My Life as a Second Rate

It had been raining forever. I sat in my car all night trying to watch the warehouse where my target was supposed to be. All I ended up watching was a thick sheet of rain. If I strained hard enough, I could just make out the light above the door. It didn't do much more than deepen the shadows but I could at least see the door open in case someone, anyone, came out.

The door hadn't opened. Not once.

I had listened to enough talk radio to be as current as possible on world events and idiotic opinions. Lucky me. Most people seem to think of the talk box as a sleep agent. It has the opposite effect on me. It pisses me off and keeps me awake. I usually listen to it when I'm staked out for a job or having sex with a dull woman. Whatever it takes. Kind of my motto in life these days.

There was a tap on the driver's side window. At first I wasn't sure. The rain had been pounding on the roof for so long that I didn't even notice subtle sounds anymore. Then it came again: tap tap tap. I focused my attention through the window. I could just make out the outline of something or someone. The only light came from the warehouse bulb and the flickering street light a couple yards away. Not enough to tell who wanted my attention. Oh well. I had given up fear years ago.

I rolled the window down an inch. Rain splattered my face. "What do you want?"

"Do you have any spare change?" said a female voice. I couldn't see much of her. What I could see looked worn and dirty and hunched over. And wet. I looked at the clock on the dash. 3:10am.

"Kinda late to be hunting for change, isn't it?"

"Please sir. My little boy woke up hungry. We haven't eaten in days. He's only two. He needs to eat." The droning of the rain made her pathetic plea all the worse.

I mulled it over. I have always had a soft spot, AKA downfall, for a woman in distress. She definitely was. Plus, the thought of a kid being hungry didn't sit well either. I don't hate all humanity, just the adult ones. Kids shouldn't suffer.

I rolled the window down and fished into my pocket for whatever cash I had. Why? Because I have a reputation for doing stupid things and paying heavily for them later. It's my nature. That's why I have never gotten beyond being a second rate hunter.

As I reached into my pocket, a hand the size of a large anvil stabbed through the window and wrapped huge fingers around my neck. I got the immediate sensation of how a chicken feels right before having its neck snapped for Sunday dinner. I tried to pull my hand out of my pocket. My gun was sitting in between the seats. It might as well have been in the next city. Still, I made a grab for it, like any upstanding man fighting for his life would.

I stopped mid grab. The pressure of cold steel on the temple has that effect on most movement. Every muscle tensed. It was definitely gun. A large one, probably a .45. Nothing to mess around with, not that any gun at your head was. But I gave those no-chance-of-survival type guns a little more respect.

The car was silent except for the thumping rain on the roof. Ham fist was holding just tight enough around my neck to make breathing a chore but not stop it altogether. I was able to turn my head slightly to the left to look at my attackers. A bit surprisingly, Ms. Homeless was holding the cannon to my head. She had uncovered her face. Even wet and dirty, she was a beauty. She smiled at me. The smile quickly cleared any thought of attractiveness from my mind. Her smile made me wonder how many animals she had tortured in her youth.

I'm not sure how I missed the goliath next to her. I probably mistook him for a building. He wore a long, dark overcoat typical of the thug/gangster/likes-to-hurt-people variety. He had a granite block for a head. The look on his face told me that the cherry on top of his day would be breaking my neck in a very deliberate fashion. Good times.

"Excuse me sir," she said.

I always hated being mocked and choked at the same time. Sets a bad precedent. The apartment building holding my neck chuckled. His humorless laugh made ice cubes slide down my spine.

"I was getting you change, "I croaked.

Evidently Bruno the enforcer didn't like my attempt at levity. He tightened on my neck and very efficiently pulled me through the window and out of the car. He held me in the air for a moment before throwing me to the ground. I hit hard. I pulled my self up to my hands and knees before I thought about what a mistake that was. Big guy put a size thirteen combat boot in my gut to remind me. I went down.

I didn't get back up.

I turned and looked up into the rain. The Ice Princess hovered inches from my face. Water dripped from strands of hair hanging down the side of her head. Her hair was black. Midnight black. It fit her.

"We saw you out here and thought you might like some company."

"Gee, thanks," I said.

She smiled. "Let me introduce you to my associate, Mr. Bruno." She waved a hand at her partner.

I couldn't help myself. "Mr. Bruno? You're kidding right? Where's Vinnie and the rest of the gang?" Someday, if I live to be old, I'll think about all the trouble my mouth has caused me.

Her smile vanished. "Kidding? Most definitely not. Mr. Bruno, introduce yourself."

