Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Ma/mt, Mult, Consensual, NonConsensual, Rape, Coercion, Drunk/Drugged, Slavery, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Crime, Humiliation, Sadistic, Torture, Gang Bang, Interracial, Safe Sex, Slow, Caution, Violent, Prostitution, .
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jack spent ten years in prison for killing drug dealers. After getting out he's given the opportunity to do it some more. A lot more. *Most codes will apply to later chapters as there is hardly anything in the first chapter.
Every single person, living or dead, has had at least one significant moment in their lives whether they know it or not. Now when I say significant, I mean life altering in a way that removes every single ounce of innocence from your life. Forever. Well, maybe every single person hasn't ... but it did happen to me. Fifteen years ago I walked into an "abandoned" warehouse with my best friend, Terrance, and his fourteen year old sister, Molly. My best friend and I were eighteen, he was rich and I wasn't but his family were good people and my parents were ... absentee. We met because I got an after school job with their gardener, Vinny Simons, who I later found out supplied Terry with weed. I was fourteen then and couldn't care less about drugs or anything except keeping my ass out of the system.
To that end I kept my grades up and my nose as clean as humanly possible, so four years later I insisted I go in that warehouse with them. Even now I couldn't tell you why, maybe it was the wild eyed looks the brother and sister gave me and tried like all hell to keep me out. Or maybe it had something to do with how strange both of them had been acting for the last seven months. Whatever the reason, walking into that warehouse changed my life. The first thing I saw as the door clanged shut behind us were the ratty mattresses circling every support beam in the place, the second thing I saw were the chains and collars hanging from six of the I-beams. Only six were hanging because all the rest had someone wearing the collar, and there was a shitload of collars. Twenty two beams with four collars per beam, do the math.
There was an office like structure to the left with all the windows painted black. Terry and Molly made a beeline for it, all the while telling me to wait for them out here. So I wandered around the warehouse and even in the night like gloom I could tell there were some really young guys and gals chained up, and not many of them looked very healthy, though as far as I could see the collars would come right off. So they were there by choice, it seemed. It was the sound of puking from a few beams over that finally clued me in. I walked over to see if the puker needed help, that's when I noticed the badly infected tracks along his arms. A quick look around confirmed every strange feeling I had had over the last seven months.
I ran at the little office door like a bull, it splintered when I kicked it, practically flying off the hinges. What I saw inside that room, together with the sudden meaning of all those chained people in the warehouse, took me from the everyday "that stuff doesn't happen HERE!" straight to the realization that fucked up shit happened to everyone. I had the perfect view into the life of two junkies and the sick fuckers willing to supply them. Terry was on all fours, naked and crying, as one guy jammed his dick down Terry's throat and another violently sodomized him. Poor Molly's arms were tied behind her back and she was face down with her ass sticking high in the air so it was easier for the Doberman to mount her while dealer number three laughed and pissed on her face.
Molly wasn't crying though, she just stared at me and drooled, but I saw the needle a foot away and figured she had already shot it. The next thing I remember is being handcuffed to a gurney as they put me in an ambulance. I had taken three gun shots and several deep cuts, but that was nothing compared to what I did to the three dealers. They were dead. The DA wanted three counts of murder one, but after they watched the videos -the dealers had been recording everything, from two angles so they missed nothing- the charges got dropped to three counts of voluntary manslaughter. I pleaded guilty on all counts, against council's wishes, and the judge said I should have pled not guilty because no jury he had seen would have convicted me. Then he sentenced me to eighteen years in Tucker Maximum Security Prison.
I got lucky and only spent ten years there, and that's ten years I never want to remember. I was told I had visitors and phone calls but I always avoided them. The last five years have been a lot of shitty construction jobs and playing bouncer on the weekend, at least my parole officer was a decent guy that had read all about me. Once a month I went to dinner with him and his family, which did a lot more toward making me feel like a real human being than anything else. And that was my life until three months ago when I got a call from Martin, my PO. He had a job offer, one of those seriously off the books kind of job offers, but he didn't want to talk over the phone so we met up the next day for our weekly basketball game. We didn't play much ball.
"I'm setting up a crew, Jack, and I want you part of it," he said as he tossed the ball to me.
"Exactly what kind of crew are you talking about?" I didn't move while waiting for his reply, just stood like a statue with the ball gripped tightly in my hands.
"I'm retiring in two months, twenty-five years goes fast, but I'm not ready to give up yet," he pretended to tie his shoe laces the whole time he spoke.
