; her hot spunk spattered on Dale’s chest.

Dale drove himself deep inside Cassie and gripped her tightly by the waist as he emptied himself; Cassie squirmed and writhed, spraying the last of her issue, her head flung back in passion and release.

They both finished coming and Cassie fell forward, uncaring that she had smeared her semen on Dale’s chest and her bosom; she kissed Dale hard, almost viciously, crushing her lips on his until her passion had been consumed and then she lay on top of him spent and exhausted.

Dale held her to him and they both fell asleep.

Dale woke up momentarily confused and then realised where he was and who he was with. He smiled until he remembered what Cassie had done to the bank manager then he frowned. He looked up from the couch and saw Cassie was dressed in spandex sports tights, a figure-hugging bright pink tank-top, and running shoes.

She looked down at Dale with no expression, then he saw she had the Sig Sauer nine millimetre she had used to dispatch the bank manger resting at her side.

Dale flinched as she raised the weapon but relaxed when she ejected the clip and worked and released the action to show him the weapon was unloaded. She dropped it on the couch beside him.

“Pick that up without putting your prints on it, bag it and give it to Steve Monahan. Any ballistics will match the bullet they take out of the bank manager and my prints are all over it. Now Steve has me for felony murder if he wants. Give him the cash too and tell him I’ve met my end of the bargain,” Cassie said.

“I want my patch.”

“I’m still feeling wound-up so I’m going for a run. Let yourself out after you’ve cleaned up, you’re covered in dried cum. I know how that feels,” Cassie smiled without humour.

Cassie was sprinting before she hit the door, full of nervous energy.

About one klick from her ranch house Cassie was running on a narrow track between the trees when Natalie Styles broke cover and started running beside her.

“How did it go?” Natalie asked keeping pace.

“Like clockwork,” Cassie grunted with exertion.

“My sources tell me you went off script,” Natalie looked sideways at Cassie.

“I thought of a better way to get the bank manager to capitulate,” Cassie grinned evilly.

The bank job had been set up by Natalie with two FBI agents undercover as the bank manager and his assistant. The manager had been fitted with a squib that was activated as soon as Cassie fired the blank, simulating a head shot and his brains spattering on the wall.

“You were supposed to force the manager to give up the combination by threatening Henry and Carol not by making them fuck each other,” Natalie grunted.

“They seemed to enjoy it,” Caddie smiled as she ran.

“How did you know those two agents were partners and dating each other?” Natalie asked.

“I didn’t have a clue; I just saw that guy checking out that woman and I could tell he wanted to fuck her so I changed the plan to make it look like blackmail,” Cassie shrugged her shoulders.

“Well it turns out Henry has no complaints but Carol is pissed that you fellated her fiance,” Natalie replied.

“She’ll get over it,” Cassie shrugged her shoulders.

Natalie just grunted.

“Pick up the pace bitch; you’re still too soft,” Natalie accelerated ahead of Cassie, her tight buttocks undulating nicely in her spandex tights.

They finished the run on a dirt road turnout where Natalie was parked. As usual Natalie lit a cigarette as soon as she’d finished the run and offered the pack to Cassie who refused and kept her head down panting, trying to get her breath back.

“Ok you’ve cost the FBI a shitload of money so it’s time to start earning. We have Intel that the Devil Dogs are running drugs and prostitutes out of Tijuana and are tied to the Medici Cartel. Your first job is to get us evidence to support a RICO prosecution,” Natalie leaned against the fender smoking.

Cassie took a cigarette and leaned on the car beside Natalie.

“The Beasts of Burden and the Devil Dogs have strong ties; as a probie I ran dope riding with the Dogs. First I’ve heard about the hookers though,” Cassie exhaled a plume of smoke.

“The girls are kidnapped by the Medici Cartel and smuggled into the USA and sold into prostitution. Some of them are young…real young. I’d really like to nail those assholes,” Natalie said.

“I’ll send you what we have on the secure laptop. Enjoy your patch party then get your skinny ass to work,” Natalie ground out her cigarette in the dust and climbed behind the wheel.

“Hey my ass ain’t skinny!” Cassie called through the car window.

“No you’re right. It’s not half bad,” Natalie grinned and spun the wheels of her car, raising a plume of dust as she accelerated away.

Cassie tried in vain to look over her own shoulder at her buttocks.

“I have a great ass!” she shouted after the receding vehicle.

She smiled to herself and started running again.

Dale called Steve Monahan, the club president, and got him to get the office bearers together. Dale handed over the money and the Sauer nine and told the assembled executive of the club how Cassie had organised and pulled off the job. He did not tell them about any of the sex.

“So the bitch wasted the bank manager?” Steve sounded impressed.

“She was fucking cold hearted about it too. Just blew him away,” Dale shook his head.

“I got the Secretary to do some digging with our friends south of the border. It seems our girl Cassie’s story holds up. Doctor Hernandez fixed her up after she escaped and she stayed at some fleapit hotel for nearly four months working for a couple of weeks as a hooker and then smuggling small quantities for Diego Martinez. When she had made enough money she got her tits done; we have copies of the medical records,” Steve said sagely.

“She worked for Martinez for a while longer, upping the ante until she had made enough money to return to California.”

“You know that bitch has a ranch house not far from where she lived before, and she even has a BMW cage as well as that high-end sled.”

“She just made us three hundred K so as far as I’m concerned she gets her patch just for tenacity and what she can earn for us. I don’t care if she’s a chick with a dick,” Steve shook his head incredulously.

Brin Sarsgaard leapt to his feet; he still had bruises on his face from where Cassie had beaten him.

“I don’t care if that tranny whore can make us a million bucks! This is bullshit! Who is gonna respect an MC that has a patched tranny riding with them!”

“I agree!” Kyle Shipton chipped in, as usual the follower.

“You know what Brin? You had your chance to take care of her and you blew it. You believed everything that skank Bendy Wendy said but still you and Kyle couldn’t keep your hands off her and your dicks away from her; and that’s before she even had tits!” Steve growled.

“You’ve had it in for Cameron Rivers and now Cassie Rivers since forever. Well fuck you Brin you’re fired!”

Brin rose and advanced threateningly on Steve Monahan who hit him with a roundhouse punch, knocking Brin to the floor.

“You know you were always were a lousy Sargent at Arms, a bit too cowardly and you even got beat up by a girl,” Steve sniped.

He nodded his head at Dale and he and another biker pulled Brin to his feet and stripped him of his denim jacket on which were stitched his colours.

Steve Monahan ripped the Sargent at Arms insignia off the jacket and tossed it at Dale Clifford.

“Any objections?” Steve looked around at his office bearers and they all nodded solemnly.

“Ok. You’re my man Dale. Get this piece of shit off our property,” Steve pointed at Brin.

“What about you Kyle? You following your Bro or staying patched with the Beasts?” Steve glared at Kyle Shipton.

Kyle just looked at the ground and shook his head.

“You fucking pussy!” Brin bellowed.

Dale punched Brin in the belly to shut him up.

“You fucking watch your back Kyle. You stick to the by-laws or I’ll have your patch next,” Steve said.

Dale and his comrade manhandled Brin Sarsgaard off the club property and pushed his bike out the gates and locked them. They went back to the meeting room where spirits had lifted as the guys counted the cash from bank job.

“Get everyone here tomorrow night at seven. Cassie gets her patch and were gonna party til we puke!” Steve threw two handfuls of cash in the air like confetti.

Dale called Cassie and told her the good news. Cassie did not get emotional over the phone, as far as she was concerned she was only getting what she had earned.

Cassie’s makeup was heavy, lots of black eyeliner and mascara, maroon and dark blue eyeshadow, rouge and ruby red lips with a shiny long-lasting lipgloss. Her shoulder-length black hair; straight-cut with subtle ruby highlights and bangs streamed behind her as she gunned her Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide down the freeway.

She was wearing tight black leather pants with a pair of black pantyhose under them, a black spandex-cotton blend longsleeved T-shirt, her fitted leather jacket and black leather calf-high boots.

“Fuck the helmet laws!” she had cried as she raced to her patch ceremony.

Cassie arrived at the Beasts of Burden clubhouse at exactly seven thirty as instructed.

Every full-patch member of the Beasts of Burden MC and most of the prospects were outside the clubhouse and applauded and cheered Cassie as she rode through the gates. Two prospects closed and locked the gates and took up positions as lookouts in the event of trouble; the rest of the MC was about to get wasted.

The members retired to the clubhouse and formed a circle around Steve Monahan who called Cassie forward. She stepped into the circle and stood before Steve Monahan, her head held high.

Steve Monahan held out a denim vest with the an embroidered snarling wolf insignia on the back in the centre of the vest. A rocker above the wolf insignia, emblazoned in gold letters on a black background read ‘Beasts of Burden’ and a similar rocker below read ‘Los Angeles California’. On the front of the vest was the usual OMC 1% badge high on the right breast and below it, again in gold on black, was the patch ‘Original’ indicating that Cassie was a member of the founding chapter.

Over the Original insignia was another patch that read ‘Men Of Mayhem’. This special patch was worn by a club member who has committed violence against someone on behalf or in the best interest of the club; usually it was given for committing murder.

On the left breast was the stylised emblem of a woman riding a hog with the words ‘Biker Bitch’ above and ‘Don’t Fuck With Me’ below. This patch indicated that that the MC had given Cassie a ‘Road Name’; in this case Biker Bitch.

Cassie felt so proud and she held out her arms so that Steve could put the denim vest, which was in effect a Levis jeans jacket with the arms and collar cut off, over her leathers.

She walked the circle hugging the patch-holders and shaking hands with the prospects. The old ladies and mommas had to wait outside until the ceremony was over but then they poured through the door and congratulated Cassie.

They were proud of her; the first female full-patch member of the Beasts of Burden MC. Sure Cassie was a transsexual but as far as they were concerned she was still a chick.

Lots of alcohol was consumed and as was the custom Cassie had to have a drink with every full-patch member and probie; the full-patch members poured beer on Cassie’s colours to wear them in. A patch-holder’s colours were worn until they basically disintegrated and were then replaced and bikers were proud of their stained and faded ‘Cuts’ as they called them.

Around midnight Cassie found herself sitting at the bar with Steve Monahan, Dale Clifford and couple of other patch-holders.

“That’s some story Dale tells of you over in Nevada,” Steve pointed to Cassie’s Men of Mayhem patch.

No one ever admitted to a crime outside the sanctity of church. The meeting room was swept daily for bugs and other forms of surveillance, even the windows had RF-proofing mesh in them. Every OMC knew they were under surveillance from law enforcement and took appropriate precautions.

“Well the fucker wouldn’t dance so I tuned him into a wallflower,” Cassie knocked back her shot of Jack and followed it with chug of Miller Lite.

“You are one cold bitch,” one of the bikers commented staring at the bar.

“And we appreciate your entrance fee to the club,” Steve smiled around his cigar.

Cassie was smoking a stogie and she blew on the tip to get it red hot and took a long drag.

“I got another proposition for you mister president,” Cassie studied the end of her cigar.

“Please call me Steve or Beast,” Steve replied.

Beast was Steve’s road name, passed down from the founding member, Cassie’s father.

“Well Beast, this one’s tricky but the pay off should be big. I’ll talk to Dale about it in detail a more private setting and then we can see what you think,” Cassie smiled.

Steve had had a lot to drink and he was starting to think to himself that tranny or not, Cassie was one hot lady.

“Put the proposal to Dale later; let’s party for now,” Steve grinned.

He jumped on the bar and proposed a toast to Cassie. Whiskey was passed around and they drank. The party raged until the early morning.

At around three in the morning Kyle Shipton sidled up to Cassie and grabbed her by the ass.

“It wasn’t that long ago that you were chained to that billiard table and I was fucking you in the ass,” he mumbled drunkenly in Cassie’s ear.

Dale overheard Kyle and was about to step in but Cassie held up a hand to stop him. The club went quiet, sensing trouble; the crowd wondering how Cassie would handle herself.

Cassie leaned into Kyle and whispered back.

“And you were the lousiest fuck of them all, you limp-dick shithead,” she clamped her teeth on his ear and bit most of it off and spat it on the floor.

Kyle howled like a banshee and Cassie spun around and kicked him in the balls while the rest of crowd roared their approval. The new patch-holder was indeed a real Biker Bitch.

Cassie rode home in the early morning light and slept until the next evening. She got up, made sure the place was locked up, and opened the FBI laptop. She spent the evening reviewing the files that Natalie had sent her and was about to call Dale when her phone vibrated.

“You must have ESP I was about to call you,” Cassie said into her phone.

She listened for a while and then replied.

“Yes that’s right I wanna talk to you about our next job so why don’t you come around here and fuck me a little and then I can tell you my proposal,” Cassie grinned into the phone.

An hour later she heard Dale’s bike pull up in her courtyard. She was prepared for him.

She’d showered and put on makeup and bathed herself in perfume. She wanted to be feminine for him so she was wearing pink satin and lace panties, a matching suspender belt, long black stockings, red highheels and an open black satin robe.

She met him at the door that way and he took her in his arms and kissed her all the way to the bedroom where he lowered her on her huge bed. Cassie wanted to be made love to like a woman; she was tired of being the aggressor and Dale picked up on the nuance.

He took his time, kissing her softly at first, tentatively slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands sought her breasts but was patient and at first just caressed them through the satin and lace, feeling her nipples harden and the quickening of her breathing in his mouth. He teased her, his fingers tracing down her firm abdomen until they came to the waistband of her panties where his hand stopped and massaged her taught belly.

His other hand found the clasp and undid her brassiere, releasing her breasts from the cups and softly stroking her pale globes, only occasionally grazing her nipples with his fingertips.

Dale was driving Cassie wild with his gentle caresses and she loved him for it. She felt so appreciated and feminine.

He squeezed one nipple and then the other and Cassie gasped. He tweaked her nipples, but gently, feeling them harden further and he kissed her a little more fervently.

Then his other hand dropped down further and found her hard in her panties. He felt Cassie freeze, wondering if Dale would find her penis repugnant but he didn’t stop, his finger traced the outline of Cassie’s erection through the satin panty.

Cassie began to shake and push up against his hand.

“Uh, uh!” Dale admonished her gently.

“Let me drive,” he whispered in her mouth and kissed her a little harder and squeezed her cock.

His fingers pressed harder on her nipples, moving from breast to breast while his other hand massaged her hard cock through her panties. He broke the kiss so he could lower his face to her bosom and suck and nibble on her breasts and Cassie lay back and groaned.

With two hands free Dale was able to slide one inside her panties and found her fully erect, the flesh smooth, sleek and hot. Precum was dribbling from Cassie’s glans and Dale smeared it over her cock and slowly stroked it. His other hand came in behind the back of her panties and found her puckered anal bud. He smeared her precum on a finger and slid it inside her and worked the tip against her prostate.

Cassie moaned and put her fingers in Dale’s hair and pushed his face to her bosom, encouraging him to suckle on her tits, which Dale was happy to do as his hands worked their magic on her penis and anus.

When he felt it was right Dale knelt between her legs and lowered his face along her body, licking her taut abdomen and flicking his tongue on her belly-button ring then moving further down. He pulled down her panties and her erect cock sprang free.

Cassie was trying to bring his face back up to her breast or his lips to hers but he resisted. He put her stockinged legs over his shoulder and engulfed her penis.

Cassie screamed and writhed underneath him.

She tried to pull his head from her crotch; she didn’t want Dale to do something because he thought he had to, but Dale resisted. He sucked on her penis and slid his finger into her back passage and tweaked her nipples with his other hand.

Cassie arched her back and began to shudder as Dale sucked her cock, working his tongue on her glans and his lips up and down her pulsating shaft. His finger worked in and out of her anus.

Cassie was jabbering incoherently as her body arched and spasmed; she entwined her fingers in Dale’s hair and pushed her groin up, forcing her cock all the way into Dale’s mouth.

Dale was swallowing copious amounts of precum and Cassie’s anus was beginning to convulse; he knew she was close.

He tore his face away from her groin and held onto her thighs; he sat between her open legs and pulled her to him, punching his cock into her anus and began to fuck her. He took her cock in his hand and masturbated her in time with the long slow strokes as he fucked the gorgeous creature mewing on the bed.

Cassie convulsed and felt her sphincter tighten and her anus spasm, long ropes of semen spewed from her cock as he milked her, his cock working its way deeper inside her.

“Oh god!!!” Cassie let out one long scream as she orgasmed.

When she had finished coming Dale eased his still erect cock from her anus and lay beside her. He held her to him and kissed her. He stroked her hair and she stroked his face.

“That was wonderful Dale,” Cassie whimpered.

She snuggled up to him and held him close while they kissed and soon became aware of his cock poking her in the belly.

“You didn’t come?” she looked into his eyes questioningly.

“I didn’t want to. I wanted to please you,” Dale smiled down at her.

Cassie’s smile became mischievous.

“In that case I’m going to take another ride,” she grinned and began to mount him.

“What about the business?” Dale teased.

“Fuck the business; we can talk about it later,” she bit him playfully on the lip and then lowered herself onto his rampant phallus.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Six: Control Top

“So down to business,” Cassie said as she lay in Dale’s arms.

“You know as a prospect I ran dope with the Devil Dogs MC?”

“Sure. We work with the Devils on a couple of things that are of mutual benefit,” Dale blew smoke at the ceiling.

“Well while I was in hiding in Mexico I ran junk for Diego Martinez for a while. I made some good cash. But I also found out the Dogs were short-changing the Beasts,” Cassie lit her own cigarette.

Dale turned sideways and rested his head on his hand; Cassie had his full attention.

“We’re fifty-fifty on everything we do together with the Devil Dogs; that’s the deal,” Dale said, his tone quite serious.

“They’re undercutting us and they have other business with the Medici Cartel that we are not getting anything from,” Cassie continued.

“Look; the Dogs know me from when I was Cameron and Diego knows me as Cassie and he knows he can trust me. I’m proposing that Steve Monahan second me to the Devil Dogs for a while to work with them. I’ll find more about how those fuckers are screwing us and how we make a sting on them,” Cassie proposed.

Dale pulled Cassie over on her side so she faced him.

“This sounds fucking dangerous Cassie. I’m not sure I’m going to go for it,” Dale looked her in the eye.

Cassie got angry.

“I’m not some piece of pussy for you to use Dale. I’m a patch-holder with the Beasts of Burden and I need to earn just like the rest of the club members. Those fuckers in the Devil Dogs will behave just like you, thinking I’m some cooze who can be walked over or ignored; I’ll get in there deep and they will be the ones fucked over,” Cassie snapped back at Dale.

“Just make the proposition to Steve or I’ll do it myself,” Cassie continued.

Cassie sat up and got out of bed.

“I’m taking a shower. You can wash my stink off you at home,” Cassie turned away from Dale and strode to the bathroom.

“Fucking women!” Dale shook his head and reached for his clothes.

Cassie crossed the border at Tijuana and rode east to Mexicali. She had panniers hitched to the sides of her ride with some clothes, personal items, and the FBI pelican case with the surveillance equipment inside. Her mind was racing as she approached the outskirts of Mexicali and the Devil Dogs temporary clubhouse.

She rode up to the clubhouse, killed the engine, put her bike on its stand and took off her helmet and shook out her hair. The shingle out front of the building had the stylised emblem of a German Shepherd with a devil’s tail, holding a pitchfork; Cassie had always though the Devil Dogs patch was corny.

The sound of her bike had roused a couple of bikers from the clubhouse. Most of the devil Dogs were Latinos and they looked at her with outright scorn.

One of the Devil Dogs stepped down off the stoop and approached Cassie, looking her up and down. He was Latino, with a Mustachio Pete moustache and a beer gut hanging down over his belt.

“You’re the putta the Beasts of Burden have sent to us? We’ve heard of you. You got a dick hidden in those tight jeans I heard. And you wear a pull patch! Fucking disgrace. I ought to bend you over that tricked out sled and fuck you up the ass right here,” he chuckled and looked back at his brothers and grinned, seeking their approval.

Cassie twisted her head and rubbed at the knot in her neck. It had been a long ride.

“Well why don’t you come over and fuck me then fatso; that’s if you can find your teeny-weeny wiener under that lard,” Cassie tossed her hair and opened her legs slightly in a fighter’s stance.

The Devil Dog realised he might have bitten off more than he could chew and his brothers on the stoop moved forward to watch; their interest piqued.

The fat Latino biker began to sweat. He could see that this chick was lithe and muscled; she would be fast and strong.

“I’ll let you go this time bitch; I got better things to do,” the biker said his voice faltering.

He turned his back and began to walk away.

The brothers on the stoop were not impressed and let him know with their disapproving glares.

“Fuck that fatso; I ain’t finished with you. Come on and take me, you pussy!” Cassie yelled.

The biker knew he had no choice and he turned and ran at Cassie hoping to catch her by surprise. She simply stepped aside and tripped the fat biker up, pulling him down on his back in the dust. Cassie leapt on him and pulled the Gerber Guardian Tanto knife from her boot and put it to his sweaty throat.

The fat Latino swallowed; fear in his eyes. He looked up and saw no emotion in Cassie’s eyes at all.

Diego Martinez came out of the clubhouse and stood on the stoop and surveyed the scene. He began to clap slowly and the other bikers joined him.

“Let him up Cassandra. You’ve taught him what he needs to know,” Diego called across the dusty carpark.

Cassie turned her head towards Diego Martinez and then tuned back to the Mustachio Pete. She smiled at him viciously and whipped the knife across his throat.

A thin line of blood appeared; but it was only a flesh wound.

The biker pissed his pants and cried out.

Cassie guffawed in his face and got off him. She wiped her knife on his jacket and slid it back in her boot holster.

“Hello Diego,” she smiled at Diego Martinez.

“Hello Cassandra. You making friends as usual,” Diego grinned and waved at her to come on over to the clubhouse.

The brothers of The Devil Dogs parted and let Cassie pass; she left behind a scintilla of perfume and they all looked at her tight ass in those black skinny jeans as she walked between them. Cassie felt their gaze and spun on her heels.

“Boo!” she feigned reaching for her knife and they all flinched.

Cassie sniggered and went through the door into the clubhouse.

Diego poured two shots of tequila and gave one to Cassie. They clinked glasses and skulled the shots and then he poured two more which they sipped.

“Hey Miguel; come meet Cassie,” Diego called.

