I finally feel what it is like being a woman.

My attention is drawn to the biker as he reaches in his hand from his cell to touch my hand, which is dangling by my side. At once, I slap the guy's hand away, shouting, "Don't touch me, fucker!" My voice still sounds like a teenager of nineteen years. Snickering starts between the two, fat, bikers. My shouts are useless in getting an officer or anyone in here to separate us from these evil men. I turn around to see whether or not my screaming has awaken the young girl's slumber. Gladly, I see the girl, clutching my track jacket, like a blanket, undisturbed. Unfortunately for me, I'm caught off guard by being distracted.

The same biker guy reached out again, this time successfully getting in control. I turn my head around, and find the biker guy pulling my arm towards him. I try to pull away but the man's grip is strong and I'm unable to get away. In return, while laughing, the biker pulls me towards him all the more, sending me dashing toward the iron bars. My knees hit the concrete floor and my stomach lands on the single mattress next to the iron bars. My arms, up the shoulder is pulled in between the bars. The biker then lifts my arm up towards the ceiling, sending painful sensations around my armpit and shoulder areas. I feel like my shoulder is going to pop out of its socket. So to prevent that from happening, I quickly stand up. But it's too late. The biker pulls up so fast that I land my behind on the bed.

Distracted again, the second biker reaches for my other arm, pulls it back and clamps it with his fat hands up above my head. With a strong piece of cloth, torn from the sheets covering their beds, the first biker ties my bound wrist to the iron bars so tight, I'm unable to move them. With another piece of cloth, the second biker gags and ties my mouth, so that I don't make any unneccessary sounds. I'm left looking at the sleeping beauty, covered by my brown track jacket, on the opposite mattress, unable to hear the cries of mine.

The first biker takes both of his hands, goes up behind, and with each hand on a corresponding side, begins to rubs and run his greasy hand upon my bare arms. He takes his left hand and slides it down my left side and stops at my hip. Using only his fingers, he lifts the hem of my track pants up off my body, and plunges straight for my pussy. He digs around and plows under my thong and discovers my pussy. He takes one dirty finger and circles around the lips of my pussy until he gets a reaction. Not even two second pass when I respond to his actions. I writhe, trying to get my legs in a kneeling position, my knees facing the opposite wall while the soles of my shoes facing their cell. I am unaware that this greatly increase the range of feeling on the pussy.

With his right hand sliding down from my bound wrist, he stops at my hip. Instead of going down, he slides his hand up and under my shirt. This shirt is tight-fitting, emphasizing the look of my breasts. I know that they have been eyeing my breasts since the time I came in. Plus, since the shirt clings to my body, as the biker slides his hand up under it, the shirt put pressure on his hand, thus putting more pressure on my body. The added friction makes my torso squirm.

"Stay still you little bitch!" the biker commands me, closely coming to my ear. I can smell the liquor he's been drinking from this far away. Smelling his breath and the fact that his breathing is warm against the skin of my neck disgust me, making me gag through the fabric in my mouth. The biker's hand reaches the tight band of my sports bra, and continue to my right breasts. His large, rough hand creeps up the bottom of the breasts, over the hardening nipple, and up and over the top. My breast seem to be completely cupped in his hand.

First he, squeezes it and basically it is my first time feeling things, so I'm not comfortable to the sensations my brain interprets. My mind says it's pleasurable, by my conscious says otherwise, saying that it's disgusting given the state the man behind me is in. A few more squeezes and the biker notices something, getting close to my ear to whisper his observation, but loud enough for the other biker to hear.

"This slut fuckin' likes this shit. Your fuckin nipples are rock hard now, bitch" saying his last remark, he balls up his hand under my shirt, making it more tighter against my body. After balling up his hand, he takes two finger plus his thumb and starts to pinch the nipple, making my eyes produce tears and forcing me to release my emotions through sobs and disgusted moans. Seeing me crying, the biker tells me, "Don't deny it bitch, you fuckin' like it."

"Damn, shit, it's my turn fucker," the second biker says in his Hispanic accent as he slaps the back of his partner's head with his gloved hand. He grabs the back of his partner's collared best and pulls him off of me. The biker's hands are pulled vigorously out of my shirt and pants, in such a way that hurts me as his hands are taken out. My breast feels like it was pulled and the tight band of my thong slaps against my waist. At least I'm left to take a breather and a little rest before I'm fondled again.

The Hispanic biker reaches both his arms out from his cell into mine, and immediately he pulls up my white tee so that my breasts flop down after being lifted by the shirt. This action reveals my bra supporting my breasts. The right part of my bra shows a bit of the bottom of my right breast. Once my shirt rests curled above my chest, the Hispanic biker continues by lifting up my bra, lifting it above my breasts. I feel like one of the unhibited girls on Girls Gone Wild.

The Hispanic biker is more gentler than the first, but still I am disgusted by the dirty hands fondling my breasts and the scruffy beard against the back of my neck. The warm breathing of the biker against the back of my neck, makes beads of unwanted sweat form on my forehead. All the disrespect done to me makes my flowing head of hair a horrible sight of bedhead. All in all the biker behind me is enjoying himself. He squeezes my left breast but lets go of my right. He slides his gloved hand down my belly, stopping at my belly button to poke and twirl his dirty finger in. This makes my back arch. My body seems to want more when my desire is to stop.

The biker's right hand leaves my belly button and continue under my pants and thong. Once it reaches my pussy, the hand dives into it with two fingers, preferably the middle and ring finger. The index and pinky finger and the thumb are used as a means to control. The strength of the biker hand is much more stronger than the strength of my thigh area. I'm unable to move.

"You gotta fuckin' taste that bitch, dawg," the first biker say to his counterpart. The Hispanic biker does so, twirling his two fingers inside me, and immediate taking it out so he can put them into his mouth and taste it.

"Damn, she fuckin' sweet! Damn, she fuckin' tight too!" the Hispanic biker says to his partner.

"No shit?" the first biker that to assure himself. He tries to find out putting his fingers into my pussy, three this time, saturating them with my wetness. He pulls them out and taste the juice. "You fuckin' right, dawg! This bitch gotta taste herself man." No sooner as he says this as he goes back to wetting his fingers with my juices and inserts them into my mouth. Being that my nostrils are blocked by another hand, the first biker's hand, I'm **** to suck the juice and grease against my will.

An small oppurtunity to escape comes from the fact that the cloth tied to my head has snapped, I scream the loudest scream I could ever scream. Waterfalls of tears escape from my eyes down my sweat-covered cheeks. Trying to quiet their bitch down, the Hispanic biker takes one of his hands and slaps my head hard.

The scream seemed to be a success. Five minutes after I'm silence by the Hispanic biker's slap, a group of four police officers, three men and one woman, rush into the cell and unleashes a rough beating on the two bikers. The woman officer gets a knife and cuts the remaining cloth that is binding my wrist to the bars.

Once my hands are freed, they fall forward, sending my body falling behind it. Exhausted, I willingly fall on the hard concrete floor and lose consciousness. The last picture I see with my own two eyes are the tow bikers in the adjacent cell getting seriously beat with billy clubs and being sprayed with peppered spray. After that, my eyelids, weighed down by exhaustion, shut.