Desert Venom Motorcycle Club: The Complete Novella
(Military and Law Enforcement Erotica)
Jill Soffalot
Copyright 2014 Jill Soffalot
Wild Charm Publishing Amazon Edition
Cover Design Sam Butters
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Evil Men
Chapter Two: Wide-Eyed Women
Chapter Three: The Good Guys
Chapter Four: Inquisitive Jada
Chapter Five: The Explosion
Chapter Six: Another Victim Rescued
Chapter Seven: Blackmailed
Chapter Eight: A Very Big Shipment
About the Author
Connect with Author
Other Books by Jill Soffalot
Chapter One: Evil Men
Colt Mendoza took women. He took their money, their bodies, and their hope. He tried that with a woman who looked and sounded desperate. He mistakenly thought she was weak and easy to fool. She wasn't.
Sandra Hamilton didn't think things through. Any feeling of desperation took away her native caution.
She wasn't worried. She should have been, but she wasn't. She stood in the doorway of the Desert Venom Motorcycle Club. She liked rough men who took charge. The Desert Venom MC had rough men from wall to wall. They wore leather and denim and an attitude. She saw lots of facial hair and tattoos.
The most handsome man she'd ever seen asked, "Can I help you?"
She smiled, "Tell me about your club."
"Of course, come with me." He took her hand and led her back to his office.
At 35, Sandra still had a good figure. She could wear her wedding dress. But parts of her were beginning to sag. Her breasts had grown slightly. She had to buy bigger, sturdier bras. She liked having a good-sized bust. She liked the looks she got from men on the street. Her hips were a little wider than they used to be, but nothing that detracted from her attractiveness. Her face started to show crow's feet around her eyes and wrinkles around her mouth. She needed to change something. On impulse, she left the house with her drunken husband passed out on the couch. She needed help. She should have chosen a different place.
She wore jeans and a tight shirt to go to the motorcycle club. She'd undone the top three buttons so that her breasts showed above the shirt. She wanted something from a man and knew how to get it.
She'd run out of patience at home. It was so empty. Her husband never touched her. She wasn't experienced in sex, but she knew there was more to it than what she got, or used to get, from him. Since her husband had decided to live inside a bottle, her life had no romance as well as no sex. If she'd had children or even nieces or nephews, it wouldn't have been so bad. But there was no one. She had so much to give and no one to give it to.
The handsome man closed the door behind her.
"Tell me what you want."
No one had ever asked her that. She had always been there for people in her life. Her dad and mom and her husband had needed her. She gave and gave. Unfortunately, her mom and dad died, and her husband had retreated from life. There was no one else.
As she looked at the handsome man, Sandra fell in love completely. She'd always been in control of her emotions, but that control evaporated when the man in front of her smiled. The neglected emotions inside her roared to life and took her.
She answered, "I want a good life."
The man said, "My name is Colt Mendoza. We have what you want here. Tell me about yourself."
Sandra hadn't talked about herself in years. She listened while others talked about themselves, but never the other way around. She said, "I'm in a loveless marriage to a drunk. I need to get out. I've never held a job. I don't have any skills, and I don't know where to go." She put her fingers over her lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump my unhappy life on you. I really wanted to see what your club offered. I like motorcycles."
He said, "I'm a minister of the Church of the Divine Right. You've just described my mission among these bikers. We have rooms for women in your situation. Let me take you to yours."
He pulled her out of his office and down the hall. Suddenly, a gallon of soapy water sprayed from the kitchen, soaking her all the way through. A man with an apron came out. He held a hose in his hand, and he apologized thoroughly. Colt apologized as well and led her to the room down the hall. As she dripped on the floor, she saw a nice, but simple room with a bed, bathroom, and television set. Colt said, "You need to get out of those sticky, wet clothes. This will be your room anyway. Why don't you stay here and take a shower. There's clothes in the closet. I'll check on you later." He left and shut and locked the door.
Sandra shed her wet clothes. Everything felt slimy. She dropped them on the floor in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.
She already felt more feminine. Her body had curves and would generate interest. She told herself that there were a lot of men who would like to have her.
She finished the shower and dried off. The closet didn't have clothes. It had one item; a short, silk robe hanging all alone. It was beautiful with extensive embroidery. She slipped it on and tied it. She looked in a mirror and opened the top so the upper edges of her breasts showed. It felt slippery and expensive on her skin.
She heard a knock at the door and checked herself in the mirror again. She liked herself. She hoped Colt would like her.
She answered the door and Colt stepped inside. He handed her a big glass of lemonade. He said, "Drink this. Relax. We'll have your clothes washed and dried, and you can get dressed again." He gathered up her clothes and left. Sandra heard the door lock. Worry nipped at the edges of her mind.
She sat in front of the television and sipped the very flavorful lemonade. She took bigger sips and finally drank it right down.
Fifteen minutes later, Colt knocked on her door again. She welcomed him in and noticed that her speech slurred slightly.
Colt closed and locked the door.
"I have to apologize to you."
"Why? You've been very kind."
