Laura's Story

The Road Vultures' camp is a different beast entirely from the Devil's Disciples. Where the Disciples were organized, almost clinical in their approach, the Vultures are chaos incarnate. Their tents are scattered haphazardly, bikes parked at every angle, music blaring from a portable speaker perched on a cooler. The fire pit is ringed with mismatched chairs and logs, and the air smells of petrol, woodsmoke, and something greasy frying in a pan. Hammer leads Laura through the maze of tents, his hand resting casually on the back of her neck. He's a big man, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard streaked with grey and a nose that's been broken more than once. His cut is heavy with patches, and he moves with the easy confidence of a man who's never been challenged and won. He stops at a tent near the center of the camp. It's larger than the others, a military-style canvas shelter with a proper floor and a cot inside. He holds the flap open for her.

"Home sweet home."

Laura steps inside. The tent is surprisingly tidy—a cot against one wall, a duffel bag in the corner, a lantern hanging from the center pole. A sleeping bag is spread out on the ground, flanked by pillows and blankets.

Hammer follows her in, letting the flap fall shut behind him.

"Ok, you ready for this?"

Laura nods. "Oh yes"

"Good" He steps closer, his hand moving from her neck to her chin, tilting her face up. "But there's rules. You need a break, you say red, We're not animals, we love our women and whores. Understood?"

"Crystal"

"Good." He releases her chin, steps back. "Get undressed. I'll bring them in."

She strips down in the warm glow of the lantern. Leather jacket, boots, jeans, shirt, bra, panties. She folds them neatly and sets them on the duffel bag, then stands in the center of the tent, naked, waiting. The tent flap opens, and Hammer steps back inside. Behind him, a stream of men files in, twelve of them, by her count. They circle her, their eyes roaming her body, their hands already reaching out to touch. But Hammer holds up a hand, and they stop.

"Before we start," Hammer says, "there's someone who gets first go."

He reaches behind him and pulls a young man forward. He can't be more than twenty, maybe twenty-one. Clean-shaven, with a mop of dark hair and wide, nervous eyes. He's wearing a cut, but it's bare—no patches except for a small one on the chest that reads *Prospect*.

"This is Danny," Hammer says. "He's been prospecting for six months. Earned his place. Tonight, he gets the honour of breaking you in."

Danny swallows, his eyes fixed on Laura's naked body. He looks like he can't quite believe what's happening. Laura smiles at him, warm and inviting. She does like young cock. He gets undressed, his cock hard.

"Come here, Danny. Don't be shy."

He steps forward, his movements hesitant. She reaches out, takes his hand, and guides him down onto the sleeping bag with her. She can feel him trembling slightly as she pulls him on top of her.

"First time with a willing whore?" she asks softly.

He nods, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes."

"Then let me help you."

She guides his cock to her cunt, already wet with anticipation. He slides into her with a gasp, his eyes going wide. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him deeper.

"That's it. Fuck me, Danny. Fuck me like you've been dreaming about."

He fucks her with the **** enthusiasm of youth, his hips slapping against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He doesn't last long, maybe two minutes, but when he comes, he buries his face in her neck and groans, his body shuddering as he fills her with his first load of the weekend. He pulls out, panting, and looks down at her with something like awe.

"Thank you," he says.

She reaches up, cups his cheek. "You're welcome. Now go enjoy the rest of the night."

He scrambles off her, his face red, and retreats to the edge of the tent. The other men clap him on the back, laughing, congratulating him.

Hammer steps forward. "Alright, boys. She's all yours.". They don't hold back.

The first man grabs her by the ankles and pulls her to the center of the sleeping bag, spreading her legs wide. He drives into her cunt without preamble, still slick from Danny's load, and fucks her hard and fast. He comes inside her within minutes, adding his seed to the pool already gathering in her womb. Before he's even pulled out, another man is at her mouth, his cock sliding past her lips. She takes him deep, her throat working around him, she moans around the cock in her mouth as he fills her completely.

