The Clubhouse

The Knights of Death Motorcycle Club was created in the late sixties, early seventies by vets returning from Vietnam. Over the years, the organization evolved, branching out and creating a number of affiliates throughout the southwestern United States. As they grew, they developed a reputation as a motorcycle gang with fingers into several illegal activities ranging from drugs to prostitution to murder.

Zara wasn’t sure how far she had traveled from the van, walking along the side of the asphalt. Her feet hurt from walking in shoes not designed for distance. A single vehicle passed her, driving back the way she had come.

In the distance, it sounded like rumbling thunder. She turned to look back down the road, in the distance she could see a few two wheeled vehicles approaching, the sound getting louder. As they neared, she could see there were three motorcycles, each carrying a single rider. She watched as they approached, slowing as they neared.

The lead rider, a scruffy looking man of around six feet, a thick moustache framing his mouth and down his cheeks, pulled his 1968 Harley panhead up beside her, a smile on his moustachioed face. “Hello darling,” he said, voice friendly.

She smiled. The three men were all dressed similarly in motorcycle riding leathers, an identical crest emblazoned on the backs of each of their vests as the other bikes came to a halt near her.

“Hello,” she said, returning the greeting.

The man who had spoken eyed her up and down. “What’s a little dish like you doing all by yourself out here?” he asked, looking to the other two men. One sniggered, a relatively short young man with a fairly prodigious belly hanging over the front of his blue jeans.

“My ride broke,” she answered.

“I’d give you a ride,” said the hefty man with a lecherous chuckle.

“Easy Wills, there’s no need to scare her,” said the man with the horseshoe moustache. “What’s your name sweetness?” he asked.

“Zara,” she replied. “What’s your name?”

He smiled. “I’m Drake, this is Carl,” he pointed to a clean cut man who nodded, “And that’s Wills,” he introduced, indicating the rotund man. “Where are you headed?” he asked.

She looked in the direction she’d been walking, “That way I guess,” she answered, pointing an index finger.

“Somewhere in particular?” he asked.

She shook her head. The three men exchanged glances.

“It looks like you’re traveling pretty light, maybe we could help you if you’d like to come with us?” Drake offered.

She seemed to think about it a moment. “Where are you going?”

“Back to our clubhouse, a few miles up the way,” answered Drake.

“Not the clubhouse, fuck. Tiny gets one look at her he’s going to call dibs,” lamented Wills.

“Tiny?” she asked, yellow eyes bright with intrigue.

“Tiny,” nodded Wills. “He’s our sergeant-at-arms,” he explained dourly.

“I am keen to meet this Tiny,” she confessed, more than her curiosity getting aroused. “How tiny is he?” she queried.

They all laughed, “Oh he’s tiny alright,” Carl commented.

“You’ll have to ride with Carl,” Drake said, pointing at the clean cut rider.

He patted the seat behind his own. Hiking up her dress, she slung her leg over the bike and wrapped her arms around Carl.

The ride took about three quarters of an hours, twenty minutes of that on a road off the highway. During the bouncy ride, she felt movement within her bra from her tiny little female captive. As they pulled onto the property, more ranch with several buildings than just a single house, Zara squirmed against Carl, trying to get off the bike. Pulling to halt, she quickly got off the bike, immediately pulling out her top and bra to check on Lori. The tiny woman was unmoving but still alive and breathing. She let out a sigh, she yet had plans for her little female prisoner.

“You okay there?” Drake asked, looking over at her.

A wide set of stairs led up to a double set of doors. The same ghoulish skulls on their vests adorned the glass in both double doors. Drake went ahead, she walked up the stairs with Carl and Wills in tow. Beyond the double doors opened into a wide room with several doors and hallway to the left.

“He’ll be right out,” Drake said entering the room through one of the doors, beaming smile on his face, as if he were privy to some inside joke.

