Epilogue…

The wedding night debauchery at Alice’s Club went on to the wee hours of the morning.

Most of the wedding guests who were taken were gradually released over the course of the weekend. Tight bondage, aching need, and arousing pain gave way to warm hugs, gentle caresses, and friendly meals. Some awoke the next morning, and found themselves stored in the rear of Alice’s Club, once again charged with cleaning up after the festivities. Others woke up outside of the Club. Some woke in cages. Some woke in beds. Some woke in bondage, some woke to being snuggled. A few were released immediately…most were held for a final round of pleasure fulfillment. Sucking, or licking, or fucking their dominant to orgasm…before eventually having their bonds and their collars removed.

A few others were held for longer, serving their respective dominants for the week. Some were employed as domestic servants, cleaning their temporary owners’ homes in latex or rubber by day, and serving as their sex pets by night. Others were simply kept as straining, aching bondage toys. Kept in strict bondage with only minimal breaks…used as either a sex toy or simply kept as a decoration while their captor went about their day. A few were even brought outside the city to a small ranch where they spent a week as ponyslaves before being returned to their human lives.

But for the most part, by a week after the wedding, nearly everyone had been released, and allowed to assume again the veneer of normality. For some the evening was a once in a lifetime experience. A temporary dip into the world of kink that satisfied their curiosity, but wouldn’t be repeated. For most though…Alice’s Club would be revisited. Professional dominants would be contacted. Parties would be attended. A deep seated itch and need for kinky play was successfully implanted.

But that was for the average guest. For those of the bridal party…for those members of the groom or bride’s family who were caught up in the debauchery of the evening…and for the bride and groom themselves…the fun did not stop after a week.

Alice had coyly informed every dominant who had been lucky enough to snag someone in those categories that Andrew and Beth, the lovely couple, would be “embarking” on their kinky honeymoon for a month. Alice saw no reason why their groomsmen, bridesmaids, or close family, couldn’t be kept for just as long.

A long month of bondage, of control and submission, of aching desire, and of mind-shattering pleasure, awaited the young men and women who now found themselves guests of Alice and her close friends…

Emily moaned into the mouth filling cock gag, squirming in her tight bondage as she felt the thrumming power of the bike. She had never really appreciated how turned on one could be…while being forced to sit completely stationary. She was clad head to toe in tight black rubber, a thick hood completely obscuring her features apart from the hole in the back for her hair to fly free in the rushing air. Her body was crisscrossed with straps of thick leather, including the firmly snug armbinder that kept her arms pinioned behind her. A thick collar kept her head upright, and staring blindly ahead at the back of the woman who was driving her that day. She could never be sure if it was Jen or Jess…save by whose voice was crooning to her through her headphones.

Emily had found Jen, that tall golden haired Valkyrie of a woman, by the bar that night. The imposing woman was all in leather that evening, the consummate blonde biker. Emily had felt no small sense of shy trepidation as she approached the woman, still collared and cuffed. Jen was watching as Beth and Andrew were made to take each other. How Andrew and Alice between them pistoned into Beth, to the great delight of onlookers, dominants and submissives alike. Emily had flushed, shivered a little at the sight…and then again as Jen turned around to catch sight of her. The gorgeous woman had cocked an eyebrow at her, as Emily had shuffled forward.

“Yesssss?”

“I…uhm…” Emily had blushed, stumbling over her words a little, “I’ve…I’ve thought about the offer…uhmm…and I…I…Y-yes.”

Jen grinned, “Should that mean something?” She beckoned Emily a little closer, “If you want something, sweetness, I want you to say it. Out loud.”

Emily had blushed again, “I…I want to…to be your…your Bike Bitch…”

Jen’s smile had widened, and she chuckled, curling an arm around Emily’s waist to draw her in for a powerful, searching kiss that left both of them slightly breathless, “Well its a delight to have you on board. Now my other half is around here somewhere…”

Arms had suddenly encircled Emily from behind, making the young lady jump and squeal in surprise as hands found her breasts and gave them a pleasant squeeze.

