Devil's Girl: Dust Bowl Devils MC

by Britten Thorne

  Shivering in the bathroom, I pulled on the skimpy sequined costume. The florescent lights flickered as I checked myself out in the mirror. Pale. Ill. Why are they doing this? Why couldn't they just fuck me?

  The drugs would keep me from trying to escape, they said. They barely needed to keep an eye on me anymore.

  Four days had passed, or at least, that was my best estimate. I had nightmares every night. Not about shark eyes. Not about the men I serviced. Only about the needle. That very first one.

  That day in that tiny concrete room when I arrived, I thought they'd be bending me over the card table and taking turns; I steeled myself for it. But they didn't - they barely touched me. Instead, they pulled out a syringe.

  "Loyalty juice," he said with a grin that never touched his eyes. He called himself Viper, and as I would find out later, he was Theo's second quarry.

  "Please," I said, my stomach turning, "I'll do whatever you want, I swear. I won't fight."

  "Seems a shame to waste the good stuff on you," he said, ignoring my pleas. One of the men grabbed and held me and extended my arm for Viper. I tried to twist away but it was a useless struggle.

  "Go on, keep wriggling about and get your arm torn up," he said, kneading the inside of my elbow and positioning the needle.

  I screamed. I held still, afraid to cause myself more pain than necessary, but I screamed as he injected what felt like fire into my vein.

  I clutched my arm when the man let me go. “You marked?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  He casually backhanded my face. I yelped; but it felt numb almost right away. “Turn her around. Show me her ass.” I held my breath and prepared to scream again, but the will and the fight left me as the drugs began to take effect. They manhandled me, pressing my chest against the cold wall and yanking my pants down , revealing the tattoo on my lower back. “Property of the Dust Bowl Devils,” it read. There was no way they were going to tolerate that.

  "Get that shit covered and get her backstage," Viper said with a dismissive wave, his attention already back on the money.

  Heroin, I found out, when my escorts finally stopped laughing at my panicked questions long enough to get the word out. That first rush was incredible. I felt like I was floating; like I was wrapped up in a warm and happy dream. The feelings brought me right back in time to when I was young; when I rode with my father in his brand new pickup truck, changing cassette tapes every five minutes to find his favorite songs. They became my favorite songs. Loud, jarring techno music blasted through the club, but I only played the tunes of my childhood in my head.

  Four nights of the same. They kept me very high, very drug-addled those first four days. I spent them in a brown haze. I didn’t even feel it when they filled in my tattoo, covering the words and the devil’s face with black ink, leaving nothing but a shapeless blob. I tried to explain to the backstage manager that I was a terrible dancer, but the big-nosed bitch didn't care. "Just flash them some pink and they won't give a shit if you're doing the goddamn chicken dance."

  So I slinked and sashayed up and down the stage that jutted out through the middle of the huge, warehouse-like room. There were three poles spaced out in a row, but even my drugged brain knew I'd only hurt myself using them to perform.

  I did what I was told. When the managers pushed me at the stage, I danced. When they directed me into private corners with their customers, I went. When they pointed at a cock, I embraced it with my lips and legs. What did it matter? The drug took me somewhere far away inside my head. I didn't feel like myself. I was someone else entirely.

  I was heavily supervised by imposing looking men with guns, but they slowly melted away as I succumbed to the call of the needle. The other girls didn't talk to me at all. They didn't seem to communicate with each other very much, either.

  Viper visited me in the cold, dim bathroom as I perused my reflection. This was different. Normally he had me brought to him elsewhere in the club.

  "On your knees," he said. I sank to the cold tile floor. He loosened his belt. "Open your mouth." I did without protest. He slid his cock between my lips and I moaned. Not for him, but for the hit I knew he would soon deliver.

  I extended an arm upwards as I sucked his member deep. He was thick, but not so long that I couldn't take him fully inside my mouth. Just another cock, I told myself, no big deal. No different than any other.

  He squeezed my arm above the elbow. Relief washed through me. I can't be hooked yet, it's only been four days. But it would eat the pain and the fear. I would be invincible. Nothing could touch me beneath that cloud.