A tall, tanned, handsome Latino came from out of a back room. He had a thin scar running down his left cheek and was muscled and wore his colours proudly. As well as his club patch he wore Men of Mayhem and a Sargent at Arms patches. His hair was long and dark and he was heavily tattooed. His blue eyes were striking, contrasting with his dark complexion.

Diego poured Miguel a shot as he approached and stopped short of them both and looked Cassie up and down. It was not predatory or sexual, he was assessing her as an adversary, assessing her strengths and weaknesses and Cassie appreciated that he was treating her like an equal.

He pointed his chin at her Men of Mayhem patch, held out his drink in salutation, and skulled it.

Diego took the bottle of tequila and led them to a table at the back of the clubhouse bar.

“Miguel Rodriguez this is Cassandra Rivers. Cassie this is Miguel,” he made the introductions and they nodded at each other and drank.

A prospect came over and put a six pack of beer in a tub of ice on the table and Cassie gratefully took one and downed it in three swallows.

“Thirsty work riding from LA to Mexicali; and then having to fight Fat Louis eh?” Miguel chuckled.

They all laughed and took a beer.

“You rode with us before when you were a prospect for the Beasts,” Miguel commented.

“Yeah. I looked a little different then,” Cassie smiled in a non-committal way.

“Hey. You don’t get to wear that patch unless you earned it and I just saw you handle yourself; I don’t care about gender or sexuality and all that PC shit. Everyone for themselves. I just want to deal with honest, genuine people,” Miguel said.

Cassie tipped her beer at him and smiled.

“Of course it helps if they’re pretty, have a great rack, a tight ass, and can fight like a ninja,” Miguel joked.

“Back atcha,” Cassie smiled.

The ice was broken and they all laughed.

Miguel stood and picked up the bottle of tequila and nodded at his prosect to bring more beer and the three of them retired to the back room.

Cassie checked that the small microphone and camera hidden in two of the buttons of her Cut were clear so they could record the conversation. The surveillance equipment was so small that it had a wifi link to a receiver about the size of a small USB flash-drive hidden in the bottom of her package of Marlboro Menthol Lights to record the video and audio.

“Ok lets cut to it,” Diego said as soon as the probie left.

He poured more shots to go with their ice cold beers.

“The Beasts of Burden have sent one of their best and the Devil Dogs have their Master at Arms here so this isn’t any penny ante shit,” Diego continued.

“The Medici’s want the next run to be a real payday. We have modified a truck with a false bottom that can carry one hundred kilos of product and a false panel in the back, behind which will be concealed twenty sweet little things that will fetch between thirty and fifty thousand dollars each on the market in the USA.”

Miguel whistled.

“That’s a lot of product and skin to have in one package,” he speculated.

Cassie interjected.

“Hey! The Beasts have been good to you guys. Helping you bring in product and storing it for you to distribute but we haven't seen any reward for the girls,” Cassie made the case for the Beasts as she had been directed to do.

“It has been remiss of us; we saw the people smuggling as a specialty line but in this case we go half in the dividends,” Miguel said and took a long pull on his beer.

“So how does this go down?” Cassie asked.

“We run a diversion. The Beasts and the Devils will each give up a prospect who is willing to do small time. The prospects will get caught at the border crossing with just under a kilo of high quality weed. The Border Guards will go apeshit and start blowing each other as usual when they make the sting. But our truck will be next in line and will most likely be ignored,” Diego explained.

“I want the Beasts and the Dogs providing protection from Mexicali to Tijuana and then from the border crossing to the two stash houses; one house for the dope and one house for the girls.”

“Seems simple enough,” Cassie downed a shot.

“It’s just like a normal run but with a diversion and of course a huge score in the truck. I’m not really happy about having the girls and the dope in the same rig,” Miguel mused and spun his shot glass on the table.

“Fuck Miguel! It’s easy money and if we prove this works we treble our profit with every load,” Diego laughed.

“Ok. We’re all in then,” Miguel downed his shot.

“Well I’m beat and I gotta call back to my guys and get a possie down here. Is there anywhere decent in this shithole to stay?” Cassie asked.

“I got a two room apartment five klicks down the road. It’s quiet and it’s safe,” Miguel spread his hands.

“Hey I’d like to help you Cassie but I gotta get back to Mister Medici and report our progress in person,” Diego apologised.

“Ok Speedy Gonzales. Looks like I’m staying at your crib but no funny business ok?” Cassie smiled at Miguel.

“Hey Cassandra; mi casa es su casa,” Miguel smiled back.

“Then we are agreed then. We make this happen. Salud,” Diego poured three shots and they clicked glasses and skulled them.

Cassie followed Miguel and they pulled into a small block of apartments about fifteen minutes from the clubhouse. The courtyard had a presentable cactus garden and a small pool in which three brats were splashing.

Cassie was exhausted and followed Miguel up a flight of stairs to the second floor. They entered a small, well maintained apartment and Miguel showed Cassie to the neat second bedroom. She dropped her panniers and her backpack, locked the door, kicked off her boots, shucked off her jeans and jacket and collapsed on the bed.

She awoke with sunlight streaming in through the window; the room was warming up. It took her a few seconds to register where she was. She was lying on a strange bed wearing only tan control-top pantyhose and a spandex-cotton blend short-sleeved T-shirt. The pantyhose helped her shimmy into the skintight jeans and leathers she like to wear, which had become her trademark. They also helped her tuck and she could often get away without a gaff.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head, the long ride, the fighting, the beer and tequila had taken their toll. She got up and went to the door, opened it a crack and saw no movement. She padded down the hallway and was just outside the bathroom when Miguel came out shrouded in a cloud of steam.

They were both surprised and jumped a little. They smiled at each other gave each other the once over. Miguel was naked except for a white towel around his waist, he was dark-skinned and well muscled; he had the obligatory biker tattoos and fair share of scars on his body to match the thin scar running down his left cheek. His long black hair was still wet and hung to his shoulders, small droplets of water sparkled in the morning light before dropping onto his shoulder.

Cassie smiled up at him coyly, acutely aware that her hair was dishevelled, her makeup smudged and that she was dressed only in pantyhose and T-shirt.

Miguel extended a finger and lightly touched the dark band of her control top where it joined the sheer nylon on her leg.

“Not many women wear nylons nowadays,” he commented, his voice dry.

“I like them and almost always wear them. These are just cheap ones I wear under my jeans and leathers,” Cassie replied, her voice also raspy.

“I like the contrast in the colour and the way they feel,” his fingers began to stroke her nyloned thigh.

“Most guys prefer stockings,” Cassie whispered.

“Oh I like those too,” Miguel had now placed his big hand on her thigh and was massaging it.

Cassie gasped.

She looked up into his deep blue eyes and saw the wantonness there. She opened her lips slightly; and licked her ‘everlast’ lipstick to give it a sheen.

Miguel bought his other hand into play and he cupped her pert behind. He gently squeezed her buttocks eliciting another gasp from Cassie.

Cassie reached for the towel around Miguel’s waist and pulled it free. It dropped to the floor and his enormous erection sprang free.

Miguel pulled Cassie into him so that his phallus slid snugly between her thighs and rubbed on her crotch. Cassie closed her legs around the hard member and leaned forward. Miguel placed both his hands on her buttocks and pulled her close to him so that her body pressed against his.

“I haven’t showered,” Cassie whispered apologetically.

Miguel leaned down and kissed her, holding her close. He tightly gripped her buttocks so that she could rock and forth on the balls of her feet. Cassie melted in his embrace and slid her tongue into his mouth and put her arms around his muscled torso. She was becoming aroused and her erection was painful, pushed under her groin, trapped by the control-top. Miguel’s cock was rubbing against it through the nylon; her thighs guiding it as he thrust in and out of them.

“You like that?” Miguel whispered.

Cassie nodded.

“Do you?” Cassie replied.

“Mmm,” was Miguel’s reply.

Miguel tightened his grip under her buttocks and lifted her off her feet and Cassie instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist; he sighed as her silken-hosed legs rubbed on his torso.

Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as Miguel spun around and pressed her back against the wall; his hands under her thighs taking the weight. He lunged backwards and forwards, pressing his erection against her pantyhosed crotch.

Miguel surprised Cassie when he took a hand off her thigh and reached between her legs. He freed her erection from under her groin so that it lay upwards, still encased the gauzy control-top.

“Better?” he grinned, his cock pushing against hers through the layer of diaphanous fabric.

“Mmm,” it was Cassie’s turn to respond with just a sigh.

They kissed and rubbed against each other, Cassie’s nylons becoming wet with their pre-seminal fluid. Cassie held onto Miguel who pressed her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he humped at her.

“This is lovely I could come like this,” he whispered in Cassie’s ear.

“Mmm,” Cassie responded, she too was not far from ejaculation.

“But I’m not going to,” Miguel chuckled.

He let go of Cassie’s thighs and her feet fell to the floor. Before she had time to be disappointed Miguel spun her around so that she was facing the wall, his weight pressing her flat against it. His cock nestled between her buttocks and poked at her sphincter.

Cassie gasped and wriggled her buttocks in encouragement. Miguel snaked a hand between their bodies, his finger snagging the gusset of her pantyhose; he tore a hole just big enough to get his cock through.

He wet his cock with spittle and poked it through the hole and pressed it on Cassie’s sphincter.

“Ok?” he whispered in her ear.

Cassie’s reply was to push her buttocks back against him, forcing the glans of his cock inside her sphincter. Miguel held it there; letting his precum leak inside her, lubricating her.

Cassie screamed with both pain and delight as Miguel’s huge thick cock slowly penetrated her. He pushed it all the way until his groin pressed against her buttocks. Cassie was panting, bearing the pain and the pleasure.

“Ok?” he whispered again.

Again Cassie pushed back against him encouraging him to fuck her which he did with long slow strokes.

His precum was now providing enough lubrication so that Cassie could enjoy the enormous cock filling her ass. It felt so wonderful and it’s girth prodded at her prostate and stimulated the delicate nerves around her sphincter. She wriggled her backside to further stimulate Miguel and he growled his appreciation.

Cassie turned her head sideways so that Miguel could kiss her. He kissed her hard and passionately as he thrust his cock in and out of her tight anus. He held her by the hips against the wall and began to violently fuck Cassie who screamed with lust and desire.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” she cried as her orgasm approached.

Cassie leaned against the wall and thrust her buttocks out; Miguel gripped her thighs even tighter as he pounded his cock in and out of her, making ‘thwok, thwok, thwok’ sounds in the still house. He pressed a hand on Cassie’s cock and squeezed it through the sheer panty and drove himself deep inside her and came. Pulsing jets of hot semen filled her ass. Cassie orgasmed and Miguel stroked and squeezed her, milking her of her cum.

They both shuddered with desire as they orgasmed; Cassie wriggled her ass violently against Miguel’s groin and pushed back hard as he pulled her to him and squeezed the last of her load from her cock.

When they were both sated Miguel kissed her and reluctantly let his cock withdraw from her tight ass. A rivulet of cum ran from Cassie’s sphincter and soaked into her nylons. Miguel spun her around and kissed her again. Cassie put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

After a long passionate kiss Cassie was acutely aware that she had an unwashed body, un-brushed teeth, cummy nylons, and that her ass was leaking semen. She needed to shower badly.

She gently pushed Miguel away to arms distance and then disengaged. She turned towards the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Miguel growled playfully.

“I stink! I need a shower,” Cassie replied.

“I haven’t finished with you yet,” Miguel chuckled.

He reached out and picked Cassie up and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down you big lunk!” Cassie flailed at him and kicked her legs in the air, pretending to fight.

Miguel was striding down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“I’m going to. And then I’m going to fuck you again,” Miguel laughed.

“Well only if you insist,” Cassie laughed.

Miguel tossed Cassie on the bed and she squealed. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her down on the bed and fell on top of her and began to kiss her. She kissed him back and wrapped her legs around him. They were both becoming hard again, their cocks chafing through Cassie’s semen-soaked pantyhose.

Cassie’s iphone began to buzz on the bedside table and she reached out to get it.

“Leave it,” Miguel grunted, his voice filled with lust.

He reached out to grab but it fell from his grasp, his fingers sliding across the face of the phone. The phone fell to the floor and Natalie Styles was able to listen to the two of them making love before she finally hung up, smiling.

Showered and changed into clean clothes Cassie called Natalie and gave her a sitrep.

“I’ll send you details in an email but the way I see this going down is you wait for us to get across the border. The truck is going to take a secondary road about five miles across the border and then detour down a dirt road, if you set up there you should be able take us all down,” Cassie said.

“What about the Beasts of Burden Cassie? We can take the Devil Dogs but how do we not take your guys as well?” Natalie asked.

“Well I have a plan for that,” Cassie said.

Cassie explained her plan to Natalie who thought Cassie was a genius.

“Look I’ve got everything under control. I’ll send you the details of the truck and the route in the email. I’ve got recordings of the Dogs doing the deal with Diego Martinez and the Medici Cartel and I’ve have video too but I propose we let Diego escape. I can do another deal with him and work him for a another sting. This time you take out the Devil Dogs and then we go after bigger fish,” Cassie proposed.

“Well aren’t you just the little plotter and schemer?” Natalie said sarcastically.

“All jokes aside you’re right Cassie. We roll with your plan,” Natalie conceded.

“What about Miguel Rodriguez Cassie? You two seem to be hitting it off pretty well,” Cassie could hear the taunt in Natalie’s tone.

“The fucking iphone!” Cassie sighed.

“Yeah the fucking iphone,” Natalie laughed.

“Miguel Rodriguez is a good fuck but he’s still buckwheat; he’s collateral damage,” Cassie said lighting a Marlboro.

“And Dale Clifford?” Natalie mused.

“Sorry, I’m entering a tunnel…I’m losing you,” Cassie chuckled.

“Fuck you Miss Rivers,” Natalie laughed.

“Not a chance Miss Styles,” Cassie killed the call.

Five members of the Beasts of Burden arrived that afternoon, one of them was a prospect who knew he was going to prison today. There were eight Devil Dogs including Miguel Rodriguez, who gave the briefing.

“You two Probies will be carrying these,” Miguel put two bricks of high-grade marijuana on the bar.

“The drug dogs at the border will go apeshit when they smell that shit and you’ll get pulled out of line and because you’re bikers those numbnut Customs agents will gather around you like flies on shit. The truck should then get waved through. It helps that a couple of the Customs agents are on the take,” Miguel grinned.

Cassie’s ears pricked up; this was the first she knew of this.

“We keep going on the highway until we get to the turnoff, we follow that for five miles then we turn right on a dirt road for a couple of miles and we get to the first stash house. We unload the girls there and then get the fuck out of there to the second stash house two blocks from the Beasts of Burden clubhouse and unload the drugs. It’s a long ride so take it easy,” Miguel cautioned.

“I’ll be Road Captain and ride out front; the two sacrificial prospects will ride ahead of me when we approach the border. You guys will ride in two packs, one ahead and one behind the truck and the cage which Diego Martinez will be driving. Cassie rides tail gunner in case we get trouble from behind. Ok?” Miguel explained.

Everyone nodded.

“One other thing. I’ve got a kilo of C4 explosive under that truck wired to a remote detonator. If it all goes to shit I’m going to blow that truck so there is no evidence to speak of,” Miguel grinned evilly.

“What about the driver?” one of the bikers asked.

“Doesn’t know and never will. He’ll give his life for the cause; now saddle up lady and gentlemen, we got a long ride ahead of us,” Miguel ordered.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Cassie hissed as she followed the convoy.

She had no way of warning Natalie about the bomb under the truck.

Cassie had recorded Miguel giving directions to the team and she had a go-pro camera hidden in the visor of her helmet. But the bomb! What was she going to do about the bomb!

The plan went like clockwork and the two prospects got nailed at the border as expected and the truck and the car with Diego at the wheel rolled through. The bikers were pulled over as usual because they were wearing their colours but they fully expected to be sent on their way once the Border guards had bullshitted them a bit.

The Beasts and Dogs pulled over in a bunch and the Border guard motioned for them to kill their engines.

“What the fuck man!” Miguel complained pulling off his helmet.

“Hey we got wants and warrants for two male Beasts of Burden bikers. You guys wearing Devil Dogs colours can leave, so can that chick; but we’re checking these five riders out for felonies. Hang around if you want but it could take a while,” the Border guard grinned.

“Mother fucker!” Miguel hissed.

“I can call ahead and get the truck to pull over,” Cassie reached for her iphone, hoping to text Natalie after she’d made the call.

“Hey! No fucking phones! You know better than that!” Miguel said angrily.

“Looks like you Beast of Burden motherfuckers are shit out of luck today. Us Devil Dogs will escort the truck, Cassie takes up tail gunner again and you guys catch up when these Customs motherfuckers have finished screwing with you,” Miguel pulled down his visor and kicked over his ride.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders at her five compatriots and fired up her Super Glide. She followed the Devil Dogs through the border crossing and found the truck and Diego waiting for them at the nearest rest stop.

“At least that part of the plan worked,” Cassie said to herself.

Cassie had got Natalie to get the FBI to arrange with Customs to stop the Beasts of Burden Bikers at the border crossing and hold them up so they wouldn’t get caught in the sting.

As the convoy approached the dirt road to the safe house Cassie had devised a risky plan which she didn’t think had much chance of success but it was all she had.

As they came around the bend Cassie saw the flashing lights of the FBI vehicles forming a roadblock and she eased the Glock G43 9mm pistol from inside her jacket. She accelerated as fast as she could past the sedan Diego was driving, past the truck, past the other bikers, and caught up with Miguel Martinez just as he skidded to a stop and reached inside his jacket and pulled out the remote control squib for the bomb.

When Cassie pulled up beside him he turned to face her and she saw the look of betrayal on his face.

Cassie shot him twice in the head and turned around and went back to the car being driven by Diego Martinez.

“It’s a fucking trap Diego! Miguel and the Dogs have sold us out. Quick get on the back!” Cassie screamed through the window.

Diego looked confused but he soon recovered. He looked down the road and saw men and women in combat gear and armour wearing blue vests and jackets with yellow FBI logos on them advancing on the truck with drawn weapons. He leapt out of the car.

“You’re riding bitch,” Cassie said, meaning he was to get on the bike behind her.

Diego leapt on the back of the big Harley Davidson and hung on as Cassie gunned the bike and took off down the road.

The FBI agents advanced on the truck and the Devil Dogs who were too stunned to do anything other than sit on their bikes and put their hands in the air. One of the agents took a bead on Cassie and Natalie put out a hand and forced him to lower his weapon.

“That’s the one that got away,” she crushed out her cigarette under her Christian Louboutin and immediately lit another one.

“How the fuck do you even work in the field with those fuck-off highheels and that fucking chain smoking?” the agent sounded exasperated.

“Years of practice my boy. Years of practice,” Natalie grinned.

She watched Cassie disappear around a bend in cloud of a dust with Diego Martinez hanging on for dear life.

“Biker Bitch indeed,” she smiled to herself.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Seven: Tradecraft

Cassie Rode back across the border to Mexicali and let Diego call in some Cartel guys to pick him up.

“Those fucking Devil Dogs Cassie! Why would they do that?” he was angry but also confused.

“That fucking Miguel Rodriguez was obviously a rat. Did you see him waving at those Feebee fucks!” Cassie spat.

“I though he was going for his detonator,” Diego said.

“Fuck no Diego! He was holding it up but waving it around. He had plenty of time to use it. Why do you think I shot him?” Cassie looked sagely at Diego.

“The Medici Cartel has done a lot of work with both MCs so I’ll have to go back and think about this and talk to the other Jefes Cassie,” Diego said as a black Mercedes with blacked out windows approached.

“Well think about it hard Diego. Adios,” Cassie said and rode off.

She had no intention of sticking around when those Cartel motherfuckers arrived. They tended to be wild-eyed pistol-wavers with a short fuse.

Cassie went straight home and called Natalie.

“I’ll upload the rest of the audio and video I have for you,” Cassie said.

“How are you feeling?” Natalie sounded like she sincerely cared.

“Fine,” Cassie replied curtly.

“That wasn’t a dummy round this time Cassie. You blew the head off Miguel Rodriguez,” Natalie stated.

“It was that or twenty innocent girls got blown to hell,” Cassie began to choke.

“Yeah we found the bomb. I guessed that you didn’t find out about the bomb until it was too late to warn us,” Natalie said.

“You did good girl,” Natalie said in a soothing tone.

“Yeah? I blew away the guy who I had made love to only that morning,” Cassie whimpered.

“Remember your tradecraft Cassie, ok?” Natalie said.

The connection remained silent for a while.

“Cassie? Cassie?” Natalie sounded concerned.

“Yeah. Go on,” Cassie cleared her throat and lit a cigarette.

“We have to clear you of this. There can’t be any suspicion that you were the rat,” Natalie said.

“Ok?” Cassie said in a questioning tone.

“The FBI knows that the Beasts of Burden were involved in the drugs and the girl smuggling. We have to behave like we’re pissed that we didn’t get you.”

“At your next church meeting we’re going to raid the MC. It will be vicious and we’re going to target you. I’m only telling you this so you know what’s coming,” Natalie said.

“Yeah ok,” Cassie whispered and broke the connection.

Natalie looked down at her iphone and then tossed it on her couch and reached for the bottle of scotch on the coffee table and lit a cigarette.

“Sometimes I hate my fucking job,” she sighed, exhaling blue smoke.

Cassie came in early for the next church meeting and sat down with the office holders. She spoke directly to the President, Steve Monahan.

“Looks like the Devil Dogs are wiped out. Eight full-patch members got caught in that sting, five others got arrested at their clubhouse including the President and the others are on the run,” Cassie said.

“Yeah but we missed out on the money from the dope and the whores!” Steve snapped.

“If I may be so bold. Look on the bright side. The Medici Cartel only have us now to run product and girls for them. When the heat comes off we take everything and we don’t have to share. I’ll go down and see Diego and we negotiate,” Cassie lay her hands on the table.

“This bitch has really moved on eh Steve? A few months ago we were going to bury her in the desert; now she wears our patch, robs banks and makes deals with the Cartel,” Snake Gibbons, the club secretary said.

“How do we know we can trust her…she ain't even a real chick she….”

Snake never got to finish his sentence. The front doors of the clubhouse crashed open and FBI agents poured into the MC. The doors to the conference room were flung open and Federal agents in full combat gear rushed in, weapons raised.

