Gangbang Education Of A Slave Ch 09 12

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18 when in sexual situations.

Your constructive comments are appreciated.

Author's note: If you want to learn the background on Tracy and Dave, I suggest you first read "Becoming a Slave Couple" (a 16 part series). Slut Tracy's saga continues here.

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Chapter 9 "Tracy Bangs a Crew (or Two)"

I've just been left with Jim Waller of Waller Construction. We're about to go on the road to convince three of his managers do drop everything they are working on so Waller can tender a conforming construction bid on an upcoming Greenwood Capital construction project (for which our bank will be the construction lender and earn a hefty fee). My pussy (and ass) will be used as the convincer.

Jim's finishing up a phone call and then we're hitting the road. It's a long way from the apple orchards of central Washington state to the inner city of Los Angeles. I was a bored loan processing manager and now I'm anything but bored. I didn't know I enjoyed sex, real down and dirty sex, until I became a slave to Masters Zeke and Reggie. I feel really alive and in a good way.

And the unknown makes the sex better. My adventure so far is like having sex for the first time. It's fresh and vibrant. It's exciting. I'm sorry I can't get this gratification from my marriage, which has devolved into a cuckold relationship, but that was probably meant to be given Dave's latent passive tendencies. I guess I still haven't experienced and deep and lasting love with someone else, and now I'm not so sure I will.

Jim's phone call is done. He snaps me out of my reverie by kicking the leg of my chair. Jim grabs his keys and wallet and says, "Follow me slut."

I follow him to his king cab company pick-up truck. I sit in the front seat next to him. Our first stop is in Hawthorne, which is about a 30 minute drive.

We get stuck in traffic on the 110. Jim gets a bright idea. "Hey slut, since we're stuck in traffic, why don't you suck my cock?" He moves his seat away from the steering wheel to allow enough space for my head. This is bullshit, but he is now my Master, so what the fuck.

I lower my head, pull out his cock, and start coaxing another erection out of him.

Not more than a minute later there's a bellow from an air horn nearby. I pull up my head, almost hitting it on the steering wheel. I see a truck driver in the lane to our right. He's been watching me giving head. He makes a jerking motion with his hand. I pull my top open to give him a peek at my DD's. That's his thrill for the day. You're welcome.

Jim pushes my head back down on his cock. "I could get used to this. I practically have to get down on my hands and knees and beg my wife for a blowjob. And in the car? Forget it."

We arrive at the job site before Jim gets his rocks off. There is a skeleton crew working on the site, and no construction trailer. Jim calls over to a man on the far side of the site.

"Hey Tony. Get your ass over here!"

I see a man scramble over a couple piles of dirt. He is covered in dust.

"Hey sorry about the dust. We're trying to get the site ready for a pour tomorrow morning, and I have to hump it to get it ready."

Jim gives Tony a stern look and says "Tony, change in plans. We decided to put in a conforming bid on the Greenwood project so you'll have to drop everything and add in your cost calculations."

Tony gives Jim a sour look. "Ah fuck Jim. I'm getting ready for a pour tomorrow. I'll have to postpone it for a week if I don't get it done tomorrow. Are you fucking kidding me?"

Tony then notices me and his mood changes considerably. "Wow, Jim, who are you running with these days?"

Jim says matter of factly, "She's my slut. She'll do whatever I tell her. Hey slut, show Tony those fabulous tits."

I dutifully pull my top over my head and my tits flop out in all of their glory.

"Holy fucking shit. Those are the nicest pair of tits I've ever seen! Where did you get her?"

I put my top back on.

"Never mind where," says Jim. "Can you get this done?"

Not having to be asked, I get on my knees in the dirt and start unzipping Tony's pants.

"Not yet slut!" says Tony. "Sure, I can get it done. I'll need help from Carl and Carlos though."

"Fine, fine," says Jim. Bring them over to my truck. You all can have thirty minutes with this slut. Deal?"

"Yeah, yeah," replies Tony. Cupping his hands he shouts to the other two guys on the job site, "Carl! Carlos! Get the fuck over here on the double!!

We walk toward the truck. Jim takes a couple dirty blankets from the backseat of his king cab and throws them into the bed of his truck. Carl and Carlos are panting as they join us.

Carl says "Where's the fucking fire?"