  He paused, though, with the needle poised above my veins. "I know that you're Theo's bitch."

  I looked up. I moved to release him so I could speak, but he stepped on my hand with a slam that echoed off the tiled walls. "Don't stop!" I cried out around his shaft but took care not to bite down, no matter how badly I wanted to. My hand throbbed. "I know you're his bitch," he said. "We're going to kill him." I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears, but they squeezed out anyway. Does that mean he's searching for me? "He ought to have stayed home." I bobbed my head and ran my tongue along the underside of his member. Why was he telling me this? Did he come down here to gloat? "It was his fault I was exiled in the first place. Now they send the fucker to kill me? He and your whole club will pay."

  Holy fuck. He's afraid. I could hear the doubt in his voice. I knew from Dawn's text that Theo had gotten one of the guys he was after. That left Viper. The psychopath was scared, and seeking comfort the same way any man would - sex. Women. Even better, a girl who he believed was his enemy's woman. Bad news for me. Fucking perfect for him.

  I popped him out of my mouth and spoke quickly. "You'll get him. Know how I know?"

  He arched an eyebrow. "How?"

  "You've got the bigger cock." I enveloped him in my lips once more and sucked with enthusiasm. It didn't take long - I'd pushed the right button. He came hard and fast, his hot seed coating the back of my throat. I swallowed every drop then licked his softening cock clean. When he looked down at me, I licked my lips and smiled.

  "Jesus. What kind of slut are you?"

  "Not his. I was never his." I nodded towards my arm, still gripped tight in his hand. "Please."

  He obliged.

  If there's anything a biker bitch learns, it's how to stroke egos, how to appease a megalomaniac. How to soothe a monster. Not that any of my bikers were monsters. Even Gunner wouldn't do this. But I had known a monster before them. And I was older and better equipped for it now.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  I still had no plan outside of "keep your enemies close," but even that much was enough to hold the nightmares at bay. Clinging to a purpose, vague as it was, finally woke me up. At least, it did as far as the drugs would allow.

  I scoped out the other girls. We sat around together backstage every night, smoking, waiting our turn, silent. Still I decided against trying to talk to them. Truth is, I was too fucked up, drugged out, when that part of the night rolled around. I'd watch them moving as if through a light, hazy fog, slowly, like time itself was crawling.

  I considered some of the patrons. Cruel men with twisted mouths and vicious hands. What help could they be?

  Viper himself spilled hints and bits of information as I got closer to him, but nothing that would help me to escape his hell.

  I tried to spend as much time with him as I could. He sent other girls away, choosing my company over theirs. I considered it a success. I somehow thought that if I stayed close, got him to like me or at least to appreciate what I did for him, then maybe he wouldn’t hurt me so much. Maybe he wouldn’t twist my arm before giving me the injection. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to kick me when I was in his way. Maybe he’d quit shoving me to the ground.

  It didn’t really work. It was naive to think it would, especially with a monster like him.

  “We’re going to wipe out that whole club of yours,” he’d taunt. I wanted to ask
why they weren’t successful yet. What was the hold-up?

  I tried to phrase the question diplomatically. “Think it will happen soon?” But “soon” was always the answer. “I guess they’ve been fighting back pretty hard.” They hadn’t had an all-out gunfight “yet.” “Aren’t there more Eagles than Devils?”

  That opened up a few answers. “Yeah, but they ain’t all in town. They’re out on some dumb shit mission with their pussy president. We’ll be out of here before they even get back.”

  I knew how to translate that. He was doing something against the president’s wishes. He didn’t have the full might of the Eagles behind him.

  I started to notice the way the visiting bikers looked at him. Some followed his orders like loyal dogs - the types who only respected vicious and violent men. But some looked at him askew. Some brushed him off completely. And he just turned and ignored them as if that was his intention all along, as if they weren’t worth his time. Pieces were coming together.

  But how much was his doing? Were the girls being snatched just him and his lackeys, or was it an Eagles sanctioned trade? What about his crusade against the Devils, and against Theo?