“Ok outside in the bar with the rest of the MC you motherfuckers!” an agent growled.

The rest of the MC were in the bar waiting for church to begin and all of them had their hands behind their heads while the by FBI agents covered them with their weapons.

The code for any OMC member is to say nothing to law enforcement. You say nothing to provoke them, you say nothing to alibi yourself, and you answer no questions at all, no matter what. Many a biker has gone to jail when he could just as easy alibi himself; but the code of silence forbids it.

Everyone was silent while the Feds frisked them and lined them against the bar. The guy who frisked Cassie took his time and felt her up, squeezing her tits and her ass. She held her head up and took it. The other members were angry; she was one of them now. Dale Clifford started to growl and Steve Monahan scowled at him, warning him with a glare to remain calm. The MC was not stupid enough to keep anything on the premises that could incriminate themselves and this would soon be over with. This wasn’t the first time the clubhouse had been roused by law enforcement.

Natalie Styles walked through the door. She was wearing her usual tight-fitting navy blue business suit, ultra-sheer pantyhose that gave her long well formed legs a lustrous sheen, and black patent-leather Christian Louboutin highheels. Her ginger hair was styled with layered bangs and rested on her shoulders, her makeup emphasised her peaches-and-cream complexion and she wore heavy black mascara and bright-red lipstick.

All the bikers looked at her with both lust and hatred.

She dropped her cigarette on the floor and ground it out with her red-soled spiked highheel.

“Cassandra Rivers?” she called out, scrutinising the assembled bikers.

“That will be you I take it,” she pointed a red fingernail at Cassie.

“Bring her here,” she ordered, and two agents closed in and gripped Cassie by her arms and led her over to where Natalie was standing.

“I’ve heard about you. You’re some sort of trans-something that wants to be a woman but is really just a man with tits,” Natalie said sarcastically.

Natalie’s hand shot out and she grabbed Cassie by the crotch and squeezed. The two agents held her still and Cassie grunted with pain until Natalie let her go.

“Your father would be disgusted,” Natalie spat in her face.

Cassie held her head high while the spittle ran down her cheeks.

“I don’t know how these guys can stand you. You’re pathetic. What’s that patch you’re wearing? ‘Biker Bitch?’ Should be Fag Hag or something like that, you homo crossdresser.”

Natalie punched Cassie in the solar plexus and she sagged in the arms of the two agents. Then Natalie hit Cassie with an uppercut and blood flew from her lip as her head snapped back.

“Ma’am…” one of the agents was about to protest.

“Ma’am what? You worried about this piece of shit! I know she rode with the Devil Dogs on that last sting. I fucking know she did but I didn’t get her!” Natalie gave Cassie a series of one-two punches to her mid section and Cassie slumped to the floor.

“Hey you can’t do that!” one of the bikers shouted.

“Shut up!” Steve Monahan growled.

“Yeah shut up! It’s not like it’s a real person. It’s just some sort of shemale masquerading as a woman. Look!” Natalie nodded for the agent to pick Cassie up off the floor.

Cassie shrugged them off and staggered to her feet on her own accord, blood running from her split lip.

Natalie ripped off Cassie’s jacket and threw it at Steve knowing that the one thing that would create a riot would be to desecrate the Club’s colours.

She tore at Cassie’s longsleeved T-shirt and threw it on the floor and then ripped off her bra. Cassie tried to cover her breasts but Natalie slapped her hands away and lifted one up.

“Look! See the scar! They aren’t even real tits!” Natalie gloated.

All of the MC averted their eyes; this was their sister being humiliated.

“Well what about this!” Natalie tugged at Cassie’s jeans.

Cassie tried to resist and Natalie punched her repeatedly until she couldn’t defend herself. Natalie pulled down Cassie’s jeans to reveal her black pantyhose underneath. Cassie had a smooth pubis because she was tucked but it was obvious she didn’t have a woman’s sex organs. Cassie dropped to the filthy floor.

“You’re just a pathetic phoney and I’m going to get you Rivers. You crossed me once but I’ll get you eventually,” Natalie kicked Cassie as she lay curled up on the floor.

“Ok enough Agent Styles!” one of the other agents came over.

“Oh fuck this! Toss this place and let’s get out of here!” Natalie snapped and stormed outside.

Steve held up Cassie’s jacket and looked inquiringly at one of the agents who nodded. He stepped forward and placed Cassie’s jacket over her prone body to give her some decorum.

Natalie stood outside on the verandah smoking.

“What the fuck was that about!” one of the other agents came storming over.

Natalie turned around, her face red and her cheeks wet with tears. She was shaking and crying.

“Fuck off! Fuck off and leave me alone!” Natalie’s shoulders shook as she sobbed.

The FBI found nothing and packed up and left the Beasts of Burden clubhouse. The members approached Cassie and helped her to her feet. She rearranged her pants and bra and put on her jacket. Dale came over with a first aid kit but Cassie pushed them all away.

“Just let me get a clean shirt out of my pannier, clean up, and continue with church,” Cassie said.

All the bikers cheered at her bravado and determination.

Cassie hobbled outside and took a clean long-sleeved t-shirt from the pannier on her bike. The leaned over and steadied herself on her ride while she retched and spat blood. Her ribs ached and her stomach felt like it had been stomped on but Natalie had done a good job of giving her a beating without causing any life-threatening injuries.

Cassie came back inside the clubhouse and went out back and used the ladies to wash the blood off her face, wash her body, and fix her makeup. Her left eye was purple and would be black in the morning and her right cheek was bruised and swollen. Her lip was split but an application of lipstick hid most of the damage.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair and sprayed perfume.

“Hot damn! I look great even beaten up,” she laughed and then held her stomach when it stitched.

Cassie stayed for church and put a hundred dollars over the bar and the MC patted her on the back for taking her beating like a real biker. Dale fussed around her and Cassie lost it.

“Fuck off Dale! I’m not your old lady or your momma!” she screeched at him.

Dale slunk away sulking and hurt, but Cassie had no time for that.

Cassie stayed at the clubhouse for as long as she could but she was hurting and she made her farewells.

As she was leaving Steve Monahan came up to her.

“You know Cassie you’ve earned all those patches you wear and that Feebee bitch has it so wrong. Your father would be proud,” he punched her gently on the shoulder and went back inside.

Cassie rode home and was grateful when she finally got there. Her small ranch house was dark but the porch light came on with the motion detector.

As soon as she entered the lounge she smelt the smoke and her hand went for her knife.

A cigarette lighter flashed in the dark and Natalie Styles sitting with her legs crossed in an easy chair was illuminated in its glow as she lit her cigarette.

“You won’t need the knife but I understand if you wanna use it on me,” Natalie said.

Cassie shucked out of her jacket and dropped into a chair across from Natalie.

“Give me one of those,” she breathed, massaging her ribs.

Natalie lit Cassie a cigarette and poured two shots of jack Daniel’s while Cassie kicked off her boots.

“You did good. The stuff you gave us, edited of course to keep you safe, is enough for a RICO case against the Devil Dogs. That’s one OMC closed for good,” Natalie leaned over and handed Cassie her cigarette and her drink.

Cassie sipped the liquor and it burned all the way down.

“To the Devil Dogs,” Cassie raised her glass and drained it.

“Their patch sucked anyway,” Cassie chuckled.

“Now if you don’t mind Natalie I really need to lie down,” Cassie sighed.

“I really hurt you didn’t I?” Natalie said.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders.

“It needed to be convincing and it was.”

“Yes, but you see why I had to humiliate you. To make the Beasts hate the FBI even more and for them to laud you even more,” Natalie drew on her cigarette.

“Laud. That’s a big word for this time of night,” Cassie tried to get up but she fell back in the chair.

Natalie sprang out of her chair and tried to help.

“Don’t! Don’t!” Cassie put out her hand.

Natalie picked up her handbag and walked to the door, her heels clacking on the terracotta tiles.

“I thought you spitting in my face was an excellent touch,” Cassie called after her.

Natalie stopped briefly and then left, closing the door behind her.

Cassie struggled to get undressed but she finally managed it and she fell on her bed exhausted and in pain. She heard her bedroom door open and she painfully turned her head. Natalie stood at the end of her bed. She undressed down to her white satin full-slip and pantyhose.

Natalie climbed on the bed and scooted up to Cassie taking her in her arms, gently cuddling her and pressing Cassie’s head to her breasts. She kissed and stroked Cassie’s hair and Cassie felt droplets falling on her face and she realised Natalie was crying.

Cassie painfully lifted her head away from Natalie’s breasts and engaged her eye to eye.

“Stop that. Remember your tradecraft,” Cassie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Shut up,” Natalie replied and gently kissed Cassie on the lips.

Cassie gently kissed her back.

“Can we sleep?” Cassie whispered.

Natalie pulled the covers over them both.

“We can do anything you want,” Natalie snuggled up to Cassie and softly kissed her cheek.

They slept.

Cassie woke up feeling sore but with the delicious feel of satin, silk, and nylon pressing against her body. Cassie and Natalie’s legs were intertwined, their nylons rustling and rubbing and Natalie’s satin slip slithered against Cassie’s tender breasts.

“Mmm,” Cassie became fully conscious and was aware that Natalie’s face was inches from hers.

Natalie looked at Cassie with compassion and love.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and stroked Cassie’s face.

Cassie smiled at Natalie and tenderly kissed her. She winced at the slight pain from her split lip and Natalie looked concerned.

“The pain is worth the pleasure,” Cassie grinned.

Natalie smiled and kissed Cassie again, this time Cassie pressed her lips harder against Natalie’s and tentatively slipped her tongue into Natalie’s mouth.

“You know this is against all the rules,” Natalie said.

“Fuck the rules,” Cassie whispered and rolled over so that she was on top of Natalie.

“You finally got on top of me,” Natalie smiled up at Cassie.

“Do you ever shut up?” Cassie grinned and lowered her face to Natalie’s.

They kissed each other languorously taking their time to explore each other’s bodies. Cassie slipped her hands inside Natalie’s full-slip and caressed her breasts, teasing the nipples with her fingertips. Natalie reciprocated sliding her hands inside Cassie’s spandex t-shirt and easing her small breasts from the cups of her bra. She stroked Cassie’s breasts, tweaking her nipples making Cassie gasp.

Cassie pulled off her top and unhooked her bra leaving her dressed only in her pantyhose and satin panties; she helped Natalie take off her slip and she too was left in only pantyhose and panties. Cassie fell on Natalie and kissed her and her small taut breasts pressed against Natalie’s large pillowy bosom.

Cassie’s hands wandered down Natalie’s body and she raked her fingers along Natalie’s legs, caressing her through her sheer-to-the-waist fifteen denier pantyhose. Her fingers explored the top of Natalie’s thighs and slowly edged to her sex. She found her damp and warm, the diaphanous nylon soaked with vaginal secretions.

Natalie’s hands squeezed Cassie’s nylon-encased buttocks and thighs. Cassie had forgone the control tops and she too wore expensive sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. Natalie fluttered her fingers along the top of Cassie’s legs then up her torso and across her lower belly teasing her. Cassie shuddered and Natalie smiled. As Cassie’s fingers found her labia so Natalie touched Cassie’s erect penis, Cassie’s hose were also wet where her cock was leaking precum.

Panties were quickly removed and discarded and the gorgeous creatures came back together.

Cassie pushed her finger into Natalie’s sodden cunt, caressing her clitoris thorough the translucent fabric; Natalie squeezed Cassie’s cock though her gauzy nylons.

Cassie removed her hand from Natalie’s sex and took Natalie’s hand from her penis and she pushed her nylon-encased cock against Natalie’s pantyhose-clad cunt. The women arched their backs and rutted against each other, grinding and squirming to provide maximum pleasure to each other. They were kissing hard, sloppily smashing lips and lashing tongues and they grunted and groaned with lust.

Natalie reached between their bodies and pulled at the crotch of her hose with her fingers until she tore a hole allowing Cassie’s cock access to her cunt. Cassie pushed her cock into Natalie’s sopping vagina, her nylon-encased glans entered Natalie’s cunt and they both shuddered with delectation.

Cassie pushed harder and her cock broke through the sheer pantyhose and freed of the restriction buried itself inside Natalie’s slick tunnel. They both groaned.

Cassie began to slowly fuck Natalie, ensuring her pubis pushed against Natalie’s clitoris, their pantyhose thighs rubbing together adding to the sensations. Natalie rose up to meet Cassie’s thrusts and she ground herself against Cassie for maximum stimulation.

Cassie felt her orgasm approaching and she quickened the pace, fucking Natalie with long hard strokes as Natalie pushed herself up off the bed to meet Cassie’s thrusts.

Cassie locked her legs under Natalie’s and drove herself all the way inside her and squirmed and gyrated as she shot her load of creamy semen deep inside Natalie. Natalie kissed Cassie fervently, wrapping her arms around her and gasped into her mouth as she came. Her whole body shuddered with pleasure and gratification.

Cassie and Natalie fucked and writhed as their respective orgasms climaxed and subsided.

Cassie left her member inside Natalie when their ardour had receded. They kissed, fondled and stroked each other, mewing and kissing.

“That was wonderful lover,” Natalie smiled up at Cassie.

“It was amazing but I’m going to ache for ages,” Cassie grinned.

Natalie turned down her mouth.

“You’re trying to make me feel guilty aren’t you?” she spanked Cassie’s buttocks.

“Yep,” Cassie smiled down and then kissed Natalie.

“Well it won’t work. The only concession I’m making is next time I’ll get on top,” Natalie grinned.

“Who say’s there will be a next time,” Cassie teased.

“I do! And I’m the boss!” Natalie tickled Cassie playfully.

They rolled around together under the covers until Cassie was hard again and as promised, Natalie got on top.

Cassie drifted off after their love making and awoke to find the bed empty. Natalie was showered and dressed in one of Cassie negligees and was sitting on the lounge smoking; a steaming cup of coffee on the table, working her phone.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” Natalie poked her chin in that direction, her eyes locked on her phone.

Cassie poured coffee and sat next to Natalie. She attempted to cuddle but Natalie shrugged her off impatiently.

“It’s back to business babe I’m sorry. Quantico is happy that we nailed the Devil Dogs but now they want the Medici leaders and distributors here in the USA,” Natalie still worked her phone.

“It’s political. The FBI has funding for undercover operatives but there is a Senate oversight committee who want results that will attract media attention. Breaking the Devil Dogs was ok but they want a higher profile outcome.”

Cassie frowned.

Natalie sensed Cassie’s foreboding and pulled Cassie to her.

“We aren’t going to blow your cover silly. You’re too valuable. We want you back wheeling and dealing with Diego Martinez and his Cartel buddies so you can set up another sting,” Natalie explained.

She put down her phone and kissed Cassie, holding her close.

“We have the weekend to plan our course of action…and to do whatever else we want,” Natalie smiled salaciously.

“I borrowed this negligee while my underwear is in the washer but I didn’t feel comfortable borrowing panties from you without your permission; so I’m not wearing any. See?” Natalie guided Cassie’s hand down to her crotch.

Natalie’s sex was smooth-shaven and bereft of panties. Cassie slid a finger inside the folds of Natalie’s cunt and found her hot and wet.

“Mmm…I’m not sure I’m going to lend you any panties. At least not for a good while yet,” Cassie eased Natalie down on the couch and climbed on top of her.

To be continued…

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Eight: Miranda The Bitch!

Cassie hadn’t worn an evening dress since her training at the FBI facility; she still wasn’t exactly sure where that was. Despite being her lover, Natalie still kept a lot of secrets.

Tonight Cassie was wearing a floor-length red satin sheath split to the waist on both sides, sequins glittered in the lamplight as did her emerald earrings, necklace, and bracelets. It was costume jewellery but expensive. A red push-up bra made the most of her pert breasts, giving her some decolletage, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose ensured there was no pantyline and helped keep her tucked. Red heels completed the ensemble.

Her hair was coiffured, worn up, her makeup perfect.

She sat at the table across from Diego Martinez. Steve Monahan and Carlo Ramirez sat on either side of her. She drank champagne and made small talk, waiting for them to get down to business. Dale and Carlo hung off her every word. Carlo’s hand kept creeping onto her thigh and she politely removed it each time.

Cassie toyed with her lobster. She barely ate when she was expecting to be sexually active; a seldom spoke of reality for trans girls who practice regular anal sex is that the douche and Imodium are their best friends; heavy meals are not.

The night was warm and they were sitting outside of Carlo Ramirez’ split-level palatial house on his marble-tiled patio. An aqua-lit infinity pool with manicured lawns either side gave way to a magnificent tableau of the lights of Los Angeles spread out in the distance. The coal-black blanket of night surrounded them, providing a feeling of isolation.

Soft music played in the background and the house staff were almost invisible as they came and went, bringing dishes, clearing the table, and topping up glasses.

Despite the quiet and feeling of solitude Cassie knew that heavily armed guards patrolled the perimeter.

Cassie cast her mind back to how she had come to be here. It had come to pass because of the plan she and Natalie had concocted when Natalie had spent the weekend with Cassie at her ranch house; which was totally against FBI protocols for Agents who managed operatives in deep cover.

Between bouts of lovemaking Natalie and Cassie had devised a plan to put a sting on the Medici Cartel principals operating in the USA.

Dale Clifford had called Cassie incessantly over the weekend; each time a little angrier when Cassie turned down his invitations to go for a ride, to meet for drinks, or to have dinner; Cassie knew what Dale really wanted.

“How am I going to get Diego Martinez to trust me so soon after the fiasco with Miguel Rodriguez and the Devil Dogs? He’s going to be wary of working with the OMCs for a while I should think,” Cassie mused.

“I’ve been busy texting and emailing,” Natalie began.

“Diego is going to know very soon that the FBI humiliated and degraded you up at the clubhouse because they wanted to get you in the sting but couldn’t. That will allay any suspicions they might have that you are a snitch. He’s also going to be informed that Miguel was a rat working for the FBI and he’s going to know that the sacrificial prospect the Devil Dog’s set up with the brick of marijuana at the border shit his pants and gave away the ruse,” Natalie smiled knowingly.

Cassie frowned.

“You think you’re the only undercover operative we got working on this? The Medici’s have a mole in the Pasadena FBI field office. She’s a double-agent; we feed her anything we want them to know,” Natalie grinned.

“What about the Devil Dog probie? They’ll kill him,” Cassie said.

“Witsec; same as the probie who was supposed to bury you in the desert,” Natalie lit a cigarette.

“Anyway. You know a guy named Carlo Ramirez?” Natalie asked.

“I’ve heard Diego talk about him. He’s a Jefe with the Medici’s here in California I think,” Cassie replied.

“He’s our next target,” Natalie smiled and went on to outline her plan.

She leaned over her laptop and bought up a picture of Carlo. He was a Colombian citizen residing in California and he was in charge of distributing the drugs, the girls, and the firearms that the Medici Cartel smuggled into the USA.

“He likes to think he’s some kind of benefactor; a robber-baron who is on the wrong side of the law but helps the needy.”

“He likes to entertain, to throw big parties or intimate dinners. Carlo has a few high ranking local law enforcement officers and Immigration and Customs and Enforcement agents on his payroll.”

“He’s handsome I’ll give him that,” Cassie studied the picture on the laptop.

Carlo looked to be in his thirties with thick black hair, a pencil moustache, tanned complexion and a broad handsome face. A modern day Clarke Gable.

“Don’t let his charming looks fool you. In Central America he was the enforcer for the Medici’s and he was responsible for new levels of depravity. He beheaded victims, cut out their hearts, carved a letter ‘M’ into their bodies and hung them from bridges as an example. Even here in the USA he has been known to personally ‘taste’ the young girls smuggled in to be sold for prostitution; those who do not meet his expectations have been offered to his foot soldiers as pleasure toys or just simply disappear.”

“He’s one ruthless motherfucker,” Natalie tapped his picture on the screen.

“And… he likes it both ways,” Natalie raised an eyebrow and looked intently at Cassie.

“Our sources tell us he has a penchant for young men as well as ladies. He has the obligatory doting wife and well-behaved children, but they are only for show. He likes kinky sex,” Natalie turned her lips down.

“I bet if Diego Martinez was to propose a business meeting with members of the Beasts of Burden, one of whom just happens to be a stunning transsexual, he just won’t be able to resist,” Natalie’s smile was stern.

They played the ‘what if’ game and came up with an agreed course of action and on Monday Cassie met with Steve Monahan, Dale Clifford and the club’s office bearers and made her pitch.

“With the Devil Dogs gone the Medici’s need muscle this side of the border. Their own networks work fine in the shadows; but we can operate out in the open where they can’t,” Cassie explained.

“I’ve spoken to Diego Martinez and the Medici’s have a shipment of firearms coming in this week; they want an escort to their safe house,” Cassie looked around the table at the concerned faces.

“Jeez Cassie you move fast,” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“It’s good money boss. And it’s my chance to stick it to that FBI bitch,” the bitterness in Cassie’s voice was palpable.

“It’s too soon after the bust with the Devil Dogs,” Dale Clifford was obviously against the idea and challenged Cassie with his piercing glare.

“That’s why it’s perfect! The FBI won’t be expecting it and the Cartel have ICE on the payroll,” Cassie countered.

ICE was the acronym for Immigration and Customs and Enforcement.

“Also I’ve been invited to dinner with Carlo Ramirez to talk about expanding our relationship and doing more business together,” Cassie announced.

“Shouldn’t I go? I am the President after all,” Steve Monahan mused.

“Oh that’s the plan Steve. He wants to meet you to talk business but he wants me there too. I told you having a hot babe in your club would open doors and provide opportunities,” Cassie grinned.

“I don’t like it! I should at least provide security; I’m Sargent at Arms,” Dale Clifford banged the table.

“It’s an intimate dinner at his house; not a clandestine meeting of the brothers in the backroom of some bar!” Cassie countered.

Dale glared at her across the table.

“Cassie’s right. It’s a business meeting over dinner. She and I will attend and you will look after security on the gun smuggling job,” Steve had made his decision.

“Meeting’s adjourned. Cassie and Dale stay behind while we discuss the details; the rest of you keep a lid on this, I don’t want another bust,” Steve declared.

Cassie filled Steve and Dale in on the details she had received from Diego Martinez. Dale was surly but knew he couldn’t argue with the Club President.

They left the club’s conference room and Cassie got a beer from the bar and went outside in the night air to smoke and clear her head.