"I'm apologizing for what I'm about to do."
Sandra was perplexed. She asked, "What are you..."
That's all she got out before Colt had her in his arms, kissing her. She nearly fainted, but managed to stay lucid deciding she couldn't experience what Colt was offering if she passed out. He had what she wanted, so she devoured his mouth.
Colt lifted her up and set her down on the bed. He laid down beside her and kissed her again. She kissed back.
Colt undid the cord around her waist, opening the robe.
She didn't notice anything until Colt's hand took possession of her pussy. He squeezed it and rubbed it. She struggled and tried to pull his hand away, but his other arms held her head still. He kept kissing her and rubbing her clitoris and lower lips. Her body and emotions assaulted her. She told herself she was getting what she wanted. A little too quickly, but it was what she wanted.
She took her hands away and let him have her body. She let her arms and hands relax on the bed and enjoyed Colt's attentions.
He penetrated her vagina with his middle finger. Sandra twitched but didn't object. He stroked inside her pussy and pressed his thumb to her clitoris.
Adoration and physical sensation overwhelming her, she spread her legs wide open in acceptance.
After many minutes of stimulating Sandra, Colt stood up by the side of the bed and took his clothes off.
Sandra's eyes widened as she took in a cock that was twice as wide and half
again as long as her husband's; or at least, what she remembered of it.
Colt stepped closer and pressed his cock to her lips.
She shook her head, "I've never done that."
Colt said, "You were doing so well. You can do this little thing for me, can't you?" He was a puppet master of neglected and abused women. He didn't bully or threaten. He stroked her cheek. "It isn't much. Lots of women take their men in their mouths. Don't you like my cock?"
Sandra sighed. It was a small price to pay for everything Colt had done for her, or promised to do for her. She opened her mouth and let the head of his cock fill it. She licked and sucked and moved her hands up and down the shaft.
It wasn't so bad. A small amount of a salty liquid came out of the tip of his cock. Sandra swallowed it. It wasn't as disgusting as she had imagined it might be.
Colt stroked her hair and said, "That's my baby girl. Good job."
Her insides filled with sunshine at the compliment. He felt inside her pussy. "Wet and warm. Time to move on."
Sandra suddenly realized the danger she was in. Her words were earnest, but she said them slowly and indistinctly. "Colt, wait. I finished my period two weeks ago. This is my fertile time. You have to wear a condom."
"I hate those things. I don't wear them." He stroked her pussy with long, heavy pressure. "Don't you think I'll take care of you? No matter what?"
It piled up. She'd let him see her naked. She'd let him touch her between her legs and kiss and fondle her breasts. She'd even given him oral sex. Now, he wanted to penetrate her without a condom. After she'd allowed all the other things, how could she keep this from him. She knew he'd enjoy it more without the condom, and she wanted to show him her affection. She nodded.
"Go ahead, but try to pull out before you come. I don't want to get pregnant."
Colt smiled as he moved between her legs.
"Of course, Sandra. I'll remember. You can trust me."
He put the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy and told her, "Spread your lips for me, darling."
It was the "darling" that did it. She hadn't heard that word in so long. She reached down with both hands and opened herself up. She felt the head move slowly and carefully into her vagina. She let go and her muscles contracted around the head of Colt's cock. It moved slowly on the long journey inside Sandra. When it reached the back wall of her vagina, Colt pressed his sexy, protective body into hers. She gasped.
They moved together for a few minutes. Colt said, "I want you to be on top. Would you like to do that?"
She could only nod. It was so exciting and different from her normal life. He turned them over easily. Sandra found herself sitting on Colts hips with her vagina as full as she ever felt it. She rubbed her clitoris against him in longer and longer strokes. She let her legs shift down the bed. She leaned forward and her hands gripped the sheet next to his chest. She could control everything now. She made energetic strokes that used his entire cock, breathing like a blast furnace.
Colt filled his hands with her full breasts. He said, "Good size. Plenty to hold." Sandra smiled at this compliment. He scrubbed the skin on her breasts, roughening them and turning them red. She felt them grow more sensitive under his attentions. He pulled and twisted her nipples until they stiffened into responsive, little balls of passion.
She felt an insistent need to move faster and harder. She rubbed her clitoris against his hard belly. She felt his cock lengthen and stretch her vagina. All the pent-up need for the last three years gathered in her hips, heart, and mind and looked for release.
She suddenly cried out and stopped. She made one more jerky, but determined movement and took him all the way inside. The entrance to her pussy pressed hard against Colt's pubic bone. She gasped. Her body instinctively knew how to please him. She felt her vagina constrict and loosen against his cock. She moaned. Her eyes rolled up inside her head, her back arched, and her belly clenched over and over again.
She ran down after one more orgasm that seemed more of an afterthought than a full blown experience. She settled on his chest with his hard cock still inside her body.
He hugged her for a moment then turned her over. He was on top. He put her ankles on his shoulders and began to pound. Her languor turned to concern and then to anxiety and then to panic. She couldn't reach his face. She wanted to hold his cheek with her hand and talk with him as her lover. He kept pounding as she said, "Colt. You promised. You can't come inside me. I'll get pregnant. I know I will."