Mr. Bruno cocked his fist back. I closed my eyes. These guys always aim for the face. Always. I felt the impact like the proverbial ton of bricks, plus another half ton for good measure. I started quickly towards sleepy time. I stayed conscious long enough to hear her congratulate him on not breaking my nose.

Good. At least something was going my way.

***********

I woke up naked and bound to a creaky wooden chair with some kind of leather contraption. My head felt like it had been dragged by a car at freeway speed before being run over by a semi. Nothing seemed to be broken but I'm sure the bruises would make up for that.

Oh yeah. I also had a huge erection.

Now typically my reaction to being beaten up and forcibly detained is not sprouting lumber the length of my leg. This particular erection seemed to be straining to point of being uncomfortable. I figured that the bad guys had given me something, since the last time I had been hard like this I had been fifteen and just discovered dad's porn stash. Why my attackers would want to help with my erection capabilities I wasn't quite sure.

I took a second to glance around the room. Pretty standard back alley interrogation type stuff. Single, bare bulb hanging overhead. No furniture except the chair I was in. The walls were blank and unpainted. I couldn't see a door but the screech of un-oiled hinges confirmed my suspicion that it was behind me.

I heard the door close followed by the clack of high heals on the concrete floor. I heard another set of foot steps as well, belonging to someone heavy. Really heavy.

"Ah shit." If my suspicions as to the owner of those heavy footsteps were accurate, there were many more colorful expletives that would come to mind. My suspicions were confirmed as I heard the wheezing laugh and saw the massive bulk come out from behind me.

"Pleased to see you as well, Mr. Standard." Tyrone Martini. He was impressive standing there with his 400 pounds and gigantic tailored suit. The effort from walking onto the room had caused him to wheeze loudly. "Still up to the old game I see."

"Yeah. You still trying to convince everyone you're Italian?"

"I have the blood on my mother's side."

"Yeah. You're as black as night and allergic to tomatoes," I said. A cloud fell over his face and I was sure my mouth had just worked me into another world class beating. Surprisingly, he exerted some effort and brought what passed for his smile back to his face.

"I going to let that slide. There are more important things to attend to." He wheezed out a chuckle. I had started to squirm as much as the bindings would allow me. My odd erection had become quite uncomfortable and an urgency to get my rocks off in a big way had hit me. "Seems as though you are a bit uncomfortable, Mr. Standard."

"Yeah. I suppose you have some clever reason for that."

"Of course. While you were sleeping off Mr. Bruno's welcome we gave you a very special injection. It's a new drug we have been manufacturing for the rave scene. If all goes well, it should put X and all the other sex rocket drugs out of business. Of course, it needs testing. Luckily, you were gracious enough to volunteer. As you are probably feeling now, it greatly increases erection volume as well as the need for release."

"I don't know what you talking about," I said through gritted teeth. In fact, I felt that if I didn't cum soon I would possibly explode into a nasty mess.

Suddenly, I felt a warm, soft hand wrap around my cock. I looked down to see porcelain skin and black painted nails. The hand had snaked around from the back. I had a an idea who it belonged to

"Ah yes," Martini said. "I would like you to meet Raven."

I snorted despite my predicament. "Which comic books did you guys use to get your names, anyway?" A hard squeeze on my already straining dick reminded me of the wisdom of playing the smartass.

"Very funny, Mr. Standard. Lets get on with this shall we? I want to know who hired you. You will give me this information. In return, you will be given the orgasm that you will so desperately need."

"You've got to be kidding. You think I'm going to give up my client just so I can cum? You must have lost your..." The hand started to stroke gently up and down my cock. I lost whatever words I had been intending to say and had a good look at the inside of my head as my eyes rolled back. She stroked from the bottom all the way to the top, stopping to give the head a light squeeze each time. I had never felt anything so intense. It felt like every nerve in my dick was on fire. I could feel a massive orgasm building.

Then she stopped.

I opened my eyes. Martini stared back at me, that smug smile plastered all over his piggy face.

"I forgot to mention that it increases overall sensitivity tremendously. For some, it makes the experience almost unbearable. And keep in mind that Raven is quite a, shall we say, sexual animal. She has left many a man a quivering heap after an experience with her. So with that in mind, who hired you?"

"Fuck you Martini."

"As you wish." He nodded behind me.

Her hand began its slide up my shaft again, twisting from side to side as she went. Her other hand appeared around my left and began to gently fondle my balls. I looked down, which was a mistake because the site of her smooth white hands with black nail polish stroking my cock made it all the worse. I could feel the pressure building again. It was slow, almost painfully slow. She was using just enough friction to tingle every nerve ending but not enough get me off quick.

