The Bikers rode on for some while, the steady drone of the engines on the long straight highway dulling the girl's senses so that she dozed, resting her head against the back of the man in front of her. She lost all sense of time and distance as the countryside flashed past. Occasionally one of the other riders would pull alongside and a shouted conversation would take place, but apart from that the journey was without incident.
Then something roused her and she lifted her head and looked about. The bikes were slowing down. She craned up and peered over the rider's shoulder. They were approaching a diner; she could see the neon signs and the great wire fence that surrounded it. As she watched they pulled off the highway and came to a halt at the gates. The man produced a card from his pocket and swiped it through a reading device mounted on a pole beside the road. The gates swung open and the Bikers roared in, the gate swinging shut behind them.
The diner was like a hundred others lining the expressways that crisscrossed the country. Outside the dilapidated neon signs flashed their message of the delights to be had within. Beer. Coke. Burgers. All the junk food, booze and grease you could manage.
The parking lot was full of the great armoured trucks that were virtually the sole form of traffic on the roads these days. Encased in bulletproof cocoons the drivers would haul their loads from city to city in these monsters, a radio line to the nearest Defence Force team their only lifeline in the event of a breakdown. These diners were the sole oases on their long and solitary journeys, and all were equipped with the coded magnetic cards that proclaimed their legitimacy and allowed them to enter the gates that surrounded the building, making it a virtual fortress. How the Bikers had come by a card Lia could only guess.
They sped across the parking lot, swinging left and drawing up in line across the entrance. The five of them dismounted, leaving Lia still chained to the machine.
The name above the door, Pete's Place, caught her eye. She had stopped there about a week before, entering by the heavily protected pedestrian entrance at the back. Her heart sank as she recalled the details of her previous visit.
She had sat at the bar and ordered a beer from a bored looking barmaid who ignored her. She'd had to order a second and third time before the girl wandered nonchalantly across the bar and thrust a beer and a dirty glass in front of her. Lia drank the liquor quickly and left without tipping, though she knew the barmaid's living would depend on tips.
"Bitch," the girl had called after her.
"Bitch yourself," she spat back, slamming the door behind her.
Back then she thought she'd seen the last of the place and its arrogant young employee. Now she found herself back, and in very different circumstances. She hoped fervently she would not be taken inside, or that the girl would not be there. At least, she thought, they must allow her to cover up. No one could be expected to enter such a place in her present state. Perhaps they would give her a coat, or at least leave her outside cuffed to the bikes. She couldn't bear the thought of entering the diner again.
The leader of the group, the one called Perce, spoke to her. "Wanna eat?"
She shook her head, gazing down at the ground.
He grabbed her by the chin, pulling her face to his. "Answer me. Wanna eat?"
She tried to speak, but words refused to come. He stepped back, then suddenly slapped her, so that she let out a sharp cry.
"So, you can speak after all. What about it?"
"Not in there," she muttered.
"Well you'll just have to come in and watch us," he said.
He reached down and undid the locks holding her ankles bound to the bike, then released the cuffs from the ring on the seat, leaving her hands still fastened behind her.
Lia felt panic rising in her. "But you can't make me go in there like this!"
He smiled. "Like what?"
She lowered her eyes again. "You know."
He grinned, his eyes piercing hers. "You tell me," he said.
She hesitated. "I'm naked," she said quietly, blushing at having to make the admission.
"What?" he said, pretending to cup his ear.
Lia's face reddened more deeply. "I'm naked," she repeated, this time a little louder.
"I'm sorry," he grinned, "I just can't seem to hear you. Maybe it's the noise of the traffic. Perhaps you'd better tell me once we're inside, and in a nice loud voice or I'll have to take my belt to you again."
By now Zep and the others had gone ahead of them, and stood waiting by the open door. Perce shoved her from behind and she found herself inside.
The diner was as she remembered it. Plastic-topped tables, each with salt pepper and sauce, fluorescent lighting that cast a flat glare over the whole place. At the far end a bar with half empty liquor bottles lining the shelf behind it. The floor was covered with linoleum, dirty and faded and scarred with the burn marks of a thousand cigarette butts.