She's being used in two holes simultaneously. Her cunt is filled and her mouth is filled. She's a conduit, a vessel, a toy. They move in rhythm, fucking her from all angles, using her body for their pleasure. The man in her cunt comes first, burying himself deep and pumping his load into her. He pulls out, and another man immediately takes his place, sliding into her slick, overflowing hole. The man in her mouth follows soon after, filling her with a hot gush hitting the back of her mouth. She swallows every drop. Then gets up and stands watching and she's taken by another, then another member. She loses count of how many cocks have been inside her. Her cunt is a mess, come leaking out of her in thick streams, pooling beneath her. Her arse is stretched and full, each new man pushing deeper, filling her further. Her mouth is never empty—there's always a cock sliding past her lips, filling her throat, coming on her tongue.

They flip her onto her stomach, and she's taken from behind, her arse in the air, her face pressed against the sleeping bag. A cock in her cunt, a cock in her arse, and another in her mouth as she's bent over. They use her like a piece of meat, and she loves every second of it. They come on her face, in her hair, across her tits. They fill her cunt until it's overflowing, the come running down her thighs in thick rivulets. They fill her arse until she can feel it leaking out of her, warm and wet, pooling beneath her. At one point, Hammer kneels beside her, his cock in his hand. He strokes it, watching her take another load in her cunt.

She's full in every hole, stretched and stuffed and used. She's nothing but a collection of holes, a vessel for their pleasure. The ninth man comes in her cunt, adding to the mess. The tenth man comes on her face, painting her cheeks and lips with his seed. The eleventh man takes her arse, filling her deep, and she feels his load mixing with the others already inside her. The twelfth man is Hammer. He turns her onto her stomach, ass up , positions himself behind her, his cock hard, and slides into her cunt with a groan. She's so full already, so loose, that he sinks in easily, her body accepting him without resistance. He fucks her slow, deliberate, watching his cock slide in and out of her ruined hole.

"You've been amazing tonight," he says, his voice low. "But I'm not done with you yet.", giving her ass a smack.

He fucks her for what feels like an hour, building his pace, driving into her again and again. She's limp beneath him, taking it, her eyes half-closed, her mouth open. When he comes, he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing as he fills her with his load, adding to the pool already gathering in her womb. He pulls out, and come spills out of her in a thick stream, running down her thighs, soaking the sleeping bag beneath her. The tent has fallen quiet. The lantern flickers low, casting long shadows across the canvas walls. The twelve men have filed out one by one, some clapping Laura on the shoulder, some murmuring thanks, some just nodding with satisfied grins. Danny, the young prospect, was the last to leave, pausing at the flap to look back at her with something like wonder in his eyes.

Laura lies in the center of the sleeping bag, her body a wreck, her skin glistening with the evidence of the night. Come coats her thighs, her stomach, her tits. It's matted in her hair, dried on her cheeks, pooled beneath her hips. She can feel it leaking out of her cunt and arse in slow, warm trickles, soaking into the fabric beneath her.

Hammer crouches beside her, a towel in his hand. He's already dressed, his cut back on, his boots laced. He looks down at her with a mixture of satisfaction and something softer—approval, maybe.

"Here," he says, handing her the towel. "Clean yourself up. You earned a good night's sleep."

She takes the towel with a trembling hand and begins to wipe herself down. The fabric comes away white and sticky, streaked with the combined efforts of a dozen men. She works methodically, scrubbing at her thighs, her stomach, her face. She can still taste come at the back of her throat, still feel it deep inside her, but the surface at least is clean. She pulls on her jeans, her shirt, her boots. Her movements are slow, deliberate, her body aching in ways she didn't know it could. Every muscle protests, every joint screams, but there's a deep, satisfied warmth settled into her bones.

She steps out of the tent into the cold night air. The rally is winding down, the fire pits burning low, the music reduced to a distant hum. She walks through the quiet camp, her legs shaky, her breath misting in front of her face. She finds her tent at the edge of the grounds. She unzips the flap and crawls inside.

Carrie is already there, curled up in her sleeping bag, her face peaceful, her hair still damp from a shower. Laura smiles, a soft, private thing. She strips down to her underwear, crawls into her own sleeping bag, and lies on her back, staring up at the canvas ceiling. Her body hums with exhaustion, her holes ache, and she can still feel the ghost of cocks inside her, filling her, using her. Within minutes, she's asleep. Laura wakes to the sound of canvas flapping in the wind and the distant rumble of bikes. Her body screams at her as she shifts, every muscle sore, her cunt and arse still tender, her jaw aching. But there's a deep, satisfied warmth in her chest that makes it all worth it. She sits up, wincing, and finds Sarah already awake, sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag, sipping from a canteen.

