The Redemption

Hi, I’m Tommy Granthem, and trust me when I say it, I am a very bad man, and you do NOT want to get to know me. It’s not that I’m the kind of person who goes out of his way to be a bad guy, it’s just something that comes far too naturally to me. Growing up, even my mother Kathy, used to say, “There’s the devil in you Tommy”. I mean shit, my own mother thought I was a lost cause. She got knocked up with me at fourteen, and somehow managed to actually finish high school, even though she had a squalling brat like me to take care of.

I think this story could really be started when I was fifteen, I mean, yeah, I was a little bad ass growing up. You know, the usual, property damage, petite theft, fighting, and the like, nothing serious. Right up until that day, a week after my fifteenth birthday. I was in my bedroom, in the shitty little trailer my mom rented, she thought I didn’t know, but she paid the bills by stripping down at ‘The Landing Strip’. Anywho… As I say, I was in my room, watching porn on the laptop I had boosted on a smash and grab, over on the other side of town, when in walks my mom, all five foot one, one hundred twelve pounds of her, and there I am, dick in my hand, spankin it like… well… like the horny fucking teenager I was.

Now, I guess I should say, my mom was… Well, at twenty eight, she was smoking fucking hot, tiny, tight, and had a body, that, honestly, I had never made a secret of leering at. And so, it shouldn’t shock anyone to know, as she walked into my room, I simply looked up at her, gave her a wicked little smile, and just kept stroking my cock. “Jesus Christ Tommy!” my mom snarled at me, “Can’t you even stop jerking off for two seconds, when I walk into a room?”

All I could do, in all honesty, was leer at her some more, as I watched her standing there, hip cocked out, and arms crossed, wearing a skin tight tube top, which barely covered her tiny B Cup tits, and those drop dead sexy boy shorts with half her ass hanging out. “Keep wearing shit like that in the house mom,” I said as my hand sped up on my cock, I’m not bragging, but even at fifteen, I was already packing seven and a half inches, so she couldn’t help but notice that, “And I might just start jerking off at the dinner table too!”

I’m really not sure what possessed my mother to try, but she stamped her foot angrily, and actually tried to grab my wrist, and make me stop jerking off. Now, as I’ve said, my mom is five one, and hardly weighed more than your average sixth grader. I on the other hand, was already five nine (sadly over the next couple years I would only add three inches to that) and had spent most of my time, when I wasn’t out practicing to become the number one hell raiser in six counties, lifting weights, and sparring with a couple of older buddies of mine. I already outweighed my mom by almost one hundred pounds. She had no hope of stopping me. But she tried, and the only thing she got out of it was having her painted on top, roll down under her tits, while flailing at me like a lunatic.

It was at that point, just as her left nipple smacked me in the face, that I decided that I was fucking done jerking off. I mean, the idea just sort of hit me, there was, not just a chick, but a fucking smoking HOT chick, who got naked for money (besides blowing half the guys she took to the V.I.P. room) now half naked in my fucking room. C’mon, you trying to tell me the thought wouldn’t cross your minds at the very least? I just let go of my dick, and grabbed my mom around the back of her neck, I used my leg to cause her to lose her balance, and simply rolled. The end result of course, was now mom was lying on her back, on my bed, with me pinning her beneath me.

“Maybe you’re right mom,” I said sarcastically, as I ground my cock against her panty covered cunt, “Maybe what I need, instead of jerking off, is some new pussy.” I could tell the idea most certainly did NOT thrill my mother, but ya know, at that point, I really didn’t care. I had never made it a secret I was fucking half of the little trailer trash sluts in the mobile park, I mean shit, the last summer my mom had walked in on me, buried balls deep inside the ass of the eleven year old black girl who lived in the next cul-de-sac. So the fact that I was looking for “new” pussy shouldn’t have been an eye opener for her. But I think it was that evil fucking grin I get when I see something I want, but someone else has, that actually scared her.

OK… Before I go any further, and since that grin is going to be a large part of this story, I feel I should describe it just a bit. Imagine a smile, that just screams “I am going to fucking hurt you!” You know the kind, where the corners of the eyebrows dip down, and the edges of your lips just curl back, showing only the very bottom of your top row of teeth? It’s that kind of grin, except, as I’ve been told, there is absolutely no humor in my eyes when it happens. One chick I used to fuck, actually described them as ‘lifeless’, when I grin like that. I’ve only ever met two people who weren’t at least slightly unnerved by that grin, but that’s getting ahead of myself. Back to the first time I hatefucked my mom.

I didn’t give her time to struggle, I don’t necessarily MIND when a chick fights it, sometimes it even gets me off when I know she REALLY doesn’t want some dick, but I’m giving it to her anyway, but this time, I wanted to see resignation, I wanted to see mom’s eyes just fucking empty. I decided that she needed to know who the fuck was gonna be the boss moving forward, and so, I fixed her with that grin again, and clamped my left hand over her mouth, while taking the expedient method of removal, by simply tearing her panties to shreds with my right. I spared her a glance, and realized she needed to be taught the cardinal rule. “When we’re done here mom,” I said to her in a gravelly whisper, “You’re shaving that fucking hair off your cunt. Got it?” and to emphasize the point, I jammed the first three inches of my cock into her surprisingly tight little snatch.

Oh man… Lemme tell you, the look in her eyes was priceless! Again, I’m not trying to brag, but I like to think I’ve popped more than my fair share of cherries in my life, but I have NEVER seen the look of shock, and pain, that I saw in my mother’s eyes, when my cock started slamming into her. I think there was even some self loathing in there too, because it only took about five strokes, before she started juicing up good too. Her little cunt went from jerking off into a gym sock, to having my cock surrounded by velvet that was smothered in the finest oils (Yes they are both sensations I have experienced too) I actually took my time for a few minutes there, my hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Look, I mean, my mom had done her best raising me, I guess, but there was never what you would call a loving atmosphere in our home. So I guess you can say, I didn’t really feel like I was fucking my mom (of course that is EXACTLY what I was doing, but it sure didn’t FEEL like it) it felt kinda like I was fucking some random cunt I just happened to know in passing. That being said, I made sure she couldn’t say shit, cus I really didn’t want her voice fucking it up for me.

So there I was, I had my cock balls deep in my mom’s petite little body, and her tight little cunt was doing its fucking best to either strangle it, or force it out. I honestly didn’t care which, I was gonna keep fucking til I got my fucking nut, but either way it felt amazing! That wet little hole just kept clamping down on the out stroke, trying to keep me from getting back in, and it kept rippling in resistance as I pushed back in, trying to drive me out. I don’t think mom knew it, but the harder she fought me, the better it fucking felt! I mean yeah, at that point in my life, I had fucked a few chicks who weren’t one hundred percent on board, but sort of accepted it, and maybe even enjoyed it towards the end, but none of them kept up the fight like mom. I felt the walls of her cunt slither around my knob, like suddenly her fucking pussy was trying to give me a fucking blow job!

The whole feeling combined to make an experience I didn’t recreate again until I was MUCH older, but again, getting ahead of myself. I just couldn’t help myself anymore, I needed mom to know who was inside of her, “You like Little Tommy inside of you mommy?” I asked her, that fucking grin still plastered across my face, as I started REALLY banging into her. “Hmmm? This getting you off mommy?” and much to my joy, aside from the occasional grunt of discomfort, she was absolutely silent, but, the bitch had the nerve to shake her head at me.

I pulled my hand off her mouth, and just before she got the chance to scream, I clamped it around her throat, and listened happily, as her gasping began to merge with the sound of my hips slapping into hers. That velvety tight cunt of hers was still squeezing my cock, trying desperately, if unsuccessfully, to push me out of her. “That’s right mommy…” I gasped, as my cock slammed deeper into her juicy little hole, “Little Tommy is about cum inside his mommy!” as I said it, I saw her eyes go wide, like somehow, she couldn’t believe I was actually going to cum in her. Thinking about it now, it was kinda funny, but at the time, all I really cared about was getting that fucking nut!

I slammed my cock into her, three more vicious thrusts, causing her to moan and gasp, as her face turned bright red. And man… Did I fucking CUM! I mean, at fifteen most kids can blast out a pretty hard core load, but this one, holy shit. It felt like Mount Vesuvius just blew out of my nuts, I was surprised it didn’t blow it’s way out of mom’s back like a fucking cannon ball. Now… at the time, I admit, I was way too young to fully understand female sexuality, shit, even years later, I’m still in the fucking dark on it most of the time. So I am not sure what it was, but I guess feeling her son cum inside of her got to mom somehow, because, and I shit you not, the second I started firing off inside that warm little snatch, mom started to fucking cum!