“So…am I fondling the breasts of a cute little unclaimed submissive…or am I fondling the breasts of our new Bike Bitch?” Jess giggled into Emily’s ear, deepening the girl’s blush to near fire engine levels of red. She felt her cuffed hands against the woman’s stomach, felt the leather she was wearing too…and felt her arousal rise even higher. Here she was, a neophyte to this world…and she already had two incredible women who were intent on making her their pleasure wracked, achingly wanting, submissive. It hadn’t been a particularly hard choice for her…which was apparently quite obvious to Jen…

“Oh, like there was ever any doubt what she was going to choose.” Jen laughed, her arm disengaging from Emily’s waist to cup her chin, forcing her to meet Jen’s eyes, “From the moment you put the thought in her head…I’m sure she’s wanted nothing more than rubber, bondage, and to submit to the two women who are going to own her for weeks…and weeks…and weeks…”

Emily had whimpered, pressing her thighs together, and managed to croak out two words, “Y-yes Ma’am.”

Then Jess had yanked her head back, delivering a hard over the shoulder kiss while groping Emily’s breasts…and Jen had pressed her hand between Emily’s legs…and the night had dissolved into the foggy pleasure of a deep and abiding period of subspace. Emily recalled later being brought to the very edge of a panting orgasm right there…before both dommes whisked her away to one of the play areas. There, she found that a full rubber bitch uniform had already been assembled. Waiting for her. Waiting for the decision that all involved had seemingly treated with an air of inevitability. She had been stripped, and redressed. She had been tightly bound, and silenced with kisses and then with her gag. And then Emily had been paraded over to the stage, where Jen and Jess and bid their goodbyes to Beth as the bride sucked Alice’s strapon. To Andrew as the groom was whimpering while his cock was caged by Barbara, the Club Maid. And to Alice, as the Mistress of the Club encouraged Beth to “show us all how well you can please a cock.” Alice had briefly broken off from her teasing Beth to bid the two biker dommes, and their new bitch, a very fond farewell.

And then Emily had been taken home.

She had spent the night pleasuring her new Mistresses. Pleasuring them with her mouth. Pleasuring them through her body, as they caressed and stroked their hands over her slick rubber. And she had been pleasured in turn. Brought to a pair of knee buckling orgasms, as they had drawn more verbal declarations from her. Making her say the things that made her squirm. Making her admit to herself and to them, just what it was that Emily wanted…which tracked oh so deliciously with what Jen and Jess wanted for her too. She would be their bike bitch. She would be their pleasure slut. She would serve them every day and night of their road adventure. She wanted to be kept in rubber. She wanted to be kept in bondage. She wanted to submit. To serve. To be trained. She wanted…above all…to be owned.

The two women, her dommes…her owners for the duration of this biking adventure…had more than delivered.

Emily was kept as she was now for the majority of each day. Dressed in rubber, strapped up tightly, and strapped down to the bike of whomever she was riding with that day. A cock gag filling her mouth, plugs vibrating in time with the bike between her legs…and the crooning voices of her biker mistresses caressing her ears. Filling her mind with aching need. Teasing her brain with the fantasies of what might come that night…or during the day. The recording was loopable…and constituted Emily’s “training” during the day. Reminding her of her new place. Instructing her on the favourite games and desires of her mistresses. Teaching her what she needed to know to be a better submissive. A better Bike Bitch. All while she was helplessly strapped in place…kept edged and denied on the brink of orgasm. The looping training tapes only occasionally broken up by the voices of her Mistresses breaking in via radio to check on her. To tease her directly, especially with revelations that people were watching her. That she was being seen as an anonymous prisoner. A captive of pleasure. A slave to the ardent desires of her dominants.

Sometimes at rest stops, Jen or Jess would allow certain others to touch her. Comely young women were invited to have a feel of Emily's heaving rubber covered breasts. To caress her hooded head, and to tease her quivering inner thighs. The forfeit of course was an afternoon as a pleasure slave.