"Morning, sunshine," Sarah says, a grin spreading across her face. "You look like you got hit by a truck."

"Feel like it too," Laura croaks, her voice hoarse. "But the good kind."

Sarah laughs. "Same. Carrie's sleeping like a corpse, leave her be, let's grab some grub. You ready to face your boys?"

Laura stretches, her joints popping. "Ready as I'll ever be."

They dress in comfortable silence, pulling on jeans and hoodies, lacing up boots. Laura catches a glimpse of herself in a small mirror Sarah has propped against her bag. Her hair is a mess, there are dark circles under her eyes, and her lips are slightly swollen. She looks thoroughly used. She loves it. They step out into the morning. The rally is already awake, the air thick with the smell of bacon and coffee. They part ways at the main food tent, Sarah heading toward the Iron Wolves' camp, Laura toward the Road Vultures.

The Vultures are gathered around their fire pit, plates balanced on their knees, mugs of coffee in hand. They look up as she approaches, and a chorus of greetings rises.

"Morning, Laura!"

"Sleep well?"

"Look who's still walking!"

She laughs, taking a seat on an empty log. A plate of food appears in front of her, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast—and a mug of coffee is pressed into her hand. She eats ravenously, suddenly starving.

Hammer sits across from her, a grin on his face. "How you feeling?"

"Like I went ten rounds with a heavyweight," she says between bites. "And lost."

The men laugh.

"Give it an hour," Hammer says. "Hope you're ready for the day and round two tonight?"

She's about to reply when someone sits down beside her. She turns to find Danny, the young prospect from last night, a plate of food in his hands and a nervous smile on his face.

"Morning," he says, his voice soft.

"Morning, Danny."

They eat in silence for a moment. She can feel him stealing glances at her, his cheeks flushing whenever she catches his eye.

"Last night," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was... thank you. I mean, I know it was part of the deal, but... thank you. For being my first."

She reaches over and squeezes his knee. "You did good, Danny. I'm honored. I've taken a few cherries in my time."

His blush deepens, but he's smiling. The day unfolds in fragments, each one a different kind of use. She's walking back from the Porta-Johns when a Vulture named Grinder catches her arm and pulls her behind a supply truck. He's a big man, tattooed, with a grey-streaked beard and kind eyes. Whips his cock out and Laura immediately drops to her knees and starts sucking, he's not fully hard, but he soon will be, she suck had and deep, he's groaning whilst grabbing a handful of hair. Once fully erect and ready he fucks her fast against the truck, her jeans around her ankles, her cunt still slick from last night. He comes inside her with a grunt, kisses her forehead, pulls out and zips up.

"Thanks, Laura."

She's still catching her breath when she's pulled toward a cluster of bikes. Two Vultures, brothers by the look of them, take turns with her mouth while she's bent over a fuel tank. They come on her face, one after the other, painting her cheeks and lips. She licks the corner of her mouth, tasting them, and they laugh, handing her a rag to wipe herself clean. At midday, she's on her knees in the grass behind the beer tent, servicing a line of Vultures who've gathered for a quick release. She takes them one after another, her throat working, her jaw aching, her eyes watering. She swallows every load, licking them clean, opening her mouth to show them she's taken it all. Danny is at the end of the line, his cock hard, his face nervous. She takes him gently, guiding him into her mouth, and he comes with a gasp, his hands fisting in her hair. Afternoon finds her bent over a picnic table, her jeans around her ankles, while a group of Vultures take turns with her cunt and arse. They're rougher now, more eager, their hands gripping her hips, their bodies slapping against hers. She takes them all, one after another, her body accepting everything they give her. They come inside her, by the time they're done, she's a mess, her pussy and ass dripping, her holes gaping.

Hammer finds her there, still bent over the table, panting. He hands her a bottle of water.

"Good girl. Rest up. You'll need your energy for tonight"

She straightens, her body aching, and takes the water. She drinks deeply, the cool liquid soothing her throat.

"How many are coming tonight you think?"

"Probably all of them, maybe not all to use you, but they'll watch" he says with a grin. "You up for it?"

