Rule Number One Is to Survive
Chapter 1

Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Consensual, NonConsensual, Coercion, Slavery, Heterosexual, Post Apocalypse, MaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Light Bond, Humiliation, Violent,

Desc: Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 1 - All of a sudden, it is like the world has come to an end. The enemy has launched fearsome missiles at American cities. The ex-Marine decides it is time to take some evasive action and packs his family up for a safer place than the middle of Los Angeles. His wife is a bit reluctant to leave the proximity of the shopping mall and his children are less than happy at losing all of the electronic goodies they have come to depend upon. Still, he knows they are a lot luckier than almost everyone else.

The very first lesson Mike Morrison learned in the Marine Corps was nothing else matters if you don't survive.

It really was not a lesson that could be taught or practiced. You either had that instinct or you were dead. He had seen some of the strongest and fittest young men lose that battle either because of weakness of will or just plain bad luck. Mike had gone through the most intense years of combat winning neither medals for valor nor the "purple duck" for sheer stupidity. His mentor, Master Sergeant Noble who had survived the chaos of World War II and the killing grounds of Korea impressed on him the value of keeping his head down and never volunteering for anything no matter how benign.

After the Marine Corps, Mike became a faceless worker drone pushing boring bits of paper from one side of his desk to the other. His high school sweetheart had waited for him and they joined together in the joys of matrimony. The honeymoon disappeared into the past upon the arrival of his twin son and daughter spaced only by a single minute in time.

The next 18 years were a blur to Mike. He tried to keep up with his running skills and went to the shooting range at least once each week. His wife thought it was all a silly waste of time but Mike felt it was always better to be prepared for the worse scenario. He got rid of the AK-47 he had liberated from the unfeeling fingers of a dead NVA infiltrator and adapted to the Henry .22LR conformed in the survival mode. It was light, compact, and the ammo was easy to procure and dirt cheap.

He taught both His son Wesley and his daughter Wendy to maintain the rifle and the correct way to shoot and handle a weapon. His wife Ginnie was not in the least bit interested and constantly pestered Mike about the "political incorrectness" of his gun-toting activities. They settled on a truce of sorts by ignoring their differences entirely.

On a very dreary and uninspiring Monday morning, Mike guided his ten year old pickup truck into the outskirts of Los Angeles to confront the stack of papers left untouched from the previous week. His legs were still sore from the spirited basketball game against his son and daughter on Saturday morning. They were getting bigger and stronger now and soon he would not be able to hold his own against the two of them combined.

The traffic was moving along at the usual snail's pace when the radio ceased the soothing country western tunes that he had become addicted to. At first, Mike thought something was either wrong with the radio or the station had suffered some sort of catastrophic broadcasting glitch.

Just when he was about to chance trying to adjust the station, the familiar beep of the Emergency Warning system filled his ears. He figured it was most probably a test drill for an approaching weather system coming in off the Pacific Ocean. His senses came to full attention when the excited voice of a young woman announced,

"This is not a test ... I repeat, this is not a test!"

Mike hated it when radio people used the word "repeat". It was a cardinal sin for military radio operators because of the off chance of an unwanted artillery barrage sparked by the single word "repeat". He pulled off to the side of the road and listened intently to each word of the message that the EBS was broadcasting in the middle of the L.A. rush hour.

Before the first sentence was fully complete, he had picked up his cell phone and called home to his house hoping that the kids had not yet left for school in the valley.

His wife answered the phone after four rings.

"Morrison residence!"

Mike really disliked her way of answering the phone and he had mentioned it to her several times but she seemed to really not care what his opinions were on that subject, or on any other subject, if the truth be told. He felt a simple "Yes" was more than enough information to be giving out to strangers at the other end of the line.

"Ginnie, have the kids left for school yet?"

"They are almost to the front door, dear. Just a minute. Wendy, don't forget your lunch, dear!"

Mike shouted into the phone,

"Tell them to not leave the house! Don't ask me why, just do it and I will be home in less than 30 minutes."

"Kids, your father wants you to stay home today. He will be back home any minute. I have absolutely no idea why he is so adamant, so don't pester me with questions. Just go back to your rooms and let me get back to cleaning the kitchen."

"What is all this foolishness, dear? You know I don't like them underfoot on Mondays. Mondays is wash day and they will slow me down with all their silly questions about this or that or the other thing."

Mike counted to 5 slowly and willed his blood pressure to stay at a reasonable level.

"Ginnie, I want you to forget about cleaning the kitchen or starting the wash right now. I want you to go to the basement and start putting all the canned goods into those plastic tubs left over from the move. Then I want you to collect all of our important papers and passports and stow them in the camper along with the food. Get Wes to help you with the heavy stuff and tell him we may be taking a little vacation very soon."

"This is all very mysterious, Mr. Morrison. You know I don't like you giving me orders like I was in the Army or something!"