He jammed himself inside her completely. She imagined she could feel the head of his cock nuzzle right up against her cervix. He tensed up. His words were taut and nervous.
"You've accept so much today. You can accept this little thing."
Sandra nodded again. What was giving a home for his semen compared with everything else she'd allowed? She relaxed and felt his cock pump it's load of semen directly into her womb.
He let himself down on her. She felt his whole weight settle then control her body. It was a nice weight. He snuggled down on her breasts and hips. She wrapped him in her arms and legs and held him close. She decided not to mention the big warm puddle of semen he'd put inside her against her wishes.
Colt had a big appetite for sex. He took her four times a day, filling her with his semen each time. She never left her little room. For three days, Colt brought her magazines and food then climbed between her legs.
She noticed that her vagina moistened and opened for Colt's cock earlier and earlier until he could push all the way inside her at his first thrust.
After three days, he stopped visiting her. Her door was locked. The cook brought her food in. She didn't know what she'd done wrong. The cook refused to tell her anything. She was held prisoner for three more days.
She heard it the first night. The bed in the next room was banging against the wall. She found a water glass in the medicine cabinet and held it against the wall. She heard Colt's voice tell a girl named Daphne that he knew better than she did what she needed. She heard the girl protest then quiet down and accept the inevitable and, eventually, encourage Colt to do more.
Sandra realized she'd been replaced.
Chapter Two: Wide-Eyed Women
Colt Mendoza met with Carlos Santilla, a representative of the Twisted Nut Whorehouse in Mexico. Santilla made money on the side by selling time with blonde girls to rich men from China and the Middle East.
Santilla didn't look like a slave trader. He looked like the man who cleans out the pool once a week or the guy who dries off the car at the car wash. He was under average height with a forgettable face, brown skin, brown eyes, and a pleasant smile. He said to Colt, "Can you get me a blonde by this time next week?"
"Yes. I can get you a virgin if you want."
"You sure? Virgins are hard to find."
"I'll do it if I have to raid a kindergarten in Flagstaff. How much?"
"Ten large."
"It's a deal."
***
Daphne O'Connor said, "I won't marry him, mother. I don't want him."
Mother didn't get a chance to answer. Her father dominated the room. "You'll marry him and like it. He's got what we need, and you're going to do what's necessary to get it for us."
Nobody said anything for long, uncomfortable minutes. Daphne's younger sister, Lauren, age 19, tried to melt into the wall. She didn't like it when Daphne fought with her father. He grumped at everyone the rest of the day. Lauren was different from her sister. They both had naturally blonde hair, but Lauren was middle height or less. Her breasts dominated her figure. It was as if someone had created a girl at eight tenths scale but left her breasts full size. Her father had made her feel self-conscious about her breasts since they started growing when she was 12. He called them Satan's tools.
Daphne said, "He's twice my age. He's fat. I won't let him touch me."
"I don't care. As long as you marry him, and we get access to his money."
Daphne picked up her purse and headed out the door
.
"We'll talk about this tonight." Her father's last words chased her down the sidewalk and into her car.
"No, we won't."
Daphne O'Connor was 20, tall and well built. She'd grown up in a home controlled by her father. He'd selected all of her classes, her reading material, and the boys she was allowed to date. She worked as a teacher's aide in an elementary school.
She pounded on the steering wheel with one hand, cussing her father. She was in the middle of an especially colorful forbidden word when she saw a building set back from the street with twenty motorcycles parked in front. On an impulse, she pulled into the parking lot and walked inside the clubhouse of the Desert Venom Motorcycle Club.
She wore a blouse with a scoop neck and a short skirt. It was summer in the border town of Western Grit.
The inside of the clubhouse stank. She wrinkled her nose and turned to leave. A very big man in a leather vest blocked her way and asked, "Could I help you?" He said it just like a woman on the phone from the credit card company when Daphne had a problem with her account. It wasn't scary.
Daphne said, "I'm sorry. I'm in the wrong place. I need to leave."
The big man said, "Perhaps our club president could help you."
A big hand fell lightly on Daphne's shoulder. She turned and saw the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He smiled. She decided, based solely on his looks, that he could, indeed, help her.
Colt Mendoza was six feet three inches of lean, well-groomed, former convict. He had convictions for drug running and assault. His father, the Mayor of Western Grit, and his uncle, a longtime Sheriff had been getting him out of scrapes with the law for half of his 26 years.
His voice was easy and calm, "What seems to be the trouble?"
Daphne said, "I wandered in here by mistake. I'd like to leave."
Colt said, with assurance, "No, you wouldn't. You're in the right place. You need help dealing with someone in your life who's making you miserable. We can offer you that help. Come into my office."
Turning points in our lives come at definite times and places. We can look back on them later and pinpoint the moment we took the wrong or right turn. Daphne turned the wrong way and followed Colt to his office.
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