I must have fired at least five, very hard, hot ropes of cum into mom’s pussy, and I’m not gonna lie, feeling her cum right along with me, made it one of the best orgasms I’d had up to that point. She continued to spasm beneath me, as my grip on her throat tightened (no I didn’t do it on purpose, I was just cumming so hard I couldn’t stop myself from tensing up) and finally she went limp, as I let go. Finished with her, for the moment, I got out of bed like it was just another morning, leaving my mom laying there gasping, and twitching, like half the fucking town just had a go at her. “Get up mommy,” I said to her, that fucking grin creeping across my face again, “Or do you want Little Tommy to take another crack at you?” my words hit her like an electric shock, because I think she set a sprint record, going from my bed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Don’t forget to shave that fucking cunt mommy!” I think you could have spread my sarcasm with a spackel knife, “I don’t like hair on my pussy!” All I could do was laugh as I heard the hair trimmer she kept under the sink fire up. Looking back on it now, I think mom was a born submissive, but at the time, I just thought I had fucked her into submission. So yeah… That’s how this story begins, it wasn’t the last time I fucked my mom, I actually continued to fuck her for almost three years, right up until they kicked my ass out of school for throwing my desk at my Spanish teacher. But none of those fucks, were ever as intense as that first fuck. After I left home, a couple of buddies, who I kept in contact with, told me mom actually stopped stripping shortly after, and started simply selling her ass for money. I’m not really sure what happened in the long run, I pulled a big smash and grab in one of those big ass, rich folk’s, homes across town, and made off with almost forty grand worth of jewelery, old coins, and even a couple stacks of cash. I was fucking gone, plain and simple, I never bothered looking back.

By the time I had left home, I had, sadly, reached my maximum growth. I was literally a hair short of six feet tall, but what I lacked in height, I made up for in bulk. I’m not the kind of guy who spends his whole life trying to sculpt every muscle on his body, I work for raw power, I’ve been described as barrel chested, but the truth is I’m nearly six foot, but I weigh two hundred seventy pounds. Google a pic of Tank Abbott in his prime, and you get a good idea of what I’m talking about. The only difference would be my arms are a lot thicker, and I don’t have quite the belly he does. So on top of being about six inches too short to make my mass look appealing, I am not exactly the best looking guy in the world. The lank mud brown hair I had inherited from my mom, I had decided when I was sixteen, had to go, so I keep my head bic’d down to the scalp. I have broad facial features, my jaw is too square, so I keep it hidden behind a chin strap beard, and a goatee. My cheek bones are wide and high set, and to make matters worse, my fucking brow actually slopes over a pair of icy blue eyes. I swear to Christ, I look like a fucking caveman with a bald head.

If it hadn’t been for the confidence that comes from knowing I can always punch you hard enough to put you to sleep, I would probably never get laid. But, and this sometimes makes me laugh, I think that most chicks I wind up fucking, only do it, because they might be afraid of what happens if they say no. It was that exact confidence however, that got me involved in the life I was living, when the bulk of this story takes place. After making my big score back home, I hopped a bus. I wasn’t particularly picky about where I was going, I was just getting the fuck out of dodge. So I grabbed the first bus leaving, and found myself stepping down into the glamorous city of… Lansing Michigan…

Yeah, I know… I had had enough cash to take a flight nearly anywhere, preferably some third world little South American shit hole, where my money could have lasted me years. But what do you want from me? I was two months shy of my nineteenth birthday, and up to that point the farthest I had ever traveled had been two hours away by car, to see fucking Motorhead play when I was seventeen. I’m being completely honest when I say, I had zero fucking clue what I was doing, and this was just where I wound up, and be honest with yourself, at the same age, do you think YOU would have done any better?

Okay… So again, I think I need to explain something, just so you get the fact that I’m not completely full of shit. Even though I had been fucking my mom for nearly three years, I wasn’t a total piece of shit. She knew I wasn’t up to anything good whenever I left the house, she knew the money I brought back with me wasn’t honestly gained. But it didn’t stop her from taking the cash to pay the electric bill, or buy groceries, or shit, even to buy the coke I know she used way too much, or the booze we both drank way too often. I say this because, it taught me a couple valuable lessons, I was gonna need when I came to Lansing.

The first thing I needed when I got off the bus, was a place to stay, of the forty grand I had when I started, I had only spent about a thousand, on some new clothes, paying mom’s rent on the trailer for three months, my bus ticket, and the few meals I’d eaten on the sixteen hour trip north. So I knew I could get a decent place of my own. And fuck me, after looking at the local paper, if I had wanted to, I could have bought my own fucking HOUSE. But I also knew I was gonna need the cash to last, so, taking one of my lessons from mom, I rented a tiny little efficiency, all utilities included, and “fully furnished” with a full sized bed, a dresser, and a chair! I didn’t give a fuck honestly, it was small, it was cramped, but it was clean, and at two hundred twenty five dollars a month, it was mine!

I think my landlord nearly shit himself, when I paid a year’s rent in advance in cash. So there I was, nearly thirty six thousand dollars in my pocket, a roof over my head for the next year, and fuck all else, it was time to get to know my new home. I spent maybe a month learning the bus routes, and the different neighborhoods of Lansing. I found the bars that didn’t bother asking for I.D. and soon discovered the chicks that were happy to suck a cock in the men’s room for a drink or two. Life could have been better, but I didn’t give a fuck, I was actually enjoying myself.

About three months in, I was still close to thirty grand, but I knew I needed to pad that, and well, me being me, I knew sure as shit that I didn’t wanna have to work for a living, so I started scoping out the wealthier sections of town, looking for those fat scores that come along once in a while, and making up the difference with the smaller ones that kept me from dipping into my original cash.

So that had become my life, and I’m not complaining about it. I was enjoying myself, and best of all, being the new guy in a town this large, I was completely under the radar. Right up until that fateful night at a bar called Gus’s. It had been a good week, I found a house, just outside of MSU, that people like me dream about, it was one of those “reclaimed” houses, that young, stupid, rich people buy. Big, old, and full of shit that you can move really quick, for plenty of cash, antique silverware, jewelery, and easy to carry, small, high end electronics. I’m not kidding when I say it, I walked out of there with FIVE iPads, and enough other fun little toys to make me a small pile cash! And to top it all off, these people (whoever they were) had figured that being a couple blocks from the campus, and the police station, meant they didn’t even need a security system! Like I said, stupid, they actually thought that little blue sign was enough to keep someone out. I laughed all the way to the pawn shop. I had spent enough time sampling the town, to find that one gem, everyone knows about, but you gotta “know a guy” to hear about. This place was a dive, plain and simple, but the back room was a lowlife’s paradise. They jail broke smart phones, broke into computers, and basically made anything “less than legally” obtained, clean, and fresh for sale out of that dingy little shit hole. I walked away from that night with almost six grand in my pocket.

First stop? Gus’s, naturally. I had cash in hand, nothing to spend it on, and was looking to find one of those loose little sluts who loved it when a guy threw some money around. Jeez did I find it! I mean, FUCK, she was the kind of chick you NEVER see in a bar this seedy. Tight wouldn’t be the word for her man… Lemme tell ya. All of maybe five foot three, one hundred twenty pounds, but stacked like a brick shit house! 38D 26 34, long, and I mean LONG, red hair down to the small of her back, a light olive skin tone, and… Fuck me runnin, her fucking eyes were gun metal gray! Her name was Holly, and as soon as she saw me peel a C-note off my roll and order drinks for the house, she was on me like stink on shit. I wasn’t gonna argue about it either, here she was, absolutely the hottest bitch in the place, and she was hanging on my arm like a fucking tattoo, I was loving it.

Right up until some jackass with a pony tail, and a leather jacket decided I’d spent too much time talking to “his bitch”. I felt the hand on my shoulder, just a split second before I felt my stool being kicked out from under me. Fortunately, I had learned that move a few months before, on one of my first visits to Gus’s, and I managed to plant my left foot before my ass hit the floor. I spun around, and saw a thick built guy, older, maybe thirty five or so, standing in front of me, his black hair, like I said, pulled back into that fucking ridiculous pony tail, with what I can only describe as a pubic patch on the bottom of his chin. “Hey ya little shit,” he said, the stink of cheap beer and cigarettes on his breath, nearly made me vomit on him, “Gettin a bit too chatty with my bitch don’t ya think?”

Now… I could argue that I wasn’t looking for a fight, that this chick had come on to me, but like I said in the beginning, being a bad guy just comes far too natural to me. So I fixed him with that fucking grin of mine, doubled up my right fist, grabbed him by his right shoulder, and punched him in his beer gut as hard as I fucking knew how… Ya know that look of utter shock on someone’s face when they get way more than they bargained for? Yeah… He had it. I think my fist went almost three inches into this dude’s gut, and me holding his shoulder, only meant that he couldn’t double over, so his feet were forced almost a foot backward from the force of the punch. His cheeks puffed up, and that strangled ‘Ooompf’ that forced it’s way out of his throat was VERY satisfying! But I didn’t have time to gloat, I wanted this shit over before he could recover, so I hoisted his shoulder to the left, and using that angle slammed an uppercut into the corner of his jaw. He sort of slid down my leg, as his eyes glazed over, and I left him laying there, while I finished my drink. I put my arm around Holly’s waist, and dragged her to the back door, and the alley beyond.

I’d like to say we spent the whole night making mad passionate love to each other, but you know I’d be lying. What actually happened, was I hoisted that hot little tart up onto the empty kegs behind the bar, pulled her little hip hugger shorts down to the middle of her thighs, and slammed almost nine inches of hard cock into one of the tightest, wettest, baldest, little fuck holes I’d ever felt. She looked shocked when I just thrust it in, but I fixed that fucking grin her way, and she shut the fuck up quick. I pushed my dick into that tight little cunt until I felt my balls resting on her firm little ass, and just started pounding, taking short strokes, letting my cock luxuriate in her wet little furnace. The walls of her cunt were massaging my head like a suction pump, pulling on me to keep me in place as I pulled out, and gripping me tight as they welcomed me back in.