The room was about half full. At the tables sat men in dirty overalls, smoking and picking at grease-covered plates. In one corner sat another group of Bikers, drinking beer and laughing noisily. Through a hatch in the wall a fat man in a dirty vest was stacking plates and behind the bar sat that same barmaid, absently filing her nails. At one or two of the tables men nudged one another and pointed to Lia, grinning. In vain she searched the faces for one that offered solace from her plight.
Perce nudged her in the ribs. "Now what was it you were trying to tell me? Nice and loud now." His hand reached menacingly for his belt.
She gazed at him pleadingly. "Please?" she whispered. He began to undo his belt. Lia took a deep breath. Just in front of her, on a pillar, was a full-length mirror, placed there in better days to allow the clients to adjust their clothing before leaving. It reflected her body, and she studied it momentarily.
She saw a slim, willowy figure, dark hair draped across her shoulders, breasts not overlarge, firm and jutting proudly, the dark nipples prominent and upturned, her belly dark with downy pubic hair kept trimmed so that the lips of her sex were clearly visible, her long shapely legs tapering gracefully. She was probably the most beautiful woman these louts would ever see clothed, let alone as she was. And she took heart from that.
"I'm naked," she said in a loud clear voice.
The talking died, and all eyes turned in her direction. She watched their reactions anxiously, her eyes moving from face to face, trying to stare them down when their eyes met. Some grinned, others chuckled and whispered to their companions. One or two just sat open-mouthed.
Her brief moment of courage deserted her and the full enormity of her vulnerability sank home. Not only were her charms openly on display, but with her hands fastened behind her she had no possible way of covering herself. Any hopes she had entertained of mercy or rescue were dashed. Clearly the power of the Bikers was such that if she was in their hands no one was about to challenge them. Her eyes stopped scanning the faces of the audience, looking away and her head dropped as she awaited her captors' next order.
Suddenly she looked up again. An eye had caught hers, its expression somehow different from the rest. The man sat with the other group of Bikers. Like them he was clad in leather, his jacket open to the waist revealing a mass of blond curls on his chest. His eyes were deep blue and compassionate. His face was somehow kind, framed in long blond tresses of hair that hung to his shoulders. To Lia he appeared like the prince she had always imagined in the fairy-tales she'd read as a child. She continued to stare at him, transfixed by his gaze.
For what seemed an age no one spoke, then Perce made a beckoning gesture and Lia awoke from her reverie as she was shoved forward. The six of them, Lia in front, crossed the room, she still unable to take her eyes off the man at the table.
"Here," Perce barked, indicating a table with five seats by the wall. The seats scraped back and the five sat, Lia left standing beside them, glad to be facing away from the other customers but unsure what she should do.
"Beers?" They nodded. Perce turned to her. "Turn round."
Lia hesitated, unsure what he wanted and unwilling to face the crowd again. Then she saw he had a key in his hand.
"Turn," he repeated. Slowly she obeyed, still keeping her eyes downcast. She felt him grasp her wrists and then a click signified that her hands were free at last.
She longed to cover her breasts and sex, hide them from the eyes of the crowd, but her instincts told her to leave her hands hanging at her sides. She turned again to face him.
"Five beers."
She hesitated, startled. Surely he wasn't sending her to the bar? Amongst all those men? Couldn't they wait for the barmaid?
"Wassamatter, you deaf'? Five frigging beers!"
"But I'm... she paused. There was no point in repeating what was obvious to all in the room.
"I know, we all know. That's your problem. If you hadn't been flaunting your body to one and all when we found you things might be different. Now get going."
So this was to be her first test; to wait on them. In any other circumstances it would have seemed a small chore, but in this place, in her current state, it was a dreadful prospect. However she knew she dare not fail them. She was all theirs now and her job was to obey. Well, she would show them she wasn't afraid of a few men ogling her body.