"What kind of crew, Marty?"
"The kind that gets shit done, Jack," now he looked at me, and I could see in the hollow emptiness of his eyes that something had happened.
"What happened?" he tried to turn away, hide shame and revulsion but not the unbridled anger.
"Sandy's been skipping school," she was his eleven year old daughter and I had a really bad feeling where this was going considering my past and how much Marty knew about it. "Not classes, school. I followed her and two of the girls she's friends with last week ... followed them right to an apartment building only three things come out of. Drugs, junkies and kiddie porn."
"Christ, Marty..." what can you say to that? 'Oh, sorry your baby girl is nob gobbling on camera for some smack... ', I knew that wasn't going to be the right thing to say. "Okay."
"Okay?" he looked a little confused.
"As in 'Okay, let me know when and where to meet to start planning this', " he looked like he was going to start crying and thanking me, but I ignored him and started taking some practice shots. "We here to play or sit around talking?"
Martin wasn't some naive kid that knew nothing of the fucked up side of life, but for him it had always been happening to someone else, always happening over there, not in his house. It was strange, watching his innocence evaporate like that. I didn't enjoy it, but there was a feeling deep inside that said quite clearly 'Welcome to my world'.
He called me two days after his retirement party, Sandy wasn't at the party because she had been in rehab since Marty told me, and said it was time to meet and start planning. I had to go see my new PO, which was rather comical, I walked into his office and was about to sit. "Don't sit."
"I'm sorry, I should have asked first, I'm just used to..."
"I don't want you sitting, because you won't be here long enough," he cut me off, I was sweating because this guy could violate me for any damn reason he wanted and I would be doing the last eight years of my sentence in ten minutes. "I read your file and every note, quote and scribble in the margins of anything that might be remotely connected to you. From now on call me once a week and tell me you aren't in jail and keep your cellphone close in case I need to call you. Other than that, I never want to see your face in here, understand?"
"Not really, but you're the boss," I answered with a shrug.
"Kid, I was a cop for twenty-two years and I saw some terrible shit, but nothing quite like walking into a warehouse full of kids barely out of diapers strung out and chained up like animals to be some piece of shit drug dealers toys so they could get just one more hit," he just stared at me, letting his words sink in. "You know those three you killed were on parole, and not one had checked in for over two months. So I retired and became a PO so I might keep shit like that from happening again. Now do you understand?"
"Yessir, and it has been a pleasure meeting you," with that I turned and walked out of the building, it had just barely sank in that I was basically free by the time I met Martin at The Hideout. It was actually just a doublewide in a pretty deserted neighborhood.
"You're early, really early," he said as I got out of my old rusted truck.
"The new PO told me to stay the hell out of his office," I gave him a shrug and then turned to look back down the road at the sound of powerful engines heading our way. Motorcycles, two of them, turned the corner and I shook my head because either those were the biggest goddamn hawgs I had ever seen, or those were the smallest riders I had ever seen.
" ... the fuck?"
"That'll be the twins." Marty grinned as he watched the motorcycles descend on us. "Don't let them know you're afraid."
I must have given him a funny look because his grin just got bigger and then I was too busy looking at the mini bikers to care about his grin. I'm 6' 6" and weight 307lbs, so most people look small next to me. But these two guys were freaking TINY! If either of them was over 5' 4" tall or 90lbs soaking wet I would become a monk! And Marty wasn't kidding about them being twins: identical black Kawasaki Stryker's, biker boots with rattling chains, skin tight black leather pants and jackets, the exact same tinted full face helmets with some crazy demon design.
I don't think they meant to do it, but they dismounted the bikes in exactly the same way at the exact same time, then in perfect synch reached up and pulled their helmets off. The first thing I noticed was the hair. Maybe the only thing not the same on the two of them because it was plastered down by sweat, but the colors were the same. Black, bright red and a royal blue.
Then the piercings. All on the right side of their faces. Three small hoops in the eyebrow, two hoops in the nostril, two larger rings in the lip and more than I could count in the ear. They were also the prettiest dudes I had EVER seen. It honestly made me a little uncomfortable, I'm ashamed to say. They quickly shucked their jackets and I could see the sweat soaking their NOT identical tshirts and outlining two pairs of small, but noticeable breasts.
