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The Pride MC
Description
"When you do as I say you’ll be treated like a queen in this pride, fight it and you’re right at the bottom. Do what you were born to do, Jayna."
Shortly after the events depicted in 'Bearly Legal', another young woman wakes up to find her whole world changed. She's always stayed on the straight and narrow, the man of her house is the Reverend John Stark after all, but now she's having dreams, strange sinful dreams about a tall, muscular, tattooed biker with long blonde hair. The kind of guy that her parents would never approve of in a million years.
Jayna can't get the thought of him out of her head, and is driven to find him at 'Roar' the biker bar located just outside of the town limits, drawn to him like a moth to the flame. What Jayna can't possibly know is that she is entering her first mating cycle, she is in heat and her very presence is enough to drive any shifter wild with lust.
When a group of werewolves try to claim her for themselves, it seems her fate is sealed. That is, until the approaching thunder of The Pride Motorcycle Club interrupts. What happens when werewolves try to take an alpha werelion's fated mate?
Kinks/Sub-Genres
Paranormal, Shifter, Werelion, Werewolf, Biker, MC, Rough Sex, Virgin, Breeding, Schoolgirl
Navigation
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*****
His hands were everywhere, all over my body. I couldn’t stop him, he was too big, too powerful. Worse still… I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him. Everywhere he touched me left behind a tingle of static electricity when his fingers moved on again, as if there was some other-worldly law of attraction between us.
Not even bothering to take my clothes off, he yanked up the front of my skirt and roughly shoved one hand down my panties to touch me, probe me, where no man had ever touched before. I was pressed against a wall, his huge form towering over me, dominating me without effort as I felt some tidal wave of sensation approaching, growing bigger with every stroke of his big strong fingers on my most sensitive places.
Just as my field of view exploded into multi-coloured sparks and pleasure unlike anything I’d ever known turned my body into some transcendent being of pure ecstasy, the world around me began to fade away. I didn’t know if it was all part of my climax, or something else entirely… then I opened my eyes.
I wasn’t in some noisy bar filled with bikers. There was no tall man with a mane of golden hair standing over me, making me feel utterly sinful. I was just plain old Jayna Stark, or as my classmates and tormentors liked to call me ‘Plain-a-Jayna’, and I was lying in bed with a cold sweat and a fading tingling sensation between my legs to accompany the undeniable wetness down there.
Never in all my eighteen years had I had a dream like that, it wasn’t proper for a start. The man in the dream, muscle bound, scarred and proudly tattooed was most certainly not the kind of boyfriend my parents would approve of.
My parents, Reverend John Stark, and Mary Stark, Reverend’s wife extraordinaire, had been self-appointed as my match-makers and my dating pool was limited to choir boys and maybe a member of the congregation if their parents contributed to the church enough and were upstanding members of the community. They’d faint if I brought home somebody like the dream-man for dinner, I almost giggled as I pictured the scene in my head.
That man wasn’t the kind that would take off his biker jacket and stuff himself into a suit to meet my parents though, that was for sure. He probably wouldn’t even ask their permission to marry me. I bet a man like that would never ‘make love’ he would fuck.
I gasped out loud in the silence of my room and blushed despite the fact that nobody else was there. What the hell was wrong with me? I never used that kind of language, I was a Reverend’s daughter for goodness sake.
Who was I kidding anyway? Even the boys in my so-called dating pool weren’t interested in me. I’d worn glasses ever since I started school, and they had become thicker over the years. Without them, the world was a blurry haze around me.
One time I had sheepishly asked if I could maybe have contact lenses and my father had lectured me about the sin of pride and how we are all equal before the Lord. I was just a kid at the time, I didn’t know how the Lord saw me but I really wanted the other kids to stop calling me names.
They didn’t though, and I sought comfort by plying my sweet tooth with chocolate and cakes when nobody was watching. My genetic make-up didn’t seem capable of letting my body get too out of shape, but I was definitely self-conscious about my extra padding.
I managed to mostly hide that with baggy clothing, except for when we had to go swimming for gym classes, but the food wreaked havoc on my complexion. I bet that if they would just leave me alone for a while, let me have some peace, I could watch what I ate and maybe look, if not as pretty as some of them, at least normal, whatever that was.
The Saturday morning sun streamed in through a crack in my curtains and I looked around my room with a sigh that surprised me with how contented it sounded. Boys had always been so far off the table for me, I’d never even dreamed about them before, but the one in this dream had felt so good.
Those hard muscles, the hard… other place, the way the toughest looking guys in the bar had got the hell out of his way when he was taking me out back to have me against the wall, the unspoken respect they all had for him. A king within his own domain, his natural power made me shiver all over again.
I looked over at my bedside table and saw the digital display of my alarm clock reading out 8:47am, time to get up. I reached for my glasses, which were sitting next to said alarm clock, and paused, my brow furrowing in confusion. If my glasses were there… how could I even see them?