She was moaning into my shoulder as my hands mauled her huge tits through her flimsy little tank top, “Oh fuck god!” she moaned loudly, as she wrapped her hands around my neck. It just made me slam all the harder into her luscious cunt, and her back arched hard, pushing her tit into my hand, “Oh Jesus I’m cumming!” she wailed, that last word literally wound up petering out into a squeak, while she shook through an orgasm that probably would have made most women jealous. Just the feel of her pussy clamping on me like a vice, and it was one and done for me. I slammed one more thrust into that soaking little box of hers, and just fired off. I must have shot seven hard blasts of cum into that gripping cunt, and each one just made her moan even louder.

Finally, I was done, and pulled out, I honestly didn’t want to, but I didn’t need her man coming out of that door any time soon, and sticking a knife in me either. As I was hiking up my pants, Holly started giggling uncontrollably. “What’s so funny babe?” I asked her, I admit, I barely knew her, but the fact that I just fucked her stupid in an alley stinking of old beer, and piss, and she was laughing made me curious.

“Do you know who you just knocked out? Or who’s woman you just fucked like a ten dollar whore?” she asked, her giggles not stopping as the thought of it kept coming back to her.

“Some douche bag who needed his ass kicked as much as he needed a haircut,” I replied honestly. Hey, like I told you before, I am NOT a nice guy. He had Holly, I wanted Holly, he had to go. Plain and simple.

Holly laughed even harder at my reply, right up until she realized I was completely serious, then her eyes got wide. “You just floored Bobby Bones,” she said earnestly, apparently she thought the name should mean fuck all to me, and when she saw I either didn’t know, or didn’t care, she went on to explain “You just knocked out one of the top enforcers for The Hellions,”

My “give a fuck” meter suddenly went from 0 to “We have buried the fucking needle!” real fucking quick! I’d only been in town a few months, but I fucking knew that The Hellions were not those with whom to fuck! They weren’t your typical biker gang, these fuckers had the reputation of being ruthless to the point of extremes. If you were in their territory, you paid, it didn’t matter what you were doing, you paid. If you didn’t pay, someone like Bobby Bones paid you a visit, and THEN you paid. These were the kinds of people who burned down an apartment building to get at a guy locked on the top floor. They didn’t care about collateral damage, they got theirs, and that’s all that mattered. I actually kind of admired them. Of course, that means a pile of dog shit after I just put one of their guys to sleep.

“And now you’re laughing because..?” I demanded of Holly, my voice got low on that one, I was pissed that she dragged me into this shit.

“Because I just gave you funeral pussy. Bobby isn’t gonna be happy about me fucking you of course, but he’ll understand giving a condemned man his last meal,” her girly little giggle suddenly rubbed me VERY wrong, and I just wanted her to shut the fuck up. So I made her. Yeah, I can hear you right now, ‘You hit a woman!?’ but you gotta remember, I hatefucked the shit out of my mother for almost three years, so hitting a bitch who has it coming, not really a stretch for a piece of shit like me is it? So yeah, I hit her. Not nearly as hard as hit her douche bag boyfriend, but hard enough to shut her the fuck up. Now it was time for damage control, ya know, before they burned down MY house, just to shoot me as I ran out of the building.

The Hellions had their club headquarters on Cedar Street right near the Red Cedar River. Takes a while by bus to get there, so I said fuck it, and paid the forty five bucks for a cab. Now… Let’s see if I can describe this to you. The Hell Hound is to a bar, what Fort Knox is to a walk up ATM machine. There’s a door man sure, but he’s not checking your ID, he’s more likely than not, a prospect the club can afford to lose, set up out there as an early warning system. Rivals, and cops were a very real possibility at this place, the poorly patched bullet holes dotting the walls gave all kinds of evidence to that.

I walked up to the door, and stopped, I didn’t know if the guy sitting next to it was armed, and I didn’t feel like getting shot, so I just asked. “Harvey inside?” and he shot me a look that could have soured milk. Harvey was the club president, and probably one of the most hated men in the city. His rivals wanted him dead, shit, even the COPS wanted him dead. They’d both tried too, from what I’d heard about it. Apparently Harvey had survived three bullets, a knife, and even a bombing (though in all honesty, whoever planted that bomb was an idiot, because it triggered when Harvey used his key fob to unlock his truck) no matter what they tried, they couldn’t kill that stubborn fucker.

“Thafuck’r you?” the door man asked, I guess he was trying to be tough, and I could see from where I was standing, he already had his bottom rocker, so I guess we wasn’t totally worthless. But I really didn’t have time to dick around. The biggest problem was, you just don’t come up to The Hell Hound, and ask to talk to Harvey. I knew this, but, like I said, I didn’t have time to dick around.

“I’m the fucking kid that just knocked the shit outta Bobby Bones. Now I need to see Harvey before shit gets even worse!” I actually growled at the guy, I figured if I spooked him just enough, he might get his ass in gear. I honestly wish I could say I took some bad ass stroll through that bar, staring down some of the toughest sons’a’bitches in town. But what really happened was, I felt one HELL of a smack to the back of my head, and had just enough left to watch the fucking pavement come rushing up to meet my face.

I’m not sure how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like Satan had just played the drum solo to Moby Dick in my damn head. I was sat in, probably one of the most uncomfortable seats in my life, in a dark smokey room, that just reeked of cheap whiskey and expensive cigars. On the plus side, at the very least, I wasn’t tied down, and I was still alive.

“So you’re the tough little shit that fucked up Bobby Bones?” The voice was, even to me, completely out of character for the man sitting in front of me. I mean SHIT! You ever watch one of those movies, where the helpless little chick turns the corner and sees the old man who looks like a killer, but turns out to be her best friend in the end? That was Harvey. The guy HAD to stand nearly seven feet tall, his right eye was clearly blinded, and there were scars that started in the, I can only call it a lion’s mane of white and gray, hair. They dipped down across his nose, over the blinded eye, and spread back across his head. His right ear was missing amidst that mass of scar tissue.

Now, I know I’m one bulky fucker, but this dude made me think I still had about a decade in the gym to make up for. He was lounging in one of those circular corner booth seats, except the table had been, from the looks of it, torn clear out of the floor. He had some kind of cigar in his left hand, and the only reason I paid attention to it, was because his hand was fucking HUGE. The phrase “steam shovels for hands” fits Harvey’s hands (pardon the pun here) like a glove. But what caught my attention about them was, his left hand was missing the pinkie and ring finger, but it still looked like the kind of hand I most certainly did NOT want hitting me. But his voice was… I dunno how else to describe it but like this, his voice was like that old dude from Home Alone. You know the old dude who smashed Joe Pesci over the head with a shovel? Yeah, his voice was like that, it was just a bit unsettling coming out of a guy who looked like the Santa Claus from hell.

So… There I’m sitting, in a room I’m sure a LOT fewer people have walked OUT of than in. But, I wasn’t dead, I wasn’t tied to the chair, and if the lack of blood was any indication, they hadn’t cut off my cock yet, so I figured I had a few chips left on the table. I leaned forward, looked him right in the eye, and shot him that fucking grin. And, I’ll be fucked if even HE didn’t shudder a bit, and turn his head, ‘Holy shit!’ I thought to myself, it even works on someone like Harvey! “Yeah, that’s me,” I said to him, in my most nonchalant voice, “I’m also the guy who fucked his bitch in the alley behind Gus’s”

I really don’t know what I was expecting, but what I got was a laugh. I mean he started laughing from DEEP inside, like that was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. “You fucked Amanda, in that piss trough?” he asked me, the smile never really leaving his face.

“Who the fuck is Amanda?” I asked him, I was seriously confused here, “The bitch he was with was called Holly, she’s the one I fu…” I never got to finish what I was saying. Ya know that hand I didn’t want hitting me? It hit me, and I was right, I did NOT want a second one.

“Who did you just say was with Bobby tonight?!” Harvey had his right hand on the back of my neck, and it honestly felt like if he squeezed, he was gonna break it. And his face had that, ‘I’m gonna murder someone tonight, want it to be you?’ kinda look on it.

Look, I know I was only nineteen, and a tough fucker in my own right, but this guy just, I dunno how to describe it. Ya know how most teenagers think they’re immortal? Harvey was the kind of guy who made you KNOW you weren’t. My head was spinning a little, but I did my best to look him in the eye, and I gave him the honest answer, “Her name was Holly. Tiny, red hair, build like a brick house with steel beams?” I explained, “And look, just so you know, Bobby wasn’t wearing his colors tonight. I didn’t know who he was until after Holly and I got done,” I sincerely hoped the answer was enough to keep me alive. Don’t get me wrong now, in the course of my life, up to that point, I’d had a gun pulled on me a few times, but never been shot, I’d been cut, but never too seriously, and I’ve won a lot more of the fights I’ve been in than I’ve lost. But I knew, if Harvey didn’t like my answers, I was not getting out of here alive, PERIOD.