  “You used to be a Devil,” I said. We sat at the bar after one of my dances, and for once he wasn’t in a big rush to shove me away to service another patron. It was a fairly quiet time of day, whatever time it happened to be.

  “Yeah. ‘Til Theo fucked me over.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  Viper snarled. “Nosy cunt.” But after another sip of his drink, he said, “Didn’t approve of some of my business ventures. Stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.” He waved at the room in front of him. “So I found a more appreciative club.”

  “Did they burn off your tattoos?” I don’t know why I asked - the practice was barbaric, but all the clubs did it when they exiled a member, as far as I knew. The Devils hadn’t given anyone the boot during the time I’d been there, so I didn’t know how common the practice actually was.

  He squinted at me. “Yeah. Whole lower back.”

  I tried to picture Theo participating in that. Burning a man’s skin until the ink was gone. Scarring him for life. I shuddered.

  On the other hand, Viper was an abhorrent piece of shit and there was no doubt in my mind that he deserved that and worse. He was looking at me through narrowed eyes, suspicious, realizing I was asking a whole lot of questions. Time to turn on the charm. “That must have been really horrible,” I said, touching his arm, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  He blinked, disconcerted. “Yeah.” Then he pointed at a patron seated alone at a tiny table. “Go take care of him.” I slid from the stool and obeyed.

  Will I ever even see the sun again?

  Doesn’t anyone even remember me, now? Are they looking for me? Have they given up? Do they even remember my name? The drugs were wearing off. I felt like I was spiraling into a black hole. I needed another hit and I hated myself for it.

  "We're moving you soon," Viper told me one evening. We were in a private booth - he was sitting back in the couch-like seat, and I was riding his cock, straddled across his lap. I didn't know whether to be thankful for my functional little body or to feel betrayed, but his rough treatment never failed to get me aroused. My walls accepted him easily, even gladly. He didn't care if I came or not, but I would get off fast back on my cot late at night.

  "Where?" I asked. He yanked my hair back, hard, exposing my neck to his tongue and teeth. I moaned as another wave of my fluids coated his shaft. Maybe I deserve this. Was born for this. Maybe this is all I am. The defeated thoughts crept in whenever he was withholding the drugs, as he was right then. He wouldn't deliver until he came.

  "East coast." I stilled in his lap.

  "But you haven't killed Theo yet." I wondered if I could goad him into recklessness. Probably not. I'm not as smart as I like to imagine. Oh, God, I'm never getting away. A tear leaked free. Viper licked it from my cheek, his tongue hot and abrasive. Vile.

  I offered him my arm. "Please."

  "Soon," he grunted. He thrust up into me harder. I cried out as his fingers dug into my hips, leaving a trail of bruises. He came with a roar that the whole club could hear, holding me down on his lap as he spilled inside me. Shit, have they been giving me the pill? They have. I'd be pretty useless pregnant.

  I waited patiently as he slid out of me. "Want your hit?"

  "Please."

  "You ain't getting it." My heart stuttered. "Your friends knocked over our shipment. They've interrupted all our fucking routes." He rose and I stumbled backwards, straightening my sequined skirt as I tried to escape the path of his fury. "So when we're rationing our fucking H, you're at the bottom of the list, see?"

  My blood ran cold. My act was for nothing? "They're not my friends, please! I've done everything for you. I've done everything right!"

  He smirked. "Dumb whore. Think you're playing me?" I shook my head. "You've been spared the worst of these lowlifes thanks to me," he snarled, "But that's as far as my kindness goes. I'm not stupid enough to trust you. Would you stop that?!" I was still shaking my head in denial. I didn't stop, even when he grabbed my hair.

  "Please. Just a little." God help me, I sound like an addict. My body craved the drug, no matter what denials I ran through my brain. Panic welled in my chest. I'm stuck, I'm sunk, I'm done for...

  "Get on stage." I jumped to obey. He grabbed my arm before I was out of reach. "If you can get off while you dance, I might have something for you."

  I ran for it. I took the stairs two at a time backstage and spotted the manager - Rita, Renee, something like that. I didn't care.

