So last week was my fellow podcat Mae's birthday. (That link is to her blog, Yay for Mae - you should check it out!)
I decided spontaneously, to write some erotica for her. Mae loves the thrill of the chase, roller derby, and fight-or-flight response.
So I did. She's graciously allowed me to share the story here, with you. Enjoy!
A Birthday Jam for Trixie
--by Mako Allen
“So Bambi and the squad are taking me fancy camping for my birthday, Mom,” Trixie Trouble told her nervous mother over the phone.
“You’re going where, Tricia?” her mother asked. “With who?”
Trixie rolled her eyes, but reminded herself that her mom, while really being an exceptionally cool mom, didn’t really get the whole Roller Derby Thing.
She didn’t get that her perky, blonde haired, over-smiling room-mate, and sometimes lover, Barbara Cannon, was actually Bambi “The Quad Quasher” Cheapshot, known for slugging people hard, on their upper thighs, mid-jam.
She didn’t get that Tricia wasn’t actually Tricia, but Trixie Trouble (“Ask for it, and get double.”)
This was what Trixie did with most of her nights, and a great deal of her weekends. It was why she was often battered, bruised, and a bit beaten.
Trixie smiled to herself. All right, it was not the only reason for that. But that was another conversation she and her mom usually danced around.
The crucial point was that Bambi and the rest of the Demolishers were taking her away for her birthday, and she would be out of town, and could she drop their dog Camille off with her as they went out of town.
Her mom agreed, and an hour later, she and Bambi petted Camille goodbye, and got on the road.
They drove to a private campground the other side of Fort Meredith, called Camp Frasier. This wasn’t Trixie’s first time there, either. The camp used to be an actual children’s summer camp. Then some wealthy psychology professor from the college had bought it, and rented it out to all sorts of alternative groups for private events.
That was actually how Trixie had met Bambi. Back then, Trixie had still been Tricia. Bambi had been Bambi, though, and they were in the middle of grappling one another, and trying to strategically bite each other’s nipples when Bambi had realized that Tricia was probably Roller Derby material.
As they lay in a sweaty heap afterward, Bambi said as much. A week later, she tried out, got her name, and moved in.
Now they were returning to the scene of the crime. The Demolishers had rented the camp for themselves for the weekend, and Trixie was the guest of honor.
Bambi drove them up the potholed, patched, pleasantly shitty country road that led to the campground.
Normally Frasier himself worked the gate, but when they pulled up, one of the other Demolishers, Ruby Teeth was sitting in a folding metal chair by it. The tall, spiky haired big woman got up, and made a big show out of flexing her massive, muscled tattooed arms before she picked up a clipboard, and sauntered over to their car.
“Can I see some ID, ladies?” Ruby said, pulling her mirrored sunglasses halfway down her nose.
Bambi snorted loudly, and gave Ruby the finger.
“Check!” Ruby said, not missing a beat. “You and the Birthday Beauty are in The Palace.” She lifted the gate, and waved them through.
Trixie whistled appreciatively. Bambi grinned at her. “Nothing’s too good for my girl,” she said. Bambi drove past the gate, the caretaker’s cottage, around the dining hall, and down toward the big pool.
The enormous pool was fenced off on two sides. On its long unfenced side was a low building with changing rooms, and a snack bar. A massive shaded deck blocked in the other shorter open side. It had very cushy looking lounge chairs, a little wet bar, and a barbeque grill.
The deck in turn was attached to what looked like a miniature modern beach house, all blonde wood, and metal and glass. It looked like the sort of beach house an obscenely wealthy person would have, just shrunk down. It looked well, palatial, hence the name.
Bambi turned the car onto the access road that wound around the back of the pool, and led to the private two-car parking lot in front of the house.
Heidi “Neck” Wringer and Monstrous Jenny Jackson were waiting for them. Heidi opened their car doors, and escorted them inside, while Jenny unloaded their bags.
Trixie was going to protest that really this was too much. But then she watched the tiny woman lift the heavy suitcases easily, remembered just how much Jenny could bench press, and decided to keep her mouth shut.
She thought to herself that this was all turning out to be too good to be true. She opened her suitcase, and began unpacking it into one of the bedroom dressers.