Almost of its own accord, my hand pulled back and felt at my face. Had some good, but incredibly crazy, Samaritan placed a spare pair of glasses on my face as I writhed in my sleep experiencing what I knew must be my first orgasm?
The answer was no, there were no glasses over my eyes and yet everything in my room stood out in crystal-clear detail. If the truth were to be told, even my glasses hadn’t ever made things look this clear… I felt like an eagle or something.
What’s more, the skin on my face felt so smooth. Sometimes I had good days as far as my complexion was concerned, but this was like the best day since I had woken up all those years ago to be greeted by my first ever pimple. As far as the evidence my hands were able to gather was concerned, I felt like the way I would expect a cover model’s face would feel.
A sudden realisation dawned on me. Of course. This was one of those dreams that start out with you waking up out of another dream. Those are the tricky ones.
I flicked the covers off me and swung my feet out of bed, sitting up. Dream or not, I felt a surge of surprise at how different my body felt. Like I said, my genetic make-up had prevented me getting too out of shape, but even performing the simple swing-and-sit-up movement, I felt downright athletic compared to usual.
Tentatively, I slipped my hands up under my pyjama top as if some tiny monster might be hiding up there ready to give my fingertips a malicious little nip with it’s teeth. Instead of the soft, shapeless, midriff I knew so well, my palms came to rest on a firm and flat navel.
My hands roamed all over my skin, as my dream-lover’s had, because I couldn’t trust the testimony of my eyes. My vision was blurring with a couple small tears as I was torn between the joy of feeling myself in the body that I had always secretly longed for when the pretty girls teased me in my swimsuit, and the guilt at feeling such joy in the sin of pride.
After wiping my eyes on the back of my hands I instinctively reached for my glasses and put them on, seeing the world dissolve into the blur I normally woke up to. I took them off a
gain and put them down, hiding my face against my palms.
This dream was wonderful in a way, it tugged at my deepest desires, but it was weird and scary too. I wanted to wake up, and pinched my arm.
Instead of finding myself back under the covers and blind as a bat, all I felt was the sharp pain of the tweaked skin. Real pain, minor but real.
I stood and caught a glimpse of myself in my mirror. Slowly I approached it, I couldn’t have been any more cautious if my reflection had just announced its intentions of jumping out and ‘getting’ me.
The look on my face was awash with disbelief and suspicion, but when I was close enough I confirmed that my complexion was as perfect as even the most photoshopped models. I could recognise myself, it was me, but all those little imperfections were gone.
I ran my hands through my hair and lifted upwards, letting it fall down like a dark waterfall. Instead of the tangled mess I usually woke up to, it felt like I was living in a shampoo commercial.
With the material gathered up in my fists I pulled the bottom of my pyjama top upwards and couldn’t stop my lips from parting as I saw myself with a flat belly for the first time in years. It didn’t matter if I sucked it in or pushed it out, that sucker was flat. I flexed as hard as I could and could faintly make out the tiniest hint of abs.
“Built to be fucked…” I whispered and then clapped my hand over my mouth, my eyes bulging out in disbelief at what I had just said.
Why was I thinking these things? Saying them? It had all started with that dream, these thoughts had crept into my head before I’d noticed the changes in my body. The dream hadn’t got that far, but if I hadn’t woken up I knew I’d have had that biker’s big cock thrusting in and out of my virgin pussy before we left that bar, him holding me in place and bearing his teeth in an animalistic snarl, taking me however he wanted.
I blushed again. Had I been possessed by a demon or something? I couldn’t ask my dad… Reverend or not, the thought of talking to him about what I was thinking was unbearable. My Mom was out of the question too for the same reason.
I shook my head, this had to be all just my hormones playing tricks on me. Physically I’d been a late bloomer in every regard, this must have been the tail end of puberty giving me one last surprise. If that was the case, it was a mixed bag with the unwelcome sinful thoughts providing me a challenge even as the improved body would make other things easier.
“Jayna! Breakfast!” my Mom called from the kitchen.
“Coming!” I called back. I couldn’t hide in my room forever.
*****
My whole day was every bit as confusing as it had started. When I went downstairs, the first thing my parents asked me was if I was wearing make-up. My dad held me by the chin and tilted my head around like I was a dog in a show, eventually letting me go but still looking skeptical at my denial.
He was always emotionally distant, but his treatment on this particular morning made me much angrier than usual. I made my excuses and spent the day away from home, absent-mindedly wandering around the town.
Wherever I went, my impure thoughts followed me. Every hot guy I saw I couldn’t help but undress with my mind. How big was his cock? What would it feel like sliding into me? How hard could he fuck?
I swore my pussy was wet the whole day, desperate for a real life version of what I had been so close to receiving in my dream. Several men caught me looking at them with my lustful thoughts, unhidden and unhide-able, plastered all over my face.
If any of the boys in my class had caught me looking at them before this day, I was sure they would have made puking gestures with their fingers in their mouths and run off laughing to tell the whole school, and the older men would have simply ignored ‘that silly little girl’ but today, two men had to be actively yanked back by their wives or girlfriends and a boy from my school who had never talked to me tried to ask me out on a date.