It was no surprise to her when Dale appeared at her elbow. He was furious and she could sense it. She had ignored him all weekend and she was going to dinner with Carlo, Diego, and Steve and he felt left out.

Dale turned her face to his and was about to say something angry when Cassie shut him down by kissing him passionately and moulding her body to his. He kissed her back and his hands roamed her body, searching for an opening in her tight denim jeans and her spandex top. He was impatient and Cassie could feel the heat of his erection through her jeans.

“Not here,” she gasped into his mouth as he kissed her ravenously.

“Where?” he huffed, pulling her hard against him.

Their motorcycle engines ticked and began to cool in the night air as Cassie and Dale burst through the door of Cassie’s ranch house.

They didn’t make the bedroom. Dale kissed Cassie and they tore at each other’s clothing in the doorway, kicking off boots, shimmying out of jeans, jackets and tops before falling on the couch. They had barely broken their kiss.

Dale tore at Cassie’s pantyhose, ripping them open and prodding at her buttocks with his erection.

“Are you ok? Are you lubed?” he grunted.

Cassie nodded fanatically and reached down to guide him to her opening. Dale thrust forward and Cassie rose to meet him and then wrapped her legs around his flanks and held on as he rode her.

They kissed and groped at each other while Dale fucked her savagely. He was spending his anger at her by fucking her as hard he could.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Cassie groaned as Dale’s throbbing cock invaded her anus.

She wrapped her arms around him and rose to meet his thrusts. Her own cock was hard, trapped between them and leaking precum.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Cassie writhed underneath him.

“Take it you fucking whore!” Dale screamed and ejaculated.

He gripped Cassie’s buttocks and pulled her too him, his fingers pierced the nylon of her pantyhose control-top as he ground against her, emptying himself deep inside her. His semen scalded her prostate and Cassie writhed and wriggled under him as she came with him; the pain and the pleasure, a paroxysm of lust.

Their teeth cracked as they kissed fervently, tongues probing and fingers raking flesh and tearing fabric. They both drew blood as their intense orgasms washed over them.

As their passions waned they became gentle with each other; kissing softly, stroking and caressing. Dale arose and lifted Cassie into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. This time they made love slowly and tenderly. It was true lovemaking rather than frenzied fucking.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore,” Dale felt a little sheepish now that their passion had subsided.

Cassie blew smoke at the ceiling. She was pragmatic; she knew what she was and felt no need to answer.

She looked at the bedside clock-radio. It was getting late and she wanted a good night’s sleep.

“You can’t stay the night,” Cassie reached over Dale to stub out her cigarette.

Dale put an arm around her and lifted her face to his. He looked into her deep green eyes and at her full red lips. He knew he shouldn’t for all sorts of reasons but he thought he might be falling in love with her.

“You don’t want to get close to anyone do you?” Dale held her gaze.

“No Dale I don’t. I need credibility in the MC and I can’t have that if I’m some guy’s fender fluff. And more importantly; I like being a free agent,” Cassie gave him a grim smile.

“So you are a whore,” Dale regretted it as soon as he said it.

Cassie registered the remorse on Dale’s face.

“I guess to some extent I am. But I have to live with myself Dale, you don’t,” Cassie extracted herself from his embrace.

She got up to use the bathroom and when she returned Dale was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed smoking.

“You be careful at the meet Cassie. I know that you have been friends with Diego for a long time but this Carlo Ramirez guy is a stone cold killer. Watch your back,” Dale dropped a gun on the bed.

It was Saturday night special. A little silver .22 automatic; a throwaway.

Cassie picked it up, ejected the magazine and jacked the action, deftly catching the cartridge as it ejected.

“What do I do with this? It’s got no stopping power,” Cassie studied the little pistol.

“You’re wearing that I take it?” Dale pointed to the red sheath evening gown hanging up outside her wardrobe.

“You’ve got nowhere to hide a piece wearing that dress and your Glock is too bulky to put in your purse. Take the throwaway,” Dale arose and walked to the door.

He looked back briefly, putting on his colours. Cassie made no move to go over and kiss him goodbye; she was over his mood swings.

She heard him close the front door then his Harley fired up.

“Fuck!” she tossed the gun on the nightstand and fell on the bed.

Cassie was too tired to deal with Dale’s crap and her ass hurt! Dale had given her a severe pounding; which she had enjoyed, but she was paying for it now.

And so Cassie sat sipping Champagne with Diego Martinez, Steve Monahan and Carlo Ramirez. They made small talk while Cassie tried in vain to keep Carlo’s hands off her legs.

With the table cleared and the house staff finished for the evening, talk turned to business.

“My guys are escorting your shipment of AKs and Barrettas to our safe house,” Steve looked at his phone as it beeped.

“And they’ve just arrived safely. That text was my Sargent at arms,” Steve smiled.

“That’s good work Mr Monahan. Now that your motorcycle club has proven they are once again reliable, I think we should discuss future commerce,” Carlo grinned and poured cognac for the three of them.

“And I’m going to use the ladies room while you men discuss business,” Carlo quickly rose and got her chair as Cassie stood.

He gave her directions to the guest bathroom and Cassie strode off towards the house, her heels click-clacking on the tiles. She could feel the men’s eyes glued to her ass and she smiled to herself.

“And she’s a full-patch member of your club?” Carlo raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“Don’t be fooled by her looks and her demeanour. She wears a Men of Mayhem patch and she didn’t get it for nothing. She’s killed men and punches well above her weight. That bitch can be dangerous,” Steve replied lifting his cognac to the candlelight.

“Se Carlo. I have seen what Ms Rivers is capable of. I wouldn’t fuck with her,” Diego added, nodding at Cassie’s silhouette as she entered the house.

“But you see; I would,” Carlo’s teeth glinted as he smiled.

When Cassie was inside the house she closed the sliding door behind her and then pulled the mesh curtain open a chink and saw that the three men were deep in conversation. She opened her purse and used the micro-camera hidden in her cigarette case to take footage of the interior of Carlo’s house and then planted a miniature, super-sensitive listening device under the coffee table.

She climbed the elegant staircase to the upper floor and planted a bug under his bedside table. She quickly made her way to the restroom and flushed the cistern, pretending she had used it in case someone else came inside. She opened her clutch and leaned against the vanity and stared into the large well-lit mirror and studied her face. Then she began to fix her lipstick.

She felt, rather than heard the door open and Carlo slid into the large restroom and softly closed the door behind himself. Cassie expected just such a thing and when Carlo moved behind her and pressed his groin into buttocks and put his hands on her breasts it came as no surprise.

“Should I bother finishing my lipstick?” Cassie smiled into mirror.

“I think you are wasting your time,” Carlo grinned and spun her around.

He was a lot stronger than he looked.

He kissed her fervidly, his lips smashed against hers and his hands pawed at her breasts. He was frustrated because he couldn’t get her tits free of the tight sheath so he changed his attack to her legs and ass. As his tongue ravaged her mouth, his hands slid inside her sheath dress and squeezed and raked her buttocks. Cassie winced at the pain. She felt his cock pulse when she cried out. He was a sadist and enjoyed hurting her.

Cassie was no stranger to being used by men like Carlo and her tradecraft had taught her that in situations like this it was better to get it over with, the quicker the better.

“Let’s do this,” she mumbled through crushed lips.

She pushed against him, placing her hands on his chest but he resisted.

“Let me give you oral pleasure,” she managed to utter, gasping with pain as Carlo squeezed her buttocks tighter.

He stopped and looked into her eyes and smiled wickedly.

“Yeah. Some head would be nice,” he grinned cruelly and pressed his hands down on her head.

Cassie fell to her knees on the cold tiled floor. Carlo unzipped and his long thick cock sprouted from his flies. He pushed her face into it and Cassie opened her mouth to accept his erect phallus.

She engulfed his penis with practiced ease, using her lips on the shaft and her tongue on his glans. Carlo put his hands on Cassie’s head and began to fuck her face; Cassie opened wider so she could deep throat him, unbuckling his pants and pulling them down so she had better access to his groin.

Carlo was at first disappointed when Cassie spat out his cock but moaned with pleasure when she took his scrotum into her mouth and sucked on his testicles. Cassie used her mouth expertly; suckling and slavering his balls and alternately sucking and licking his penis. She swallowed Carlo’s precum and revelled in her ability to turn the tables and take control.

“God you are one very sexy vixen,” Carlo chuckled as he held Cassie’s head and slid his cock in and out of her ruby-red lips.

Cassie was enjoying the sex, being on her knees fellating this powerful crimelord, she was simultaneously subservient and powerful. She was becoming erect and she slid a hand inside her dress and freed her hardening penis from under her groin and allowed her testes to drop. Her semi-tumescent penis pushed against the gusset of her pantyhose and she stroked it through the diaphanous nylon.

“Oh baby! Please don’t stop,” Carlo uttered his disappointment as Cassie eased her face from his groin.

She smiled up at him and then got to her feet and kissed him; this time she was the protagonist, driving her tongue into his mouth while she squeezed his penis.

Carlo groaned with lust and impatiently thrust back and forth as Cassie masturbated him.

“Ok…Now fuck me,” she whispered.

Cassie spun around and presented her buttocks to Carlo who took the initiative and lifted up the double-split gown, exposing her round, tight buttocks encased in her silky pantyhose. He rubbed his cock in the crevice of her ass while Cassie stroked her cock; leaning against the vanity with her free hand.

Cassie rotated her buttocks, stimulating Carlo; his hands went to her hips and pulled her ass back against his thrusting penis. He enjoyed the feel of her nylon-clad globes against his hard cock, he left silvery trains of precum on Cassie’s buttocks.

Carlo pulled down the rear of Cassie’s pantyhose then dipped his fingers into a jar of moisturiser on the vanity and generously lubricated his erection.

Cassie pushed back, inviting him to penetrate her which Carlo obligingly did. His long thick cock slid easily into her tight anus and Cassie purred with pleasure and squeezed her own cock harder.

“You like that pussycat?” Carlo purred as his groin pushed against her buttocks, fully impaling her on his cock.

Cassie wriggled her buttocks in response.

“Come on; fuck me,” she sighed.

Carlo gripped Cassie’s hips and began to fuck her gradually increasing the tempo and fucking her harder while Cassie pushed back against him and vigorously rubbed her cock.

They came together, Carlo slamming his cock deep inside Cassie’s ass and ejaculating and Cassie grinding back against him and filling her nylons with creamy semen.

Carlo and Cassie both moaned with pleasure and ground and rubbed against each other as they orgasmed until their intense pleasure slowly subsided. Carlo held Cassie still and extracted his penis. He leaned over and took a handful of tissues and wiped his cock dry and dabbed at Cassie’s ass. She took a handful herself and dabbed at the front of her pantyhose to soak up her semen.

“I’ll leave first. For propriety’s sake,” Carlo lifted her pantyhose back into place and pulled down her dress.

He spun Cassie around and stole one last lingering kiss. Cassie cleaned herself more attentively while Carlo left the bathroom, then she adjusted her hosiery, tucking herself securely and smoothing her sheath gown. She fixed her lipstick, fussed with her hair and then rejoined the men on the patio.

They were talking shop again but they stopped and rose politely when Cassie returned. Carlo refilled her glass and gave her a knowing look when he lit her cigarette.

“Steven and I have just come an agreement that the Beasts of Burden will provide security for all of the Medici Cartel’s future, shall we say, logistic interests in California,” Carlo smiled and raised his glass.

“You mean smuggling drugs, girls and weapons?” Cassie played the dumb coquette but she wanted Carlo to say it for her recording device.

“Yes everything,” Diego Martinez smiled and they all clinked glasses.

“To guns, girls and cocaine,” Cassie smiled seductively at Carlo, hoping for an incriminating response.

“To guns, girls and cocaine,” Carlo laughed and kissed Cassie on the cheek.

Diego Martinez and Steve Monahan looked at each other knowingly. Cassie had been gone from the table for a very long time for a girl supposedly powdering her nose and Carlo had returned flushed and emboldened; they both guessed Carlo and Cassie had had sex during their absence but what did they care?

The good thing for them all was that a deal had been struck. And for Cassie? She hoped she had the evidence that Natalie wanted to help build her RICO case.

Just as everyone at the table settled down, happy and content, there came a series of loud cries, and the sound of men crashing through the undergrowth and the crunching of boots on gravel.

“Fuck!” the four cried in unison as heavily armed men in blue law enforcement jackets with yellow lettering on the back came running out of the gloom.

“Thank fuck it’s just the Federales,” Carlo smiled and stood up and raised his hands.

He was relieved it was not a rival Cartel coming to assassinate him. Diego stood up and he too raised his hands. They were both wearing white linen suits and black shirts; they had been though this ritual many times, both south of the border and here in the USA, and were not unduly concerned. They had always walked.

The Cartel had lawyers and attorneys who were gifted in keeping their organised crime clientele out of prison and they also had high ranking law enforcement officers and judges in their pocket.

It was different for Cassie and Steve. Their club had attorneys too but not of the calibre of the Cartel. They looked at each other knowingly; silently invoking the OMC creed of silence as they stood and raised their hands.

Cassie was pissed. Natalie should have warned her about the FBI raid; it was way too premature. They had no where near enough evidence yet to convict Carlo.

The law enforcement officers closed in on them and a chill ran down Cassie’s spine as they got close enough for Cassie to see that the big yellow letters on the backs of their dark blue jackets was not FBI…it was ATF.

“Fuck!” Cassie hissed under her breath.

She would have no immunity with these guys and until the FBI became aware of her arrest she would be treated just like any other criminal.

“You know the drill!” a burly agent growled.

Members of his team handcuffed Cassie, Carlo, Diego and Steve; cuffing their hands behind their backs and frisking them down.

As she expected the agent patting down Cassie copped a feel of her tits and groin. She was relieved that she was tucked well enough that he didn’t yet realise she was a trans woman but she knew it wouldn’t take them long to do so if they took her into custody and gave a thorough body search.

Several agents disappeared inside the house while the burly agent read them their rights and threw a search warrant on the table. There was the sound of breaking glass and crashing furniture from inside the house and Carlo made a tut-tutting noise. He smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t worry. This is just a nuisance raid; they know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to have anything incriminating in my house,” Carlo grinned.

“Shut up!” the burly agent was obviously angry.

“Did you find anything?” he barked at the agents who had patted them down.

“Nothing,” an agent replied.

“Look in her handbag,” he snarled.

The agent upended Cassie’s clutch-purse and shook it. She bowed her head when the little silver Saturday night special clattered on the table.

“Well, well, well!” the burly agent grinned.

“Please tell me there is no carry permit in her purse,” he smirked.

The other agent shook his head with a self-satisfied grin.

Cassie heard Diego, Carlo and Steve exhale their dissatisfaction. They thought she was stupid for coming to the meeting armed and she knew they were right. She should never have listened to Dale.

“Miranda the bitch! Put her shit into evidence bags and lets take her down town,” the burly agent seemed very pleased with himself.

“Let these other dick-wads go and lets get the fuck out of here,” he ordered.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Nine: Fuck the Trans Cooze!

Cassie sat behind a desk in a stark interview room at the Los Angeles County Jail. ATF do not have their own detention facilities; they use Federal penitentiaries and often borrow local law enforcement facilities to temporally incarcerate suspects and interrogate them.

She had been freed of her cuffs and her clutch purse and its contents lay on the melanite desk sealed in clear plastic evidence bags. The burly ATF agent sat across from her, studying her.

“We processed you when you arrived here. You know what?” his eyes drilled into hers.

“You came up flagged. Now why is that?”

Cassie had been arrested a few times before when she used to be Cameron Rivers and she knew this was a deviation from the usual police interview. She said nothing but her heart was pounding. She didn’t know what ‘flagged’ meant but she knew it had something to do with her being an FBI undercover operative. During training they basically told her the same thing that the MC did; you say nothing to any police officers or Federal agents. The FBI would sort out the mess but say nothing…to no one.

The agent smiled.

“The code of the OMC eh? Say nothing no matter what.”

“So let’s start over. I’m agent Paul Zabinsky of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms, ATF. You know who and what we are,” he grinned.

“And you’re Cassandra Rivers, aged twenty eight, currently residing at the address provided on your driver’s licence,” he tapped one of the sealed bags.

Cassie knew the FBI had manipulated State and Federal records to change her identity from male to female. It was part of her backstory that she had paid for the records to be changed while she was hiding out in Mexico.

“You are also in the records as a member of the Outlaw Motorcycle Club known as the Beasts of Burden,” he continued.

“Now that’s interesting. That’s very interesting because except for the Sisters of Satan, an all-girl MC out of Nevada, you are the only female full-patch biker I’ve ever seen.”

Agent Zabinsky tore open the evidence bag inside of which were Cassie’s cigarette case, which contained her favourite Marlboro Menthol Light cigarettes, and her silver lighter. He lifted a cigarette from the case and offered it to her.

Cassie pointed with her chin to the sign painted on the wall that said ‘No Smoking’ in English and ‘No Fumar’ in Spanish below it.

He shrugged his shoulders and took the cigarette, placed it between his full lips and lit it. He stared at her and once again offered the cigarette case. This time Cassie took one and bent forward to light it off the proffered silver lighter. She held Paul’s wrist steady as she did so. It was a ruse to keep him focussed on her elegant fingers with the ruby-red nail polish so that hopefully he wouldn’t notice that the cigarette case was about half as thick again as the cigarettes it contained.

The cigarette case held her micro-camera and the lighter her miniature audio recording device.

Paul felt her gentle grip on his wrist and looked from her elegant fingers to her pretty features. It was hard to believe this feminine creature was a biker.

“So why were two members of the Beasts of Burden MC, one of whom is the president, having dinner with two mid-level Medici Cartel greasers?” Paul got back to business.

Cassie didn’t answer, she drew on her cigarette.

Suddenly the door to the interview room opened and another agent carrying two cups of steaming coffee in styrofoam cups entered the room.

“Jesus Zabinsky this place is fetid! You gonna completely ignore the California State laws regarding smoking in government buildings until lung cancer forces you to!” the agent whined and put the coffee down on the table.

“Fuck you Stevens. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” Paul Zabinsky growled.

“Speaking of asses; you behave with this doll. Her file’s flagged; she shouldn’t even be here,” Stevens replied.

“Fuck! Way to give up any chance I had of interrogating this cooze! Fuck off!” Paul Zabinsky was angry.

Stevens gave him the finger and closed the door behind him.

Cassie grinned at agent Zabinsky.

“Why do you assholes always talk like you’re in some nineteen sixties TV cop show,” she smirked and drew on her cigarette and picked up and sipped her coffee.

Her eye’s followed Zabinsky’s to the camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. The red indicator light was off. It either wasn’t working or more likely Zabinsky had switched it off.

Zabinsky smirked back at Cassie and then his hand shot out and slapped the scalding coffee from her grip. Cassie bought her other hand up to protect herself and Zabinsky slapped that away and her cigarette followed her coffee.

Zabinsky may have been burly but he was lightening quick. He leapt out of his chair and grabbed Cassie by the throat, hauling her from the metal chair. She lost her highheels and her hair fell out of its elaborate do and across her face effectively blinding her. She was choking and couldn’t breathe when she felt her back slam into the wall.

“You smartass cooze! You think you’re special cause you’re some good looking broad who is snitching for the FBI? What if I was to tell your asshole biker buddies you’re a snitch? Bet they’d fuck you up the ass then bury you in the desert,” Zabinsky was panting with exertion.

He took his hand from her throat and held her pinned to the wall by her shoulders. Cassie could finally breathe. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and glared at him defiantly.

“They already did that,” she hissed.

Zabinsky grabbed the front of Cassie’s dress and ripped open the bodice.

“Jeez look what happened in the struggle when you attacked me,” he laughed.

Cassie remained silent, gasping, trying to get her breath back.

Zabinsky grabbed Cassie’s left breast and squeezed and twisted it but she refused to cry out.

“Fucking whore!” Zabinsky slapped her face.

Cassie figured that she could probably take Zabinsky if she wanted to. He was now being a stupid bully and his soft mid-section just invited a kidney punch and then a kick in the balls but she resisted the temptation. She remained silent as instructed and bore the pain.

“You only got little tits, lets see what else you got,” Zabinsky panted.

Before she could stop him, Paul Zabinsky shot his hand inside her split gown and grabbed her crotch. He squeezed hard and she gasped with the pain.

It took a few seconds for Zabinsky to realise what was wrong; why the cooze didn’t have a cunt inside those sheer hose. She was a fucking ladyboy!

“You fucking freak!” Zabinsky ripped his hand out from inside Cassie’s dress.

He spat in her face then let go of her. She doubled over in pain and he bought a knee up to her face and then punched her in the side of the head and she slid down the wall and collapsed in a ball on the filthy floor.

“So you’re not only an FBI snitch; you’re a fucking tranny. I don’t know how those guys in the MC can stand you but you probably blow them all every day to keep them amused,” Zabinsky smoothed his rumpled shirt.

“So once again! Why were two members of the Beasts of Burden MC, one of whom is the president, having dinner with two mid-level Medici Cartel greasers?” he toed at her with his foot.

Cassie shook her head and remained silent.

“Fuck this! I bet a few hours in lockup with some gangbangers will soften you up!” Zabinsky snickered.

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. He picked up her heels and put her hands behind her and dragged her to door. He struggled but he got it open and he pushed her out into the main office. A bunch of police officers, uniformed and plain-clothed, looked up at Cassie as she tried in vain to keep the bodice of her dress in place.

“What the fuck Zabinsky? You know that bitch is flagged you should leave her in the interview room and call the Feebs,” agent Stevens yelled at him.

“Fuck the FBI! I’m putting her in the gang related crime holding cell,” Zabinsky snapped back, pushing Cassie down an aisle crowded with filing cabinets towards a door marked ‘Cells’.

“You fucking have lost it. You can’t put a cooze in a cell with guys…especially those guys!” Stevens was making his way over through the maze of desks.

He got to Zabinsky and Cassie just as they got to the door to the cells.

“She ain’t a cooze Stevens,” Zabinsky whispered, looking around furtively.

“She a fucking trans,” he smirked.

“Well the Agency has rules about trans too; you can’t throw her in lockup with men. You gonna get yourself suspended, maybe worse” Stevens hissed.

“The bitch has a mouth on her and she has information I want. She spends the night in with the gangbangers or she talks. The Feebs don’t get her until tomorrow either way,” Zabinsky seethed.