Harvey, instead of pulling my head off with his bare hands, just growled at me, “Don’t fucking move.” and turned and walked out the door behind him. I didn’t even know there was a door there honestly, but at least now I knew where to turn if things went from bad, to completely fucked. I must have sat there for fifteen minutes, and I figured the longer they had me here, the less likely I was gonna be walking out. I had just about made up my mind to go out swinging, and just charge the door, when it swung open, and in walked Harvey, followed by a VERY nervous Bobby Bones, and a couple of other guys, I had never seen before.

“Bobby, this little fucker tells me you were in Gus’s without your colors on, is that right?” Harvey demanded, and when Bobby didn’t answer right away, the huge man actually cuffed him around the back of the head like you would an unruly kid. “Answer me!” he barked.

When Bobby mumbled something under his breath, Harvey got REAL angry, REAL quick. “So you pick a fight, and have some unaffiliated punk knock your shit around, fuck your bitch while you’re sleeping it off, then come back here saying someone bloodied the patch?” he demanded, his voice getting colder by the second, “And you weren’t even wearing your colors?” the slap he let loose on Bobby Bones, I’m sure was meant to be insulting, but it dropped him to his knees just the same. It sounded like a small caliber handgun going off in the room. Harvey nodded to his two other guys, and they started to drag Bobby out of the room, so I decided to play my last card.

“Hey Bobby, thanks for Holly, she’s the best piece of ass I had since coming to town.” I swear to Christ, (again pardon the pun here) Bobby went bone white as I said it, and looked like a man about to plead guilty to murder as he looked over at Harvey. Harvey on the other hand, looked like he was about to COMMIT murder.

“Take him to the farm,” was all he said as he looked down at Bobby like the lowest form of life on the planet. It was at this point, I think, that I figured, I had fucked up royally, Harvey had just dismissed one of his top enforcers like he was nothing, and just as calmly sat down facing me in that booth of his. “So, what’s your name kid?” he asked me, and I swear to God, there was this amused little smile on his face when he did.

“Tommy Granthem,” what was I gonna do, lie to the guy? I couldn’t tell if I still had my wallet, but I had to figure he’d already checked it, AND my ID. “Look…” I started trying to explain some shit about the night, before he decided to just shoot me and be done with it, “Like I said, he wasn’t wearing his colors, I ain’t from around here, but even I know not to fuck with…” Harvey had a way of never letting me finish my train of thought, but this time, he didn’t hit me, he started laughing.

“Kid,” he said to me between bursts of mirth, “I’ve seen Bobby Bones get pistol whipped and keep standing. And you go and drop him like some punk, just off his momma’s tit!” he continued still laughing, “He came back here, looking to get a couple of the brothers to go take you on a drag run,” I shuddered visibly at that, remembering the story about some guy who pulled a gun on a Hellion instead of paying his dues for working on their turf. They had pulled him, naked and tied to the back of their bikes, down some back road out by an old abandoned factory. “Don’t worry kid, you didn’t bloody his patch, you’re good on that.”

“But we do have two issues to talk about right now though,” I swear, it was like all of the humor just drained right out of him, one second he’s laughing, the next, it looks like he could kill me for breathing. “Number one being, Holly is NOT Bobby’s woman, and he KNEW she was off limits, she’s my ole’ lady’s kid, and she’s fucking fifteen!” to quote the immortal “Fight Club”… ‘We have just lost cabin pressure…’ and suddenly, funeral pussy sounded pretty apt, “So you fucked my girl’s kid, and then slapped her when she laughed cus she knew you were prolly gonna die because of it,” his smirk was, even under those circumstances, pretty funny, and I couldn’t help give a slight laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

“I guess I did. But, ya know, in my defense and all, she did have it coming for getting me into this whole shit show,” I tried my best to sound cavalier about it all, and I hoped it worked. “I mean, she was in a bar, dressed like someone just paid her a grand to be with them for the night, and she was hanging on my arm like she was painted there,” I couldn’t tell if I was digging myself deeper or not, so I kept going, “And then Bobby tries to stool sweep me. All he says is she’s his bitch, so… I guess he had what I wanted, so I took it. And then we’re in that alley, and she just gave me a ride like I’d never imagined coming out of a dive like Gus’s, and THEN she starts laughing telling who Bobby was, and that I’d prolly just signed my own death warrant,” I paused and looked at Harvey really close, but he is one COLD fucker, just sat there, with his arms crossed, listening. “So I mean, yeah, I gave her a smack, but only cus I figured some little slut just got me killed. She NEVER told me she was your kid.”

“Good,” Harvey burst out, and again started laughing, “That little cunt has been dying for a shot in the mouth for about three years now!” he got up and poured himself a drink, it was a scotch of some kind, but I didn’t get a look at the label, (I would later learn, that if Harvey was drinking whiskey, he ONLY drank Johnny Walker Blue) “But I ain’t about to piss off my ole’ lady by doing it for her. So I’m clearing you on that one.”

You could probably have seen the relief on my face from space, well, I mean, right up until the smile dropped off Harvey’s face. “Now we get to number two,” he said as he reached for something behind his body. I slid my feet under my legs, getting ready to jump at him if he brought a gun out. I knew I probably couldn’t take him in a fight, but I MIGHT be able to get the gun before the gun got me. “You’re driving kid,” he said and tossed me a set of keys, “You and me, we got business out at the farm,”

OK… I know I do this a lot, but bare with me here, I have to explain “The Farm” It’s really just a huge chunk of land The Hellions own, about thirty minutes outside of Lansing, in Delta Township. There’s only three buildings on about sixty acres of property, the rest is all woods. The “House” was just that, a crash pad for anyone in the club who needed a place to stay until heat died down on them. The barn, was… well it really was a barn, except most of the roof fell in years ago, so now it just stood there waiting for the wind and snow to take the rest of it too. But the last building was the one we were interested in. “The Shop” as they called it, was this freestanding building about one hundred yards behind the house, and the packed dirt driveway that ran from the road, all the way back, passed the house, and ended at a four bay door cinder block building, completely covered by old growth trees.

I’m not gonna bullshit you, when we pulled up in front of this building, I honestly thought I was gonna wind up buried in the woods behind it. Harvey turned to me, and held up both hands, in his left he had a framing hammer, you know the kind, metal neck, solid frame, heavy as fuck. And in his right was a blank, black, leather vest. “This is it kid,” he said, and I swear it was almost like his blind eye was boring into me, it was fucking unnerving, lemme tell ya. “Inside that left door, is the fucker who was trying to get your ass dragged down a few miles of bad road,” he handed me the hammer, “You come out here with his colors in your hand, and this,” he held up the leather vest, “is yours.”

OK… I was, to put it bluntly, totally dumbfounded. He was offering me a spot in The Hellions, which meant an upgrade in living, a bit more stability, and a crew that even the cops were afraid of at my back. And all I had to do was take a hammer to Bobby Bones? Shit! Gimme the hammer!

Bobby Bones was tied up on his knees, his arms were spread out, between the stand jacks of a car lift. Fuck me man… It looked like someone had already taken a bat to him. His face and shirt were covered in blood, he had a gash on his forehead that looked like it had just finished scabbing over, and his face was absolutely fucked, and, like I said before, I am a very bad man, so it was about to get a lot MORE fucked. “Heya Bonesy,” yes, that fucking grin was all over my face, and even as fucked up as he was, he still couldn’t look me in the eye when that grin was aimed at him.

Now… I guess I could have been quick about it, but, again, I can’t seem to say this enough, I am NOT a nice man, and it comes FAR too easy to me. “Ya know Bonesy, any of the shit moves you pulled tonight, alone, would have got me killed,” I said coldly, as I walked around him, I watched him try and pull away from his ropes. I couldn’t really help myself, I smashed his right hand with that hammer, and when I heard him scream, I gotta admit, I got one HELL of a rush. “I know why you weren’t wearing your patch Bonesy, but you wanna know something? Harvey gave me a walk on fucking Holly, and slapping her around a little bit, cus she was out with you in the first place!” and I smashed his right elbow this time.

Look I could bore you all to tears hearing about this, but long story short, I spent almost twenty minutes working Bobby Bones over with that hammer. In the end, I dragged his worthless ass out of The Shop, bloody, face down, and nearly dead, and stripped his colors right in front of Harvey. “Whaddaya want me to do with the rest of him?” I asked when I tossed him Bobby’s vest. Turns out, he had had the two guys who brought Bobby here busy, they had a hole ready, and dragged what was left of Bobby Bones off into the woods, that was the last time anyone saw Bobby.

“Jesus kid,” Harvey had said as he handed me my new vest, “I figured you were gonna be in there for a while, trying to build up the nerve to just skull thump him,” he actually looked both a bit impressed, and a little scared, I mean, I was covered in fucking blood, I looked like fucking Bruce Campbell in “Army of Darkness” that’s how bad it was. “You were in there that whole time, going over him one body part at a time… Damn Tommy, you’re one hard mother fucker,”

I smiled at him, and quipped, “I’d normally inject a ‘that’s what she said’ but considering how this night started, let’s just leave it there,”

The next year and a half were a fucking whirlwind, lemme tell ya. I started off as basically everyone’s bitch, as an unpatched prospect, my whole life for the first six months was living by my phone, always waiting for a call, saying someone needed me for something. And by this I mean ANY fucking thing. I actually had a senior member call me up, from across town, to go on a beer run for him, when he lived less than a block from the party store. Seriously, it took me longer to get to the store, than it took him to drink the first three beers.