"Those aren't guys." I whispered to Marty. He laughed so loud I think they heard him 20 miles away. The nearest of the twins turned toward us just as she stripped off the soaked tshirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her neck, chest and underarms. I got a very good look at the tattoos that snaked over her left arm, side, back and stomach and disappeared below the waistband of the low slung leather pants and crawled up her breast to her neck just below the ear. But just on the left side. There was also a bar through the right nipple, but it took me a few seconds to notice it.
The other twin did much the same thing, also revealing identical tattoos and breasts. They looked like lightly tanned punk rock biker pixies. Finally redressed in tshirts with no sleeves and slit almost down to the hemline, they decided to join us. And stop directly in front of me, looking me over from head to toe several times.
"Who's the beef?" they intoned simultaneously.
If Marty's grin got any wider his head would fall off. "He's the muscle."
The one on the left snorted a laugh, "As big as he is he better be the fucking muscle."
What happened next I blame on shock. While the left twin was speaking, the right's hands snaked out and had my zipper down and one dainty little hand inside and gripping my tackle before I could blink. "He's definitely the fucking muscle."
"Get your hand out of there, slut." the left twin groaned and lightly smacked her sister on the back of the head, and just that fast there was no longer a tiny hand rhythmically squeezing my rapidly hardening dick. "Damn, I can't take you anywhere, can I?"
"C'mon!" the right twin whined while I tried to get the blood flowing back up to my brain. "I had to check and see if it fits the rest of him!"
The left twin heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, then stopped and looked at her sister with a serious expression. "Did it?"
"It belongs on a bigger guy." the right twin answered solemnly. Then they both raised the pierced eyebrow and looked me right in the eye and grinned how I imagine sharks scenting blood would grin.
Turning away the left twin walked over and gave Marty a big hug, "Damn, I'm sweatin' balls, Marty, you got anything to drink?"
The twin that had so recently been copping a very thorough feel grabbed my hand and lead me along after Marty and her sister, who were heading into the trailer. I hate to say it, but I was almost afraid to go in that almost empty double wide trailer. I didn't think there would be enough room for the three of us.
Kim was the talker and Cam was the grabber, or sitter as the case may be. The case being that she decided I was her new chair as soon as I sat down and had spent the last fifteen minutes grinding her muscular little ass against my painfully erect cock. She was currently trying to talk Kim into passing her the beer across the table.
Marty was red faced with laughter and Kim looked positively evil as she grinned at her sister. "So sorry, but if you want it you gotta get it yourself!"
"He'll leave if I get up!"
"If he can even walk." A quiet voice spoke from the rear of the trailer, causing everyone to jump. I stood straight up, my arm slipping under Cam's ass as I turned to look at the owner of the new voice. She was about 5' 10" and indeterminate weight thanks to the huge baggy jeans and hoodie she wore. Half her head was shaved and the other half hung in greasy looking strings, only partly covering the thick black mascara that had smeared and run down her cheeks.
I was pretty confident the scowl was a permanent fixture. She just stared at me, like maybe I had done something to her that I wasn't aware of. I lifted my free hand in a halfhearted wave, "Hey, I'm..."
"I know." She cut me off as she finally did something other than stare at me by moving to the table and laying a beat up messenger bag on the it and then sitting in my chair. I almost jumped again as Cam's boots hit the floor with heavy thumps, then she did a strange and complicated acrobatic maneuver that ended with her clinging to my back.
"To the beer my faithful steed!" she commanded, her mouth beside my ear and her nipples digging into my back.
I wasn't sure how she had wrapped her legs around my waist, but she seemed to be stuck like a tick. Resigned to my fate as a pack mule I walked to the table and picked up the beer for her.
"So that's what you're here for?" The new woman arched an angry looking eyebrow at me. "Fetch and carry and entertaining the sluttiest of the Whore Twins?"
"Em!" Marty barked at her.
"Nah, it's cool, Martin. I got this." Kim growled through her fake smile, Cam had gone rigid against my back but I could feel the sudden hammering of her heart and feel the air hiss between her teeth. Kim stood slowly, taking a long swallow of beer, and stopped in front of the chair the woman named Em sat in and put her boot on the seat between her legs. "Alright, little miss bitch-a-lot, if you wanna go then let's do this but you WILL lose and it's gonna fucking hurt."
The scowl on Em's face was getting darker and meaner by the second, so I settled my weight comfortably and twisted the top off the beer. "Holy shit!"
I jerked at Cam's startled yelp and all eyes focused on us. "He opened the beer one handed!"