She smiles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Always."

As dusk settles, she makes her way back to the tent. Her body is exhausted, her muscles screaming, but there's a fire in her that won't be quenched.

The tent fills as dusk settles into full dark, the lantern casting warm shadows across the canvas walls. Laura lies on the sleeping bag in the center, naked, waiting, she watches them file in, counting them as they come. Twelve men. The same twelve from last night. Including Danny, the young prospect, who meets her eyes and gives her a shy smile. Hammer is the last to enter. He lets the flap fall shut behind him and stands at the edge of the circle, his arms crossed.

"Same rules as last night," he says. "She's ours. Take care of her."

He looks at Laura. "Ready?"

She spreads her legs wide, her cunt already glistening with anticipation.

"Ready."

They don't start slow this time. There's no exploration, no hesitation. But tonight, they mix it up.

Instead of piling on all at once, they form a loose circle around her, and Hammer gestures for her to sit up. She does, her legs folded beneath her, her hands resting on her thighs. One of the men, a wiry guy called Snake with tattoos crawling up his neck, steps forward and takes her hand, guiding her to her feet. He sits on the edge of the cot and pulls her onto his lap, his cock sliding into her cunt from beneath. She gasps as he fills her, her arms wrapping around his neck, her legs straddling his hips. He fucks her slow and deep, his hands gripping her arse, while another man steps up behind her and guides his cock into ass. Double penetration, Laura loves it. They move together, a rhythm of flesh and breath, and when Snake comes, he stays inside her pussy until the man in her ass finishes, his come shooting into her bowels, she groans like a whore as she feels his explode.

They rotate through positions like a well-rehearsed dance. She's passed from lap to lap, each man taking his turn with her cunt while another fucks her ass from behind. They don't rush. They take their time, savoring her, using her body in ways that are different from last night. At one point, they lay her on her stomach and two men take her at the same time—one in her cunt, one in her mouth. She's pinned between them being spitroasted, completely immobilized, completely filled. They move in a synchronized rhythm, their hips rising and falling together, and she's nothing but a warm hole for them to use. When they come, they come together, filling her holes at once. She feels the heat of their loads spreading inside her, mixing together, leaking out around their cocks. They pull out, and come spills from her cunt and thick streams pool beneath her hips.

They flip her onto her back and lift her legs, folding her nearly in half. Two men kneel on either side of her head, their cocks in her mouth and against her face. A third man fucks her cunt. She's completely exposed, completely ****, completely theirs. The man in her cunt comes, painting her insides with his load. He pulls out, and the she is sucking switch sliding up her cunt. New men take their empty place for a blowjob. Later, they have her kneel on all fours, and they take turns with her mouth while men fuck her cunt or arse in turns. They come on her face, in her hair, across her tits. They fill her cunt until it's overflowing, the come running down her thighs in thick rivulets. They fill her arse until she can feel it leaking out of her, warm and wet, pooling beneath her.

Danny takes his turn tonight. He goes for her ass, his first anal fuck with a whore, he pounds her ass quite hard while another man fucks her cunt from between her legs. Danny comes with a gasp, his seed filling her ass. By the time the last man finishes, she's a wreck. Her cunt and arse gaping, her face covered in a mask of dried come. The lantern has burned low. The tent is quiet.

But Hammer isn't done.

He kneels behind her and slides into her arse slowly, deliberately. Hammer fucks her arse with long, deep strokes, his guys egging him on.

"Go on, fill that ass, fuck that whore", Laura loves the name calling and looks back at all the guys watching and smiles. Hammer comes hard with a loud roar, his guys cheer, burying himself deep in her arse, his cock pulsing as he fills her with his load. He pulls out, and come spills out of her, running down her thighs.

He stands, looks around at the remaining men. "Clean her up. Get her a drink."

Two of the men lift her gently, help her to a corner of the tent where this is a stool. They wipe her down with damp cloths, hand her a glass with Jack Daniels which she swallows in one. They hand her some cloths so she can clean her ass and pussy and then pass her clothes.