I went on delivery runs, meaning I took off my vest, hopped in a truck I had to rent, with my own fucking money, and drive whatever it was they needed me to drive, from point A to point B, usually it was either stolen parts, or guns, but once in a while our chef had me make runs and deliver POUNDS of meth to our distributors, and collect payment. Basically, I was looking at ten years plus if I got caught, but I was smart, I stayed in the lines, and I never did. Which is a good thing, prospects that got nailed, had a tendency to not live long enough to flip.

On the plus side, I got to play to my strengths too. After my first successful delivery run, where nothing was missing, and money wasn’t short (I actually had to beat one of our client’s security with an intake manifold for trying to skim cash out of the drop bag on that run, so I got extra points on that one) they took me out on collecting runs. My fifth such run, was pretty cut and dry for most of the day. But it got FUN at our last stop of the day. This black guy was running an import, and customization shop over on the south side of Pennsylvania Ave., and apparently he had skipped a payment. It was time to collect, in spades.

When we pull in, I can see, he has four people working for him, two Mexicans, some skinny white guy, with the WORST acne scars I have EVER seen, and a fucking knockout black chick (turns out it was his daughter) doing his books. One of the things I liked best about The Hellions was, we were 100% inclusive, race, color, creed, sexual orientation, we accepted them all. As long as you were willing to live, eat, sleep, breathe, and die Hellions, you were welcome. So today I was collecting with Danny Boy, ironically a mixed race black dude (Black and Cuban if you asked), with a voice like Isaac Hayes, and an attitude like a hungry wolverine.

“Afternoon Howard,” I swear, it almost sounded like he was saying ‘Hi’ to his dry cleaner. The owner of the shop just shot him a look that could have broken glass. “You’re two weeks late on your payment Howard, and we’re here to collect,”

“Fuck you Danny,” I didn’t let him finish saying anything, I smacked him in the mouth as hard as I could, sending his ass back, and over, off the stool he was sitting on. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit, when he yelped like a kicked dog as the wind was knocked out of him.

“You met our newest prospect, Howard?” DB asked, as he chuckled at the man gasping on the floor, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone quite like him. Howard, you need to know, I brought him here, cus he is hard as fuckin nails. Now… I’m gonna have him drag Nessa over there, into her office, and he’s gonna spend the next hour or so doing… Whatever it is he’s gonna do,” DB explained, it was actually kinda creepy, to listen to him talk about me fucking his daughter up, like he was discussing the fucking weather, it really made me chuckle. “And the whole time, Howard, while you’re listening to my man here, doing…” he stopped for a second, and smiled, “Whatever he feels like doing, I’m gonna be breaking your fingers. I figure the shop can run while you’re all busted up, so you can keep paying, but Nessa…” the smile he gave Howard was cold, even by MY standards, “My man over there gets to take the interest on last payment out on her.”

I knew what he wanted now, so I latched onto a hank of Nessa’s hair, and dragged her to the office in the back of the shop. I slammed the office door, and, quite literally, slammed that hot little bitch belly down onto the desk. Fuck me man… You ever run into one of those chicks, that no matter how hard you degrade them, they just keep cumming? Nessa was one of them man… And lemme tell ya, as much as I wanted to impress upon her father that shit would only get worse, she made me think that she had talked her dad up, just so some shit like this might happen!

I kicked her ankles apart, and forced her tight little office skirt up and over an ass that, and I would swear this on a stack of bibles, would take both of my hands to cover one cheek. It was big, and round, and amazing, but on top of all of that, despite its size, her ass was as firm as a fucking basketball! I kept a hold of her hair, and pulled her head back as I tore her green lace panties to shreds, and all this crazy bitch did was moan and smile back at me. She was actually getting off on being man handled like this, I couldn’t believe this shit. By the time my fingers got back to her pussy, she was absolutely fucking SOAKED! That dark mocha little cunt, was dripping wet, her eyes were rolling up into the back of her head, and all I’d done to her so far was simply jamb a fucking finger into her!

I needed to assert some dominance into this situation, and quick, so, thinking it might work, I smacked her ass. The smack wasn’t as hard as I could have smacked her, but it was still pretty fucking hard. All Nessa did was yelp loud, and start shaking like she was about to cum! This shit was getting out of hand, so I decided to go for broke, and just fucking unloaded on her, I mean I was smacking her ass so hard MY hand hurt! And that little black whore just ate that shit up! She fucking came on almost every other smack, and through it all, we could both hear DB going to work on her father.

I was done trying to make this bitch afraid, by this time, the office absolutely reeked of wet pussy, and my dick was so hard it fucking hurt. So I fished it out of my pants, lined up against this crazy cunt, and just drove home. Now… By this time in my life, I’d already been inside more pussy than I could be bothered to count, so when I say this chick was sloppy, I mean she was fucking WRECKED! Her hole was loose, and it sort of just gaped open, BEFORE my cock pushed into her.

I honestly tried, I was trying to give this bitch a fuck she would hate forever, but no matter what I did, pushing her face into desk, jerking her head around, smacking her around like a piece of shit. Nothing worked, she just kept moaning like she loved it, and the worst part of it all was, her twat was so destroyed, it wasn’t doing a damned thing for me. So I decided to up the ante just a bit, I gathered up a mouthful of spit, and horked it all over her winking little ass hole.

Lemme tell ya right now… THAT got her fucking attention, really fucking quick! Nessa, apparently, might love pain, and get off on it pretty hard, but she did NOT like anal! I didn’t care, if she enjoyed it or not, but the second she started squealing, was the second I started loving it! “NOOOoooooo!” she screeched, like a mill that threw a spoke, as my cock head battered its way through the surprisingly fierce, yet ultimately pointless, resistance of her ass.

THIS was what I was after! Her ass was like a tight ring that slipped over my crown, and enveloped my cock in a warm, soft, sock of sensation, that only got better, as she clenched, trying to stop me from entering her. I yanked up on her hair, and growled in her ear, “This is exactly what I wanted from you,” as I started slamming in and out of her ass, I wasn’t going to be slow about this, and I did NOT want her to enjoy this. “Your ass is so much tighter than that used up cunt of yours,” I like to think that, deep down inside, Nessa got off, just a little bit, by me degrading her like that. Don’t get me wrong, I honestly didn’t care, but her ass, at least, was tight enough to actually get me off, because I came DEEP inside that hot black ass of hers. Up until that point, it was one of the most satisfying orgasms I’d ever had, and her sobbing, and whimpering, just made it so much better for me.

I walked out of that office, still stuffing my dick back in my pants, Nessa curled up in the fetal position on the floor, that spectacular ass still on display, leaking my cum, on the floor, and that fucking grin pointed right at Howard. He knew I had just fucked his daughter up something bad, and as furious as that made him, he couldn’t meet that grin. “Tell Nessa to call me whenever she wants me to make her feel like a woman again Howard,” I swear, I saw DB cringe at that remark, and it gave me a really great feeling of power.

That afternoon, while DB was retelling the story, I was getting pounded on the back by the rest of the club. I also got a present due to that little bit of brutality. A week later, I was presented with the keys to my very own bike. It was used, but MAN was that little soft tail fucking BEAUTIFUL! They gave me the keys to a ’95 Harley 883 Sportster, with swept forks, and a custom set of bars. The whole thing was done in brushed aluminum, with a custom job on the tank. In screamingly bright orange paint, on both sides of the tank, was the word “NAILS”, apparently I had also earned a nickname too. “Congrats kid,” Harvey said to me, in that creepy, gentle voice of his, as he pulled my vest off, and tossed it to his Ole’ Lady Karen, “Don’t worry kid, she’s going to sew on your name patch,” I smiled huge at that, “Take care of the bike Nails, the last sunnavabitch who owned it apparently had his skull stove in with a framing hammer.” Mother. Fucker. They actually gave me Bobby Bones’ old bike, suddenly I felt like I was king of the world.

Three months later, I earned my bottom rocker, AND my 1% patch, talk about a one two punch right? I was told to play bodyguard for a bunch of the full patched members’ Ole Ladies, while they were out doing a little bit of club hopping. This night was gonna be just fuckin dandy… Seven women from twenty to forty five, all out trying to make men horny, and relying on me to make sure none of them try.

So I’m there in this gaudy fucking club, I don’t even remember the name of the place, but it’s music was loud, and grating, and the drinks were over priced, and watered down. But the ladies were having fun, so I stood there like the menacing, over developed, monster, I am. When Karen came up to me asking if I knew where Brianne, a senior patched member named Jackpot’s Ole Lady, was. I didn’t know, honestly, the last time I saw her, she was heading toward the restrooms, but that had been almost twenty minutes before. Now, before that night, if you told me someone would be stupid enough to fuck with a chick wearing a Hellions “Property of” patch, I’d have called them an idiot, but shit, was I wrong. I went back to the restroom hallway, to look for Brianne, and as soon as I got close to the cleaning closet, I heard it. A high pitched scream of “NO!” followed by a very loud slap. The door nearly came off the hinges I went through it so hard.