Lia took a deep breath and turned back towards the bar. Head erect and eyes looking neither right nor left she crossed the room. As she passed between the tables stage-whispered comments, clearly meant for her ears, were passed between the occupants.
"Nice arse."
"Yeah, and it looks like it's been thrashed as well."
"Wouldn't mind doing that myself."
"I know what I'd like to do to her."
In front of her the men standing at the bar closed ranks slightly, obliging her to push between them. Then came the moment she dreaded. She knew she would have to address the barmaid.
She cleared her throat. "Five beers," she said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud amidst the silence that had descended over the room.
The girl continued filing her nails, apparently unaware. "Five beers," Lia repeated. The girl looked up.
"You talking to me?"
"Yeah. Five beers." Lia did her best to sound authoritative.
"You lost your manners as well as your clothes?"
Lia reddened at the remark. "Five beers, please," she muttered.
"S'better." The girl rose lazily from her stool and began opening the bottles. She put a tray on the bar and loaded it with the drinks and glasses. As she did so she gazed at Lia's face and her eyes narrowed.
"Wait a minute. Weren't you in here last week?"
Lia's heart sank. "May have been," she said, trying to sound disinterested.
"Yeah, I remember now. Uppity little bitch, weren't you? Didn't leave no tip. I'll have to have a word with your friends about that. Don't like uppity little bitches in here. Specially bare-assed ones." She reached across the bar and ran her hand over Lia's breast. "Bin slapping yer tits as well as yer arse by the look of it," she grinned. "I might just try and get them to do a little more of that." She grasped Lia's nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched. Lia gave a little yelp of pain. The girl smirked. "Better get those drinks over pretty quick or they're liable to get cross."
Lia lifted the tray.
"Careful guys!" the barmaid called to the rest of the bar. "Lady's got her hands full!"
The remark was not lost on the drinkers. As Lia began to back away from the bar she was only too aware of the vulnerability of her breasts, jutting conspicuously over the tray of drinks, and of her naked, unprotected sex.
The men crowded in around her, hands groping. One openly caressed her right breast whilst behind her she felt a hand slide down the crack of her backside. More men pushed about her. Hands seemed to come from all sides, squeezing her nipples, caressing her buttocks. A finger ran over her pubic hair and touched her sex. She was alarmed at the excitement she felt, and a familiar wetness begin to rise in her belly as the touches became more intimate.
She found herself forced back, so that she was half sitting on the edge of one of the tables. Hands grabbed her legs, forcing them apart. One of the men sitting at the table pulled his chair so he was positioned between her legs. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh and his fingers prised apart her sex lips, exposing her clitoris. He began to rub her love button, making it swell, and causing the wetness between her legs to increase.
Suddenly overcome by sheer physical desire she involuntarily opened her legs still further. Her mind was a confusion of overwhelming desire and shame at her lasciviousness. She felt an orgasm welling up, try as she might to fight it. The room swam round as she thrust her thighs against the caressing hands, the bottles and glasses on the tray rattling together and threatening to overturn.
More hands were upon her. She felt one from under the table grope between her thighs and penetrate her with its fingers. She cried out with pleasure as she was manipulated by a dozen hands. Careless of her nudity, of where she was, of who was doing it, she abandoned herself to her lust completely.
"Enough." The voice of Perce rang across the room. "I'm getting thirsty here."
All at once the caresses stopped, as the men obeyed his order. The one between her legs removed his fingers, making her cry out with disappointment. He held his hand aloft for all to see how wet it was. He wiped it on her belly, making shiny damp streaks down her, and matting her pubic hair.
For a while she was unable to move. Her hands shook as she struggled to keep hold of the tray. Her legs remained wide apart, even though the men had released them. Then slowly she regained her composure and the deep shame of her desires overcame her. She tried to stand, but the crowd was too close.
"Excuse me," she finally mumbled lamely.
The men grinned but remained where they were, watching to see what she would do.
"Come on guys," she pleaded, "let me through."