A small roadside hotel would be found. The young woman in question would be brought within, stripped down, tightly bound and collared, and then tossed onto the bed. Emily would be positioned where she could hear the resulting sexy frolicking, all the while she had to kneeling place, sucking on a rubber cock, and being edged over and over by her vibrators. Edged to the sounds and noises that drifted about the room as her Mistresses pleasured their latest conquest. As the young woman they had selected gasped, and moaned, and cried out in ecstasy. As they forced the woman's head between their legs, demanding their own orgasms in turn. Hour upon hour, until all three were exhausted, shaking, and snuggled up on the bed. All three turning their eyes to Emily, who by that point would be moaning, squirming, and achingly needy for all that they had just experienced. But she would be ignored. Jess, Jen, and whomever they had found, would loiter together on the bed. Would eat together. And finally, would drop into slumber together, leaving Emily unsatisfied...until they awoke in the evening. Until she was pulled onto the bed, and given the undivided attention of her two Mistresses, and whatever temporary captive remained cuffed and frogtied on the bed.

It was enough to drive Emily quite out of her mind with lust.

Emily’s days quickly merged together, into one unbroken experience of submission, rubber, and bondage. She spent her days strapped to that bike as their edged bitch, writhing away as she was instructed on her duties, their desires, and her subservient place. She spent her evenings as their helpless fucktoy, pleasured and pleasuring in turn over and over again. Never a moment outside of her rubber, for Jen and Jess had brought enough to keep her clothed in the slick material even as they rotated specific outfits to be washed. She was their Bike Bitch…and Bike Bitches had to be in rubber. Had to be bound. And had to be desperate little sluts.

Jen and Jess, for their part, were able to enjoy more than just the life of controlling and training their newest plaything. They took in tourist sights, and enjoyed themselves in other ways. Sometimes Emily would be secured in a closet, or to the bed, or simply kneeling while a vibrator edged her…so that the two biker ladies could enjoy an intimate dinner by themselves. Enjoying one another’s company as their submissive quivered, and moaned, and ached for them. Spending the quality time that each of them so treasured, and luxuriating one another’s company. It gave them time to talk, as couples do, of the future. It gave them time to talk about Emily.

Jen liked her. Jess really liked her. Both women had been impressed at just how rapidly and completely Emily had submerged herself into the role of their Bike Bitch. Their pleasure slut. Their prisoner and captive. The women mused about how the bike trip was going. About how well their submissive had integrated with their road life. And her potential as a more long term playmate. During the first week it was idle speculation. During the second week, Jess began more seriously talking through the possibility of Emily as their long-term Bike Bitch. Jen had waffled…liking the girl enough to entertain the idea, but still uncertain. By the third week on the road, and Emily’s continued descent into submission and pleasure-addled need, Jen was convinced.

The young lady belonged with them.

A discreet phone call back to Alice was made. Arrangements were negotiated whilst the two women were pleasured by their Bike Bitch…Jess talking on the phone, Emily pleasuring her with her mouth, and Jen thrusting into Emily with her strapon in turn. The two biker dommes secured permission to extend their vacation time with Emily by a further two weeks. When they returned, they would be going straight to the Club. There, Alice would be waiting with her Register. There, after six weeks experiencing the life of what being a submissive to Jen and Jess was like…Emily would be given the opportunity to continue. To sign her name in the Register, to kneel before Jen and Jess as their collar was locked to her neck…and to officially become their submissive. Their slave. Their Bitch.

Emily, for her part, was unaware of the specifics of what was to come. She spent her time off the bike cementing her day time training with repetitive mantras, crooning orders, and the experience of sucking her meals through a dildo. She had long ago released her mind from caring about the particulars of each day, and given herself over simply to glorying in the experience.

Every action controlled.

Every part of her restrained.

Every moment knowing that the two women who owned her, for weeks yet to come, adored her. That she was cared for, desired, and wanted in a way that she never had been before. That in Jen and Jess, she had found two dominant women who had opened before her a true cornucopia of delights…and asked only a single thing of her. That she trust them enough to place herself in their caring hands.