Inside the closet were three people, Brianne, and two Hispanic dudes, wearing NorteƱos patches, trying to force her down onto a stack of boxes. Her shirt was ripped, and one of her tits was fully exposed, they had forced her skirt up, and I remember seeing a shredded scrap of cloth on the floor, obviously what was left of her panties. The guy closest to the door got pitched forward by the force of it hitting him, and I landed on him like a fucking avalanche. I don’t really remember how many times, or how hard I hit him, but I knew it was hard enough for his bottom teeth to shred through his lower lip, and to break at least his nose. He was asleep by the time Brianne’s cry for help brought me out of my rage.

The guy holding her, was skinny, and he had those stupid fucking tattoos all the “thugs” seem to feel make them tough. You know the ones I’m talking about, tear drops on his cheeks, a pair of praying hands on his neck, just shit that makes no sense, and makes them look like retards. But, I mean, FUCK, they WERE stupid enough to try and rape a Hellions’ Ole Lady, so… I guess retard fits them pretty good. He had his arm around her throat, and was trying to use her as a shield, I’m not opposed to giving a bitch some dick when she teases, then backs out, but… This was Jackpot’s woman, and he made me swear I’d look out for her. I was PISSED now!

I’m not sure WHAT kind of cleaner I grabbed off the shelf next to me, only that the jug was full, and heavy. I swung that fucker wide, and smashed the little prick holding Brianne upside his head hard enough to jar my fucking arm. When he dropped her, I handed her my phone, pulled my hoodie off, and told her to call Karen, and have her bring the van around the back, this was gonna be ugly by the end of the night.

The ladies all formed a line in front of the hall, as I dragged both the little fuckers out the back door, and loaded them into the van. We weren’t going to the farm, the ladies weren’t allowed in The Shop, for obvious reasons. We were heading out to the middle of nowhere, where I could let Brianne have a little revenge, and then I was gonna take care of fucking business. We drove out to this little dirt road between Lansing, and Delta Township, where I had done a gun deal for the club once, I knew no one was gonna be anywhere near it, since the closest house was almost ten miles away, it was perfect.

You ever see those old flicks, ya know, the black and white ones, where villains wind up tied up, and are squirming tying to get away from the hero? These two little shits reminded me of just that, except they were covered in those stupid ass tattoos. I mean yes, I enjoy a good piece of ink, but all of these little jail house looking, “gang signs”? They make you look like you’re a defective. So anywho… Yeah, I had these little fuckers tied to a tree, stripped to their boxers, and wriggling like bait over a well stocked fish pond. And before I started, I gave Brianne five minutes with them, and the sock filled with gravel I handed her made for an interesting show lemme tell ya. She spent almost the whole five minutes working them from the waist down. I gotta give Jackpot some credit, he knows how to pick his women, by the time she was done, I wanted to MARRY that chick.

The guy I had hit with the door, had apparently been the one who called “dibs” on Brianne, so I was saving him for last. His little ‘paccito’ and I were gonna have a little chat first, and of course by chat, I mean I was gonna do some fucking damage to him. I brought out the pair of brass knuckles I kept in the glove box of the van, and started giving him body shots. A lot of people don’t know this, but brass knuckles were never meant for face or head shots, narrowing down the force of impact THAT much to the head can kill someone. And that takes away a lot of the fun, I mean why keep punching someone after you crack their skull like an egg right?

So I spent a good two or three minutes just punching Paco there in the gut, and ribs, BEFORE I started on his head. Three punches to the side of his skull, and face, and it was fucking grizzly. His left eye actually POPPED after the second punch, apparently his broken cheek bone shooting into his eye socket had something to do with it. I left him hanging there, after I felt the side of his head turn to mush. His partner was NOT happy about that. He kept telling me his homies were gonna come for me, and my whole family was gonna die, the usual bullshit. But it was annoying, so I punched him in the balls just to shut him the fuck up.

This was the guy who had been trying to force his cock into Jackpot’s woman. This was the fucker who now made me have to explain to Jackpot how I had almost let his woman get raped. THIS was the little shit, I was gonna take my fucking TIME with. I put the knucks into my back pocket, and just worked this ass hole like he was a fucking heavy bag. Punching someone in the stomach, bare handed, hearing that packing sound of tenderizing meat… There is something imminently satisfying about that sound, and feeling. By the time I was done working this guys body, he was gasping for breath, and breathing blood bubbles out of his nose and mouth, his ribs on his right side were fucking pulp, and I could hear the gurgling sound of his lung starting to collapse.

I wanted this to send a message, and just a couple assholes getting beat to death wasn’t enough. I wanted everyone to know, if Nails was watching over someone, or something, you did NOT fuck with them! I grabbed little Juanito by the sides of his head, and, taking a page out of “28 Days Later” I jammed my thumbs into his fucking eyes. He started screaming, and flopping against the ropes, as soon as I applied pressure to them, and it made the job pretty difficult, so, me being me, I went with force to settle the problem. Keeping my thumbs right where they were, I started slamming the back of his fucking head into the tree, with as much force as I could manage. By the time I was done, I was knuckle deep in his eye sockets, and he had gone completely still… Yeah… That night wound up being REALLY fun…

Three days later, I was kneeling in the dirt, with my hands behind my head, outside The Shop, waiting on Jackpot to give me the ass kicking I deserved. I mean, yeah, I had gotten a TON of respect for how I handled the situation, and the seniors had voted me my bottom rocker, AND my 1%, but I HAD almost let Brianne get raped… So I knew I had a beating coming, and I was gonna accept it cus that’s what a Hellion does.

Ok… I’m not gonna go into detail, simply because, if truth be told, in a one on one fight, I could kick Jackpot’s ass like Chuck Liddell fighting an autistic four year old. So me talking about letting him kick my ass, is a little degrading for me. The only lesson I took away from that little experience is this, you do NOT wanna get hit in the side of the head with a fuckin pool cue, EVER! I had a bruise there for a week because of that shit. Through the whole ordeal, the only sounds he got out of me were a grunt when he gut kicked me, and an honest yelp of pain when he hit me with that fucking pool stick. To say the patched guys who watched it were impressed was a no brainer.

I was sitting in the House, sipping a beer, when Danny Boy sat down across from me, “Jesus dude…’ he said looking at me like I was some kind of freak, “I drove out to that dirt road the other day, after Karen and the girls told us what happened.” Now, I knew DB was one of those guys who could, and would, pull some pretty violent shit out when they needed to, you don’t get your 1% or TCOB patch doing fuck all, but he looked genuinely impressed, “You, you crazy fuck. You got the Devil in you Nails…” And all I could do was laugh at him, remembering hearing my mom say the same shit, after pulling my dick out of her mouth. Then he smiled, and asked, “Did you really jamb your thumbs in that fucker’s eyes?”

I just shrugged, “I was pissed off, that little cock sucker forced me to take that beating you just watched, a couple minutes later, and you’d be burying me next to Bobby Bones,” I explained calmly, almost like I was placing an order at Jersey Giant, “I thought a message like that would dissuade anyone else from testing me.” I said, finishing off my beer, then I smiled, “Besides which, you should have heard the little fucker squeal” I left DB sitting there in shock, as I got up to get another beer.

The next four months were much the same, collecting, doing runs, playing look out, shit, I even stood in for one of the patched members, The Professor, (He used to teach before he realized how much he hated spoiled little rich kids) at a parent teacher conference, since he was out in Detroit taking care of a major gun sale. That was actually pretty funny, sitting there acting like I was interested in a second grader’s play habits, but I knew the little girl, and she was, in my opinion anyway, a good kid, if a little bit hyper. So I guess I DID take offense at the teacher when he suggested that she may need medication. I left him there, shaken, and pale, with the understanding that if that little girl was forced to be put on meds, I was gonna jamb the pill bottle so far up his ass, he would sound like a maraca every time he took a step.

In the end though, I finally scored my Top Rocker, and became a full Patched member of The Hellions. It felt fucking good to slip that vest on, with its black angel wrapped in flames, that hard patch just felt amazing riding between my shoulder blades. It took something special to get my Top Rocker though, and it was NOT fun lemme tell ya. I had made a very firm reputation as a collector, and enforcer. Someone’s ass needed kicking, I did it, in spades! So when Harvey called, and told me we were going on a road trip, and my duties were being temporarily suspended, I was more than a little shocked. Shit, I thought I had fucked something up. Turns out though, one of our major weapons suppliers got his ass busted, and was talking deal, to flip on us… Sometimes life gets interesting real quick.

So early the next morning, seven of us were on our bikes, heading down I-69 South to Indianapolis, where we hooked onto I-65, all the way down to Mobile Alabama… Man lemme tell ya something, Mid July is NOT the time of year to be driving a vehicle with no A/C in a Gulf Coast State. We all learned damn quick, that there are only two temperatures down there at that time of year, Hot, and Fuckin Miserable, and it started getting HOT at around 9pm. From Mobile, we picked up I-10 West, clear across Mississippi, all the way into New Orleans, and from there we followed some shitty series of back roads into the bustling metropolis of Houma Louisiana.