Then they were standing aside. For a moment she was unable to understand why, then she saw the tall blond Biker who had caught her eye earlier. He had intervened. One word was enough, and the men fell away.
He approached her, taking her elbow and helping her up. "OK?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.
She nodded. Something about him made her feel safe. "You'll have to be more careful, going about like that."
She felt terribly embarrassed at her total nudity. She wanted to cover herself, hide her breasts from his gaze, to say I am yours alone, not for this rabble.
But he turned away and went back to his table. She looked across to where her companions were sitting, waiting for her. Then with a deep breath she went to them.
Perce reached out and, before she knew what he was doing, slid a finger into her sex. It came out sopping wet. "Horny little slut," he grunted. "Let's have those beers."
Lia placed the tray on the table, and still breathless began to serve the drinks, leaning across so her rear must be affording a great view to those watching. She wondered if the blond man was looking too. She remained bent over for slightly longer than was necessary in the hope that he was.
When she had finished setting out the bottles and glasses and pouring the beers, Perce indicated a bar stool beside the table.
"Up there where we can all get a good view," he said, and Lia perched herself as demurely as she was able, facing the wall.
"No, bitch, face the others." Perce stood over her, grasping her hands and making her tuck them under the seat, then placed her feet on the rails on either side of the stool, forcing her knees apart so her open sex was on full view. He lifted her chin and made her straighten her back so that her breasts were thrust forward, as if inviting the caresses of the crowd. A murmur of appreciation went up as they sat back to admire her exposure.
And so they remained, the men drinking their beers, laughing and joking while Lia sat staring ahead, trying to ignore their lewd remarks. As time passed the bar continued to fill, word having spread on the truckers' radios about the gorgeous little filly who was showing her all for free at Pete's Place.
The sounds of the bar, its chatter and muzak, the clinking of glasses and the scraping of cutlery became mingled into a mush of noise in Lia's brain. She stayed as she had been placed, while the arriving truckers came and admired her before settling down and ordering. The Bikers continued to drink, letting the barmaid serve them. Across the room the blond man sat with his companions, apparently indifferent to Lia, though she longed for him to look in her direction. She found her mind drifting, a strange detachment overcoming her so that she was able to put her predicament out of her mind, and lose herself in her own thoughts.
Suddenly the talking died away and Lia sensed that something had changed. She glanced about and saw all eyes were on the window. Through its grimy panes she could just make out a white vehicle that had drawn up by the door. Then she realised why they were staring. It was a Defence Force armoured car.
Outside of the cities normal policing had long been an impossibility, due to the level of violence and lawlessness. Now the highways were policed by the Defence Force, a sort of paramilitary police who patrolled in armoured cars trying to maintain a minimum of law and order.
Lia's heart leapt. Thank God! She was saved! A lawman!
He would arrest the Bikers and set her free. She jumped to her feet, and was about to run to the door when a hand clamped onto her wrist.
"Where the hell are you going?" It was Zep.
"I'm..."
"Get back on the stool."
"But I... The Defence Force..."
"Sit down." The order came from Perce. Slowly she got back onto the stool.
The door opened and a broad figure filled the doorway. He was above six foot two, clad in khaki with a white helmet and dark glasses. At one hip was strapped an automatic pistol, at the other a lethal looking stick. Behind him stood a second man, similarly attired but smaller and clearly the first's junior.
The larger man removed his glasses and his eyes scanned the room. Lia instinctively covered her breasts and sex, intimidated by the intensity of his look. She expected that he would approach them immediately and begin questioning the Bikers, but instead, having taken in the scene, he strolled slowly across to the bar and exchanged a few words with the barmaid. Lia was dumbfounded. Surely he had noticed her? Surely he realised her predicament? Even if he was not going to arrest the Bikers, wouldn't he at least take her in for indecent exposure or something?
The officer finished his conversation and began moving among the tables, stopping every now and again to speak to someone, check their licence and ID card, rummage in a bag or search pockets. All the time his deputy stood beside him, watching.
