Chapter 1

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Slavery, MaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Harem, Polygamy/Polyamory, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Pregnancy, Slow, .

Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Kraven Knox is a man that should have been born into the age of the Mountain Men. How will he survive in the 21st century after living a somewhat isolated lifestyle? His only contact has been the Marshal's Service, he now has to adjust to modern life again. Come and follow along.

Kraven sighed in relief as he swung down off of his big stallion in front of the building containing the marshal's office in Nome. He had just got back from dropping the remains of Francis "Bulldog" Tyler off at the morgue. Tyler had escaped from Tok jail, and after killing one and sodomizing another fbi officer, had headed for the high lonesome in the interior of Alaska.

When the FBI had asked for someone who knew how to find Francis, the Marshal's Office had contacted Kraven. Two years in those very mountains just out of highschool, alone and pitting his wits against nature for months had hardened the young man. The scum that hid out in those same mountains had taught the young man some hard and brutal lessons.

Kraven had worked for five years after his stint in the mountains as a headhunter. Basically he went after the worst of the worst. The ones they didn't want back, alive anyway.

Grabbing the saddlebags off the back of his charcoal black stallion Grim, he threw them over his shoulder, not noticing the extreme weight of the bags. Brushing the few strands of light brown hair that had escaped his braid out of his eyes he walked into the building.

Kraven never gave his appearance any thought; hell what use was their in the mountains? At five nine he was a fireplug of a man. He was built like a barrel with a blocky slab-shouldered appearance. His arms and legs were muscled enough to make him appear slightly pudgy, untill you looked close at the bands of muscle moving under the skin. Long brown hair and a three-day growth of beard, along with being dressed entirely in buckskins gave the twenty five year old man the appearance of one of the old mountain men that had once roamed the lower forty eight. Men with names like Preacher, Puma Buck, Audie, Lobo, and a hundred other salty old boys...

"Hey Kraven. Good to see you. Is everything okay?" The light lilting voice firing staccato questions at him was Maureen Nantucket, all six feet four of willowy, red headed Irish of her.

Kraven went to wave, and only then discovered he held his Winchester in his left hand. And it was held ready to get into action. Blushing slightly he walked over to where the thirty something was busy typing, and grinning, at him.

"Fine Maureen, and you?" His voice was rusty and deep with a slow southern drawl that evoked visions of plantation houses and honeysuckle in most women that heard it.

Maureen nodded and grinned. "Doing fine dear lad, but I've been here waiting for you a week now. What'd you bring me laddie?"

Kraven couldn't contain his grin and chuckle at Maureen's eagerness. In addition to being a Marshal in her own right, she was a financial wizard who ran most of the retirement plans in Nome, for a very small fee.

Sitting the saddlebags down with a thump that shook her entire desk he winked at her. "Gold this time Maureen. Found me a large vein while waiting for Francis to get tired of that cave he was in. Dug me a piece out while waiting on him."

"That's despicable. Not only do they hire mercenaries up here, but the bastards are prospecting on government time! I should have you shot!" Kraven looked over towards the screaming Man with a distinct Brooklyn accent. He was a tall, handsome thin man with black hair, who was currently almost purple in rage as he glared at Kraven.

"Bet or fold Yankee." Was stated in a calm and even tone, as Kraven's now free right hand fell to the butt of his revolver in a fast draw rig buckled around his waist.

The Yankee blinked. This barbarian merc obviously didn't know who he was dealing with, and didn't have sense enough to be afraid. "Do you have any idea who I am?" Yankee screamed at Kraven as he rushed up, shaking his finger in Kraven's face and spraying him with spittle.

The right fist that hit Yankee seemed to come strait from hell on the bullet express. The leather clad fist of Kraven hit the loudmouthed New Yorker right on the point of the chin, and knocked him over one of the other desks to land unconcious on the floor.

When Kraven looked up he was surprised to see everyone gaping at him. "What?"

"Th that was Gordon Schofield a supervisor sent from Washington to see why we keep hiring you." Kraven looked over at Paul Severe, the man who hired him to hunt scum all through the interland of Alaska.