“Fuck this! You’re on your own!” Stevens walked away.

Zabinsky pressed a button and an officer on the other side of the door let Zabinsky and Cassie through.

“Gimme the keys Charlie,” Zabinsky snapped at the young booking officer.

“Agent Zabinsky sir, you know I got procedures I have to…” Charlie tried meekly to respond.

“Fuck the procedures Charlie. Give me the fucking keys and go and get yourself a cup of coffee,” Zabinsky retorted and snatched the keys from Charlie’s hand.

Cassie remained moot through it all; her arm pushed way up her back, the other clutching the bodice of her dress.

Zabinsky half pushed and half dragged her down the passageway between the cells. The hookers in the first cell welcomed her to the party but were surprised when the man kept pushing her down the passageway. The hookers were in the only female holding cell.

The men in the other cells all leered, jeered and shouted obscenities and catcalls as Zabinsky led her to a large dimly let cell at the end of the corridor. It was the segregation cell where they kept gang members. There were four men sitting silently in the shadows.

“Last chance doll. You either cooperate or you spend the night with these guys,” he spun Cassie around so she faced him.

Cassie said nothing and looked at Zabinsky defiantly.

“I’ll come and check on you every four hours or so until you change your mind,” he shook her and then pushed her against bars and held her there with one hand while he unlocked the cell door with the other.

He pushed her inside, threw her high heels after her and slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Enjoy her boys but be careful; she’s got a pistol in her panties,” he guffawed and walked away.

Cassie picked up one of her highheels; she had been taught how to use it as makeshift weapon, she put her back against the bars and stared into the shadows of the dark cell. The cops deliberately kept the lights off during the day then turned them up to full-brilliance at night to disorient the gangbangers.

There were two black men and two Latinos sitting on bunks, segregated by race, but now with a common interest in Cassie. They all looked at her greedily then they looked at each other.

“You heard what Po-Po say. The bitch is trans,” one of the black men said.

“She fine lookin’ tho; and them look like real titties,” the other black man said.

The four men looked at each questioningly for only a second and then they came for her.

Cassie never stood a chance.

She wounded a couple of them but four against one was just too big odds. They eventually overpowered her and dragged into the shadows and onto one of the bunks. Two of them held her down while one of the guys ripped off her dress and the other poked his cock at her face.

“You bite this bitch and we gonna knock out all your teeth and then I’m going to cut you a new mouth ear to ear with this,” he waved a shank in front of Cassie’s face.

She had no choice and when the proffered phallus was pushed against her lips she opened her mouth and began to suck it. Resistance was futile, besides two of the guys held her down on the bed by her arms and legs so she was helpless.

The cot creaked as one of the men got on it behind her. He and the other man holding her ankles pulled her legs apart despite her struggles. Then she felt the cold steel of another shiv on her buttocks.

“You keep still bitch while I cut your pantyhose. If this shiv slips it might go right up your ass instead of my cock,” a Negro voice said from behind her.

She stopped struggling and sucked on the cock being forced into her mouth. She felt her pantyhose being sliced open at the crotch and the black man on the cot lay on top of her.

During her training she been advised that in an extreme situation like this, the best course of action was to comply. After what she had endured at the Clubhouse for days on end when she had been tied to the billiard table by Brin Sarsgaard and Kyle Shipton, she knew she could survive this. She just needed to minimise any injuries to herself and that was best done by compliance.

When she felt the man on top of her probe at her buttocks, rather than struggle, she lifted her buttocks to assist him with his entry. She felt the bulbous head of his penis enter her sphincter and silently thanked god that she was still lubricated by the moisturiser from Carlo’s bathroom and from the remains of his semen still inside her.

She squirmed a little to allow the man a better angle and then pushed back so that all of the mans hard cock was inside her.

“Man this bitch is good!” the man began to fuck her, rutting at her buttocks.

He reached under her, trying to squeeze her tits but they were pressed to the bed. She indicated her compliance and attempted to get to her knees, assisted by the man fucking her who helped her to her knees and then knelt between her legs and re-entered her. The two men holding her down let go and Cassie was able to support herself, kneeling on the cot on her hands and knees.

“She wants it fellas; she one horny bitch!” the man behind her gripped her thighs and started to fuck Cassie with long slow strokes and Cassie encouraged him by seductively gyrating her ass.

She slavered at the cock in her mouth and used her now free hand to hold the shaft while she suckled the glans, working her tongue on the fraenulum. The other two men played with her tits, squeezing her nipples and massaging the soft white globes.

The two men came quickly and Cassie swallowed the man’s semen when he ejaculated in her mouth and thrust back against the man fucking her as he emptied himself in her anus.

The two men who had been playing with her tits quickly replaced the men fucking her face and her ass and she gave them both what they wanted.

“Damn that was good!” one of men chuckled.

“You get some rest bitch; we gonna do this again!” one of the men said.

Cassie pulled the remnants of her dress around her and curled up on the bunk with cum leaking from her anus and the taste of it on her breath. She refused to cry.

When they came for again a few hours later they made her lie on her back so they could take turns fucking her missionary. The second Negro to fuck her had a large thick cock and knew how to use it. He took his time and worked it against her prostate and massage her cock while he fucked her.

They all laughed when she involuntary orgasmed. She couldn’t stop it, being taken against her will or not, the man fucked her so well she couldn’t repress the pleasure he was giving her.

When they had finished with her they made Cassie get dressed, anticipating that agent Paul Zabinsky would return.

He did. Not long after Cassie had pulled on the remains of her tattered dress for the second time.

“You had enough in there Rivers? You gonna talk to me?” Zabinsky called out.

Cassie put on her heels and stepped up to the bars.

“Fuck no Zabinsky! I like it in here. Why don’t you come in and join the party?” Cassie said sarcastically.

By the light at front of the cell Zabinsky could see that Cassie had been ravaged. Her dress was in tatters, her hosiery full of runners, her hair and makeup and ruined, her lips bruised. But there was something about her; she remained defiant and he had to admit, goddamn sexy, even like this.

“Hey you can take that nigger and spick cock all night for all I care; probably what you do at the clubhouse anyway,” Zabinsky was frustrated.

He felt for sure she would be ready to talk.

The men came for her twice more that night and both times she remained compliant and gave them what they wanted. In the early hours of the morning the Negro with the large thick cock who knew how to use it climbed onto her cot.

“Not again please,” Cassie begged.

She had had enough.

He held her close to him and kissed her.

“You are one pretty thing,” he whispered in her ear.

Reluctantly she kissed him back. The man took his time making love to her; kissing and caressing her, stroking her cock through the gusset of her pantyhose and gently stroking her nipples. She put her arms around him and kissed him back and writhed with pleasure.

“You like that don’t you,” he whispered.

Cassie mewed and slid beneath him.

He entered her slowly and they kissed while he did so. Cassie lifted her legs and locked them around the small of his back and put her arms around his neck and rose to meet him; encouraging him to fuck her.

They came together, he deep inside her and she against his belly.

“I think I’m keeping you all to myself,” the man smiled and caressed her face.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When the other three came to take her again an hour later a fight broke out over her. The Negro with the big cock against the other three. For a while it was touch and go as to who would win; they were going at it with shanks and shivs but then the lights suddenly came on and the cell door clanged open.

Four plain clothed law enforcement officers entered the cell and set about spraying mace on the four gangbangers then beating them with Billy-clubs and herding them to the back of the cell.

Cassie was wrapped in a blanket and escorted out of the cells and back into the interview room where Natalie Styles stood in one corner wearing her usual navy-blue business suit and Christian Louboutin’s anxiously chewing a nail and smoking. She looked at Cassie in her torn dress, ruined nylons, distressed hair and makeup and bruised face being attended to by a female FBI field medic.

Natalie choked back a sob; she couldn’t display her affection for Cassie but she could display her anger at the ATF agent.

“You fuck! Why would you even think you could do that to this woman?” Natalie’s anger was near boiling point.

Paul Zabinsky sat in a chair, a petulant look on his face.

“I thought she was just some cooze you guys had busted and was snitching for you; I wanted information from her for an ATF investigation. Besides, she got cute with me and ran her mouth,” he replied churlishly.

“Also; you don’t get to swear at me you FBI bitch, it’s not like she’s even a real woman!”

Natalie kept herself under control…just.

“Do you deny that you kept an FBI flagged person of interest locked up for nearly twenty four hours without reporting to us that you had her in custody?” Natalie demanded.

“Fuck you,” Zabinsky scowled.

“Do you further deny that against Federal and California State law you unlawfully confined a vulnerable person in a place of danger?” Natalie said levelly.

“Fuck you and fuck the trans cooze. You have no jurisdiction here,” Paul Zabinsky made to get up but two equally burly FBI agents pushed him back down in his chair.

Natalie glared at an officer by the door who opened it to allow ATF agent Darren Stevens into the room.

“You fucking snitch Stevens,” Zabinsky fought against the FBI agents holding him down.

“I warned you,” Darren Stevens said and produced his handcuffs.

Paul Zabinsky struggled as Darren Steven cuffed him and read him his Miranda rights but the two FBI agents kept him well under control.

Natalie walked over to where Cassie was being tended to by the combat medic. The medic had cleaned up a few superficial cuts, given Cassie water to drink and was in the process of unwrapping a sterile disposable suit. Natalie and the medic being the only females in the room held up a blanket while Cassie stripped out of her ruined evening gown and struggled into the unflattering sterile jump suit.

“I suppose even a transvestite biker deserves some decorum,” Natalie maintained the ruse that she hated Cassie.

“Get her skinny tranny ass out of here; I want her debriefed at the Pasadena Field office,” Natalie growled.

“Ok everyone in this interview room. I was never here and this never happened!” Natalie barked.

Cassie was escorted out of the room past Paul Zabinsky who was standing next to the door being restrained by Darren Stevens and two FBI agents. She was escorted by the medic, a blanket draped over her shoulders but Zabinsky couldn’t help himself; he wanted the last word.

“Lucky you! You got that nigger and spick cock all night long and now you get a nice warm blanket,” he snickered.

Unfortunately for ATF agent Paul Zabinsky the FBI hadn’t thought to bring shoes for Cassie to wear and she was still wearing her own Christian Louboutin’s, so when she repeatedly kicked Zabinsky in the groin, the sharp spiked heels lacerated his scrotum and smashed his testes.

Is seemed to take quite a while for the agents present to subdue her; almost like they wanted her have a little revenge.

“Get her out of here!” Natalie screamed.

……

“I keep telling you; my ass ain’t skinny,” Cassie grinned through her bruised lips, when Natalie entered the room.

Natalie slammed the door behind her; locked it and strode over to Cassie and took her in her arms. She gently kissed Cassie’s forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her bruised lips.

“I’m so sorry,” tears ran down Natalie's face.

They were in the Pasadena FBI field office. As the agent in charge, Natalie had told the other agents she wanted to interview Cassie alone once she had been treated, bathed and given a change of clothes. It was a pretence for her to be alone with Cassie.

“Those gangbanger fuckers! You want help getting back at them?” Natalie looked Cassie square in the eyes.

“Nah. They were just doing what gangbangers do given the opportunity. The story will get around and it will help with my cover; the Feebs would never let that happen to one of their own. I used my tradecraft and now it’s all just blur. I’d like a few more minutes with Zabinsky though,” Cassie grinned although her lips smarted.

“That fuck! I hear he’s going to need some serious surgery on his penis and scrotum, your Christian Louboutin’s really fucked up his pecker. I told you they were good for field work,” Natalie smiled wanly at Cassie.

“But seriously; are sure you’re ok?” Natalie kissed Cassie again.

“Look. I’d hate to have gone through all this for nothing. Tell me you recovered the video off my cigarette case camera and the audio from my lighter?” Cassie looked expectantly at Natalie.

Natalie grinned.

“We got everything and both bugs in Carlo Ramirez house are transmitting.”

“Ok you know the drill. I’m going to march you out into the office, call you names and abuse you in front of everyone because you won’t snitch. Then I’m going to have an agent toss you outside.”

“The Medici Cartel double-agent here in the office will witness all that and report back to Carlo and Diego.”

“And later?” Cassie stroked Natalie’s face.

“Later when the coast is clear I’m coming around to your place and we’re going to spoon and snuggle all night. You can even kick my ass if it makes you feel better; I’m just sorry this had to happen,” Natalie was crying again.

Cassie kissed Natalie’s cheek.

“Harden up princess; you gotta kick my ass out of here,” Cassie stroked Natalie’s face one last time and prepared herself for more verbal abuse.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Ten: Sisters of Satan

Natalie Styles decided to cool things down with the Cartel for a while. The listening devices Cassie had planted in Carlo’s house were providing valuable evidence and intelligence for the FBI and a strategic decision was made to allow the Medici’s to keep importing drugs, girls, and weapons into the USA. Intel was passed onto local law enforcement agencies as a third order effect so when busts were made across the south and mid-west, they were not linked to the point of importation, leaving the Medicis to think their operation was safe.

Cassie did the normal sort of things bikers did. She went to church, she provided security for the illegal imports which was now the Chapter’s main source of income, she went on runs, her chapter met up with other chapters of the Beasts of Burden to party; and she drank. She drank a lot; as did all bikers. She stayed away from drugs though and she kept herself fit with gruelling workouts every day. Once a week she met up with Natalie during one of her tortuous cross-country runs and they talked business; and when their schedules allowed it they would meet and make love.

Theirs was a strange relationship. Natalie was Cassie’s boss and had no compunction sending Cassie into danger to achieve the FBI’s objectives but she also had a genuine fondness for Cassie that went beyond friendship. It was an acute balancing act, keeping their love lives and professional lives apart.

As for Cassie, she too was intimately attached to Natalie but mature enough to realise it wasn’t quite love. She had feelings for Dale Clifford too and allowed him to hop in and out of her bed when it suited her but she was irritated by his jealousy and possessiveness.

Cassie was still enjoying the freedom and exhilaration of being a trans woman. After years of being a secret crossdresser, it was empowering and gratifying to be out and about as a woman. She didn’t care if she was identified as a transsexual woman, she was happy being trans and did not yet aspire to fully transition.

It was at least two months after Cassie got busted by the ATF when Natalie dropped a case file on Cassie’s coffee table. Natalie had called ahead to make sure the coast was clear for her to visit.

“You heard of the Sisters of Satan?” Natalie lit a cigarette and sipped the coffee that Cassie had made.

“Nuh! I don’t think so. Wait a minute…that thug Paul Zabinsky from the ATF mentioned them when he was questioning me. They’re an all girl MC out of Nevada I think; but they’re a Riding Club right?” Cassie flicked open the file.

A Riding Motorcycle Club is not really that different to an Outlaw Motorcycle Club in how it operates except for the obvious; they do not get involved in illegal activities. Some OMCs have Riding Clubs affiliated with them so they can carry out legitimate business through them but law enforcement soon figures out who is who.

“They used to be a Riding Club but they have gone outlaw,” Natalie explained.

“They only have six full-patch members and about as many prospects, so they are a tiny one-chapter MC operating out of Las Vegas. They operate as an all-girl MC with a Miz Jill Saint John as their President.”

“While they stayed legit the big three OMCs weren’t interested in them because they don’t take women members and up until now the Sisters of Satan were small fry,” Natalie stubbed out her cigarette and finished her coffee.

“Got anything stronger babe?” Natalie winked at Cassie who reached for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and two glasses.

“So what’s changed for me to be interested?” Cassie poured drinks.

“Turns out Jill Saint John used to work in a Casino. She’s educated; went to college and did a business degree; started out as a croupier and worked her way up to shift manager.”

“Anyway the Kansas City Mob wanted to open a small casino in Las Vegas, something off the strip but big enough so that they can launder their money through it. Somehow Jill Saint John came onto the scene and she got a casino licence and opened up using mob money. Her and her MC operate the Medusa casino,” Natalie lit another cigarette and waved her empty glass at Cassie.

“Anyway it’s lucrative and it works for both the MC and for the KC Mob,” Natalie said as Cassie topped off her drink.

“The mob uses hired patsies to lose the mob’s money at the casino and the Sisters return the laundered cash to KC during their runs. It’s a pretty smart operation.”

“It’s all in the file. Read in and get yourself educated. I’m going to drop the file into our Pasadena Field Office and make sure our double agent gets her hands on it. The information is too juicy for her not to give it to Diego Martinez and for him not give to Steve Monahan,” Natalie smiled conspiratorially.

“And Steve ‘Beast’ Monahan proposes we cut ourselves in because the Sisters aren’t aligned with any other MC so they have no protection. And the Mob can’t touch the Beasts of Burden without starting a war with the Medici Cartel,” Cassie clinked her glass against Natalie’s and sipped the burning liquid.

“You’re not just a pretty face are you?” Natalie pulled Cassie to her and kissed her.

“I suppose the file can wait until tomorrow,” Cassie grinned and returned Natalie’s kisses.

At the next office holder’s meeting Diego Martinez was invited and so was Cassie. Steve Monahan invited Diego to speak.

“This one I give you for free. The Medici’s have no interest in the proposition other than for the Beasts of Burden to profit from the information and of course, for a certain mid west Mafioso to start losing a lot of cash,” Diego chuckled.

“What’s this about?” Dale Clifford asked.

“Diego’s people came across some information about this little OMC in Las Vegas called the Sisters of Satan. They’re running a casino on behalf of the KC Mafia. They’re a tin pot Club with half a dozen members and few probies so they’re ripe for the picking,” Steve explained.

“The Beasts os Burden have a Chapter in Vegas, Beast; why not send them in and get them to pass on a cut of the take to us?’ Snake Gibbons, the club secretary asked.

“Good point Snake. But this little OMC is different. They’re all slits,” Steve grinned.

“Oh! No offence Cassie,” he apologised.

“None taken boss; I don’t have one,” Cassie smiled back.

“We could just hijack the money during the runs but I’d prefer a permanent piece of the pie so I’m sending Cassie in,” Steve said.

“Why Cassie?” Snake interjected.

“Because in case you haven’t noticed Snake; and I’m sure you have, you’re not stupid; Cassie is one hot chick. She’s our chick!” Steve replied.

“And I think the Sisters are more likely to negotiate with her than any of us,” he went on.

“Cassie you hook up with Brent Peters, the Sargent at Arms for the Beasts of Burden Las Vegas Chapter. He’ll show you how things work out there and provide backup. The Sisters might be half a dozen coozes but they have a reputation and they’re connected with the mob,” Steve finished up.

Cassie could see the expression of frustration on Dale Clifford’s face and she deliberately looked away.

“So these coozes run a casino?” Cassie played dumb.

“It’s all here; care of Diego,” Steve handed Cassie a file identical to the one Natalie had given her to study.

“I’ll study it tonight and hit the road tomorrow early; its about a four hour ride,” Cassie replied taking the file.

She had half expected Dale to follow her when her rode into her yard and she wasn’t disappointed; she hadn’t even had time to dismount. He followed her inside without speaking and she took two beers from the fridge and gave him one.

“I’m not here to drink beer Cassie,” Dale started.

“If you’re not here to fuck me then just leave. I’m not interested in anything else right now,” Cassie dropped her jacket on the floor.

Cassie moulded herself to Dale’s body and kissed him. She felt him become erect immediately. She smiled to herself; she liked that she had this effect on him.

He shucked out of his jacket and Cassie snatched and clawed at his jeans, ripping open his belt and his flies, pulling his jeans down his thighs until they bunched at his knees. She took his hard cock in her hand and stroked it; she felt the precum leaking from the eye and used it to lubricate the shaft.

“Oh baby I want you so bad,” Dale mumbled through crushed lips.

“Shut up and fuck me!” Cassie hissed back into his mouth.

She shucked down her jeans and pantyhose and her own erection sprang free. Dale reached for it and Cassie slapped his hand away.

“Don’t! I’m close and I wanna come with a cock inside me,” she moaned.

Cassie spun around and leaned on the breakfast bar thrusting out her soft white derriere; offering it to Dale.

“Goddamn Cassie,” he groaned and moved behind her.

He gripped her hips and pushed. His cock slid inside her nice and easy all the way. She was tight but she was pre-lubricated.

“Fuck me Dale! Fuck me!” Cassie gyrated her buttocks and clenched and unclenched her sphincter.

She could sense that he too was close; they had made love so many times that they knew each other’s signals. Dale slowly eased himself in and out of Cassie’s tight ass but she was impatient.

“Stop that shit and fuck me like a whore!” Cassie pressed back against him and began to rock on her heels.

Dale hated it when Cassie referred to herself as a whore or used any derogatory phrase to describe herself, but she often did in the throes of passion.

Dale gave her what she wanted and fucked her hard and fast, grinding his pelvis into her soft buttocks, gripping her hips so tight that he left bruises. Cassie thrust back and forth in time with him, moaning and mouthing obscenities.

He felt her come. Her anus spasmed and her scrotum retracted, her seed splattered on the tiles and she screamed with rapture. He pushed his cock against her prostate as she had taught him to do and more creamy issue fell to the floor. She hadn’t even touched herself.

Dale held her tight against him and emptied himself inside her. Cassie tried to rut but Dale held her still. He wanted her to feel his love but all she wanted was lust.

It was awkward when they’d finished; wiping body parts, pulling up pants, zipping flies and adjusting clothing. Cassie dropped to her knees with a dishtowel and wiped up her semen.

“Jesus Cassie!” Dale hated the way Cassie was so practical when it came to having sex with him.

She liked the sex but showed him little affection.

Cassie declined Dale’s offer to sleep over; she was up early and packed her panniers ready for the trip. She dressed for the road and to impress the Las Vegas chapter of the Beasts of Burden but more importantly to impress the Sisters of Satan.

She’d recently had her hair styled keeping it straight, shoulder-length, with bangs; dyed black with subtle ruby highlights. She worked hard on her makeup. She would make a rest stop just outside of Vegas and brush out her helmet hair and fix her makeup but she wanted to look good for the road. It gave her confidence.

She slid into pantyhose and tight skinny leather pants. The leather pants looked great and also helped keep her tucked. She had pushed her testes up inside her body and tucked her penis between her legs, wrapping her empty scrotum around it and then taped it in place so that she had a smooth mound in the front of her pants with no unsightly bulge. Cassie had noticed that when she met someone for the first time or announced that she was trans, that was the first place they looked.