Thinking quickly, Tony says "It's between this slut's legs. Listen, we have to pull an all-nighter to get the numbers together for the Greenwood project. And we have to postpone the pour till next week."

"What??" says Carl. "Your old man hates Sherrie Greenwood, and postponing the pour will put back our job by a full week."

"And all because you want to fuck the shit out of this slut. Slut, show these boys your tits" says Tony.

I again pull off my top. For emphasis, I bounce a couple times on my toes, which causes my DD's to practically hit me in the face.

Carlos jumps in. "What the fuck are we waiting for? How much time do we have?" as he jumps into the bed of the truck.

Jim chimes in "30 minutes, and the clock starts now."

Carlos reaches over and lifts me into the back of the truck. In no time Tony, Carlos and Carl have pulled their pants off, and mine, and two of them have already claimed my pussy and my mouth. Needless to say the next 30 minutes were a frenzy, as Tony and Carlos manage a DP with Carl mouth fucking me. This is fun. I'm literally rolling in the dirt with these cowboys, and we are having no holds barred nasty sex in the back of a pick-up truck. I am a slut, and I'm reveling in my sluttiness.

Jim jumps in. "Time to go slut." The boys jump out of the bed and I pull on my pants over my cum soaked pussy and ass.

We repeated the same dance at the second job site, with similar results and then onto the third.

That's where the trouble began.

Chapter 10 "Tracy Gets in Big Trouble"

We grabbed a quick lunch. I'm in the truck with Jim heading to the third construction site. It's now mid-afternoon.

"Where are we headed?" I ask.

"Compton, there's a small project there where we are supervising the excavation," says Jim.

"Do you think I can clean up before we get there?" I ask. I've been gangbanged twice in the back of Jim's truck by a bunch of dusty and dirty construction workers. There is some dirt and blanket fibers stuck to the back of my clothes and my hair is pretty messed up. I think I wiped off all of the cum but I'm not sure.

"Slut, you are bugging me now. And no, we are not stopping. I have to get you back by 6, so this is going to be tight." Jim has forgotten about his dick and is now worried about meeting his deadline with Zeke and also talking to his Dad about the Greenwood project.

We arrive. This is not a nice neighborhood. This is clearly the middle of a redevelopment zone so most of the adjoining buildings have been boarded up. Jim's construction site is wedged between two abandoned buildings. Jim leaves the engine running and hops out of the truck without me and waves to the single man on site to come over. I roll down my window to hear what's going on.

The man arrives. "Where is everyone?" says Jim. "Chris is supposed to be here with his crew."

The man replies, "A guy in an excavator hit a gas line about an hour ago. We've bent the pipe back to temporarily stop the leak and the gas company won't be by till tomorrow morning to fix it. I think Chris and his crew knocked off early and went to a bar."

"Shit," says Jim. "Do you have an idea where this bar is?"

"Sure," says the man. "They always go to the one about four blocks up the road." He points north.

"Does the bar have a name?" asks Jim.

"Fuck if I know," says the man. "Just look for Chris's truck."

The man finally notices me and points, "Hey, who's the hot babe with you?"

"Trouble," Jim replies, and hops back in the truck.

We drive slowly north, looking for Chris's truck. The neighborhood doesn't get any better. As the man promised, about four blocks up there is a bar on the left, windowless, with about a dozen motorcycles parked in front of it. We spot the Waller Construction truck in the side parking lot. We've arrived. I'm clearly out of my element. I've been to exactly zero motorcycle bars in bad neighborhoods.

Jim parks on the street. I get out and stick closely behind Jim. It's dusk now, and I know bad shit happens in neighborhoods like this when it gets dark. I don't want to be here, but I know there's a job to be done.

We walk into the bar. As expected, it's dark, smoky and dingy. There's a pool table in the far back. If there was a stereotype for a biker bar, this is it. I'm now happy I look like a skank. I fit right in.

We walk past a number of people sitting at the bar. They're the bar's regulars. Most have a pack of cigarettes and a drink in front of them. Clearly, the smoking laws don't apply here.

We walk about 50 feet to the back where the pool table is located. There are four guys playing pool, and there's four tables, each occupied by three or four people. It's the usual Formica top tables with big wear marks and cigarette burns on the surface. Classy. Jim spots Chris and his crew at one of the tables. It looks like Chris and his buddies are already two or three drinks into this particular visit.

"Hey Chris," says Jim.