At last he made his way across to the table where the Bikers were sitting. He paused in front of Lia and slowly looked her up and down. She found herself unable to look him in the eyes and stared down, her hands still defensively trying to hide her nakedness.
He turned away and began talking to Perce in a low voice. Surely now he would release her. But the talking continued, punctuated by laughter, then they seemed to reach an agreement and the officer turned back to her.
"On your feet!" he barked suddenly. She jumped up. "Over there!" He pointed at the pillar on which was the mirror.
Clutching her hands to her private parts, Lia hurried across. She could see the blond man watching her and that, somehow, gave her strength. The officer walked up close so that he towered over her, his deputy following.
"Are you carrying any weapons?"
Lia almost laughed. How could she possibly be carrying weapons in her state? She shook her head.
"The Law empowers me to search you," he said. "Up against that pillar. Now!"
Lia stared at him. Surely he couldn't be serious? "But I..."
Thwack! The officer had drawn his night stick and brought it down hard across her buttocks, so that she squealed in surprised pain.
"The pillar!" he barked.
Lia turned and faced the mirror, then slowly removed her hands from her body and placed them against the glass. The reflected sight of her exposed body mocked her, and the sea of excited and grinning faces behind her confirmed she remained the unwilling centre of attention.
"Open your legs." She obeyed. "Wider!" She felt the night stick roughly shoving her legs apart. She stretched them as wide as she could, spreading her arms apart above her head, trying not to look at the reflection of her body before her.
In the mirror she saw the officer replace his stick in his belt, then move close behind her.
At first his touch was soft, the large rough hands running over her as if a genuine search was in progress. He ran his hands down her arms, first one then the other. Then the hands came round her neck, caressing her smooth shoulders and reaching round to touch her face.
The hands slid down her back slightly and ran under her arms, reaching around, stroking the soft globes of her breasts and coming to rest on her nipples. The man began to work her nipples between finger and thumb. She gasped with the pleasure of the sensation and was ashamed to see the tips go hard and firm under his touch, so that they stood out, as if with a pride that she did not share. He squeezed them gently and she let out an involuntary moan of gratification, causing the crowd to murmur expectantly. He continued this treatment for some time, and Lia began breathing deeply as she felt her juices flowing again.
Suddenly the hands left her breasts and she gave a small sigh of disappointment. She felt him run his fingers down her back, his thumbs tracing her spine. His hands moved lower to her buttocks, squeezing and caressing, his nails lightly scratching their perfect rounded surface.
She glanced in the mirror and saw him crouch. Then he was feeling her ankles, the same firm but gentle touch. He caressed her calves, up the backs of her legs, then began stroking her inner thighs. He worked up higher and her stomach knotted in anticipation of the inevitable destination. She felt his fingers press on the soft lower curve of her buttocks, and his thumbs slid into the deep valley between them, making her draw breath sharply.
The thumbs worked further, kneading the flesh and pulling the two globes aside so that she knew her puckered anus was revealed. He ran a fingertip over it, then down again, teasing her pubic hair at the point where her slender legs met.
Lia was gripped by an overwhelming desire and the warmth and wetness in her belly increased. Why didn't he come through between her legs and reach the very point of her lust? Why was he just tormenting her? Desperately, almost without control, she began thrusting her rear back against his hand, her hips circulating in a lewd gyration which betrayed her wanton desires. From behind her she could hear the comments of the watchers.
"Christ, she's a hot one."
"Just look at that lovely arse."
"I bet she'd take on the lot of us."
Then the touching stopped completely. "Turn around." The order was pronounced more softly, and the crowd was silent and expectant.
Lia removed her hands from the mirror, the sweaty imprints left behind betraying the tension she was feeling. With difficulty she brought her legs together and turned. Her face was flushed with shame and excitement. She shouldn't be allowing this to happen to her. She looked down to see her nipples firm and erect, as if in defiance of her own wishes. She knew that, despite the fact it hadn't been touched, her clitoris was swelling. She hoped it didn't show.