I’m not sure how Harvey expected us to maintain a low profile, when seven outlaws come riding into town, on bikes loud enough to rattle plate glass windows. Especially given the fact that Harvey himself was with us. As I may have mentioned Harvey is nearly seven feet tall (six foot ten actually) and weighs close to three hundred forty pounds, he is not what you would call easy to miss. But this was Hellions business of the life or death variety, so Harvey was there.

He had me rent a moving van, though by this time, I wasn’t stupid, I used a high quality fake ID, I’d gotten from my favorite little pawn shop in Lansing. It said my name was Alex Write, and that I was from Chicago, so I felt fairly certain I’d be clear if the van got traced. On the way back from the rental, inspiration struck me, and I stopped at a little mom and pop hardware store and picked up two ball peen hammers, and a hay bale hook, I figured if things got wet, they’d come in handy.

The guys all piled into the van, and we rode out to this little back road, completely covered by trees, it was like they formed a tunnel for us, and crept down that little lane, slow as shit, so whoever was at the end of the line, didn’t see or hear us coming. We came round a bend and saw a small cabin, what Louisiana natives call “Hunting Camps” it’s basically two or three rooms (including the bathroom) and enough space for three or four people to sleep. There were three cars out front, and just from where we were sitting I could see three guys, (It’s kinda funny, how you can just TELL someone is a cop, by the way they walk, stand, posture themselves, ain’t it?) they were all armed with standard 9mm glock 17’s. That would mean there were either three people plus our target inside, or some were patrolling the camp, though that was unlikely in this heat, this far out, at a “secure” location. So I guess it was time to take care of business.

One of the other patched members, a guy named Sloth (yeah, like The Goonies, big, ugly, and always had a stupid grin on his face) started handing out weapons from a duffel bag as Harvey started going over the plan. We were gonna come at the place from all sides, guns blazing, but it seemed to me, that that plan was a bit dangerous. I had a better idea

I cut across Harvey’s plan with my bright fucking idea. “Look Harvey, I’m not trying to step on your toes here, but this truck was rented to an ID from fucking Chicago, and we were planning on torching it anyway right?” I asked, hoping he’d let me finish, he nodded me on, “Why don’t I just back this fuckin thing clean through that wall? Everyone gets low, and I blow that wall to pieces, we hop out the back, and take care of our problem inside, then wait for the guys outside to come to us.” To my utter surprise, Harvey liked it, and we were so far out in the middle of nowhere, we’d be gone before backup could be anywhere close. So I flipped the bitch, and gunned it toward that wall as fast as a rented U-Haul van can manage.

You ever hear the noise a car makes when it slams into a structure? Lemme tell ya, it ain’t like you see in the movies. It’s an all encompassing noise that crushes in on you like you’re being pressed from all sides. Add to that fact, that I slammed that van into the wall at over forty MPH, snapping my back into the seat hard enough to lose my breath, and I was in a world of pain as the rest of the guys stormed out of the van, and into the house, guns drawn, and firing at anything that moved. My ears were ringing, and my head was spinning like a fucking tilt-a-whirl, and I had just enough in the tank to see the three U.S. Marshals running toward the back of the van.

Now… I’ve watched a bunch of John Wayne flicks, and I was always impressed by how poised he always seemed to be, even in the midst of a fire fight, or kicking some smug Irish bastard’s ass, he never seemed ruffled. I wish I could have been that calm, but I wasn’t. I did know however, that it was definitely time to take care of fucking business. I slid out of the van, holding one of my hammers in my left hand, and that wicked fucking bale hook in my right. The first Marshal was only two feet from me, and took that fucking ball peen hammer in the right side of his head hard enough for his left ear to hit his shoulder, he hit the dirt twitching, a split second after his melon juice sprayed all over my face. The second managed to squeeze off a single round my way before I slapped the hook between his neck and jaw. Man… Lemme tell ya, the look of shock on his face was fucking priceless, it was kind of a combination of shock, and disbelief, right up until I wiped it off his face with the hammer.

And suddenly, I got hit by some shit that made every ass kicking I have EVER taken feel like the sweetest pussy I have ever been inside. And it hit me twice. When that shock finally faded, I was looking up at the sky, I could barely breathe, and my left arm refused to work for me. That third marshal had just fucking shot me, TWICE! By the time it sunk in that I had been shot, I was PISSED, and the marshal was standing behind the open door of the van, firing into the room, and I could tell from all the gun fire inside, not all the cops were down in there either.

I was seeing fucking red, and I would be damned if one little fucker, and his pussy ass glock were gonna keep NAILS out of the fight. Next thing I realize, I’m on my feet, growling like a caged animal, slipping the second hammer out of the loop on my carpenter jeans, and walking up on Johnny Law Man there. I was pretty sure he was dead after the first shot to the back of the head, but I hit him a few times just for the hell of it. Since I couldn’t lift my left arm, I was forced to lean the shoulder with a fucking bullet in it into the van door, and force it to move so I could get into the house. The entire place was mayhem, Sloth was down, bleeding from a shot in his shoulder, and his leg, Harvey was pinned behind the kitchen counter, looking like he was out of ammo, along with a few others, and there were two cops inside protecting this little Mexican dude, covered in those stupid ass tattoos I hate so much.

I was suddenly spitting sparks, and was gonna be damned if this shit went sideways any further. I stalked through the wreckage of the house, right up along side those fucking cops, and just started swinging. Turns out, the human skull was never meant to absorb blows from the ball end of a ball peen hammer, those cops only took one smack a piece before they fell, but I gave them both four, just for the inconvenience of it all. Then I grabbed little Hector by the hair and dragged him over to Harvey. “Happy Birthday Mr. President” was all I said before, and I am unashamed to say this, I passed the fuck out.

I woke up three days later, in a little room with a couple ancient looking monitor machines in it. As soon as I sat up all sort of shit hurt. It felt like I had been mule kicked in the chest, my left arm was tingling, and sore as shit, but at least it was moving. “Relax Nails,” that creepy gentle voice of Harvey’s came out of the shadows to my left. He leaned forward and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, “Sloth took two bullets, Buzzsaw took one, you took two, but no one died…” he left it hanging, I was more than a little dopey from the morphine dripping into me, so I didn’t know where to go with it. “Nails… That fucking plan, it probably saved a lot of lives on our end, but damn kid…” the eye that could see, was boring into me like some sort of industrial drill, “You took out three U.S. Marshals with a hammer, a fucking HAMMER, after you got shot twice. I ain’t never seen anyone like you before kid, you got pure hate running through your veins.”

I learned later that the second bullet had punctured my chest cavity, and the loss of pressure was causing my right lung to collapse. Lemme just let everyone here know right now, you do not EVER want to feel what it’s like recover from having a bullet pulled out of your chest, and shoulder. Especially if you have be taken to an illegal street hospital run by a doctor who got his medical training in the Salvadoran national army. It took me almost a week to be able to ride my bike back home. And the three days it took to drive that were pure hell. But as I said, in the end, I earned my full patch. And suddenly I felt like there was nothing I couldn’t do. I was a full patched Hellion, with one of the meanest reputations in the club, my life certainly took an upswing from where it had started huh?

So that was now my life. The next two years became one long string of days and nights, running jobs for the club, pulling jobs for myself (yeah even though I saw a small cut of any job I was involved in, I still needed more cash, so I worked my old ways, pulling a smash and grab here and there to set me straight). I shacked up with a couple of different hang arounds, the chicks who hung with the club, but were never anyone’s Ole Lady, basically they were free pussy, and the ones that were worth fucking more than once, I strung along til the next one caught my eye. But through it all, despite my success, I kept trying to prove myself to Harvey. The old man was getting close to sixty, and there comes a time when everyone has to retire. I wanted him to know the club was in good hands.

About that same time, one of our members, a guy Pong (why? I have no clue) nominated a new prospect, named Jensen. I wasn’t really sure why, at the time, but I had an almost instant dislike of this fucker. He was tall, and lean, and had that look about him that he could handle himself, but there was something there that told me something was missing, I just had to find out what. I dunno, it might have also been that douche bag beard, you know that kind that all those little faggot hipsters have these days? Yeah he had one of those. And he topped off his little homo haberdashery with that stupid fucking hairstyle called a man bun. His first day in the clubhouse he actually tried to fight me after I joked about nicknaming him Bearded Lady if he ever got patched in. A quick slap took the fight out of him, but from that moment on, there was nothing but hate between us, and I was perfectly fine with that.

He’d been with the club maybe five months, and still hadn’t done anything to impress us, his collecting had been mediocre, the local businesses were paying, but when they were short, he was quick to give them passes, and that is bad for the club’s reputation, as soon as you ease up, they think they can get away with not paying. So I took him out with me one day.

It was then that I found out what it was that irked me about him so bad. We had been out most of the day, and I decided to swing by a Jersey Giant for some subs for lunch (If you’ve never been, I recommend Jersey Giant over subway any day of the week, meat is cut to order, bread is softer, and even though it’s a couple bucks more, the fucking sandwiches are 18 inches long!) . We got our orders, sat down, and started eating, well I started eating, I noticed Jensen staring behind me like someone had stapled his eyes to whatever it was he was looking at. Now… I’m not usually all that nosy of a guy, but like I said, I REALLY didn’t like this guy, so of course I tried to find out what he was so interested in. I happened to notice one of those little decorative mirrors on the wall behind us, and when I looked up at it, I almost put him through the fucking wall. The only thing behind us, that he could possibly be that interested in, was a little girl, who couldn’t have been more than seven.