My hips started to buck, which was difficult considering how tight they had me bound to the chair. Of course, that made it worse. Unable to use my hands, unable to move more than an inch, the restricted feeling made every slide and every twist of her hand all that more powerful.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me who hired you?" Her voice was soft, her breath hot in my ear. She rolled her hand around the head of my dick as she said it. An involuntary shudder ran down my spine.

"There are...lots of things...I want to tell you." It was hard to put a sentence together. "But that isn't one of them."

"Really?" I could hear the smile in her voice. She wrapped her lips around my right ear lobe, flicking it with the tip of her tongue. She applied more grip to my already over stimulated dick. She stroked in fluid motion up and down, up and down. The fondling of my balls had become more forceful as well; she alternated between tugs and tickles with those nails

The whole time, Martini stood watching, smiling. You'd think having a human slug watching you get your dick stroked would kind of hamper the experience. I, however, was to far gone for that to be a consideration. Even the obvious bulge in his pants couldn't stop me.

I could feel myself building to orgasm again. It felt like it was starting at the base of my spine and trying to work it's way out like those creatures in the Alien movies. My dick felt like it would explode just about the same way, only probably messier.

Evidently she could feel the build as well. She stopped her hand right under the rim of my cock. She began to squeeze and release repeatedly. Each grip of her hand caused the head of my dick to swell. I could feel the throb of pent up orgasm down by my aching balls. The pressure was beyond a point I could stand.

"Now who was it that hired you?"

"Daniel Franks." That was it. No deep moral considerations. No ethics introspection about the duties of a private hunter to his client. I was done. I needed to cum now and that was that. At this point, having an orgasm was the only thing that mattered. Not that I would tell Martini that.

"Mr. Franks hired you?" Martini rubbed his chins. "I'll have him killed. Thank you. I'll have to call the health department as well. Moving in on my business is obviously a health hazard." He began to snort and grunt at his joke, if it could be called such. He began the extended process of moving his massive bulk towards the door. He stopped next to me and leaned down as far as his stomach would allow.

"You know, I would have thought you would have had a bit more fight in you. Evidently, my new drug works better than I thought. Maybe I'll name it after you since you've been so cooperative. Standard D or something witty like that." He wheezed out another chuckle.

"Raven," he looked behind me, "you may give Mr. Standard his reward." He stood and left the room.

"Are you ready?" She gave my dick a squeeze. My need to cum had not passed, even after talking to that human water buffalo.

"Just get it over with."

"Ooh, I like a man who takes control." She slowly slid her hand down and back up to the top of my shaft. I moaned. "Of course, you're not the one in control."

She began sliding up and down my cock. No more games this time. She was stroking with determination. She moved her left hand up to the base of my cock and began twisting. Her right hand stopped sliding the length of my shaft and focused on the head. Short and rapid strokes with her thumb and index finger, rubbing against the sensitive underside. My dick was becoming raw. It didn't matter. My orgasm was moments away. She could have used a cheese grater and I would have thanked her later.

I began to thrust my hips wildly, pushing against the straps. The chair began to rock with my effort. She didn't even loose a stroke. In fact, her hand starting moving faster as my cock head began to swell with the coming orgasm. I could feel the cum moving up my dick bit by bit. Pushing, pushing. Then it came, like a volcano in a B movie.

And then she aimed it towards me.

Cum shot from my dick. The first assault hit me square in the chin. The rest of the barrage hit my chest and belly. I could feel it slide down onto my erupting dick. She used my own cum for extra momentum, slamming my cock with renewed vigor. The orgasm continued, pulling stores of cum from unknown regions of my body.

Finally, she slowed her pace. She squeezed the last drop of cum from my cock, wiping it on my thigh. My dick continued to move on its own, bouncing and throbbing. I gasped for breath. My head lolled back in the chair.

"Well now," she purred, "that's probably your first facial, eh? A little messy, isn't it?" She slapped me on the side of my head. Cum flew off my chin.

I wouldn't allow the horror of cumming on myself to fully evolve. I'd leave that for the therapist and the whiskey. Instead, I tried an unconvincing I-don't-give-a-fuck chuckle.

"You jealous? Maybe you wish you had a bit of this on your face?" If all else fails, a little over the top bravado never hurts. Well, not usually anyway.

"Hmmm, maybe some other time. Right now I want to reacquaint you with an old friend of yours. Mr. Bruno, please say hello."

I didn't hear him come in the room. I did, however, feel him come in the room.

As I faded to darkness, yet again, I just wished that the cum hadn't gotten so cold. And I hoped my nose stayed intact.