Bambi waved her away from the clothes, saying she would do that. She rummaged through the bag, and pulled out Trixie’s bikini. “Why don’t you relax and get some rays, babe?” Bambi said.
Now Trixie felt the fine little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something definitely didn’t smell right here. But she said nothing.
Instead, she stripped out of her clothes, being careful to always keep her eyes on Bambi. She pulled the skimpy black bikini bottoms on, and then shrugged into the top.
Bambi handed her a pair of sandals. They were the flip-flops with the chunky heel. They were impossible to run in. Trixie had to take a deep breath to stop herself from arching an eyebrow in silent commentary at the choice. She slipped them on, and headed out to the deck.
Some of the team were splashing in the far side of the pool, a good way away from the deck. Trixie made a good show of picking out a comfy lounge chair, while trying to subtly look for people hiding nearby.
But there really didn’t seem to be any. Maybe she was being paranoid. She picked the biggest, puffiest looking of the loungers, lay down, and closed her eyes, relaxing in the hot sun. She kicked the sandals off haphazardly.
Until she felt something heavy press down across her nose and mouth, as someone sat on her lap. She opened her eyes to get a glimpse of Ruby’s tattooed forearm, before the big woman leaned in to cover her eyes with her other hand.
“Happy birthday, Trix,” Ruby whispered to her. Someone else shoved her hands in front of Ruby’s stomach, which had been pressed hard against Trixie’s chest, and began kneading her tits, pinching her nipples.
Trixie gasped in pain, arching her back. She tensed her whole body, and felt her pussy clench, and her clit began to throb with arousal. She struggled against Ruby’s arm, and hand, and whoever-that-was pinching her nipples.
Trixie clawed at Ruby’s back, trying to get a purchase against the slick cotton of her t-shirt. She wriggled back into the cushions, shimmying her body back and forth.
She could feel the slick fabric of her bikini bottoms sliding against the plasticized puffy lounger mattress. She struggled, grunting with effort, and let out a short, barking laugh, a guttural, challenging sound. She began violently pivoting her hips, and kicking her legs.
“Little help here,” the nipple-gripper called out, pinching even harder. Trixie knew it was Bambi now. Oh she would pay. They would all pay. Trixie grinned under Ruby’s hand.
There was a splashing sound far off, and the sound of pattering feet, and more than one wet body pressed down against her calves. Someone grabbed her right arm, holding it. She struggled to break free, pivoting sideways, bending at the hip. Yet another skater pressed her left hand to the warm wood of the deck.
Trixie’s palm brushed up against what she realized was her sandal.
Aha. This was about to go very badly for the team.
She felt her belly clench, and the crotch of her bikini bottoms grow wet with her own arousal. She bit down, hard, on Ruby’s arm. The big lady squawked loudly, jumping back, taking her hand from Trixie’s face.
Now that she could see, in one fluid motion, she grabbed the sandal, turning it in her hand, and brought it down, hard against Bambi’s forearm. Bambi winced, and released her death grip on Trixie’s nipples, stumbling back.
Trixie rocked up, turning her hip, and bending her elbow, and clotheslined Ruby right in the tits. She rolled back, tumbling to the deck, taking the other girls with her.
She sprang up. Bambi tried to snag her as she did, but succeeded only in snatching the waist of her of bikini bottoms, which slid down past her knees.
With one motion, she kicked them the rest of the way off, then grabbed the railing of the deck, and vaulted herself over it.
Her feet landed a solid smack against the pavement of the little road they’d just driven down not a half hour ago. Then she was off, running, as fast as she could go.
Trixie’s hair streamed out behind her. The wind against her face made her eyes tear. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. Behind her she could hear several of the women running too, a pack of them, trying to catch up with her.
Trying was the operative word. Her whole body surged with adrenaline. Her heart beat in time with the pounding of her feet and the throbbing of her clit, and clenching pussy. She rocketed up the road, into the camp proper, up the big hill towards the highest point in camp.
She snuck a look over her shoulder. The pack had dwindled to maybe three women, one of whom was clutching her side, gasping.
Trixie whooped, hollered, hooted and picked up speed. What a great damn birthday. She circled back to bring them twice the trouble they asked for.