Though Emily didn’t yet know of the plans and opportunity that awaited her upon her return from the roadtrip, there was only one answer that she would ever feel able to give now. There was only one path forward for her, after experiencing the delights, the control, the care, and the love from her Mistresses. She would be saying yes. She could only say yes. She wanted more of what Jen and Jess gave her.

She was their Bike Bitch. It said so right on her collar…

Speaking of Alice’s Club, one of the groomsmen yet remained there. Mark, that overly confident fellow who had fallen afoul of Jen and Jess through his less than gentlemanly conduct, was still stuck in chastity. Before departing with Emily, Jen had delivered the key to Alice the day after the wedding, but insisted that she be the one to ultimately unlock the desperate man from his imposed sentence of sexual chastity.

Alice, grinning as Mark had attempted to object, had agreed. To ensure that the young man didn’t get any ideas about somehow defeating the chastity device by picking the lock or otherwise removing it…Alice informed the shocked fellow that he would be boarded at her Club until Jen returned. Which meant that she would have to employ him, since Alice detested “idle hands.” Which meant, inevitably, that Mark…would once again be Mandy. Though this time, it would not be for a couple of days and nights. This time, Mandy would remain…for weeks…and weeks, a helplessly bound and owned sissy Club Maid. Serving Club patrons, and having it drilled into his brain that he had brought this on himself. That being a brash and overconfident, handsy young man, now meant that he would learn what it was like to serve. What it was like to submit to the attendees of Alice’s Club…and what it was like to be fondled, and groped, and taken advantage of.

So for weeks, Mark had served. Dressed in much the same fashion as Jen and Jess had prepared him, he was kept as a captive sissy maid. Tight bondage, slick latex, and made over in humiliating fashion. Mark was brought out to be Mandy to groups of especially randy women, those who were intent on groping and dominating whatever Club staff was delivered into their hands. Mark, as Mandy, was repeatedly bound and dominated in his latex maid uniform. He was made to pleasure women with his mouth, made to take their questing fingers, and probing strapons and plugs up his increasingly trained ass. He gave up his rump and legs to the kiss and tickle of floggers and crops. He was made to bustle back and forth, bringing drinks, bringing food, and ensuring his customers were satisfied with their evening.

And day by day, night by night, Mark was gradually broken down. Gradually reduced in his resistance. Gradually brought to be aroused by his humiliating submission. Made to understand his proper place as a submissive bitch, someone who deserved to be kept like this. Deserved to be kept bound, and teased, and locked, and utterly, achingly, denied.

Mark groaned as his leash was firmly yanked, propelling him along behind another Club Maid. Though he was apparently a member of their group, he occupied the bottom most rung. Even Maids who had joined after him, however temporarily, were allowed to lead him around by the leash…to take advantage of him…to tease his caged cock…to whisper of all the things that he was missing.

And he could do nothing about it.

Mark/Mandy was dressed in a tight latex French Maid outfit, all slick and frilly, combined with knee high high heeled boots, wrist and ankle cuffs, plentiful chains, a thick collar, a tight latex hood complete with a brunnette braid, and a mouth filling cock gag. His cock, always aching, was especially so in the uniform as he felt the material sliding around and over his caged member…exciting it and teasing it with the feel of latex. The feel of sensual fetish…that he was denied from truly enjoying by the hard metal, and Alice’s stern injunction to her staff that the cage was not to ever come off while he served her as a Maid.

“Good evening ladies,” Mark’s head snapped upright as the maid who was leading him halted in front of a table. He moaned softly into his gag as he beheld four gorgeous older women, MILFs one and all, who were eyeing the maid and him with lustful, predatory eyes.

“This will be your server for the evening,” his leash was yanked forward, the maid reaching down to grip his chastity cage and drawing a louder moan from the captive Mark. “Answers to Mandy. Must be kept in chastity, as he isn’t allowed to cum, but otherwise please feel free to grope and play with Mandy as much as you please within the normal rules of the Club.”

Mark moaned, suddenly grateful for the anonymity of his latex hood as he recognized two of his old professors from his university days. Mrs. Samantha Ellington and Ms. Jenna Orlov. Samantha a smoldering redhead, and Jenna a raven haired stern task mistress. Both women had featured a number of times in Mark’s fantasies. He’d never have guessed that they were into kink…and not just into it but clearly interested in exercising a domineering role over helplessly submissive men and women. Including him.

