Carnal Joy

"Jackson! Please!" The young man turned, staring at his past lover squirmed and writhed on the floor. Blood was gushing out of her shaved head at an alarming rate, and he only took pause to estimate if she'd still be alive by the time the group found her.

"They only need one of us.." He muttered, more for himself than her as he trekked out of the rusted junkyard. Her ankle was chained to the fender of a dilapidated school bus, and even if she managed to cut it off with something he knew she wouldn't get far. As he slowly made his way up the steep sandy elevation he caught sight of the scene below. Almost a dozen 'Skinners', taking swipes at her, aiming for her tendons or somewhere to paralyze. She caught his gaze, the split second distraction allowing her to be tackled to the floor. One of the brutes, cock in hand, looked up to glare at Jackson, the others following suit. They held their gaze for a few moments, awkward given that many of the thugs were pant-less, before they finally turned their attention to the kicking and sobbing girl on the floor. Jackson turned and made his way towards the market.

Before he could step into the chaotic cluster of booths and stalls, a prostitute girl pushed herself into Jackson's chest. "Hey there baby...You looked *tired*..." She pouted, a bright red pin flashing on the front of her ratty shirt. Jackson swallowed with what little moisture he had and side stepped, her following. They played this dance for some time, Jackson feeling a mixture of desire and anger as she pushes her backside into his crotch before she finally stepped away, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Forget you...too stupid to even know what a woman is...Hey mister!"

Jackson laid out a meager collection of scrap onto the wooden bench, as well as a few batteries he had swiped from his past lover. That seemed to have caught the store owner's eye, her good one. She leaned in to stare through a magnifying glass, Jackson resisting the urge to vomit as her open, circular wound leered at him. "Chollar chollar?" She held up one of the batteries and shook it in the air. He stared with ragged breaths, not being able to decipher much of the 'new speak' that had engulfed the wasteland, just enough to get by.

"Luie." He watched as she dropped it onto the bench, muttering and shaking her wrinkled hand as she scuttled about aimlessly. He crossed his arms, refusing to budge as she shook her fist at him, pointing at the disarray of stalls. Finally, quietly, she slid a collection of good coins his way and he deposited them into his duster, tipping his head, watching as she spat on his boot.

As he made his way out he felt the prostitute hug his waist from behind, sending adrenaline shooting through his body. "Aw c'mon mister I was just kidding earlier! Oh I bet you're a *great* stallion~" She whispered, breathing onto his neck. He closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. He gave her hands a firm, polite pull, the prostitute giggling as she held on tight. Her eyes stared upwards, blank as he spun around, pulling out his heavy pistol in the same motion and sent the crude weapon crashing down onto her skull. The scuffling of shoes and a bird's cry was all the noise that joined the sound of that metal barrel thudding down on that girl's head. Few noticed, any who did simply turned away, a nearby buzzard seemed the most interested as Jackson grabbed the prostitute by her flaky, mangy hair and rammed the barrel against the side of her head, her ear starting to pour blood, his spare hand reaching around him, scrambling for something until it came over a large rock. He raised it over his head and with a guttural noise sent it into her skull. Jackson panted and swayed, sat on his knees as that buzzard landed nearby, head tilted, as if asking permission to dine. Jackson halfheartedly shooed it away, swearing as he cleaned his pistol, back turned to the apparent corpse before he made his way back to the junkyard

Jackson used his foot to close the rusted gate behind him, scratching the back of his burnt neck as he took a seat on the sagging, spring-less couch, turning to face his past lover. She was impaled on a large wooden spike, her back facing down and her haunting face gawking at Jackson. Whether the placement was a warning or serendipitous he didn't know, nor did he seem to care. He leaned back, hands in his lap and staring off into the distance.

He slept in the school bus, facing the door with his gun loaded. It was a rather sleepless affair, his mind continuing to drift to the very real possibility of skinners returning for their lost meat, or one of the Curb crew coming for vengeance for that girl, or even both. That specific nightmare of the combination caused him to wake up with a start, shivering and rocking in place. After a while he sat and counted his meager earnings in his palm, then counted them again as if to try and multiply them. After pushing them into one of the rear wheels of the bus he stood over her body with his hands over his thighs, thinking of something to say before finally turning to leave.

He bypassed the market, taking the longer route into the sprawling city. He stood over barrel fires, warming his calloused hands and exchanging mean looks with others. A blind dog wandered from left to right, and he held out a hand towards it. It sniffed once, twice, before turning and stumbling down the cracked street. Turning a corner into a dead end he moved his head just at the right moment to receive a heavy board against his temple. With a shout he was pounced upon by several jabbering hooligans. He was forced over a barrel, struggling and shaking until a fist bashed against his skull, stunning him and allowing for his boots to be tugged free and his pants pulled off. His heart hammered away as he felt a grimy hand begin to fondle and stroke his shaft, feeling his tip against the side of glass. "You better be right, I don't wanna do this for nothin" A voice called out but he was soon hushed.