"Jim, what the fuck are you doing here? And how did you find me?" Chris says with a puzzled expression on his face. The other three guys at the table are looking at me. I smile.

"We have to put in a bid on the Greenwood project, pronto" Jim informs Chris, ignoring his other question.

"Well that's not going to happen. I'm halfway to being shitfaced, and I have to deal with the repair of a gas line first thing tomorrow," says Chris, as he picks up his beer.

"I'll take charge of the gas line repair. I was at the site and it doesn't look complicated" says Jim.

Chris looks up from his beer. "That may be, but I'm not on company time right now so I don't give a fuck about Sherrie Greenwood and that fuckass project." Chris turns his head away from Jim. I think it's quittin time now and back to the warm embrace of Master Zeke.

Jim turns Chris's head toward him and says in a very firm voice, almost shouting "Listen Chris, you work for me. I'm saying the Greenwood project bid gets done, and gets done now. What's it going to take to get your head on straight?" I'm afraid I'm going to be in the middle of a bar fight in a biker bar in who the fuck knows where. I desperately want to run back to my boring job and my boring life.

Chris says, "It's going to take a lot. I've got two guys here that have to help me, and I think they are going to tell you to fuck off." I agree, and want to fuck off immediately.

"How about if I offer you the most amazing piece of pussy you've ever had in your life?" says Jim.

"Come again?" says Chris.

"Slut, show him your tits," commands Jim.

Chris looks at me for the first time. I look straight into his eyes. I walk towards him. When I'm a foot in front of him, I slowly pull my top above my tits. They flop out into his face. I decide to put a flourish on this most public exposure of my tits by giving him a tit facewash. I push forward so his face is buried between my tits. I push them together and rub them against his face. I pull back.

"I'm in," says Chris, as he reaches forward to cradle my tits. "What do I have to do to have some alone time with this slut? And what about my buddies?" His buddies have stopped whatever they were doing, as well as most of the crowd around the pool table. They are all staring at Chris's hands that are now holding my tits like a bra.

"We have less than an hour. You and your buddies can do what you want with the slut, and then you have to get cracking on the Greenwood bid," declares Jim.

"There isn't enough time to get a motel. I don't think the bar owner would appreciate us using the pool table to fuck this whore," laments Chris.

One of the other guys from Chris's crew (who I later find out to be Alan) speaks up. "My brother's van is parked in the side lot. We can use that."

Jim thinks a second (he probably should have thought about it more), and says "Fine, just have the slut back in the bar in 45 minutes. I've got 4:00, so let's say 4:45." Jim sits down at the table and pours himself a beer.

Chris takes my arm and we follow his crew out the back door of the bar and turn the corner to the side lot. The lot is bordered by a chain link fence topped with concertina wire. The lot is strewn with garbage and God knows what else. We walk over to a nondescript windowless work van. Obviously in every horror movie that's ever been made, the girl does NOT get into the windowless van with a bunch of strangers. After being gang banged twice already today, my judgment is not, shall we say, good. I get in the back.

There's a man waiting in the back of the van. I'm not surprised. It's Alan's brother, Rick "Three Fingers" Corker. "Hey Three Fingers. Brought a whore for our use. If we can use your van you can fuck her too," says Alan cheerfully.

Rick reaches for one of the fifty words in his vocabulary. "Cool."

So now it's me, Chris, Alan, Alan's psycho brother, and Von (Chris's other crew member). I'm in a windowless van about to be fucked/raped by four maniacs. Rick spreads a towel across the floor of the crowded van. So what brilliant question pops into my mind?

"Hey, Three Fingers, how did you get your nickname?"

"Bar fight. Broken bottle. Lost two fingers," as he holds up his disfigured left hand. "Other guy lost his eye." Now I think Rick has exhausted half of his vocabulary.

I pull off my top and my pants. I leave on my heels (cause guys love to fuck chicks in heels). And I make my next brilliant statement. "Come and get it boys."

Now these guys might not be the sharpest knives in the drawer, but they do know how to fuck. And all of them have big dicks. I have devolved to my most basic instincts, down and dirty fucking with a bunch of dirtballs in the back of a van. I love it. In short order, I have cum in my mouth, pussy and ass (and on and in my hair, tits and every other body part). I'm in major fuck mode.

What I don't notice is that Three Fingers (apparently using the digits he has left) has texted a picture of me getting gangbanged to his fearless leader, the head of his motorcycle club (who is one of the guys in the bar that has his bike parked out front).