"So?" Em snarled.
"Do it again!" Cam was practically bouncing on my back. Marty handed me another bottle with a grin, he had seen it before, and holding the neck with the last three fingers I gripped the cap with the tips of thumb and forefinger. A tiny flex of muscle and the beer hissed open. "That's pretty cool!"
"Of course it is, he's the muscle." Marty grinned at a mildly impressed Kim and a completely unimpressed Em. "Okay, that's enough bullshit you two!"
"No problem, Marty man!" Kim shrugged and walked back to her chair, Em just rolled her eyes and glowered at the floor. Kim glanced at a clock Marty had on the counter, "When are the others getting here?"
As if on cue we heard a vehicle pull up behind the trailer and then I heard the distinct sound of four safeties being clicked off. As the back door slowly opened two Glocks, a Berreta and a .357 Magnum were suddenly trained on the portal. I just stared at Cam's arm and down it to the Glock in her hand. A voice called softly from the back door. "It's us Marten."
And just like that the guns were gone and three men walked in and stopped to take in the scene. Actually, they just stared at me then Cam, then me again. I knew that look, it was the same look you got the first day in the yard. Were you just another fish to be gutted or were you gonna be trouble. My face went as blank as a cement wall and the beer dropped from my suddenly clenched fists, I couldn't help it. Some old habits die hard.
"Marty?" the words slipped out in a bare whisper as the three guys tried to spread out imperceptibly, but I was focused and caught the little shuffling sidesteps.
"Sorry, Jack. This is an audition." He stood and took his beer into the kitchenette behind me, quickly followed by Em and Kim. "No killing or permanent injuries."
Cam's weight was suddenly gone and the three tough guys grinned as one. I took one deep breath and walked toward them in a sorta slow and waddly way. I got instant results as the expressions of boredom and disgust started flickering across their faces. Halfway to them I lunged and those faces registered shock and the knowledge that they had been duped.
My size sixteen boot caught the youngest of the three, a black guy in his late twenties if I had to guess, in the center of his chest and he flew through the wall behind him into the room beyond. There were shouts and curses, but I couldn't understand them over the blood pounding through my skull, all I cared about was moving my big ass before I got a shiv in the kidney.
Spinning I whipped out my arm at chest height and almost caught the oldest looking of the three, a Latino gentleman that might have been the same age as me. He barely flinched back in time and a very hard kick to my thigh made him a distant memory as I swung on the thin, weasel looking white guy. He wasn't expecting me to come after him, he thought I would drop, but I caught his arm as he turned to flee.
With a jerk his arm popped out of its socket and he stumbled toward me and right into my fist. He hit the carpet with a thud. And then I almost doubled over as the Latino gave me a hammer fist to the kidney. I staggered and he was all over me, jabs to the face and neck, he was smart enough not to try working my body because that would have been like punching the floor. Lucky for me he underestimated my speed again.
I lunged again and wrapped my arms around him, he immediately started head butting me in the face. I felt the snap as my nose broke, but it had happened so many times all it did was piss me off now. I simply squeezed. Some strangled and unintelligible gargling came out of the guy's mouth and he was slapping his hand against my side like crazy. Oh!
I dropped him and staggered back against the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor, panting and trying to get my head on straight again. When I opened my eyes I found myself staring into a pair of bright green eyes that were way too close. Backing up I noticed the tiny woman was shoeless and holding a dish towel out to me. I took the towel, mumbled thanks and jerked my broken nose back into place before using the towel to clean my bloodied face off.
"You're kind of a badass, huh?" Cam grinned as she asked. I shook my head and glanced at my once grey long sleeved shirt that was now coated liberally with blood. At some point the neck had been torn, so I grabbed it and just ripped the shirt off. "Oh. Oh man..."
Cam's eyes were huge and she was looking at my chest. Or more precisely, the scars that riddled my chest and arms. "Kim! You gotta see this!"
"Goddamn, beefcake, you got more scars on the outside than we do on the inside!" Kim laughed as she squatted beside her twin.
"I am soooo gonna lick every one of them!" Cam squealed like she had just won Miss America. Suffice it to say the twins had some issues.
Marten was shaking his head as he walked to the hole the black kid had gone through and peered inside. "You still alive, Bic?"
"No..." came the faintly groaned reply followed a few minutes later by Bic stumbling out the door of the room to collapse against the wall beside me. "Jesus that shit hurt like a motherfucker!"