  "Viper wants me out there," I told her. It wasn't my shift and she scowled at the intrusion, but after shouting a few instructions into her radio and waving off a couple girls, she sent me out.

  I strode into the light to the grating techno beats that I'd come to despise. My heart beat right along with the frantic bass. The electronic sounds were offensive to my ears. Just one more bit of hell on top of everything else. It seemed like a silly thing to fixate on as I stepped out until full view of small crowd of drunk and dirty patrons. But it made my blood boil, my vision go red.

  "This music fucking sucks!" I shouted, flipping two middle fingers off at the DJ booth. I couldn't see him, but I knew he could see me. Whether or not he heard me, though...

  The track changed over to some trip-hop bullshit. "Come on," I yelled, "Real men don't listen to this!" A few of the patrons shouted in slurred agreement.

  The music switched again - an awful country ballad piped through the speakers. Some of the men rose, agitated, and threw beer bottles past my head like it was my fault. Maybe it was. Never piss off the DJ. Time to diffuse this shit.

  I couldn't smile. Not without the drugs. So I scowled at the men as I swayed along with the obnoxious twangy guitars and nasal woman's voice. Wasting no time, I tore off my top - just a red scrap of shimmery fabric that covered my tits and not much else. I flung it away behind me. The men calmed and sank back to their seats.

  Let's get this over with. Pausing mid-stage, I let my hands roam over my breasts, cupping and lifting, offering them to the audience. Then I moved lower, caressing my flat tummy - God, have I started losing weight this fast? - before finding the hem of my sequined skirt. I wore nothing beneath it - all I had to do was roll it a little, tug it up a little, and the curls of my moundd were visible to all who cared to see.

  Was it the indignity that turned me on right then? Or was it the power? The men were drooling like dumb animals. I could incite a riot if I really tried. My fingers found my folds still wet with my own arousal and with Viper's cum. I spotted Viper watching from the bar; I licked my fingers, tasting his foul seed with our eyes locked before stroking my folds again.

  I felt dizzy as my blood rushed through my veins. My body begged for release - and craved the poison in Viper's pockets. I rubbed my clit and moaned. The men hooted and slid their seats closer to the stage. I
leaned back against the middle pole and spread my legs, putting my wet and swollen pussy on display for all to see. Remember when you didn't want to fuck Gunner in the bar? Remember that policy? Look at you now.

  The position was a real crowd-pleaser. I had everyone's attention - even the waitresses paused with full trays to watch the show. My thighs shook as I dipped my fingers inside my sopping channel, then circled my clit. My lips parted and my cheeks warmed. At least this will be fast.

  I had to lower my body further still so I could place one hand on the floor for support. Deep voices shouted obscenities, suggestions, offers. Bouncers closed in, ready to start hurling bodies of it got too rowdy.

  My orgasm manifested with little warning. I dropped to the hard surface of the stage, moaning and undulating with an animal lust as I plunged my fingers deep, riding the waves of my very public climax.

  Shouts erupted in the audience but I didn't look up. I couldn't. There was no way I'd be able to face anyone after that. Instead I rolled onto my stomach and stood, covering my face with one arm, and rushed back offstage. I didn't even have my skirt rearranged before the manager grabbed my elbow in a bony hand. "I don't give a fuck what Viper says to you next time," she hissed, "That type of act is dangerous. That crazy fucker's gonna bring this whole place down around our ears."

  I furrowed my brows. "I thought you worked for him. I was just following orders."

  Her grip loosened. "Hell no we don't work for that fucking outsider." Her expression finally softened - the first time I'd seen it do so. "He's overseeing the place temporarily. Things will be a little better when he leaves. You'll see."

  But I think I'm leaving with him. Oh, God... "When's that?"

  She shrugged. Her angry demeanor was back as quickly as it had faded. "How the fuck would I know? A week, two? Go get your clothes back on."

  A couple weeks. I stumbled back to the dressing rooms and found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that sat in a cardboard box of clothes that someone had brought by. The only articles explicitly handed to me were the dance costumes. I dressed quickly and, finding a baseball cap and tugging it on to hide my face, I walked back out past the stage and to the bar.