Kraven looked at the grizzled older man, who was now pale. "If he'd been polite I'd of been a little nicer."

One thing everybody knew was to be polite around Kraven. He was polite to everyone, and just expected the same. The marshals had dragged him out of the high lonesome, and given him a purpose, but they knew he was a hair trigger to reverting back to his old attitude. In a word vicious.

The entire office heard Scofield moan, and saw him sit up holding his jaw.

"You ready to be polite yet?" Paul seemed to have gathered himself when he realized that the Yankee wasn't in fact dead.

Gordon, for his part, felt like he had been hit by a truck. "What happened?"

"You threatened to shoot a man Gordy, and he handed you your ass." Cackled another agent by the name of Gabby--a redheaded olive skinned man with dark green eyes.

Gordon's eyes fell on Kraven, and the pain in his jaw was washed away by fear, and rage. No one done this to him! He was appointed by the oversight committee, and this animal would have respect for him.

Scrambling to his feet, he tried to glare balefully at Kraven, but it lost something since his lower jaw was already turning purple. "I'll put you down like the dog you are." Gordon mushmouthed as his hand darted and started to draw his nine millimeter pistol from it's shoulder holster.

People were scrambling back, cell phone camera's which had been rolling during the initial confrontation were turned and recording. Kraven saw none of it. His focus was on the man drawing down on him. Kraven let the man's gun get out of the holster and pointed vaguely in his direction before he leveled his Winchester and pulled the trigger.

The big 44-40 slug hit Gordon schofield in the left thigh, breaking the bone, and dropped him screaming to the floor.

Even as people rushed to help the bleeding man he was waiving the pistol about and screaming incoherently.

The first to reach Gordon was a newly minted marshal named Nancy, but Gordon shot her in the shoulder even as she reached for his leg. "Slut! Get the hell away from me and arrest that animal."

Kraven's next shot put a hole in the middle of Schofield's forehead, and decorated the desk behind him with bits of bone and grey matter.

Paul shook himself, this day was going to hell in a hurry. Looking around he noticed that paramedics had arrived and were tending to Nancy. The other marshals were at least busy writing reports or on the phone.

Paul glanced over at Kraven, and be damned if the man wasn't squatted down looking hard at the body of the man he'd killed. "Paul, he has white powder under his nose."

Paul sighed wearily as he rose heavily to his feet and walked over to look for himself. The bastard not only had powder around each nostril, but several suspicious bulges in his coat.

"I want an FBI forensics team to go over this with a fine toothed comb!" Snapped Paul. Their was something fishy here and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get to the bottom of it.

"This son-of-a-bitch had the personal endorsement of Abner Franks, the government prosecutor looking to "clean up" corruption in law enforcement." Paul's voice was filled with disgust. "Even had a letter saying so!"

"Call a press conferance after documenting everything. Spell it out, Paul, and get the press hounding the oversight commitee. Let's shake the tree and see what falls out."

"You can't do something like that Kraven! My God, that would crucify the government." Paul was agast at the mere suggestion. He knew something had to be done, but he damn sure didn't want to start a full fledged rebellion.

Kraven shook his shaggy head slowly while looking at his friend. "I figure this asshole was meant to end your career, and you can use this to put a spin on it. The honest marshal doing his job, beset by corruption on the highest levels."

Paul looked at Kraven, unfeigned horror in his expression. "Do you know what will happen? Abner Franks was appointed by the President himself! This could bring down the Democratic party."

"Then you're gonna loose everything you've worked for. I work for you remember?" The softly spoken words cut through the haze of horror and panic filling Paul. "They'll take your retirement and investments. Maybe even your granddaughter Lisa from you. Is that what you want?"

Paul seemed to age decades before Kraven's eyes. "Damn it you're right." Looking up and noticing the FBI working carefully around them Paul's demeanor changed. Kraven could see the take charge man with a dream of ending crime and making the world just a little safer for everyone emerging. Kraven gave a small smile and nod to himself. God help anyone who stood in his friends way now.

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