"Zip it! They'll pay! Even if they don't you're havin fun right?~" They cackled at his misery, a few hands making their way to squeeze and grope his ass, further fueling his anger, his cock quivering and hard against his will. "Dammit cum ya little bastard!" A voice grew impatient and Jackson felt a barrel being jammed into his throat.

"Relax bro! Jesus he needs to nut first! Leave it to me...my girl showed me somethin~" Jackson felt a few Tufts of vegetation being stroked up his bare feet where they were smooth, his ankles lashed to the barrel to prevent interruption. With a strangled cry of humiliation he came, eyes rolling back and large balls pulling into his groin.

"Oh fuck! Get it get it!" He heard them whooping and hollering, a sarcastic pat on his back as they scurried away. Jackson laid over the barrel for several minutes, cheek pressed into the cool rusted metal as his toes refused to un-clench. Finally, working his feet through the ropes he retrieved his clothing, thankful they didn't search his person. He wondered what they were collecting his nut for but pushed it out of his mind stamping back out towards the square.

It took some time, but after locating a caravan traveling to Nuxom he gathered his belongings and left the junkyard, crudely writing his lover's name into the dirt in front of her to be blown away. He passed by the market for last minute supplies, staring at the prostitute girl. She was sat on a milk crate, knees crossed so they pointed at one another as she stared into the void. A tattered top hat was on top of her head, hiding her dented skull as she drooled and swayed. He stood by her side, conversing quietly, walking away as she fell to her knees to crawl after a golden colored lizard.

Jackson walked all throughout the day with the caravan. They held no transportation save for a cow, but she held little supplies as her presence was merely temporary. She held no rider, as any attempt at mounting would be a short one. Two figures walked either side of the line with crude shotguns, at the rear a sharpshooter with a rifle. That night as rations were handed out the girl stood with her gun over her shoulder and her hip to one side, shaking the canteen. She goaded him into kneeling, her lips turned up playfully as she slowly tipped it forward, forcing him to kneel and suckle on it, all the while moving her hips forward and back. When he was finished she laughed and slung the canteen to her hip, whistling as she patrolled. The next morning she was found by the trail in some short grass, neck broken and violated. By the afternoon they had set off once more, Jackson taking the rear with her rifle over his shoulder.

The cow would be slaughtered and cut up, not a morsel going to waste. Whatever wasn't cooked was salted and carried, the group spending a good few hours cutting leather, rendering fat, using every part until nothing but a few bones laid on the ground. Several days passed, two travelers left behind as they were too weak to go on, and none wanted to spare the bullets to put them out of their misery. One night Jackson had been caught pleasuring himself with the clothing of one of the travelers as she went to use a nearby lake. She stood before him, dripping and terrified. He stood up, hands around himself as he tried to awkwardly pull his pants up.

He offered her clothes back to her, but she simply recoiled, Jackson burning with shame as she walked past her, still holding her garments to continue with a little privacy. One of the younger travelers fell to her side, eyes darting wildly. He carried her on his back, eyes downcast. During the night he sat by the fire with the two other leaders, the young girl by his feet. The next morning he nudged her with his foot, watching as she fell. He spent the morning digging a crude grave with his fingers, only pausing to look at one of the travelers who had paid, screaming at them to move. The rest of the group stared silently as Jackson returned, none asking about the man he had dragged to the river by his hair, and with his coins in hand the two men by the side didn't either. They reached a long stretch of cracked land, and Jackson laid on his stomach for some time, finally driving a bullet into the head of a lone deer.

After their meal, during the night, he awoke to find the two leaders missing. He ventured into the darkness, coming across a small rock shelter. The two gyrated like blind beasts, and he found himself leaning against the shelter, staring at their writhing bodies. He watched as they grunted and shook during their private moments, bellowed and kicked, the man pushing in with a final noise as cum spilled from the well worn hole. He stared up at the sky, arms crossed as the two sobbed and held each other tightly. They were a day's travel from Nuxom when Jackson felt tapping against his boot. He slowly opened his eyes to see a large blade resting against it, it's owner staring into his eyes. They had dirty, matted hair and leaned close to Jackson's face, hand reaching to rub his thigh.

The stranger was totally nude, save for his shoes. He had hogtied the two leaders and gagged them, explaining to Jackson that he needed to 'test them out', that he had coin and that he was welcome to watch. Jackson watched from his seated position as the stranger slowly sunk into one of them, back arched up and hands sunk into the ground. Jackson considered slitting his neck from behind but his eyes soon fell to his dark soles, which he wrinkled and flexed behind him. The desert was silent as Jackson wordlessly had his way with those soles, the stranger digging his fingers into his prey's ass as he did as he pleased, grinning as he felt Jackson cum over his feet violently and quicker than he had hoped, feeling the sensation once more as he repeated his 'test run' on the other bound leader. When Jackson awoke all three were gone, only the two men's clothes and weapons remained. He led the Caravan to the city, rifle on his shoulder and the two shotguns beneath his arm.