Samantha plucked his leash from the maid and waved the girl away, reeling Mark in until the captive sissy maid was forced to kneel before her. A moment later, Mark felt hands. Hands on his ass. Hands on his fake breasts. Hands caressing his thighs and caged cock. Hands all over him as he squirmed, and moaned, and was forced to look deeply…oh so deeply…into Samantha’s eyes. Eyes that knew him. Eyes that recognized him.

Mark moaned in realization. She knew. She knew who he was. She knew, despite the hood, despite the outfit, she knew who he was…and her smile became all the hungrier.

“Well…Mandy…” Samantha purred, “I’ve been waiting a very long time to get to play with someone like you.” She brushed a hand across his hooded face, her eyes sparkling with domineering delight, “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.” Then she leaned forward, yanking his leash in tight, and placing her lips against his covered ear…crooning with a sultry, dangerously seductive whisper, “And I think…Mark…I’m going to be petitioning Alice to bring you home with me. I understand you’re in this position from being handsy and overbearing…”

Mark/Mandy moaned, his hips thrusting in spite of himself as he was caressed and groped. As he strained against his bonds…and as Samantha crooned into his ear, “Boys like you need a firm hand…not just for a few weeks. Boys like you need to be taught respect, subservience, and submission to the fairer sex. What better way of doing that than keeping you as a humiliated little bitch? And who better to teach you that…” Samantha chuckled throatily, “Than me?”

Mark felt his caged cock griped, found his gag wrestled forcefully out of his mouth, and then squealed as Samantha drove her tongue and mouth onto his. Claiming him. Planting her flag and announcing her ownership of him for all to see. Mark was torn…yearning to be free of his chastity cage and bonds…though knowing that if Alice agreed to place his keys in Samantha’s hands…it might very well still be weeks before he was allowed to cum. And that all supposed Samantha wouldn’t follow through on her promise to keep him. Would simply let him go after a week or two.

But as Mark wilted before her kissing onslaught, as he felt himself sinking further into submission, griped tightly by his bondage and latex maid uniform, he had a sinking feeling that wasn’t to be.

That he wasn’t going to be free anytime soon. That he would continue to serve, and submit, and suffer, until his new Mistress Samantha was satisfied that he had learned his true place. And who the hell knew how long that was going to take?

Mark whimpered, and retreated deeper into his mind…and Mandy moaned, thrusting her hips and keening into Samantha’s mouth with pure need. The older woman withdrew slightly and chuckled, “There’s the little slut I always knew you were. Now lets see how loudly we can make you squeal…” 

Elsewhere in the Club, others from the bridal party were also present, and enjoying themselves a trifle more openly than Mandy. Amy, that sultry, domineering switch, had found herself a Mistress too. And a rather...unique...role in her service to Mistress Serene.

Amy was sitting on the floor, pressed against the legs of Mistress Serene, the woman who had kept her as a bitch-suited pet before the wedding, and for a day or two afterwards. After freeing her from the bitchsuit, Amy was kept for another week firmly in her submissive role, serving Serene with her body and tongue, as well as with her time as a servant, as a maid, as a cleaner, as a masseuse, and any number of tasks and roles that were demanded of her.

Unlike the rest of the bridal party though, Mistress Serene had been interested in Amy for her switch tendencies, rather than looking to subjugate and ensure her utter submission. She wore a collar, Mistress Serene’s collar, but wasn’t locked in chastity. She submitted to Mistress Serene the moment that she crossed into the Club…but otherwise continued to live her life. Even in the Club itself, Serene delighted in making Amy hunt down fresh submissives…and then dominate said submissives alongside her Mistress.

Which was precisely what brought them here today. Amy was clothed in shiny wetlook leggings, as well as a simple top…and Mistress Serene’s collar. Apart from the collar, she was otherwise unbound, and contentedly lounged against Mistress Serene’s leg, one arm idly stroking the woman’s boot. When that boot moved, and nudged her, Amy perked up and immediately looked up to her Mistress and then across at the entrance where her Mistress’ attention was fixed.