When the door pushed open further, the man she saw was anything but tiny. He stood there, all 6’8” of him. At 340 pounds, long silver hair was pulled back into a braid and a full beard fell down onto his massive barrel chest. He took a couple of steps forward, the others shuffled quickly out his way, like chickens parting for a grizzly bear. He moved with the confidence of an alpha male. He stopped to look down at her. She could feel his cold steel blue eyes move up and down her body. She knew she had to have this one, her plans for Lori momentarily forgotten.

“Why do they call you Tiny?” she asked, puzzled by the deceptive name.

He frowned, “Cute but dumb as a plank. Drake tells me you’re looking for some fun,” he said, voice deep and gravelly.

“Seconds,” Wills said hastily.

“Fuck that,” said Drake, “I’m next.”

She smiled, moving in close to the big man, inhaling his scent. “Yes, I would like some fun,” she said. She wanted him so bad, she could practically feel the ache between her thighs.

He half chuckled. “If you want some of this little girl, hustle your tight little ass in there,” he instructed, pointing back at the room he had come out of. He smiled broadly, “I am going to split you like a cheap piece of pine,” he boasted with a broad grin.

“I don’t want some of it, I want all of it,” she said, hunger raging within her. She walked into the room, he pointed at. Essentially a square, a desk under a window directly ahead, a chesterfield along the wall to her right.

Following her in, he closed the door behind him, and circled around her. “How do want to get this party started?” he asked, putting his hands on her sides. She thrilled to the sensation of him touching her.

“I have to warn you, I’m a swallower,” she said playfully, winking an eye at him.

“My favorite kind of girl,” he answered gruffly.

Suddenly she pushed him squarely in the chest, the force sufficient to dislodge his hands from her and make him move back several steps toward the chesterfield.

“Easy darling,” he said with a half-smile, a little taken by the sudden strength she showed.

She stepped closer to him and pushed him onto the chesterfield. Dropping to her knees, she parted his legs. Unbuckling his jeans, she pulled out his prodigious member. She let out a little squeal of delight as she took ahold of his thick manhood and stroked it slowly, marveling at how it responded to her touch.

“You got some magic hands there little lady,” he groaned, his cock at full attention.

Standing, she hiked up her dress, removed her panties and straddled him. Grasping his cock, she guided it to the entrance of her sopping pussy and slowly lowered herself on it, feeling the length of him as his engorged tool stretched her inner folds and sunk deeply into her. Once he was rooted, she leaned back, reveling in the delicious sensation of his fullness.

Rising up, she began to fuck him, gliding slowly up and down his tool.

After only a couple of strokes, he grabbed her shapely hips to try and stop her. “I don’t know if I can, hold it, wait,” he grunted and suddenly she felt a torrent of cum erupt deep inside of her.

“No,” she said vehemently, “we’re not done!” She continued to ride him, impaling herself with each downward stroke but already he was beginning to soften. She slapped his shoulders, causing him to wince.

“It’s going take a bit to reload,” he said. A little breathless, surprised how quickly he had released.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. Leaning forward, she kissed him, snaking her tongue into his mouth. Disengaging their coital connection, she climbed off of him and took a step back.

Putting his big arms to either side of him, he tried to push himself up off the couch. Sitting forward, he wobbled a little bit before falling back against the back of the chesterfield. He lifted a big hand to his head. “I feel strange,” he said in his raspy voice.

He watched in mute amazement as the entire room seemed to grow larger all around. His legs pulled up off the floor and toward him as he continued to shrink. He shook his head in confusion. She remained standing where she was, now looming over him.

“Now you will finish what you started!” she stated, stepping forward.

He pulled himself up on unsteady legs, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. From his vantage, he had full view of her drooling naked sex, immense and hungry.

She scooped him up in her hand, and dropped on to the couch with her back on the armrest. Lifting one leg onto the back of the couch, she bent her other leg at the knee. Reaching down, she pushed him against the opening of her pussy. He slid easily into her lubricated cunt, everything made slippery by the mixture of her secretions and his copious ejaculation and her excitement. He struggled and flailed his arms against her insides as she drove him in all the way. With him inserted as far as she could push him, she began to stroke her clitoris, small tight circles against her pleasure button until she erupted. As she lay there, a sheen of perspiration on her naked flesh, there was a rapping at the door.