Cassie pulled on a pair of black work sox over the footlets of her pantyhose and squeezed her feet into a pair of Falco Ayda black leather calf-high boots. She preferred the shorter boots as they showed off her well-formed legs encased in the tight leather.

Next she pulled on a plain black spandex-cotton-blend shortsleeved t-shirt. She had decided not to wear a bra; the skintight t-shirt showed off her trim figure and pert titties.

She grabbed her panniers in one hand and her helmet, and cut in the other; she put her jacket over her arm and kicked the door closed behind her. She half expected Dale to ride up and badger her but her pebbled front yard was quiet except for distant road noise and the sounds of birds in the trees and rodents in the underbrush. She fixed the panniers to the side of her bike and kicked it over and let it rest on the stand.

She stepped back and surveyed the Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide, with its custom painted cherry red Fat Bob fuel tank and smiled to herself. She put on her black leather jacket and zipped it closed and then she put her cut on over it. The admired the colours and patches she wore on her cut, especially her road name and emblem ‘Biker Bitch’.

She smiled to herself. She was about to tangle with a whole club full of biker bitches.

She pulled on her full-face helmet with the tinted visor and stretched her neck to unclamp her hair. She caught her reflection in one of the bike’s rearview mirrors and she definitely looked like a foxy, mean-looking, sled-riding bitch.

Cassie pulled into the Beasts of Burden Las Vegas Chapter clubhouse around noon. Half a dozen members came out into the courtyard to meet her.

Cassie had stopped at a rest stop and fixed her makeup and rode without her helmet for the last couple of miles of the ride. Her makeup was heavy, lots of black eyeliner and mascara, maroon and dark blue eyeshadow, rouge and ruby red lips with a shiny long-lasting lipgloss. Her hair streamed behind her.

She expected wolf-whistles, derogatory comments, and the usual misogynist bullshit and was ready to have to lay out one of the patch holders in a fight to prove herself.

She was pleasantly surprised when Brent Peters came over and introduced himself. He was taller than Cassie but had the same lithe build; he was remarkably free of tattoos and well groomed with flowing blonde hair. He too wore tight leather pants, a black t-shirt and polished engineer boots. He wore the familiar snarling wolf insignia on the back centre of his denim vest. A rocker above the wolf insignia, emblazoned in gold letters on a black background read ‘Beasts of Burden MC’ and below it read ‘Nevada’. On the front of the vest was the usual OMC 1% badge high on the right breast and he wore his Sargent at Arms and Men of Mayhem patches.

Brent held out his hand and instead of his eyes going straight to her tits and crotch, he instead glanced at her Men of Mayhem patch and then checked out her ride.

“Harley Davidson Super Glide; but you’ve modified it. Big bike for a small framed woman but I see you ride it well,” he commented.

Cassie was again taken aback; she was expecting comments that it wasn’t a true OMC sled and also Brent called her a woman; not a chick, a cooze, a babe, a hump, or her favourite derogatory title, a cunt.

“I’m Brent Peters and you’re Cassandra Rivers. I heard a lot about you and it’s all good. Always great to get a visitor from the mother chapter,” he pointed to the ‘Original’ insignia on her cut.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew but let’s get inside out of the sun and get you a beer to wash away the road dust,” he smiled and patted Cassie on the back.

Her gaydar was lighting up like crazy but Brent was obviously no pansy; but nor was he trying to be something he wasn’t. In the few seconds that Cassie had spent with him she had him pegged for a decent guy but not one to be fucked with. He wouldn’t be Sargent at Arms if he was in any way weak.

“Call me Cassie, please,” she smiled back at him as they strode to the clubhouse.

Introductions were made while Cassie sipped a beer and the rest of the members were as polite and gracious as Brent. She guessed they’d been warned out by their Sargent at Arms not to fuck with her.

“Our President sends his apologies. He knows you’re here and why but he and his old lady had this holiday in the Bahamas planned for months and she’d have killed him if he reneged,” Cassie bet Brent’s smile had broke many a girl’s heart.

“Can we talk business?” Cassie looked around the clubhouse.

“Sure. Let’s go to the meeting room and we can compare notes so to speak,” there was that smile again.

Brent was well briefed and knew what their objective was. He too was packed and ready to roll.

“So we go in hard wearing our colours, no subtleties?” Brent offered for Cassie’s approval.

“That’s how I see it. They’re a tiny club and except for their ties with KC they have no clout. We don’t dishonour them though. Let’s go to the casino not their clubhouse,” Cassie finished her beer.

The two Harleys burbled and growled angrily as Cassie and Brent revved the engines before shutting them down. It was a small act of defiance in the casino’s small parking lot. There were probably around fifty cars parked there, nothing flash, a few were junkers. There were no high-rollers parked here.

Cassie and Brent took the panniers from their bikes and threw them across their shoulders, their helmets were locked to the sides of their bikes. The panniers were heavy but they strode easily and confidently to the casino entrance. The casino was called Medusa and a huge neon sign of a stylised woman’s head with snakes spouting from it hung over the entrance.

The air conditioning hit them like an icy blast as they stepped inside the lobby which was spacious given the size of the place. There was a check-in counter, a concierge desk, and some nice leather furniture so sit on while you waited. Not that you ever had to wait to be checked into a Las Vegas casino hotel, you might have to wait in the lobby for a ride or to meet a friend, but never to check-in. They wanted you in their hotel casino and no one else’s.

Through a smoked glass wall Cassie could just make out the cashiers windows and walls of slot machines behind which were a few gambling tables. Cassie had read the file and knew that the KC Mafia had half a dozen blue-rinse, tracksuit-wearing grannies putting thousands of dollars a week through the poker machines for them. Money earned by the casino through the slots was almost impossible to trace but high rollers on the tables who repeatedly lost large sums attracted the attention of the Gaming Commission.

The grannies got to keep any winnings they made; no one ever asked someone how much they had put in a slot before they won.

A lithe, elegantly dressed woman who was stunningly attractive stepped forward and gave Cassie and Brent a welcoming smile. She was wearing a turquoise, floor-length sheath, split up one side to the waist and cut low at the front to show off her ample but firm decolletage. Her accessories were silver including her high-heeled sandals and the jewelled pin holding her blonde hair piled high on her head in an elaborate do. Her pantyhose shimmered in the casino lights; one leg thrust forward from the split sheath-dress. Her lips were bright red and shiny.

She offered a hand with long delicate fingers, her nails were manicured; polished red and shiny to match her lipstick. Her slim wrist was adorned with a silver and diamond bracelet. The woman smelled wonderful and Cassie was very much aware that she smelled of the road and had beer-breath.

“I’m Jill Saint John, the hotel and casino manager,” her smile was dazzling.

She shook their hands daintily.

Then she gripped Cassie’s hand in a vice-like grip and her eyes burrowed into Cassie’s.

“I’m also president of the Sisters of Satan Motorcycle Club and you two have disrespected my club by wearing those colours in here without first requesting a parley,” her smile returned but her grip remained tight.

“Woah! Steady sister! We meant no disrespect. We came to the casino with the understanding that it’s neutral ground and we could introduce ourselves and talk,” Brent tried his best smile.

Jill didn’t let go of Cassie’s hand.

“You’re Brent Peters and she’s Cassie Rivers; both of the Beasts or Burden, although she’s from the LA original chapter; and this casino is by definition an extension of my clubhouse. We own it and we run it.”

“But you know all that and you’re not here to play the slots are you?” she let go of Cassie’s hand.

“Well…” Jill put out a finger and pressed it to Brent's lips.

She turned her head towards the concierge who was a tight little number in a business suit; she reminded Cassie of Natalie and Cassie bet she was probably just as tough.

“Comp these two a couple of deluxe suites Jenny; and give them two hundred each in chips. Get their clothes cleaned while they freshen up and drop a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in Miz Rivers room and a bottle of Bundaberg Rum in Mister Peters. It’s an Australian rum but I’m sure it’s available somewhere on the strip,” Jill’s smile had returned and she removed her finger from Brent's lips.

“Is there anything you don’t you know about us?” Brent gave her his best smile.

“I’m pretty sure I know most things about you both but I want to know a lot more about you,” she pointed a finger at Cassie.

“You intrigue me,” Jill smiled.

“I’ll see you both for dinner. My table at the sky lounge,” Jill dropped her hand and sashayed away into the casino.

Cassie and Brent looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Follow me,” Jenny ordered.

A fresh-faced young female bellhop in a micro-mini and knee-high boots took their panniers and hung them from a baggage trolley.

Cassie suddenly realised that all the staff, every single one of them, were female.

Cassie relaxed in the huge spa bath in her deluxe suite. Jenny herself had returned with Cassie’s black cocktail dress, freshly dry-cleaned and pressed, she also dropped off the bottle of Jack which Cassie eyed off but decided not to touch. She’d had two glasses of champagne in the bath and had a nice buzz going but she didn’t what to be drunk before dinner.

She stepped into fifteen denier thigh-high stockings, tucked and gaffed herself and slipped on a pair of red satin bikini panties and a matching half-cup brassiere. Her dress was short hemmed and low cut, she wanted to show some flesh. She fixed her hair and makeup and pushed her feet into a pair of cherry-red Christian Louboutin heels. She wanted to stand out, when she flashed her undies her shoes would match, she smiled to herself.

Brent Peters came to her door in a black dinner suit which impressed Cassie.

“You’re the best dressed biker I’ve ever seen. Well let’s qualify that statement; best dressed male biker I’ve ever seen,” she hooked her arm through his and they walked to the elevator.

“My dad rode with the Hells Angels when they opened their Nevada chapter. Mom died when I was five so it was just him and me. I was riding cycles before I even went to high school,” Jill Saint John looked into her glass of burgundy.

They had finished dinner in the casino’s Sky Lounge, the desert stars twinkled through the glass ceiling.

“I used to ride with him all the time and then less so when I got older. He’d take me to the clubhouse and I knew all the members. Some of them tried it on when I came of age; dad was ready to bust heads but I took care of that myself and gained the respect of the crew.”

“But it didn’t matter. I was still just a chick. I could be fender fluff, a momma or a hook up or I could become some guy’s old lady but I couldn’t wear the colours. You know what that’s like,” Jill smiled knowingly at Cassie.

“You seem to know a hell of lot about the Beasts of Burden and me in particular,” Cassie lit a cigarette.

“Yeah I do. Our stories our similar but not the same. I had to form my own club. The Sisters of Satan take shit from the other clubs, they call us the pussy posse, slits on sleds, bimbos on bikes, all sorts of derogatory names but that’s ok. They leave us alone. They think we are some insignificant riding club whose members all work at the casino and ride for a hobby,” Jill took her own cigarette out of her purse and Brent reached over and lit it.

Jill looked him up and down.

“Such a waste,” she smiled.

Brent grinned back at her.

“I tried it when I was younger. Tried real hard but it just didn’t stick. I am who I am I guess,” he smiled at the two women.

“You on the other hand are a dichotomy dressed in leather. I find you intriguing. I’m mostly full-on hetero but I um; let’s say I like to dabble with the right lady when it suits me,” Jill gave Cassie her full attention.

“What about you?” Jill extended her foot.

She’d kicked off her silver heel and ran her foot along Cassie’s calf.

Brent saw this as an opportunity to leave Cassie and Jill alone and hopefully talk business as well as whatever else they were going to get up to. He pulled the four, fifty dollar chips from his pocket and made his excuses.

“I’m gonna see if I can get rich,” he grinned at the two delightful ladies.

“Good luck cowboy,” Jill replied but she never took her eyes off Cassie.

“You know about me; you’ve said so,” Cassie sipped her wine.

“I do but let’s see how much I have right. Born Cameron Rivers, son of the founding father of the original chapter of the Beasts of Burden. Highly ranked Prospect who unfortunately was smitten with gender dysphoria and banished from the club. It gets hazy for a while, rumoured you went to Mexico and had reassignment surgery; how am I going so far?” Jill smiled, Cassie noticed her eyes were green like hers.

Cassie smiled back.

“Go on…let’s hear the whole story.”

“Came back to California and amazingly proved herself worthy enough to join the club and got herself patch. Claims to be the only female full-patch member of an OMC. Has been known to associate with Diego Martinez which confirms the rumours of the Beasts’ links to the Medici Cartel.”

“And now she’s here, talking to the President of the Sisters of Satan; that can’t be good,” Jill’s smile faded.

“How did I do? How much reassignment did you get?” Jill’s foot slid into Cassie’s lap and then under her dress, her toes went exploring.

“Oh no… it looks like I’m going to be disappointed,” she mimicked a pout.

“You never heard of tucking and gaffing?” Cassie pouted back.

Jill frowned.

Cassie eased Jill’s foot from her lap and smoothed her skirt. She leaned into Jill and whispered in her ear.

“Best explained by show and tell,” Cassie stood and offered her hand to Jill.

Jill put her high-heeled sandal back on, collected her things and took Cassie’s hand.

“I live right here in the penthouse,” she whispered in Cassie’s ear and seductively nuzzled her neck.

Jill lay back on the huge elevated bed her turquoise, floor-length sheath contrasting with the red satin bed spread. The split in her dress was wide open revealing her long gossamer-clad legs. She guided Cassie’s head so that her tongue lapped at that special spot.

Cassie had removed Jill’s panties and lapped at her cunt through the gusset of Jill’s pantyhose until Jill couldn’t take the torment any longer and tore out the gusset so that Cassie’s tongue could lick her sweet pussy.

Cassie strayed her tongue over Jill’s clitoris whilst concentrating on licking her labia. She knew this would drive Jill wild and it had that effect. Jill gripped Cassie’s head and lifted her crotch off the bed and thrust her pussy against Cassie’s lips and tongue. Cassie grinned and gently suckled Jill’s clit, send flashes of ecstasy through her body. Her hands reached up and freed Jill’s large firm breasts from her bra; Jill’s nipples were large and firm like raspberries and Cassie thrummed them with her fingers while her mouth worked Jill’s cunt.

“Oh my god you fucking bitch! Oh yessss! Right there! Right there!” Jill orgasmed, writhing on the bed, her feet drumming on the bedspread as she came.

Cassie gave Jill no time to recover; she climbed on Jill’s body, tearing away her gaff and freeing her angry hard cock and shoved into Jill’s wet, buttery pussy as her lips crushed Jill’s. Jill lifted her legs and wrapped them around Cassie as Cassie fucked her hard and fast.

Cassie was close to coming too and she arched her back and drove herself deep inside Jill’s cunt, grinding her pubis in to Jill’s eliciting her second orgasm as Cassie filled Jill’s pussy with scalding semen.

Cassie fucked Jill hard, smashing her mouth into Jill’s. Jill drew blood as she bit Cassie’s lips, She clutched Cassie to her with her arms and legs and physically rose up off the bed to grind herself against Cassie and force Cassie’s cock deeper inside her.

The two women ravished each other, clawing, biting, scratching and fucking.

Jill used her considerable strength and flipped Cassie on her back and rode her, slamming her groin into Cassie’s crotch, sliding her cunt up and down on Cassie’s hard flesh. She bent down and licked a trickle of blood from Cassie’s lips and then kissed her.

Cassie’s dress was almost ripped from her body, her nylons tattered, her panties soaked with Jill’s vaginal secretions, she’s long ago kicked off her heels. Jill fared no better. Cassie had pulled the bodice of her dress around her waist, her dress was a mere turquoise sash, her pantyhose shredded and her bra pulled down to her belly. Jill squeezed her own nipples as she rose up and down and rode Cassie; her back arched and her head thrown back.

Cassie gripped her waist and guided Jill up and down, rising to meet her thrusts.

Amazingly they orgasmed again, this was twice for Cassie and thrice for Jill. Jill ground herself into Cassie who held her tight and pushed up with all her might as she ejaculated deep inside Jill. They froze like that in a paroxysm of pleasure and delight, they allowed their orgasms to course through their very beings, they shuddered and spasmed and screamed obscenities until they were both sated.

Jill fell forward, her slick body pressed against Cassie; her hair a dishevelled mess of sweaty ringlets.

Cassie kissed her and held her softly. Jill’s breathing slowed and she kissed Cassie back. They lay in each other’s arms, Jill on top of Cassie, stroking and caressing each other now that they were sated.

Jill shivered in the air conditioning.

“Shower?” she smiled down at Cassie.

Cassie smiled and nodded.

“Then we can come back to bed. If you’re up for it we could do this again,” Jill grinned down at Cassie and kissed her playfully on the nose.

“We can talk business over breakfast.”

Cassie nodded again and leaned up and kissed Jill tenderly.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Eleven: Patchover

“So… you’ve scratched my itch, and a few other places,” Jill Saint John sat at the breakfast table with Cassie.

They were both dressed in silk dressing gowns and complimentary hotel slippers. They had just showered and Jill wore fresh panties and nothing else. Cassie wore a pair of panties straight out of the wrapper, donated to her by Jill. She had stayed the night and for breakfast.

“You didn’t come to Vegas just to fuck a biker chick and you didn’t bring the Sargent at Arms of the local chapter of the Beasts with you to make small talk,” Jill sipped her coffee.

The table was piled high with dishes, she and Cassie were ravenous after a night of unbridled lust.

“You know a lot about me. Well I know a lot about you and your club,” Cassie lit a cigarette and offered one to Jill.

“You’re running the casino on behalf of the Kansas City mob and taking a stake to keep your club going. After overheads for the hotel and casino and the vig you pay KC that ain’t much.”

“The big three, Hells Angels, The Mongols, and the Bandidos have been giving you heat. They don’t want another MC in town, no matter how small,” Cassie ashed her cigarette.

“It’s worse than that. The Angels have hit our payment delivery runs to KC twice, taking the money and the second time they… well they assaulted two of my crew,” Jill had lost some of her haughtiness.

Cassie grimaced; she was no stranger to unwanted sexual advances.

“Of course the mob aren’t interested in our woes; they just want their money so we have to make it up by increasing the amounts we deliver on the next runs,” Jill said.

“And now I take it by yours and Brent’s presence, that the Beast of Burden are looking to take a cut,” Jill looked Cassie in the eye.

“I’ll be honest with you. That’s what we came here to do but I think I might have a mutually beneficial plan germinating in my tranny brain,” Cassie grinned.

“Why do you do that?” Jill frowned.

“Why do I do what?” Cassie forced a smile.

“Why do say depreciative things about yourself?”

“I know you’re intelligent and I know you can fight better than most men, you are a stunning looking woman and I think you have genuine compassion and feelings but you make these little derogatory quips about yourself.”

“You call yourself a ‘tranny’, a ‘slut’, a ‘bitch’. I know you wouldn’t let anyone else use those terms in reference to yourself; so why do you?” Jill reached out and touched Cassie’s wrist.

Cassie shrugged her shoulders and got up to leave.

“I’ll wear this dressing gown and slippers to my room if you don’t mind,” she gathered up her things.

Jill saw Cassie to the door and kissed her.

“Ok babe the loving’s over. I’ll see you at our clubhouse this afternoon. We have church at fifteen hundred so lets say sixteen hundred for parlay?” Jill said, holding the door.

“Sixteen hundred,” Cassie replied and padded to the elevator.

Cassie drank coffee and smoked for a couple hours back in her suite. When she thought she had it figured out she sent an email to Natalie and gave her fifteen minutes to read it then called her on the secure cell.

“Hello Sugar Doll,” Natalie teased.

“You want me to come back to LA and stomp your ass? Call me that again!” Cassie teased her back.

“You wish,” Natalie quipped.

“No! You wish! You like a good ass stomping you trollop,” Cassie quipped back then got down to business.

“What do you think Nat?” Cassie asked.

“It’s a great proposal. It gives the FBI a link into the Kansas City Mafia and a toehold in Vegas. Is the MC gonna go for it though? This isn’t what they sent you there to do,” Natalie sounded a little sceptical.

“Even that numb-nuts Snake Gibbons has gotta see the upside to this,” Cassie replied.

“Yeah financially… but they’re an all woman MC; how’s that gonna sit with the office holders and the rest of the MC?” Cassie heard Natalie light a cigarette.

“Hey those misogynist assholes gave me a patch,” Cassie replied lighting her own smoke.

“You still got a dick honey,” Natalie laughed so hard she coughed.

“Fuck you honey,” Cassie replied but the mirth was evident in her voice.

“Bring that skinny ass home safe to me babe,” Natalie replied.

“Hey! I don’t have a…” the line clicked dead.

“You bet honey. I just gotta get those dumb-asses and then the bitches to drink the Kool-Aid,” Cassie whispered to the empty room.

She tossed her cellphone on the lounge and lifted the receiver for the house phone.

“Brent Peters room please,” Cassie said to the receptionist.

“I’ve got a change of plan to propose to you. Bring that Australian rum with you and I’ll get the Coke and ice,” Cassie put out her cigarette.

“Only a Philistine would pour Coke into Bundaberg Rum,” Brent chuckled.

Cassie heard another male voice in the background.

“Whatever! Bring the rum; leave your boyfriend,” she put down the phone and went back to her laptop.

It took two hours and half a bottle of rum for Cassie and Brent to compromise and agree on a course of action and another two hours on the phone back to the Beasts of Burden LA clubhouse to get agreement in principle from the Mother Club.

Cassie emailed a local embroiderer shop and then followed up with a phone call.

“Yep! You got it. Just like the designs I sent you. All six the same and then a couple with those special tags I sent you. Yep I guarantee it, cash, today, I’ll be right there at three o’clock,” Cassie swiped her cell to end the call.

“Well we can do one of three things before we have to go but you don’t fuck women and I can’t drink anymore of that rum so I’m going with option three and taking a nap,” Cassie said, a little drunk.

“I’ll see you in the foyer, fully spurred and wearing cuts,” Brent said, showing no effects of the rum.

“You going back to your room to bang that young man?” Cassie grinned.

“I might be… see you later alligator,” he grinned and headed for the door.

Jill Saint John filled out her denim skinny jeans and black t-shirt magnificently. She wore her cut open which showed off her rack; her long blonde hair fell down over her shoulders. Her dark eye makeup and shiny red lipstick were stark. She stood at the rail on the balcony of the Sisters of Satan’s small clubhouse, smoking and scrutinising Cassie and Brent as they parked their hogs and shut them down.

“I’d say it’s good to see you both again but I don’t think it is. I think you come bearing bad news and you’re going to leave here angry and leave my crew even angrier. I think our clubs might end up at war and I’m not stupid enough to think we can we win. But we ain’t gonna lay down for you,” Jill flicked her cigarette into the dust.