He managed to fence the shotguns for some coin, purchasing a shoulder sling for his rifle, along with some more ammunition. The city was dense, people bustling and shouting. On his way to a bar he saw two whores, giggling and waving their hands at him. Their eyes glassy as empty respirator vials laid at their feet. Jackson leaned on his elbows, sighing as he drank himself stupid. Eventually a sweet pair of girls began rubbing his back. The rest of it was a bit blurry. Wandering the street, collapsing into walls and on benches...a hotel and a room. He was pushed inside as others paced inside the room, objects he didn't recognize being carted around him. "....Can bee go?" He blinked, looking at a man in a dirty blue suit with black stripes, the words sounding as if they were going through water.

"Minute. Plenty blue blind". A girl nodded besides him, and Jackson was dragged into the bathroom. Whatever story was thought of was sparse, with Jackson being pulled onto the bed in his underwear and socks. Two figures lied beside him, twins, with the feminine man massaging his arm. "Mmh....please detective...there has to be *some* way we can prove our innocence.. ". He slowly shut his eyes, opening them to find both at the end of the bed, his socks over their noses as they massaged his arches with their thumbs and suckled his big toes at the same time, occasionally stopping to kiss. He passed out, waking up with his wrists cuffed to the headboard and his ass being paddled by the two. "You better make *them* take the fall for us...or else!" She warned, whining up for a nasty swing, loving to hear him howl and thrash as his backside became red. Finally he awoke with his head off the bed, mouth forced open as the boy fucked his mouth, balls slapping his face and the girl bouncing on his crotch, hands behind her to squeeze and pull his aching balls to her hearts content, Jackson struggling to breathe as he convulsed and choked...

Jackson would awake behind the hotel in a dumpster, his belongings dumped on top of him carelessly. Crawling out slowly and painfully he glanced to see the twins sat against a wall in each other's arms, panting and giggling as Paradise flooded their system. After a while they reached for the same inhaler, their happy expressions morphing into furious ones as they wrestled with each other, fingers stretching their mouths and feet kicking behind them as Jackson rose to his feet and exited into the street.

He stepped over bodies who murmured and reached out, trying to walk off the pain in his body. He sat in a small diner, shuffling some coins along the counter. He sat in the corner and ate meat of unknown origin. Soon after Jackson began to eat a man stood over his form, hands held behind his back as he bent slightly. He was an aged individual, their hair mainly white, with a wrinkled face made of sharp angles. His lab coat was heavily stained with blood and grime, and he had a habit of wringing his hands together as he spoke. Jackson's eyes stayed on his meal as he went on and on about things Jackson could not comprehend. Finally, seeing he was not listening, the coated man leaned in. "We've received your sample....and I witnessed your 'performance' myself. There's no use in trying to escape...Why don't you make this easier on all of us". He touched Jackson's head as he spoke, as if speaking to someone who was slow. He held his hands under Jackson's shoulder as he shakily stood, the coated man feeling the syringe of sedative rustle inside his pocket.

Jackson lowered his head, taking a few breaths in before hooking his arms around the man's waist and heaving him into the air before pulling him back down. The coated man spluttered a noise as his head made contact with the edge of the wooden table, holding a hand against Jackson's face as felt the other wrap his hands around his throat. "Ghlarn! Mhoph!" The coated man kicked and squirmed, staring behind Jackson's shoulder as the diner owner stared down at the two, mouth opening, only to close as Jackson looked behind him with a savage stare. The coated man thrashed and tossed, clawing and grabbing at whatever be could until finally he went limp. Jackson, wiped his hands on his pants and got up, wiping his mouth and turning his head as he watched the man void his bowels. Spinning on his heel he exited the grimy diner and stood across the street, watching on as three men were hung in a public execution, the last having to be re-hung twice as the rope continued to break.

Jackson leaned against the banister at a local cage match, staring into the pit below. Various pipes and rods had been bent and welded together, forming a sphere, with seating surrounding it. Thin chain link wire wound itself through the bars, preventing escape, the fighters having around twenty feet of movement. He leaned over the railing as the twins from earlier were scrabbling around in the sand, kicking and shrieking like gremlins. Half way through their savage battle things had become frisky, their needy cries and grunts bringing more onlookers on than the fight had. He watched as the girl wrapped her legs around the other's waist, Jackson closing his eyes as he heard the boy squeal and beg for escape, his toes digging into the sand as he came inside. She whispered sweet nothings into his ear, stroking his matted hair. She sat cross legged, holding him against her chest, reaching to slowly pull his socks off, massaging and teasing his exposed flesh. The boy giggled, panting and shuddering as his wrists were bound behind him, looking up with glassy eyes as a pipe wrench that had been passed through the fence came crashing down over his skull.

Jackson stood at the back of the arena, watching the twin girl laying on the floor, huffing at a Paradise canister. "Why did you make him..." She looked up, head tilted this way and that.

"The slavers in the East....they give good...for new ones..." She spoke in ragged breaths, rubbing her palm over her belly.