About thirty minutes into our fuck fest, the back doors of the van open and a very large hairy dude bellows, "What the fuck is going on in my van?" I find out later that Three Fingers drives the van, but it technically belongs to the club. I have immediately shifted from fuck mode to I'm scared as shit mode.

Chris looks up from my pussy with my juice (and somebody's cum) all over his face and says "Who the fuck are you?"

"Name's Tank, and this is my club's fucking van. Now who wants to get their head busted open?" offers Tank. He has a blackjack in his hand. Every guy's boner is now gone. I'm lying flat on my back with my head tilted up watching this horror show. And this show will not have a good ending for the slut girl in the windowless van.

Chris says the right thing. "We were just leaving. Come on boys."

They pile out. Chris reaches for my hand.

"Slut stays - - my van, my slut," declares Tank.

Oh shit (!!) declares my racing mind. I'm about to be kidnapped by a man mountain motorcycle gang member. I'm naked and covered in cum. This is not good.

Chapter 11 "Tracy Becomes a Biker Chick"

Chris and his crew go back into the bar.

Jim looks up from his beer. "You're early. Where's the slut?"

Chris holds out his hands with his palms facing up and his shoulders up in an "I have no fucking idea" pose.

"What?" shouts Jim. "How can you lose a slut in a fucking parking lot?"

Chris explains about Tank. Jim runs out the back door and to the side lot where he sees the van is gone. Standing in the parking lot, he dials up Zeke. "Zeke, we've got a big problem. Tracy, errr, the slut has been taken by a motorcycle gang."

"Fucking what?" says Zeke. Jim holds the phone away from his ear and Zeke goes through every swear word he knows. Jim then explains the situation.

Zeke calms down, slightly. "Get your fucking ass back to the office. Get busy on the Greenwood bid. And put Chris on the phone." Jim hands the phone to Chris. There's a three minute conversation between Zeke and Chris.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or I mean motorcycle club, the van pulls into a parking lot in front of a windowless cinderblock building with a metal door and a screen door with a metal grate attached. There's a burly man sitting in a lawn chair next to the door. There are probably 20 motorcycles in the parking lot. Windowless van and now a windowless building. Now I'm sure I'm going to die. I just wonder if they'll be able to identify my body from the dental records.

Tank is in the passenger seat. I'm still in the back. Tank opens the back door and offers me his hand. "Let's go sweetheart, you can clean up inside." It's the kindest thing anyone has said to me today. Maybe I will live.

The man guarding the door lets us in. It's actually kind of a cheery place inside. There's a couple of sofas, a small kitchenette, a large screen TV, a pool table (of course), and an area where there are a couple computers set up. There are probably a dozen men and half a dozen women. I'm definitely the best looking woman in the room, even after three gangbangs. The men barely give me a glance. One of the women comes up to me and says "Honey, looks like you've been ridden hard and put away wet." I have been.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

The clubhouse has a small stand up shower and clean towels. I'm able to take a 15 minute hot shower and now I feel human again. When I get out, the woman says "Gitta here. It's short for Bridgette. I've got some clean clothes for you and some make-up if you want some." Thank you Jesus.

I put on the T-shirt. It's the club T-shirt. I put on short shorts that barely cover my ass. And of course my heels. I look pretty good as a biker chick.

Tank comes up to me. "Now what the fuck were you doing in my van fucking a bunch of strangers?"

As Tank towers over me, my whole story gushes out - - Chris, Jim, Zeke, the gangbangs. I think I even threw in my college degree and my favorite color.

After about a five minute explanation Tank scratches his beard. "So you're a whore."

"Yes" I say. "To be precise I'm a slave and a cock slut."

"Same difference to me," says Tank. "Suck my dick whore" and he whips out something resembling a flaccid bazooka.

Gita and a few of the other club members are now interested. I take off my t-shirt and get on my knees. I can't get my hand around the base of his dick, even when flaccid. I put the head in my mouth and push down.

Tank reaches for his Sunday best words. "Fuck yeah whore."

I go further. His dick is starting to harden. It scares me. It's much bigger than anything I've handled, or even seen in Dave's porno movies. When it hits the back of my throat I try to push it down my throat. There's a lot of gagging and my drool coats my tits. I manage to get a couple more inches in my mouth.