Cassie dismounted and rummaged in her pannier and put a package under her arm. Brent leaned on his bike.

“Why don’t you and your office bearers hear what we have to say before you declare war?” Cassie looked up at Jill, shading her eyes.

“There’s only six of us patched so we all sit in church. Our prospects are at the bar waiting for church to finish. Come on in and get it over with,” Jill waved a hand at the door to the club.

The inside of the club was new, it had all the right fittings for a biker bar, relics, posters, and pictures of old bikes but it wasn’t rustic or scarred. There was also a marked absence of pictures of big-titted girls in cut offs lounging provocatively on Harleys.

The prospects looked mainly to be in their teens, two were obviously butch lezzies; the other four were feminine but well built; not easily fucked with Cassie thought.

Cassie and Brent dumped their phones in a basket on the bar that was full of other phones. There were no phones or any devices allowed in church, just like at any OMC.

The meeting room was big for the size of the club. A long hardwood table that could easily sit twelve commanded the centre of the room with matching chairs surrounding it. Someone had obviously been a fan of the ‘Sons of Anarchy’ TV show. A large medusa head was carved into the table with ‘Sisters of Satan’ inscribed below the icon.

The five women sitting around the table were definitely not fender fluff. They were attractive, although a couple carried a few extra pounds, but they looked the business. The women looked hard and most had club and biker tattoos visible on their skin. They looked proud, defiant, and ready to fight for their club.

It was what Cassie was hoping for.

Jill Saint John took her seat at the head of the table and pointed her gavel at Cassie and Brent who remained standing and were not invited to sit.

“Cassandra Rivers and Brent Peters from the Beasts of Burden MC come to parlay,” Jill said matter of factly.

“Fuck em! Tell them to hit the road! We ain’t giving them shit!” one of the more belligerent girls growled.

“Don’t be like that Gail. I invited them here to say their piece. When they’re done, that’s when we’ll tell them to hit the road and dig in for war,” Jill replied calmly.

Cassie held up her hands and looked around the room, engaging the eyes of each member briefly before she started.

“I know that you know who I am and where I came from. I know that you know that I’m a trans woman; not genetically female. But I’m still a woman and biker and I know that you know how hard it is to be both,” Cassie said.

A couple of heads around the table nodded.

“I’m going to be honest with you because you deserve the truth. Because you’ve earned it. Because you are in some way my sisters too.”

There were some indifferent grunts to these statements but Cassie went on undeterred.

“My President sent me here after telling me this. The Sisters of Satan are a tin pot Club with half a dozen members and few Probies so they’re ripe for the picking. He told me to convince you to pay up to our Nevada chapter or threaten to wipe you out.”

All of the Sisters began to growl; a couple beat the table with their fists but Cassie raised her hands again. She had to shout to be heard.

“But I’m not going to do that! Listen to me! Listen to me! I’m not here to make you pay a tithe or tribute to the Beasts!” Cassie shouted over the din.

Jill Saint John banged her gavel and the room became silent again.

“But the truth is the truth. You can’t survive as the Sisters of Satan. The KC mob are too far away to protect you. The Angels, The Mongols or The Bandidos will chew you up and spit you out,” Cassie went on.

The Sisters started to grumble again but Cassie went on.

“But you can survive! But you can’t join the big three; they won’t have you.”

“I propose this,” Cassie ripped open the package she had under arm.

Inside was a leather jerkin. A cut. She held it up and presented it to the room; showing the back of the cut.

In the middle of the vest was an embroidered snarling wolf insignia. A rocker above the wolf insignia, emblazoned in gold letters on a black background read ‘Beasts of Burden’, the bottom rocker read ‘Las Vegas Nevada’.

“A fucking patchover! Fuck that!” one of the women yelped.

“Wait! Wait!” Cassie spun the jerkin around and showed the front of the cut.

On the front of the vest was the usual OMC 1% badge. But high on the left breast above the pocket was a small Medusa patch and the words Sisters of Satan in gold letters on a black background. On the other breast was the stylised emblem of a woman riding a Harley with the words ‘Biker Bitch’ above and ‘Don’t Fuck With Me’ below.

The room became silent.

“The original six get to wear these,” Cassie fingered the smaller Medusa and Sisters of Satan patches.

“Subsequent full-patch members only get to wear the Biker Bitch patch,” Cassie explained, pointing to her own Biker Bitch patch.

“It’s still a fucking patchover!” the woman Jill had called Gail snarled.

“Of course it’s a fucking patchover! I told you, your club won’t survive otherwise; and what other club will allow women to ride with them? Or even let women wear their patch?” Cassie was becoming exasperated.

Brent stepped forward.

“You will be your own Chapter. Separate to our Nevada Chapter but affiliated. You keep your own clubhouse, your own membership and bylaws,” he explained.

“And you get our protection. None of the big three or anyone else is going to fuck with you knowing you’re patched with the Beasts and knowing our ties with the Medici Cartel,” Cassie went on.

“What do you say Sisters? Can we at least discuss terms?” Cassie held up the cut again and it was obvious that most of the Sisters approved.

Jill looked around the table and all the women nodded; some enthusiastically and some not so.

“Prospect!” she yelled and one appeared immediately at the door.

“Bring in some cold suds, three bottles of Jack, and some shot glasses. We’re going to be a while so I’m allowing drinks in church,” Jill rapped her gavel again.

“You got any rum?” Brent asked.

“Jesus! Fuck no! Now you and Miss Rivers take a seat,” Jill shook her head but she was smiling.

The Sister’s of Satan debated the patchover for hours and slowly the rank and file realised what Jill Saint John knew and Cassie kept telling them. The Sister’s of Satan were finished as an independent Motorcycle Club. When it looked like Jill was going to get a majority vote Cassie asked to be heard again.

“Ok ladies; I guess you are close to a decision; so here is the sweetener that will not only save your MC but put you in front financially,” Cassie began.

“Most of you have jobs in the Casino to keep it running. Well, you can all be management in a few weeks. The Beasts Originals will contact the appropriate guys in the Medici Cartel and get you the sweetest hostesses and croupiers and the most efficient housekeeping staff you can imagine.”

“Fucking Mexican puttas,” Gail said with disdain.

“Latinos yes; but not the kind you are thinking of. I’ll get Miguel to provide you with educated girls who genuinely want to work to fill those positions in the Casino. You pay them a fair wage but well below the industry awards. I’ll also get you some nice clean hookers, girls who won’t steal from the customers and won’t hold out on you. That’s all profit to you,” Cassie continued.

“And they can deal for the Medici’s too, off premises of course, but you still take a cut. Brent and I did the math; you girls will at least double your take, and you get our protection,” Cassie spread her hands; she was done.

“And in return?” Jill raised her eyebrows.

“You make some introductions for Miguel into the Kansas City mob. Just sponsor a sit down; Miguel can take it from there. And of course; you remain loyal to the Beasts of Burden LA as the mother chapter,” Brent Peters said.

After more discussion Cassie and Brent left the church so the Sisters of Satan could vote. Cassie and Brent sat outside on the balcony sipping beer. They heard church break up and the Club invite the prospects into the meeting room to tell them the verdict and let them chose what they wanted to do.

A little later the front door slammed open and one full-patch member Cassie knew only as Mary stormed out followed by a prospect. They fired up their rides and left in a cloud of dust.

Cassie and Brent looked at each other with raised brows and then Jill appeared at the door.

“They don’t wanna patchover I take it?” Cassie waved her bottle at the settling dust.

“The prospect was never gonna get her top rocker anyway; she was only in the MC for the pussy and Mary really wants to be a soccer mom when she’s not out on a run. They’re no loss to the club. Come inside and meet the newest chapter of the Beasts of Burden,” Jill opened the door wide for them.

Cassie took out her cell and speed dialled Steve Monahan.

“Patchover party tomorrow night in LA, Beast. Bring down whoever you want for the run and tell Diego that the offers by the Medici Cartel have been accepted. Brent Peters will bring over half a dozen riders from the main Las Vegas chapter,” She summarised the deal that had been struck being careful not to say anything incriminating on the unsecured line.

“I’ve still got some troubled water to smooth,” Jill smiled.

“And I’ve gotta get back to my clubhouse and report to the office holders that there is a new LA chapter of the Beasts of Burden,” Brent smiled.

“Well fuck it! I’m riding back to the Casino; is my room still comped?” Cassie smiled at Jill who nodded.

Cassie unwound her Super Glide and was enjoying the freedom of the road when she came to a barricade across the highway with an arrow below a ‘detour’ sign pointing to a secondary road. The detour was still blacktop and Cassie was in no rush so she shifted down and took the side road and was working her way through the gears when a black van with shaded windows pulled up beside her.

Cassie had just enough time to register the van’s presence when the side door slid opened and she saw what looked like a cannon pointing at her. There was a small explosion and Cassie was blown off her bike onto the desert sand while her Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide continued down the road a while until it stalled and rolled into a culvert.

Déjà vu. The French have a name for it; when Cassie came out the darkness she knew what she was experiencing but was too groggy to put a name to it.

Cassie woke up with the worst headache she had ever experienced. She was really thirsty, dehydrated in fact, and her side hurt like an elephant had kicked it.

She was once again chained to a billiard table and she rubbed her ankle where the chain was manacled to her leg. Her nylon pantyhose had worn through and her skin was red and bleeding.

She had no idea how long she had been here or where the fuck here was.

Cassie struggled to her feet and took in her surroundings. The billiard table was long past its prime; the felt faded and torn, the surface unplayable. The room was unlit but light streamed through slats nailed on boarded-up windows and dust motes drifted in the air. The place smelled of old stale beer, remnants of rancid cooking odours, cigarette smoke, mould, and rodent droppings. The furnishings that Cassie could make out were decrepit; relics of days long gone.

She appeared to be in an abandoned saloon or hotel bar.

She was naked except for her panties, pantyhose and bra. She looked down and saw a huge black and purple bruise with yellow edges on her left side caused by whatever the projectile was that had knocked her off her bike.

“Those rubber bullets are fucking awesome!” a voice said approaching from behind her.

“Hey! The tranny’s awake!” a female voice squealed excitedly.

Cassie knew this was not going to end well for her.

Cassie would recognise that asinine whine anywhere; it was Bendy Wendy and that distinctive style of speech, speaking out the front of his mouth around his tongue like Woody Harrelson could only be Brin Sarsgaard.

“Hey Cassandra!” Bendy Wendy said sarcastically as she came into Cassie’s field of view.

She was wearing her usual ensemble of Daisy Dukes with sheer tan pantyhose, tight T-shirt and red spiked high heels. Her hair was big and her makeup heavy as usual. Her shoulder length black hair was teased out; she’d put on couple of pounds but she could carry it easily with her buxom figure, and she still had those killer legs and tight buns.

Tight buns that Brin Sarsgaard was molesting absentmindedly as he stood beside Wendy looking Cassie up and down.

“What is with you and billiard tables Cassie? I’m gonna call you that because just about every skerrick of Cameron Rivers is gone now; ‘cept maybe what you got tucked away in those little panties,” Brin grinned evilly and continued to squeeze Wendy’s ass.

“You gonna poke her Brin? You gonna poke her up the ass again while I watch?” Wendy grinned stupidly.

Cassie’s training kicked in instinctively. She knew the best way to turn the tables was to be complicit and wait for her chance to escape or to take out these two losers. She noticed that Brin was wearing a Devil Dogs patch with a California rocker on his cut. He had obviously followed Cassie to Nevada or tracked her down at the Sisters of Satan MC. Wendy had been banned from the Beasts of Burden clubhouse about the same time Brin been kicked out of the Club so she was likely a momma for the Devil Dogs because she had thing for Brin.

But Cassie couldn’t help her herself.

“I’d guess that’s a foregone conclusion Wendy. Brin has fucked us both and he told me he prefers my tight ass to your slack, sloppy cunt. In fact he told me your cunt is big enough for him to park his ride in,” Cassie grinned.

Wendy leapt for Cassie and fortunately for her Brin grabbed Wendy and pulled her up short.

“You fucking tranny hag fag! You were a lousy fuck when you were Cameron Rivers and I bet you are no better now! Who want’s to stick their dick up some trannie’s shitty ass!” Wendy squeaked.

Cassie turned her attentions to Brin.

“As much as you say you despise me; you can’t stop yourself from fucking me, can you Brin?” Cassie looked Brin in the eyes.

Brin let go of Wendy and pushed Cassie over the billiard table; her ass was presented provocatively and Brin couldn’t help himself. He caressed Cassie’s smooth globes encased in the sheer fabric of her pantyhose and panties.

“Jeez you do have one fine ass!” Brin gasped as he groped Cassie’s tight buttocks.

“If you could only just shut that trap of yours,” Brin reached around and slid his hands inside Cassie’s bra and tweaked her nipples.

“Goddamn Cassie, now you’ve got tits and everything you are one sexy bitch,” Brin pressed his crotch into Cassie’s behind.

“Go on Brin. Poke her! Poke that tranny whore!” Wendy clapped her hands like a petulant child.

Cassie ignored Wendy; she knew that Brin was the one she needed to take care of. She pushed her buttocks back against his groin and gyrated her hips.

Brin slid Cassie’s panties down her long legs and they pooled around her ankles. Cassie stepped out of them so that they remained trapped around the ankle that was chained to the pool table.

She heard the ominous sound of Brin unzipping and the rustle of denim as he pulled his pants down to his knees.

“Yeah! Do her Brin! Fuck her up the ass good and proper!” Wendy yelped, her voice thick with revenge and lust.

Brin nestled his cock in the crevice of Cassie’s buttocks and thrust back and forth, stimulating his already engorged penis.

“You do have one sweet ass,” he sighed and pressed himself to her, cupping her breasts and grinding his cock against her nylon-clad ass.

Cassie’s nipples sprang to life as Brin tweaked and molested them; she wasn’t really aroused but her body was responding to Brin’s ministrations. She bought her hands to her chest and embraced Brin’s strong arms, moulding his hands to her bosom. She turned her head and Brin lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

“Hey Brin! You’re just supposed to fuck her and dump her; not get romantic with that shemale cunt!” Wendy was getting jealous watching Brin treat Cassie like a lover rather than a whore.

Brin turned Cassie around so that she faced him. The chain rattled against the bare floor. Cassie put her arms around Brin and pulled him to her.

“You are such an asshole but god you know how to turn me on,” she whispered against his lips.

Her tongue flicked out, teasing him and Brin sighed. He pressed his lips to hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. Cassie lifted her legs, the chain was just long enough to allow her to wrap her legs around his waist.

Cassie felt Brin’s cock pushing against her sphincter; only a scintilla of nylon preventing him from entering her. She kissed him harder and wriggled her buttocks, encouraging him.

“You are such a whore!” Brin gasped into Cassie’s mouth and reached between their bodies.

Brin snagged the crotch of Cassie’s pantyhose and the portentous sound of the diaphanous material tearing open filled the silence.

Wendy’s mouth was dry. She was fascinated by the tableau being played out before her. The striking presence of the tall, lithe, transvestite clad only in sheer black pantyhose, laying back on the billiard table, her long legs locked around Brin’s waist as he probed at her buttocks was an erotic spectacle that required her full attention. She slid a hand inside her shorts and found herself wet. The waistband of her pantyhose restricted her movements but she was able to find her clitoris with her middle finger.

Cassie turned to face Wendy and grinned malevolently and lifted her legs over Brin’s shoulders. She reached into her pantyhose and ripped away the sanitary napkin holding her cock imprisoned between her legs.

Cassie was rampant and her engorged penis tented the gusset of her hose as she lowered her legs and locked them around Brin’s waist and lifted her buttocks up and pushed forward, impaling herself on his hard cock.

Wendy gasped as she witnessed Cassie skewer herself on Brin’s manhood and slowly gyrate her hips to encourage Brin to fuck her.

Cassie was unlubricated and Brin’s cock felt like a hard rod inside her; chafing her anus. Wriggling her buttocks invoked Brin to secrete preseminal fluid which aided lubrication. Cassie bit her lip and pushed back against him, encouraging Brin to fuck her.

Wendy was jigging away at herself, thrumming her clit as she watched her lover fuck the stunning transvestite. Cassie’s jet-black mane, with the ruby highlights was thrown back and her face contorted with lust. Cassie’s makeup was smeared on her face having been thrown from her bike and manacled in the dump of the abandoned hotel but she still looked ravishing. Her red lipstick was smeared across her face as she lifted her head to meet Brin’s as he lowered his face to hers so he could kiss her while he fucked her.

Brin gripped Cassie by the hips and thrust himself slowly in and out of her tight ass, enjoying every scintilla of pleasure as he fucked her. All thoughts of what would happen after he had fucked her and any consideration of Wendy’s presence were long gone; he was wrapped in the intense pleasure of fucking the gorgeous creature who lay on the pool table, gripping him with her sheer-hosed calves, encouraging him to fuck her.

Cassie’s arms locked around Brin’s neck as her tongue invaded his mouth and she lifted herself up and drove her haunches onto Brin’s cock, his member was deep and prodding at her prostate. She ground against him and spent herself. The front of her pantyhose blossomed with a creamy sperm bloom as she ejaculated.

Wendy witnessed Cassie’s spontaneous orgasm and she climaxed; thrumming a finger against her clitoris, driving two fingers into her sodden cunt. She gasped and held onto the billiard table to support herself as her legs nearly gave way.

Brin gasped and released himself. He gripped Cassie’s bruised hips in a vice-like grip and thrust himself deep inside her as he came. His semen provided much needed lubrication and Cassie writhed beneath him, kissing him harder; encouraging him to orgasm, she felt his cock pulsate as he ejaculted deep in her anus.

Cassie lifted her legs up so that her ankles hung over Brin’s shoulders. As he crested his passion she flicked her calves, putting a foot either side of face and snapped his neck. Brin collapsed as his synapses ceased to function.

Wendy was too enraptured to comprehend what had just happened and as she suddenly realised that her beau had been rendered unconscious it was too late. Cassie kicked Brin’s supine form from on top of her and sprang at Wendy. The chain had just enough slack to enable Cassie to reach Wendy and knock her out cold with a single blow. Wendy didn’t even have time to take her hand out of panties as she fell supine on the filthy floor.

Cassie quickly glanced around; looking for anything she could use to break the chain imprisoning her to the billiard table. There was nothing.

She bent down and searched Brin’s pockets and found a handcuff key which fitted into the lock of the manacle around her ankle. She unlocked it and sprinted over to the dust-blown bar and rattled around in the old rusty refrigerator. She found a can of Diet Coke manufactured circa nineteen eighty nine but she didn’t care. She ripped off the tab and guzzled the stale, sweet liquid, attempting to slake her thirst.

Cassie spun around ready to defend herself when she heard footsteps on the tired wooden floor. It took her only seconds to recognise the click-clack of Natalie Styles’ Christian Louboutin’s.

“Fuck me girly! For a second there I thought I might have to come and rescue you,” Natalie Styles was dressed in her usual uniform of tight-fitting navy blue business suit, cream silk blouse, heavy black mascara, bright-red lipstick, ultra-sheer pantyhose.

She held a SIG nine millimetre pistol loosely at her side. She holstered the weapon as she approached Cassie who gulped down the last of the flat warm soft drink.

Natalie kissed Cassie lovingly and then put her lips to Cassie’s ear.

“Your clothes are in the next room. My guys have your bike and it will be fixed just like new by the end of the week. I’ll get a clean-up crew to take care of this shit; let’s get out of here and get you cleaned up and get a real drink inside you,” Natalie whispered and kissed Cassie’s neck gently.

She put her arm around Cassie’s shoulder and helped her limp towards the door. Cassie abruptly stopped.

“Hey! How long have you been here?” Cassie said.

“I tracked you on your mobile phone but to answer your question; just long enough to make sure that your training didn’t go to waste and that you could protect your skinny ass,” Natalie smiled.

“Hey!” Cassie protested.

“Yeah I know. You don’t have a skinny ass,” Natalie squeezed Cassie’s buttock and kissed her cheek.

To be continued.

Biker Bitch
By
Michele Nylons

Chapter Twelve: The Last Ride

Cassie lay on top of Natalie, rubbing her erect penis on Natalie’s mons through two layers of satin panty.

“If you come before you put that in me I’m going to make you pay bitch,” Natalie reached down and squeezed Cassie’s penis and smiled up at her lover.

“I know it drives you wild; I can feel you getting wet through your panties,” Cassie grinned down at Natalie and then she kissed her.

Natalie was on the verge of coming herself, Cassie’s penis was pressing against Natalie’s mound, forcing her labia open and rubbing on her clitoris through layers of slinky fabric.

“Fuck! Put it in me you bitch,” Natalie freed Cassie’s erection from her panties and pulled the sodden gusset of her own panties aside.

She arched her back and lifted her groin, impaling herself on Cassie’s long, hard cock.

“Oh,” both Cassie and Natalie shuddered as Natalie’s cunt grasped Cassie’s cock.

Cassie began to slowly fuck Natalie, grinding her pubis into Natalie’s mons to ensure her clitoris was being stimulated.

Natalie pulled Cassie to her and kissed her passionately; she writhed underneath her transsexual lover. Their legs intertwined, their sheer nylon stockings rubbing together whispering and sending little shards of pleasure through their bodies.

“Fuck me honey! Fuck me hard and make me come!” the wantonness in her voice was palpable.

Cassie returned Natalie’s kiss and then she lifted Natalie’s legs in the crook of her elbows to fully expose Natalie’s groin and began to slam her cock in and out Natalie’s sodden sex. Natalie screamed with pleasure and Cassie drove herself deep inside Natalie and ejaculated.

Natalie raked her nails down Cassie’s back and locked her legs around her waist and thrust herself upwards so that she could grind her mound into Cassie’s groin, increasing the pressure on her clitoris. She writhed and moaned as she climaxed and Cassie sighed as her cock convulsed and ejaculated deep inside her lover.

The two lovers clung to each other, writhing and moaning as they orgasmed.

Later they spooned and nuzzled.

“I don’t know what to do about you Cassandra Rivers,” Natalie said stroking Cassie’s thigh.

“Why is that Special Agent Styles?” Cassie turned around and met Natalie’s gaze.

“Because I’m pretty sure I love you,” Natalie’s eyes began to tear up.