The tent has fallen quiet. The lantern flickers low, casting long shadows across the canvas walls. The eleven men have filed out one by one, some clapping Laura on the shoulder, some murmuring thanks, some just nodding with satisfied grins. Laura lies in the center of the sleeping bag, her body a wreck, her skin glistening with the evidence of the night. Come coats her thighs, her stomach, her tits. It's matted in her hair, dried on her cheeks, pooled beneath her hips. She can feel it leaking out of her cunt and arse in slow, warm trickles, soaking into the fabric beneath her.

Hammer crouches beside her, " I'll walk you back to your tent."

"I can do it, Hammer. I'll walk her back."

Hammer raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. He looks from Danny to Laura, then back again.

"Yeah? You sure, prospect?"

Danny nods, his jaw set. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Hammer claps him on the shoulder, a heavy, approving gesture. "Alright. She's all yours. Make sure she gets there safe."

Danny takes her hand and leads her out of the tent. The night air is cold and crisp, the stars blazing overhead. The rally is quiet, the fire pits burning low, the music reduced to a distant hum. Danny walks beside her, his hand still holding hers, his pace slow and steady to match her limping gait. They reach her tent at the edge of the grounds. He unzips the flap for her, holds it open.

"Thank you," she says, her voice hoarse.

He smiles, that shy, sweet smile. "Thank you. You were amazing."

She leans in and kisses his cheek, soft and warm.

"Goodnight, Danny."

"Goodnight, Laura."

She crawls into the tent, finds Carrie already asleep in her sleeping bag, her face peaceful, her leather cut folded beneath her pillow. Laura strips down to her underwear, crawls into her own sleeping bag, and lies on her back, staring up at the canvas ceiling. She closes her eyes, a smile on her face, and sleeps.

Sunday morning breaks grey and cold, the sky heavy with clouds that threaten rain but never deliver. Laura wakes slowly, her body screaming from two nights of relentless use, but there's a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with the sleeping bag. She dresses carefully. Jeans, boots, a clean shirt. The Road Vultures' camp is stirring. A few men sit around the fire, nursing mugs of coffee, their voices low. They look up as she approaches, and instead of the hungry stares she's grown used to, they nod at her. Simple. Respectful.

Grinder hands her a steaming mug. "Morning, Laura. Sleep alright?"

"Yep, straight away" she says, wrapping her hands around her cup.

He grins. "Not surprised."

She takes a seat by the fire, and gradually the others join her. Someone passes her a plate of a typical full English breakfast. Danny sits beside her, his knee brushing against hers. He doesn't say much, but he's there, a quiet presence, and every now and then he catches her eye and smiles. After breakfast, Hammer calls her over. She follows him, some of the Vultures, standing in a loose circle. They're all waiting for her and they smile when she enters the tent..

"Laura. You certainly brightened up our visit this year, the boys talked to me this morning and wanted me to give you this"

He steps closer.

"But we've talked it over, and we're in agreement." He holds out a leather cut out to her. "Me and the boys want you to be part of our family, welcome anytime."

She puts on the jacket, and the boys start whistling and come over and hug and pat her on the shoulders, welcoming her to the club, the club logo, a vulture with its wings spread, a skull clutched in its talons. A patch that says *Property of the Road Vultures*. Another that says *Club Whore*.

She looks up at Hammer, her eyes bright.

"I don't know what to say."

He grins. "You don't have to say anything, we hope we haven't put you off from coming again"

She laughs, pulling the cut over her shoulders. It fits perfectly.

"Oh don't worry, the amount of cock and spunk you guys have given over the last two days is heaven for a slut like me."

The men around her nod, some of them smiling, some of them clapping her on the shoulder. Later, Danny finds her by the fire. He's holding something behind his back, his face nervous.

"I got you something," he says. "I mean, it's not much, but..."

He hands her a small patch. It's a simple design—a heart with a dagger through it, the words *Danny's First* stitched beneath.

She laughs, her eyes welling up. "awww...Danny..."

"I know it's stupid," he says quickly. "I just wanted you to have something to remember me by."

She pulls him into a hug, holding him tight.

"I never forget the the one's who cherry I pop"

He hugs her back, his face buried in her shoulder.

When she finally pulls away, she pins the patch to the inside of her cut, over her heart.

"There," she says. "Now you're with me always."

He smiles, that shy, sweet smile, and she knows that this weekend has changed her in ways she's only beginning to understand. Later, she leaves the tent proudly wearing her new jacket.