"Sorry." I mumbled, and I was mumbling because Cam had decided I needed "medical attention" which consisted of her sitting in my lap facing me, grinding herself against me, while using alcohol wipes to clean me up.
The Latino guy slid down on my other side and just kind of stared at Cam's lower body grinding on me with a look of pure envy on his face. "Any chance I'll get medical attention too?"
"No chance, Pauly, she's smitten." Kim said from where she was nudging the white kid with the toe of her boot. "Marty man, I think big and beefy broke little Timmy."
"Nah, just a dislocated shoulder and maybe a concussion." Marten said after examining the kid named Tim. Grabbing his wrist and arm just above the elbow, Marten jerked the dislocated arm down then jammed it back into the socket. Tim screamed and came awake flailing and wailing and clutching his arm. "See? Still kicking!"
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" the kid screamed once he stopped wailing. "You tried to rip my fucking arm OFF!"
I leaned around Cam to stare him dead in the eyes. "And you didn't try to break my knee?"
"Uh ... well ... I..."
"Don't worry about it, I'll show you how to take down really big guys someday." I grinned at him then jerked in surprise as Cam's tiny hand slapped me.
"Quite squirming!" she growled at me.
"You can squirm but I can't?" I asked, pointedly looking down at her still rotating groin.
"Umm, yeah!" she gave me a 'duh!' look and ground particularly hard against my very stiff prick.
"Is this a porno or are we here to fucking work?" Em asked in a voice that was both bored and frustrated. The glare she was throwing in my direction was positively withering.
"Work." Marten replied.
"So, would someone mind filling me in on EXACTLY what we're doing?" I asked. It got me several strange looks from everyone except Marten.
"Well, Jack, what we're doing here is really simple." Marten's eyes glittered in a very nasty way as he took a drink of his beer. "We're bringing some justice back to this city."
The plan was simple: rob and kill the bad people of the city. Not just anyone though, we would only go after the true scum. Dealers, pimps, slavers, gangbangers with a history of violence. Vigilantes. We take cash and weapons, torch any drugs and help anyone that wanted it. I think Marten was expecting us to be some fucked up team of Batmanesque vigilante superheroes.
What we really were was a bunch of thugs and killers, mostly in a self-defense like way. The plan was to make us better thugs and killers, though after 10 years in the joint with real thugs, killers and rapists it wasn't hard for me to get up to speed fast. My only problem was I had never fired a gun in my life. Turned out that Kim and Cam knew a few things about guns, and what they didn't know Paul Guetsen did.
Paul had been big into survival, that whole hidden cabin in the woods stocked like a freaking armory until he pissed off the wrong dealer. Then he got framed for a few stick ups and a few dead people. The only reason he wasn't still rotting in jail was because it was all just barely more than circumstantial evidence. So he went up for fifteen years at twenty two years old and got out almost the same time I did.
Brian "Bic" Johnson was a pyromaniac. Not the arsonist kind, he just loved fire and everything associated with fire. After his little brother was killed in a driveby during a gang turf war he decided to get a little payback. He was sixteen when he went in and did sixteen years, he had only gotten out two years ago.
Tim Kands was a real criminal, sorta. He was a B&E specialist that saw his crew execute a family that came home early. When he freaked out they shot him twice in the chest and left him. He never snitched, because he wouldn't have made it out of prison if he had, so he did a hard eight year stretch. They couldn't pin the four murders on him thanks to a surveillance camera that caught all the action.
Kimberly Chastity Sergis and Cameron Paradise Sergis had a story so much more fucked up than the rest of us put together. At the age of nine their crackhead mother started pimping them out to anyone that would pay. She kept them chained up in the basement like animals and had administered six abortions to Kim and nine to Cam by way of beating them in the stomach till they miscarried by the time they were fifteen. At almost sixteen they had had enough and decided it was time to end it.
They ended up killing three johns and their mother before calling 911. It was deemed self-defense and they went for a long stay in an asylum. After they were released they just wouldn't stay in a foster home and started a string of petty thefts that got them tossed in juvie till they turned eighteen. After that they decided to get rough with any pimps or dealers they came across and had been in and out of jail for various stages of assault and battery.
That left Em, who refused to tell anything about herself except she was our tech expert. When I asked for a little more detail she told me to go fuck myself and then have The Slut give me the plague with her diseased twat. I get this funny feeling that she doesn't like me, or anyone else, very much.