“I know I shouldn’t because I am your supervising Agent. I know I shouldn’t because I know you love being a patched member of an Outlaw Motorcycle Club. I know I shouldn’t because I know your past; I know so much about your past and what you’ve been through and I’m not sure that you could ever reciprocate my love for you,” she stroked Cassie’s face.

“You forgot to mention that you shouldn’t because I’m a tranny whore,” Cassie whispered.

Natalie sprang up on her elbows and slapped Cassie hard across the cheek.

“Stop that! How can you talk about yourself that way! You know that’s not true!” Natalie was infuriated.

“You helped make me what I am,” Cassie murmured.

“I’m not ashamed; it’s just what I am,” Cassie said pragmatically.

Natalie pulled Cassie close to her and hugged her.

“No, that’s what you present to the world to survive. Underneath all that you are caring and loving; a lost soul but worthy of redemption,” Natalie kissed Cassie’s forehead.

“So what are we going to do? Get married? Raise a family? Maybe you quit the FBI and I quit the Beasts of Burden and we elope and live happy ever after,” Cassie said cynically.

“I don’t know what we do in the future; I just know what we do for now,” Natalie pulled Cassie’s face to hers and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Fuck! This would be so much easier if I didn’t love you too,” Cassie stroked Natalie’s face tenderly.

They cried in each other’s arms, they hugged and consoled each other, and then they made love again, this time tenderly.

Meanwhile at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington DC the newly sworn in FBI Director was issuing a memo to all Special Agents In Charge to justify any ongoing operations that had been running for over a year and had an operating budget of over a million dollars.

Natalie Style’s SAC forwarded on a summary of the ‘Biker Bitch’ operation to the FBI Chief of Staff. The FBI was under pressure to cut expenses and make immediate significant arrests that would keep the Senate Oversight Committee happy. It was decided that there was enough evidence to round up and prosecute several high-ranking members of the Medici Cartel, the Kansas City Mafia, and Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs.

Despite Natalie Styles’ pleas to her SAC she was directed to wrap up her undercover operation, make as many arrests as possible and offer her undercover operative entry into the witness protection program or cut her loose but under no circumstances was the operative to be informed until the arrests were made.

“Those fuckers!” Natalie dropped her cigarette on the pavement and crushed it with her heel.

Natalie was standing in a bitterly cold and windswept deserted car park. She heard the rumble of Cassie’s Harley and put on her game face.

Cassie parked her bike, took off her lid and sauntered over to Natalie. They kissed passionately; they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Cassie grinned.

Natalie was not smiling.

“Uh ho? Give it to me babe, what suckworthy mission do you have for me now?” Cassie was still grinning.

“We’re rounding them all up Cassie. I have teams in KC ready to take down the mob guys there and simultaneously hit the Medusa Casino in Las Vegas. The Sisters of Satan will likely walk free; they’re just collateral damage but their Casino is toast,” Natalie began.

“We are going to take out Diego Martinez, Carlo Ramirez, and hit all their drug houses, their gun stashes and their people-smuggling safe houses. This is it. This is what we’ve been working for.”

“But I thought you were happy taking out the peripherals and hoping to get more Intel so you could take out some Cartel kingpins higher up the food chain?” Cassie looked perplexed.

“Look Cassie; orders are orders. In the end we all just do what we are told,” Natalie snapped.

“Ok babe, I get it. But what about the Beasts of Burden? What about me?” Cassie asked, the concern evident in her voice.

“We’ll leave the Beasts alone; you will still be useful to us,” Natalie lied.

“But I still don’t understand. How will our MC be useful? We’ll be broke with no income from the Cartel and the Mob. We’ll scramble for existence and idiots like Snake Gibbons will propose the MC go back to operating meth labs, running dope and prostitutes; small time shit,” Cassie said.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it honey. It’ll work out. I need you to get Diego and Carlo together so we can arrest them at the same time and in the same place. Also I want you to recover the bugs you left at Carlo’s house,” Natalie lit another cigarette.

Cassie frowned.

“You’ve seen Law and Order on TV; fruit of the poisonous tree and all that bullshit,” Natalie tapped her toe restlessly.

“There was no warrant for the bugs I planted in Carlo’s living room and his bedroom was there?” Cassie lit her own cigarette and took a drag.

Natalie just raised her brows.

“So you just want me to arrange a meet with Diego Martinez, Steve Monahan and Carlo Ramirez at Carlo’s pad so you can arrest them but I have to retrieve the bugs I planted in the house before the Feds arrive?” Cassie said.

“That’s my girl. Steve Monahan will likely go up the river for conspiracy but given your past history with him I’m guessing you won’t mind that one bit. Maybe Dale Clifford will get voted in as President and you can be Vice President or Sargent at Arms,” Natalie said sarcastically.

“Fuck you Nat! What’s with you?” Cassie put her hands on Natalie’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry babe. It will all be good; it’s just the Op is coming to an end. Maybe I can release you from your contract as an undercover informant and we can work something out,” this was the second lie Natalie had told Cassie today.

“Hey you know what? If I’m freed up maybe we can come out? Maybe I can convince Dale to take the MC legit? If the Beasts are just a Riding Club, I’ll just be like any other civilian,” Cassie gushed.

“Hey that might just work,” Natalie told her third lie in succession.

“Ok, you got some work to do babe. Contact me with the details when you’ve arranged the meet with the Cartel guys ok?” Natalie forced a smile.

They kissed long and languidly and then Cassie hopped on her ride and fired it up. As Cassie disappeared in the distance Natalie drummed her fists on the hood of her car in anger.

“I’m sorry Cassie; I’m so sorry,” she wailed.

Cassie received an email from Natalie the next day advising her of a planned sting on a Cartel drug and weapons shipment that was planned to cross the border at the Mexicali crossing. She was to use the Intel to initiate the meeting with Diego, Carlo and the Beasts of Burden MC.

Cassie met with Steve Monahan and proposed the meeting and once again they were invited to Carlo Ramirez’ house to discuss cross-border security for the Medici Cartel’s shipments into the USA, This time Dale Clifford was also invited as the club’s Sergeant at Arms.

Cassie called Dale and she invited him around to her place for a pre-meeting sit down to discuss the agenda.

“Cassie, where are you getting your information? You seem to have resources that you are not sharing with the MC,” Dale was agitated, he was drinking straight whisky and chain smoking.

“Dale. You know I spent a long time in purgatory before I was admitted back into the Beasts of Burden, particularly during my time in Mexico. I have some informants who are still loyal to me from those days and they provided me with the Intel,” Cassie lit a cigarette and sipped her Jack Daniel’s.

“Yeah well it’s almost like you are undermining me. The deals with Diego and Carlo and the Cartel, the patchover with the Sisters of Satan in Las Vegas, the follow-on deal with the KC mob. It’s like you are running your own agenda, and I’m the Sargent at Arms who is supposed to be all over this shit. Are you planning on usurping me or even challenging the President?” Dale shook his head.

“Honey, it’s nothing like that. Let’s just take the meeting with Carlo and I promise you things will change for the better,” Cassie reached out and took Dale’s hand in hers.

“Just trust me this once honey,” she kissed him softly on the lips.

“You know I love you Cassie. I’ve never used those words before but you know,” he searched her eyes.

“Dale, I love you too. Not like you want me too, not exclusively, but I love you,” Cassie pressed her lips harder against Dale’s.

Cassie allowed Dale to ease her down on the couch and lie on top of her. He kissed her and slid his hands under her t-shirt and lifted the cups of her bra away from her breasts. He stroked her nipples and they hardened immediately and Cassie gasped into his mouth and kissed him harder, driving her tongue into Dale’s mouth. She ground her groin against his, feeling the heat of his cock through the denim of their jeans.

“Fuck! This is so awkward!” Dale was getting frustrated and he eased out of Cassie’s embrace, stood up, and picked her up in his arms.

“Where are we going Romeo?” she giggled.

Dale kissed her to shut her up, walked to the bedroom and then dropped her on the bed.

“Way to treat a lady,” Cassie giggled again.

“I’ll show you how to treat a lady!” Dale play-fought with Cassie as she pretended to struggle against him.

He ripped off her boots and then her t-shirt and finally her jeans leaving her dressed only in black control-top pantyhose. Cassie then fought with Dale, tearing off his shirt and ripping off his boots and jeans. He was soon naked with a rampant erection.

Cassie couldn’t help herself, she was feeling playful and she slapped at his erect penis and made it quiver.

“See it likes me,” she smirked.

“Oh it likes you!” Dale smiled back mischievously and turned Cassie over so that she was on her belly.

He fell on her, his cock nestling in the crevice of her buttocks where he began to hump her. Cassie pushed back and turned her head sideways so that Dale could kiss her.

“Stop pissing around and fuck me Dale,” Cassie sighed and pushed her rump into his groin.

Dale reached down and tore a hole in the crotch of her pantyhose and his cock slid into the hole in her nylons and nestled his glans in her puckered bud.

“That’s better!” Cassie moaned.

She pushed back and Dale’s cock slid past her sphincter and deep inside her anus.

“Now fuck me!” Cassie writhed underneath him, encouraging Dale to fuck her.

Dale thrust himself in and out of Cassie’s backside, his belly pressing on her back but he was frustrated. He wanted to fuck her hard; to pound her soft ass. He gripped Cassie’s hips and lifted her to her knees and began to fuck her hard and fast doggy style.

Now Dale’s cock was thrusting against Cassie’s prostate and she was really enjoying the sex; she drove her ass back to meet his thrusts and wriggled her buttocks to stimulate him. Dale dug his fingers into Cassie’s flanks and held her still while he fucked her deeply, hard and fast.

He was grunting and moaning with the exertion and Cassie was crying out with lust, she couldn’t push back but she could still wriggle her buttocks and that was enough to send Dale over the edge.

He held Cassie tight and came deep inside her; he reached around and squeezed her cock and Cassie orgasmed with him, shooting her spend onto the bedspread whilst Dale emptied himself inside her, his hot semen filling her, his glans pressing against her prostate as her anus pulsated, gripping his phallus and milking him of his seed.

They fell on the bed exhausted, Dale on top of Cassie, his cock still erect and still buried in her ass.

They lay like that until Dale was ready to go again then they did it all over.

The next night they were sitting at a table outside of Carlo Ramirez’ split-level palatial house on his marble-tiled patio. Cassie sipped champagne and stared at the aqua-lit infinity pool and the magnificent tableau of the lights of Los Angeles spread out in the distance.

This time there was no feeling of isolation. Carlo’s bodyguards roamed the perimeter and there was the muffled sound of radios as they communicated with each other, the guards bringing their wrists to their mouths to talk into the microphones.

“Steve, Dale; I have concerns. Cassie told me about the FBI sting that was being planned at Mexicali,” Carlo blew on the tip of his cigar.

“We had to divert the shipment through Juarez. That took time, money, and resources,” Diego Martinez chimed in.

“But you still got protection from our Nevada chapters,” Dale snapped back.

“The delivery was made without a hitch,” Steve Monahan backed up his Sargent at Arms.

“Se, Se. But I think we might have a snitch or a leak somewhere,” Carlo’s eyes half-closed.

Dale kicked back his chair.

“The Beasts of Burden don’t snitch!” he banged his fist on the table.

Two of Carlo’s bodyguards became alert and looked over. Carlo shook his head at them.

“Settle down Mister Clifford; no one is saying the leak came from the MC. If we thought that, you wouldn’t be sitting here,” Carlo smiled.

Diego indicated for Dale to take his seat.

“You’re very quiet tonight Miz Rivers. It was your informant that gave us the information about the sting,” Carlo reached out and took Cassie’s hand.

Dale bristled but said nothing.

“I’ll give you the name of my informant as a gesture of good faith. There will be no need to use physical force on him; I’ve told him that you will talking to him,” Cassie squeezed Carlo’s hand.

The tension began to dissolve.

“That’s why I proposed this meeting,” Cassie looked around the table, meeting the eyes of the four men one at a time.

“But first I need to use your rest room,” Cassie smiled at Carlo.

“Well you certainly know where it is,” Carlo grinned salaciously at her, surreptitiously reminding her of her last visit when he had fucked her in the bathroom.

“Gentlemen,” Cassie arose and both Dale and Carlo pulled back her chair.

One of the security detail approached but Carlo shook his head.

“Deja que la señora se orine en privado,” he grinned at the henchman who smiled back.

Cassie was wearing a simple black cocktail dress, tan sheer hold-up stockings, black high-heels and had accessorised with silver jewellery. She felt the eyes of the men checking out her pert ass and long shapely legs as she sauntered to the hacienda.

“She is a magnificent creature,” Carlo sighed and the other men nodded.

When Cassie was inside the house she closed the sliding door behind her and then pulled the mesh curtain open a chink and saw that the four men were deep in conversation. She had been here before and knew the layout. She found the miniature, super-sensitive listening device under the coffee table in the lounge where she had planted it. She put is in her purse and climbed the elegant staircase to the upper floor and made her way to Carlo’s bedroom.

She lay down on his bed so she could reach under his bedside table to remove the bug. She had just put it in her purse when she heard a movement behind her. She looked over shoulder and saw Carlo standing there.

“So! Why is the senorita lying face down on my bed when she is supposed to be using my restroom?” Carlo grinned.

Cassie quickly assessed the situation and formulated a plan.

She smiled back at him.

“Because like last time, I figured you would follow me in the house and this time I don’t want to fuck standing on my heels in the shitter,” she grinned.

“Such eloquent use of the English language,” Carlo grinned.

He quickly ripped off his clothes and fell on her.

He pressed his groin into her buttocks and his hands cupped her breasts through her dress.

“You are such a sexy bitch,” he pulled her face to his and kissed her fervidly, his lips smashed against hers and his hands pawed at her breasts.

His tongue ravaged her mouth, his hands slid down her body and raked her buttocks. Cassie winced at the pain. She remembered he was a sadist who had enjoyed hurting her last time they met.

“Are you going to fuck me? We don’t have much time,” she whispered.

Cassie wriggled her buttocks offering herself to Carlo who lifted the hem of her short dress and exposed her round, tight buttocks encased in red satin panties. He rubbed his cock in the crevice of her ass while Cassie stimulated him by rotating and pressing her buttocks into him.

Carlo pulled her ass back against his thrusting penis. He enjoyed the feel of her satin-clad globes against his hard cock, he left silvery trains of precum on Cassie’s panties.

Carlo pulled down the rear of Cassie’s panties.

“I’m lubricated. Just put it in me and fuck me. Fill me with your hot cum,” Cassie growled.

Cassie pushed back, inviting him to penetrate her which Carlo obligingly did. His long thick cock slid easily into her tight anus and Cassie groaned, simulating lust.

“You like that my little tranny pussycat? You liked it last time didn’t you, you little puta” Carlo purred as his groin pushed against her buttocks, fully impaling her on his cock.

Cassie wriggled her buttocks in response.

“Come on; fuck me,” Cassie wanted him to come quickly.

She knew that the FBI had the place surrounded and as soon as she texted Natalie that she had the listening devices in her possession the raid would commence. The FBI wanted them all taken by surprise.

Carlo gripped Cassie’s hips and began to fuck her gradually increasing the tempo, fucking her harder while Cassie pushed back against him.

Carlo slammed his cock deep inside Cassie’s ass and ejaculated and Cassie ground back against him; she was semi-erect but the anticipation of the forthcoming FBI raid prevented any real form of pleasure.

Carlo ground and rubbed against Cassie as he orgasmed until his intense pleasure slowly subsided. Carlo held Cassie still and extracted his penis. He leaned over and took a handful of tissues from the bedside table and wiped his cock dry and dabbed at Cassie’s ass.

That was when the firefight started.

The sound of automatic weapon fire, screams of pain and the shouts of the FBI agents ordering everyone to lay down their arms filled the air. Flashes from the gunfire reflected in the dark windowpanes.

“Puta! You fucking set me up!” Carlo scrambled at the bedside table, trying to open the drawer.

Cassie used all her strength and rolled over but she was still pinned under Carlo, who used his body weight to hold her down.

They struggled but Carlo was able to get his hand on the pistol he kept in the drawer and he tried to bring the silver automatic 9mm pistol to bear on Cassie but she used both of her hands to keep the gun away from her.

Carlo struggled, trying to keep Cassie pinned to the bed and aim the pistol at her while she writhed beneath him and gripped his wrists so it was extremely difficult for him.

The both heard the stomping of footsteps on the stairs which had to be either approaching FBI agents or Carlo’s bodyguards. The both renewed their efforts to survive.

Carlo was able to turn his wrists and point the gun at Cassie.

“Prostituta travesti!” he sneered and pulled the trigger.

Cassie felt a burning sensation and a force like someone had hit her in the chest with a sledgehammer. She was blacking out and Carlo was able to aim his gun at her head.

Cassie was losing consciousness but she knew she was about to die.

As she passed out she heard a gunshot ring out and her face was suddenly covered with blood and brain matter.

Carlo fell dead on top of her.

“Get a fucking medic in here! Get a fucking medic here!” Natalie Styles screamed frantically as she bolted into the room.

…………..

Cassie woke up in the same hospital room that she had two years earlier. She opened her eyes, closed them again against the fierce bright light, and then forced herself to open them again.

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 felt a pain like fire under her right breast which subsided into a throbbing ache across her chest and belly. She knew the drill and she squeezed the trigger of the attachment taped to her palm and felt the opiates enter her veins take immediate affect.

When she awoke again the tubes and the monitoring system had been removed; she was now cuffed to the bed by one wrist. A slim man in a dark suit stood at the bottom of her bed.

“This can’t be good,” she tried to smile.

“Cassandra Rivers, I’m Special Agent In Charge Richard Layman,” the man didn’t return her smile.

“I’m here to offer you the following: Sex reassignment surgery known as vaginoplasty, entry into the witness relocation program and a new identity. On acceptance of the terms and conditions laid out in the document I am about to place in front of you, the FBI will cease to be responsible for your wellbeing or any liability for your security and future existence. You are required by the contract and agreement that you signed at the beginning of your tenure as an FBI undercover operative to abide by the terms of the contract, particularly the official secrets act,” SAC Laymen said matter of factly.

“Where is Natalie?” Cassie asked.

“Agent Styles will be in to see you shortly. This will be the last time you will have contact with her or any FBI operatives,” he placed the documents on the overbed table, turned on his heels and left.

Natalie entered the room. A trim, redheaded woman in a tight-fitting navy blue business suit with ginger hair styled with layered bangs that 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 her usual Christian Louboutin high-heels.

She looked tired, haggard and had obviously been crying recently; her eyes were red and moist.

Cassie tried to smile.

“There’s no happy ending is there?” Cassie looked up a Natalie who took her hand in hers.

“It was a cluster-fuck. Five agents dead, seven Cartel bodyguards plus Carlo and Diego. Steve Monahan got caught in the crossfire,” Natalie bowed her head.

“Dale?” Cassie asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Arrested at the scene and released for lack of evidence,” Natalie replied.

“You?” Cassie squeezed Natalie’s hand.

“I’ll get a citation publicly, the FBI wants the positive press. But I’m fucked professionally. They’ll have me working in document research in Bumfuck Idaho or somewhere,” Natalie whispered.

“Us?” Cassie whispered.

Natalie sat on the edge of the bed and gently kissed Cassie on the lips.

“There is no us. You go into Witsec and I go to purgatory in Bumfuck. They screwed us Cassie,” Natalie stood and turned to walk away.

Then she turned around and raced back to the Cassie’s bedside and tried to hug Cassie, she kissed her face fervently.

“I love you Cassie! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!” Natalie broke down sobbing.

Two agents quickly entered the room and dragged Natalie away.

SAC Laymen re-entered the room.

“We hand you over to the US Marshals as soon as you’re well enough to travel. They will provide you with vocational training and relocate you,” he said, is if Natalie had never been there.

“You can keep the cunt surgery; I like the way I am. Next time you see Agent Styles, tell her Cassie said to keep her skinny ass safe,” Cassie rolled over and began to cry.

………..

Cassie entered the law offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe dressed in a dark business suit. Her makeup was perfect and her brunette hair, worn in a bob with bangs, rested on her shoulders. She strode across the open-plan office in her Christian Louboutin’s to the door of Mr Cheatem’s private office.

She could feel the men’s eyes on her tits, ass and legs and the envy and antipathy of the female lawyers and law clerks.

She had been provided with a new identity, a little apartment in Tulsa Oklahoma, a small Toyota hybrid, some clothes befitting a woman employed by an affluent law firm, ten thousand dollars in a bank account, and two months training as a legal secretary.

She hated it.

Mr Cheatem arose from his desk and pointed to a comfortable chair he usually used to interview clients. She sat down and saw the sweat break out on Mr Cheatem’s forehead when he heard the swish of her nylons as she crossed her legs. She pulled down the hem of her skirt but Mr Cheatem’s gaze drifted between her legs and breasts throughout the ‘welcome interview’.

Cassie could see her future: being ogled and pestered daily by married, middle-aged, powerful men wanting a quick fling or dipshit young professionals who fancied a roll with the office MILF. Tedious bookwork, filing and typing. The barbs and quips from the other women in the office.

She hated her life even more by the end of the day. The animosity towards her in the law office was palpable and that night she drank a full fifth of Jack Daniel’s and smoked twenty cigarettes.

“I guess this is my life now,” she sighed as she passed out on the couch in her tiny apartment.

Epilogue….

Jill Saint John leaned on the rail of the balcony of the Sisters of Satan’s small clubhouse, smoking and drinking a beer from the bottle.

She watched the headlight in the distance down on Highway 93 wavering in the heat-haze and listened to the accompanying growl of a Harley Davidson road bike. She knew that note well.

She sipped her beer and smoked her smoke as the bike got closer.

The bike turned off the highway into the dusty parking lot. Up close the bike was beat up and had seen better days, the rider was dressed head to toe in black. Black skinny jeans, black boots, and a tight black leather jacket. The rider even wore a black full-face helmet with visor.

As the rider dismounted, Jill saw the patch on the back of the rider’s jacket, there was no club emblem, just a bottom rocker that read ‘Nomad’ in black on a white background.

The rider removed the black helmet and her long dark hair spilled to her shoulders.

“I heard you bitches are want to give a lonely gal a cold ale and maybe a bed for the night,” Cassie grinned.

Jill threw her empty beer bottle in the sand and strode over to Cassie and gave her a hug.

“Yeah. Us biker bitches gotta look after each other,” she grinned.

The end.