"Hands back on the mirror, above your head. Lean back. Get those legs apart. Wider."
Desperately she struggled to obey. Something in his authoritative manner attracted her. She desired to please him and didn't care that she was being watched. What had Perce called her? Horny little slut, that was it. Perhaps he was right. All she knew was that she had to obey.
She reached above her head until her palms came into contact with the mirror. She spread her legs, bending her knees and thrusting her hips forward, so that her vagina was open and accessible. The crowd murmured again and there was a scraping of chairs as men stood to get a better look.
A camera flashed from somewhere in the room. Lia imagined what the shot would look like. A lovely young woman, totally nude, her back arched, her breasts thrust upwards under tension, the dark nipples hard and prominent, her hips deliberately projected as if to offer her open sex to anyone who wanted it. Her thoughts went to the magazines in her boss's drawer, with its photos of women.
Surely none of their poses were as provocative, as totally sexual as the one she was being forced into? She wondered if the man would masturbate over the picture, and found herself hoping he would. She wanted him to have it enlarged and framed and hung in a place of honour above the bar so that all those who visited would see her naked charms so wantonly displayed and regret not being present on this momentous day.
The officer's hands were on her body again, teasing her nipples, squeezing her breasts, kneading and stroking. Then inevitably his hands moved down, over her taut ribcage, down her tummy, fingers stroking through her pubic hair, gently easing apart the outer lips and exposing the pink wetness within.
She stared into his craggy face as if challenging him to go further. He took hold of her clitoris, rolling it between his fingers, feeling it swell as she emitted a cry of surprise and lust. She felt him move his hands aside, pulling at the outer lips again, and she knew he was showing the other men her wet love bud as proof of her arousal. The camera flashed again.
And then his hands were back at work, fingers thrusting deep into her vagina, causing her to contract her inner muscles around them, caressing them as if they were the penis of some invisible lover who had chosen to strip her and fuck her in this public place. Her breath was coming in shorter bursts, and she knew that if he didn't stop soon she would suffer the humiliation of an orgasm in front of a group of complete strangers.
Then suddenly he did stop. He withdrew his fingers and stood back, watching the flushed girl as she fought to bring her writhing body back under control; legs wide apart, hips pumping, her head thrown back, her breath coming in short bursts, the sweat that ran down between her breasts glistening.
At last the panting eased and her senses began to return.
The officer spoke at last. "I don't think she's armed."
The room rang with raucous laughter and Lia shut her eyes. Her desires now having subsided, feelings of shock and shame began to overcome her.
"However," the officer continued above the noise, "I still have a few questions I'd like to ask. Is there somewhere we can be alone?"
A cheer and shouts of laughter went up from the onlookers, and Lia felt a strange hollow sensation in her stomach. She already had a fairly shrewd idea about the form the questioning would take and was surprised at the mixed feelings it aroused in her.
The barmaid pushed through the crowd. She stood in front of Lia, her eyes wandering up and down her helpless body. "There's always the games room." The irony of the statement was not lost on the crowd, who gave another cheer. The barmaid reached out and ran her hand up the inside of Lia's thigh to where, much to Lia's intense embarrassment, a trickle of moisture had escaped her vagina. The girl rubbed it between finger and thumb. "Don't make a mess of the pool table though."
The crowd laughed and Lia tried to turn away to hide her shame. She felt her arm grabbed roughly and staggered upright.
"Put your hands behind your head," the officer ordered. She obeyed, clasping her fingers together behind her neck, so that her breasts jutted forward invitingly.
The officer swung her round and pointed to a door beside the bar. "In there." He thrust her forward, into the mass of onlookers. They stayed put, obliging her to push through them. They winked and leered as she passed, some making obscene gestures, others reaching out to touch her bare flesh, pinching her arse or tweaking her nipples. She gazed straight ahead, keeping her hands clasped as she had been told, making no attempt to stop them.
At last she reached the doorway and stepped through, relieved to be free of their clutches.