Before this day I would have jumped at the chance to go on that date, but I turned him down. Why? I wasn’t sure, but I felt like I was meant for something else. Someone else? The face of the man from my dream flashed in my mind’s eye.
It was a stupid idea, of course. Why pine after a fictional person? More to the point, what would I even do if I could find him? The man in my dream was from a completely different world than me, I’d be scared of him and he wouldn’t want anything to do with a goody-two-shoes Reverend’s daughter.
Stupid or not, the thought wouldn’t leave me, just wouldn’t get out of my head. I had to find him, but where? He obviously didn’t go to my school. In my town, there was only one obvious place to look. Roar, the biker bar just outside the town limits, but it didn’t even open until the early evening.
With a sigh, I turned towards home. If I wasn’t there for dinner I’d be grounded for a month and made to copy out passages from the bible until my hand ached with cramps.
Dinner was torture. I pushed my food around with my fork as the most depraved thoughts raced through my head. My golden-maned dream-hero taking me against that wall, me sitting behind him on his motorcycle, reaching around to stroke his cock as we rode into the sunset.
The girl I had been the day before would have been horrified at those thoughts. Now though… it was all so fucking hot I was struggling to keep my hands above the table, I wanted to stroke my pussy for the first time and bring myself off, make myself feel like I had the moment I had woken up.
I was almost hyperventilating and a flush was rising on my chest when my father asked me a question.
“Ffffff…” I began and managed to snap my mouth shut on the ‘fuck me’ that I had been about to say to my daydream. “Excuse me?” I asked instead.
“I said are you feeling OK? You don’t look well.”
“Oh… yes, I’m fine, was just thinking of all the exams I have coming up.”
“Ah. Thought you might be trying to fake the flue to get out of the sermon tomorrow.”
“No, sir.”
“Good, now eat up. Your mother worked hard to put this food on the table.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are your glasses, Jayna?”
“Hmm? Oh… uh… they were giving me a headache so I’m just having a break.”
“Time for an update I guess,” my mom said.
“Yes ma’am, maybe.”
I managed to force a sufficient amount of food down so as to not raise suspicions any further and then excused myself to my room to ‘study.’ My hands were in my pants mere seconds after my door was shut. Oh God, my panties were a sopping mess!
With my knees bent slightly, I was able to get better access to my soaked little slit and I stroked it with my back against the door, squeezing my breasts through my clothes with the other hand. The surface of the door was hard and slightly uncomfortable with the edges of the panels digging into my back, but I didn’t care, I needed the release as quickly as possible, right now!
My eyes rolled upwards, imagining the golden, almost glowing, eyes of that powerful man staring back down at me with that unkempt blonde hair handing down on either side of his face. It wasn’t me with my hand between my legs, it was him all the pleasure in the world came from him.
“Uhhnnuhhhh…. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck” I groaned into the palm of my hand as I clamped it over my mouth. My second orgasm of the day was at least as powerful as the first, but once the blinding pleasure faded I realised it brought no relief with it, none at all.
I was just as horny as when I started and I seemed to know without any obvious evidence that there was no way out of these feelings. No way except to find the man that dominated my thoughts so completely.
Cautiously, I peered out of the door and heard the normal household sounds from downstairs, my father practising tomorrow’s sermon and my mother doing some general tidying up as she sipped a glass of evening wine that seemed to have gotten bigger over the years. I dashed across the hallway to my sister’s room.
Older than me by four years, I had been shocked when, at eight
een, Anabella had gone ‘off the rails’ as my parents had put it at the time. Just like me, she was always such a good girl and then one day I had caught her sneaking a boy into the house in the middle of the night.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, clearly she had been out at some party and that outfit she was wearing! It left very little to the imagination.
I’d been so shocked I’d let out a yelp of surprise, which had woken our parents and shit had really hit the fan. My father had never, even in his most righteously angry moments in the past, achieved that shade of purple before.
My sister had lost her way, been corrupted by her peers, she was becoming a harlot, a jezebel. But they had a solution, and they sent her away to some ‘camp’ that was supposed to turn everything around.
Well, she came back all prim and proper, dressed just the way she used to dress. That lasted for about a week and then she left them a note saying they could ‘go fuck’ themselves and to leave her alone. She took a few of her belongings and that was the last my parents ever heard of her.
Every now and then she’d send me an email to let me know she was OK, even offered for me to come live with her but I declined. Back then I couldn’t imagine disobeying our father.
Well, that was then and this was now. Now I had a burning need that wouldn’t release my brain from its fiery grasp.
My parents had left her room largely untouched in the hope that she would see the error of her ways and come crawling back. So far that hadn’t eventuated, but as far as my current predicament was concerned, it was convenient.
I knew where my sister stashed her secret things, a false panel at the back of her wardrobe slid to the side to reveal all kinds of contraband. Shortly after she left I had stumbled across it when I had given into temptation and poked around her room to see if I could find any clues as to why she had gone astray.
Take All of It September 2019 Page 134