Are you sure?

I thought I'd try my hand at second person writing again. I also thought it would be interesting to write a story that was about a fantasy. About the fulfillment of a fantasy, about how nasty some of the things we like might be, and how we like them anyway. And why shouldn't we? That's the whole point of fantasy, right?

Anyway, this time around, it's all about whether or not it's okay to do something, whether or not someone actually wants to fulfill her fantasy.

Enjoy.


Are You Sure?


I definitely approve of the clothing. Most people would wear something beneath a leather vest, but not you. Not even a bra. Although, I guess you don't need one; that vest is barely held together as it is. Nothing inside it is going to move, is it?

I didn't think you were serious when you told me about this. Don't get me wrong. I liked to the idea. I loved the stories, but I figured it was just fantasy. No one really wants to do that.

I know there are rumors. Rumors about the way a girl gets treated with bikers. About the way she gets shared by the whole club, about the initiation where she fucks everyone, where she ends up being a sex slave to all of them. About using oil as lube and fucking her in all holes like that. I really liked that one you told me about the other day, the one where they used the oil and fucked the girl with the back end of the wrench. I liked that one.

But that's not really what happens. I know you're all ready for it. I can see that the skirt has a slit up the side. You're probably ready to hop on the back of a hog right now, aren't you? I like the engineer boots and all the skin in between.

I'm not going to say you don't look great. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that. And you know that I want you. We've talked about that. Hell, it's not like we've never taken a roll.

But I'm not sure about this.

You're right about what you said, though. You really are too much for just one man. You're too much of a slut for one guy, even someone like me. Maybe you're such a huge slut that you really do want this to happen.

There's a pool table over there. We could put a cover on it. Wouldn't want the table to get dirty. Wouldn't want it to be anywhere near as dirty as you are. And by the time we're done with you, you are going to be dirty. You're going to be a dirty, filthy, disgusting piece of used meat.

I want to make sure you know what you're getting in to. I've talked to the guys, and they're just waiting for the signal. As soon as you say yes, as soon as you agree, they're going to come over. And we're going to give you the kind of initiation you've always wanted. We're going to use you like a sleazy little tramp.

Don't drink that. You can't have anything to drink until you say yes. I need to know that it's not the booze talking. So don't drink it.

Do you know what we do with sleazy tramps? Do you know what we're going to do to you? I'm going to rip that vest off you. We're going to tie your wrists and your ankles with rope. It's nylon; it'll leave marks. You won't forget tonight any time soon.

I'm going to fuck your face. Once you're tied to the pool table, I'm going to wrap my hand in your hair. I'll wear my glove, the one I wear when I ride, when I fix my bike. It's probably covered with oil and grease. It'll get all in your hair. Not that it matters. You're already such a filthy skank, what's a little bit more grime?

I'm going to pound your face, and my boys are going fuck you in the ass. Just the ass though. There's no need to pound into your cunt. Why should we care if you get off? You're a fuckbunny, there just to be used for our enjoyment.

Maybe I'll write that on your body, so that you can remember it. You've got lipstick, right? I can make sure that your bare skin tells everyone that you're a dirty whore. I can write that cocks go in your mouth and your face. We can write that you're a slut. A bitch in heat. That you live to serve cock. That your holes are open for fucking.

And if you do a good job, we'll take you back to the club. There's a tattoo chair there. We can tie you down there, legs spread. I'll shave your pussy bald and then pierce it. Maybe four loops in each lip. Would you like that? We can lock them together. Then no one will be able to fuck you in that hole. 

Not that anyone would care if you got off or not. You'd just be a club slut, a set of holes to be used, living to please other people, to suck cock and ride cock. For other people's pleasure. Your pleasure would be from getting fucked.

We'll get you pierced. Maybe even put some ink on that skin, so people will know that you're a cum dump any time they look at you.

You like that idea, don't you? You love the thought that we'd bring you from town to town, share you with other clubs around the country. You could forget what it's like to have a normal life, forget everything but being a cock hungry slut. You'll get fucked so much that we'll be able to fist your ass up to the shoulder, and you won't even notice.

But that's the future. That's what happens after tonight. Tonight we're just going to fuck your brains out. And I mean that. We're going to fuck you over and over again. I've got a nice line of people ready to hit you again and again and again. Don't worry; the pool table is pretty sturdy. It isn't going to break. It's not going to stop the train.

Once it gets started, nothing is going to stop it. Not you begging. Not the tears that will come. And they will come, honey. I promise. You think I'm big. Some of the guys in the club are huge. I won't let them rip you apart too bad. But you are going to cry.

Cry like the filthy, worthless little cunt you are.

When it's done, when we finish with you, the boys will leave. They'll leave you lying there on the table, groaning in a pool of fresh cum. You'll be exhausted, naked, your skin marked with dirty hands and words that tell everyone what you are. Don't worry. I'll leave your boots on. You'll be able to walk out on your own power. I'll even untie your hands.

If you really want this, I'll do it. I'll call the guys over. If you say yes, we'll do it all.

And when you stagger out, naked and covered with the words that tell everyone what a cheap whore you really are, I'll take you home. You can sit on the back of my bike, and we'll ride around, let everyone see the skank that you are. I'll take you home, and then you can get some rest. Take a shower. Try to clean the filth of twenty men off you.

And then call me, and we'll do it all again.

Is that what you want? Do you really want to be that biker slut from the stories? The one no one respects, the one that's just a piece of meat, just a receptacle of cum, a fuck toy to be passed around easier than a blunt?

If that's what you want, just say so.

Once you say yes, you can have a few drinks. Once you say yes, you can do whatever you want to make it easier on yourself. Because we're not going to make it easy on you. We're going to use you rougher than your wildest dreams.

Is that what you want? Really?

Then say the word. That's all you have to do.

Just say yes.