A quartet of young women had just entered, three of them striding confidently along in their fetish outfits. Making immediately for the bar, and clearly demonstrating that they had been here before. No doubt looking to find some comely young man or woman to ensnare and play with for the evening. None had the look of women in search of either a long term playmate…or gave off the uncertain energy of someone who needed to be taken in hand.

Unlike the fourth girl.

She stood by the entrance, gawking a little at the interior of the Club, and blushing a bright and appealing red. She was clearly a university student. Clearly inexperienced with kink. And clearly…so clearly…in need of someone like Mistress Serene to take her in hand…and captivate her.

Amy grinned as she watched the girl, and then turned back to her Mistress. Serene nodded, a twinkle in her eye, and then chuckled as Amy leaned down to kiss her boot, before clambering to her feet. Amy set off, fairly skipping through the crowds as she made her way directly towards the girl. She knew, more or less, what would follow. It was a script that she had played out half a dozen times since the wedding. Serene in charge, and Amy as her subordinate top.

She would introduce herself to the young lady, coaxing her over to the bar for something to steady her nerves. She would relax her, calm her with friendly chatter, and discreetly acquire needed details. Was she a local in town? How busy was she with classes? Did she have any imminent vacation plans or trips? How did she find it fitting in at university? Close friends? Was she at all interested in an introduction to kink? These questions and more helping Amy to get a sense of what sort of submissive the girl might be…and how long Mistress Serene could expect to keep her.

Once she was confident she had the necessary information, and that the girl was sufficiently confident as to not so easily spook, Amy would invite her to try out a bit of bondage play over in a play area near Mistress Serene. She wasn’t sure yet exactly how she would bind the woman…probably a coin flip between a nice strappado tie…or perhaps standing and spreadeagled…or even lashed down to a bondage bench…

In any event, she would be snugly bound…and then blindfolded and gagged. She would be caressed and groped. Teased and titillated…and then kissed with Amy’s flogger. Just enough to make her moan and squirm, warming up her rump with what was to come. And the entire time, from the moment the blindfold went on, Mistress Serene would be there watching. Examining. Evaluating. Until she took over from Amy, and sent her to kneel down in front of the girl. Flogging the young lady’s butt and thighs, caressing and teasing her innermost areas, making her gasp and moan into the gag. Making her beg for more.

And then Amy would remove the blindfold. The girl would blink, and moan, and blush, as she realized that someone else was feeling her up…that someone else was pleasuring her to the brink of orgasm. And as she hovered there on that brink…Amy would offer her a collar.

“This is how you get to cum,” Amy would tell the desperate young lady, holding the collar in front of her neck, “Submit to the collar, submit to Mistress Serene’s control over you, and she will grant you an orgasm. You’ll find your true place as a submissive…and true pleasure from submission…you need only nod…and the collar will go on.”

The woman would nod. They always did at that point, once Amy and Mistress Serene had teased and tormented them enough. And then the collar would go on, the girl would cum, and Amy would have a sister slave for a time. Someone who she would be tasked with leading out of the Club on a leash, and packing away in Mistress Serene’s trunk. Sometimes just for a weekend…sometimes for a whole week. Someone who would be controlled and dominated, and subjugated so effortlessly by Serene, that Amy was still somewhat blown away by how rapidly the other woman could ensure submission.

Amy grinned as she neared the girl, feeling a little squeal within her as the girl’s eyes lit up. She had found her calling, kink-wise, as a slave domme to Mistress Serene. Not precisely equals…but nonetheless someone who valued her abilities as a switch. Someone who dominated her when she wanted to be dominated, and graciously gave her free reign to dominate other women and men in turn. Amy adored her Mistress…and she adored what she got to do thanks to her Mistress.

“Hi!” Amy said brightly to the shy young woman at the door, “Fancy a drink? Just between friends?”

The woman flushed and nodded, and Amy locked arms with her, pulling her gently towards the bar.

It was the last free decision the young lady would be making for days…