Mike closed the cell phone and guided the pickup into an off-ramp making a sharp turn back onto the ramp heading in the opposite direction. The entire 4 lanes of traffic were relatively open and he was able to increase his speed to the maximum limit without any difficulty. At this rate, he would be back home in less than 30 minutes.

He listened again to the announcement on the radio which was being broadcast alternately in English and in Spanish. It almost seemed like an Orson Welles spoof of an alien invasion.

"Attention ... Attention ... This is an announcement from the NORAD alert center in Denver, Colorado. We have detected a number of incoming missiles launched from both the People's Republic of North Korea and from several locations in Venezuela. Our current missile defense system is not operating due to stringent budget cuts. We recommend all civilian personnel to vacate areas adjacent to all military bases and government complexes. Those with transportation are advised to evacuate urban centers using your own transport. All others are advised to stay indoors in the event this event is also biological in nature. All off-duty military personnel are instructed to return to your commands immediately!"

Mike noticed that most of the traffic going in the other direction was not impacted by the announcement and he figured it was probably because they were mostly plugged into their own private tune devices to evade the multiple commercial interruptions on the ordinary radio channels.

When he turned into his little cul-de-sac, Mike backed the heavy-duty pick-up next to the camper towing cradle and connected everything with practiced ease. He had thought of getting rid of the camper because Ginnie really hated going on the camping trips to the various State and Federal campgrounds. She had been born in the city and felt more comfortable when she was in close proximity to a shopping mall and a Starbucks to feed her "Latte" addiction.

He noticed that none of the food had been loaded as yet.

Inside the house, he found Ginnie sorting out whites from colored clothes in the basement. He looked at her in amazement as she explained that she felt it was "more important" to get the wash done first so she would be freed up for her morning trip to the mall and her precious "latte". Without saying a single word, he spun on his heel and went upstairs to find the twins playing a senseless video game in Wes's bedroom. They waved at him and he could tell right away that his wife had not said a word to them about the telephone call.

He went to the garage and unlocked the Henry survival rifle and scooped up a dozen boxes of the small caliber ammo for the rifle gun case. He also loaded and placed the little .22 cal. LR Smith and Wesson automatic in his side pocket along with a couple of loaded spare magazines of 10 rounds each. He filled the two 5-gallon water cans and stuck them in the back of the pick-up. He loaded all of the camping equipment including the tents into the vehicle.

Mike went up to the kid's bedroom and explained the situation to them briefly. They were a little disbelieving at first thinking he was "pulling their leg" but then they realized the seriousness of the problem and both jumped up to follow his instructions about loading all of the canned goods and the dry foods from the kitchen. He siphoned off five gallons of gas from Ginnie's little car and stowed it in the back of the pick-up along with the water.

The kids had already loaded their clothes and some "can't leave behind" items that were totally inappropriate, but Mike didn't want to bust their bubble just yet.

The hardest part of the evacuation was to explain to Ginnie what was happening and get her to leave her beloved house and washing machine without delay. She looked blankly at him after he explained everything. The kids were standing off to the side, curious, but too smart to interfere with the explanation.

His wife just went up to the bedroom, packed a bag, and sat in the back seat of the pickup with their daughter Wendy as if they were all headed to the campground for a family outing.

It was a good thing that they had taken so many trips to the country because Mike was able to stay on all the back roads without getting mixed up into the frantic "helter-skelter" panic of people fleeing from the big city.

None of the radio stations seemed to be working and that seemed a bit ominous, but Mike figured it was because they had shut down operations and evacuated as well. Perhaps, it was because the transmissions were all jammed either by opponents or even by the government for some hidden purpose.

When he came up to the State highway interchange, there was no way he could get across the lines of non-stop traffic, so he just detoured into the foothills and they found a grocery store still open in one of the many tiny towns that filled the desert between the coast and the mountain range in front of them. The owner was hesitant to fill their order but changed his mind when Mike showed him the cash and not a credit card or a check. They filled the camper with provisions and he was even able to buy 4 well-made hunting knives and 16 boxes of .22 cal. LR giving him a total of 2,800 rounds of ammo at a very cheap price and extremely light weight. The prices were fair and Mike was relieved the situation had not converted into price gouging in the small towns just yet.

It was a different story at the gas station.

The sweating man with bad breath informed them that the gas was now $20 a gallon "take it or leave it".

Mike said in a terse voice, "We'll take it!"

They filled up taking a total of 15 gallons and Mike even bought 2 five gallon canisters of gas to add to the extra in the back of the pick-up. When the man held out his hand for the expected $500, Mike socked him in the jaw with his powerful left fist and placed the correct price of $100 on his chest.

"That's all you are entitled to, you thief!"

The kids were all wide-eyed and laughing in the car, but his wife was not amused at all.

(To be continued)

Chapter 2 ยป