Alright… I know I told I used to fuck an eleven year old, and Holly was only fifteen, but here’s the thing, when I was fucking that eleven year old back home, I was only thirteen. And as for Holly, well… You know… I had no idea about any of that shit. But this shit, this was completely different, this was a fucking grade schooler, I mean SHIT, she was wearing her fucking school uniform for fucks sake! And there this fucker was, staring at her like a virgin on his first trip to the strip club. I knew I needed more on him before I could take it to the club, but this was what I needed to justify me digging shit up on him.

We finished our collecting that day with an icy silence between us, I knew he could feel the anger I was harboring. Besides which, he also got to see how The Hellions made sure people kept up their payments. Every account that was behind got the Nails touch, some got their property smashed up, a couple, who were VERY behind, thanks to Jensen and his pussy ass antics, got their persons smashed up, but EVERYONE paid. When we got back to the clubhouse, I made my excuses about needing to take care of some personal business, and rode out to the shitty little neighborhood Jensen called home. I parked a couple blocks away, and waited for little mister man bun to come home.

I must have sat out in this lot up the street from Jensen’s little raised ranch, behind a fucking juniper bush for almost five hours before he finally got there. I could tell it was his bike coming down the road from half a mile, the pussy rode this air ride custom job. You know the kind, they used to build bikes like it on that show “American Chopper” all show, no balls, but a great way to waste eighty grand. Man… there was NOTHING about this guy that I liked! On the plus side of that wait, I made friends with one of the stray dogs in the neighborhood. A cute, if underfed black pit bull, I kept tossing her bits and pieces of beef jerky from the bag I keep in my vest pocket just in case I need a snack. She was very appreciative.

I gave the little puke a half hour to settle in before I made my way over to his house, the basement windows were lit up, but so dingy I couldn’t really see through them, the rest of the house was dark. So I went around the back, and found that his patio door was unlocked, the fucker actually though being a Hellions prospect afforded him some sort of protection, fuck me running, I really hated this guy.

The inside of his house reminded me of one of the meth shacks I’d made deliveries to, it was fucking filthy. Dirty clothes were strewn all over the place, dirty dishes, and old pizza boxes were piled up everywhere. There was the stink of old sweat and spilled beer everywhere, the place literally made my skin crawl, I felt like I needed a tetanus shot just walking inside. I also made a mental note to ask Pong how he found this dirt bag in the first place. I decided to do a little digging before I went downstairs and tried wearing Jensen like a knee high wading boot.

Ya know something interesting? For someone who was prospected into a club that valued a closed mouth, and security as much as The Hellions, Jensen was a fucking MORON! He had a little computer desk, that was stacked high with folders full of shit, I didn’t even wanna speculate on, the laptop on the desk was open, with no password, and all of his files were unencrypted. I couldn’t even comprehend how dumb this fucker was.

I skimmed through a couple of folders, and found some polaroids that turned even MY stomach. This cock sucker had been making a life out of moving from place to place, abusing, molesting, raping, and killing kids for at least the past ten years… AND HE KEPT FILES ON THEM ALL! It was official now, this mother fucker had just signed his own death warrant. I didn’t need anything else, this fucker was gonna die, tonight.

I found his basement door, and was halfway down the stairs, and I froze. That fucking basement was a horror show man. In the far corner was a grimy stained, mattress, with a D ring bolted to the wall above it. A bucket was next to the mattress, and a stench was coming from it that told me it was being used as a toilet. The walls were lined with shelving units, all of them holding enough devices of sexual torture to turn MY fucking blood cold. Whips, clamps, cuffs, pretty much you name it, and I mean, I’m not an innocent, by ANY stretch of the imagination, and there was shit there I had no clue about. But it was the center of the room that really had me ready to kill.

In the middle of the room was a table set about three feet off the floor, and laying on that table was a girl. Her waist was tied down to the table with her ass hanging off the edge, her feet were tied to the corners of the table, forcing her little pussy to spread wide open. Now, normally, I might find something like this hot, and maybe even wanna get in on that kind of action, but there were a few things that stopped me. First, she was filthy, and I’m not talking ‘Oh you were playing outside all day’ filthy, I mean, like true filthy, this poor girl had probably been down in this basement for over a month without being washed. Second, she was covered, and I’m talking COVERED, in welts and bruises, as if Jensen had been getting off on inflicting pain on her.

OK… Time for another aside from me. I know, I’ve said sometimes a chick crying, or not enjoying what I did while I was fucking them got me off, but I have never, EVER, derived sexual pleasure simply from inflicting pain, and a lot of the time, I have made sure a chick enjoys what I do, as much as I do. Sure I might be a bit rough about it sometimes, but I could never, in my fucking LIFE, imagine myself doing to someone what that prick did to that poor girl.

The third thing that stopped me was when I realized, she could only have been sever to ten years old. She was a LITTLE fucking girl, and there she was naked, tied to a table, with mister man bun standing at the foot of the table, VIDEO TAPING himself as he forced his cock into her pussy. Her head was turned toward the stairs, and I found her eyes. There was nothing there, I don’t even think she was registering me, I mean she was completely blank. I could hear his voice, that pretentious superior sounding voice. You know the type, where a douche bag just thinks he’s head and shoulders above you in every way, when you know you can snap him like a dry stick? Yeah, fag boy had that kinda voice, even when he was talking to a prepubescent girl he had tied to a fucking table!

“Isn’t this how you like it baby?” with every word, I was thinking of new and interesting ways I was gonna fuck this guy up, “My big cock fucking that tight little cunt of yours?” I didn’t know what he was trying to get out of this poor girl, but all he got was forced exhalations, every time he pushed his cock deeper into her. She didn’t even cry. I read somewhere once, that during times of extreme trauma, people are able to divorce themselves from the situation. They basically turn off the part of their brain that is aware of what’s happening. I think this little girl had managed to do just that. Now it was time to hope Jensen wasn’t one of those lucky people.

The worthless little fucker didn’t even see the punch coming, I threw a fucking haymaker from around back of him, and felt the ultra satisfying snapping sensation of a head wrenching to the side, as my fist made contact. He hit the floor like a wet sack of shit, his pants around his ankles, his eyes wide in shock, and not really seeing anything but stars. I also couldn’t help but laugh a little, when I saw, that what he called a ‘big dick’, was actually about four inches long, and about as big around as a cigar tube.

His eyes came back into focus just long enough to see my size fourteen boot smashing into his face, with the satisfying crunch of a broken nose. He was out cold, and I used the time to scour his shelves, and find a pack of police issue zip ties, which I used to secure his wrists to the D-ring in the wall over the mattress. Now that he was out of the way, I needed to look at the little girl he had just been raping.

Now… You could ask me, twenty years from now, why I cared, and why I even bothered to make sure she was OK, and I will tell you then, what I’m telling you now, I have no clue. I had absolutely no idea why, but something in me, something I hadn’t even known existed inside of me, told me, I needed to make sure this little girl was alright. Of course, just a quick look at her, told me this little girl was FAR from fucking alright. The bruises all over her body ranged from deep swollen purple, to a faded unhealthy greenish yellow, the raised welts were red, and angry, and there was very little space on her body that wasn’t covered by one kind of mark or another. Her bottom lip was split, and the dried blood on her chin and cheek told me, it was fairly recent. Her little vagina was red, and swollen, with bruising covering the tender flesh. Her ass was slightly gaped open, and inflamed, showing me, that Jensen had been fucking her there too, though, in retrospect, that really shouldn’t have surprised me either.

Did I mention that she was filthy? I know I did, but I really feel it needs to be restated. It looked like this girl hadn’t had a bath in at least a month. Her skin (where it was smooth enough to be able to tell the difference) was actually caked in grime, she stank of stale sweat, and, again I shouldn’t have been surprised by this, sex. What color her hair was, I had no idea, it was so filthy. It hung limp and lank, in greasy matted hanks. And her face, which I had assumed was once round, and cherubic, was gaunt, and pale. My blood had been boiling since I caught that little fucker checking out the little girl in the sandwich shop, but the longer I took making sure this little girl would live (I had completely given up on making sure she just alright, I was now worried if she’d fucking survive) the angrier I got. But it was the way she reacted to me touching her, as I tried to untie her, that got me so mad I felt like I could chew fucking teeth!

The second my hand touched her, she started thrashing around, flailing her arms, trying to slap my hands away from her body. She was screaming incoherently as she struggled against her bonds trying to get as far away from me as she could. And I’ll be honest here, I had no idea how to calm her down, I went with my old fall back, I shot her that fucking grin, hoping it would silence her long enough to let me get the ropes untied.

Fuck. Me. Running… This little girl, this poor, little, horrendously abused, child, looked me dead in the eye, and smiled back! She went almost limp after that, and let me untie her, before she curled up in a little ball, and started crying.

OK… I know, by this point you guys have me pegged as a complete fucking monster, I’m cold blooded, heartless, ruthless, violent, and mean. Ya know what? You’re right, I AM a fucking monster, but seeing her cry nearly broke me. Up to this point in my adult life, I don’t think I’d cried more than once or twice from the time I was thirteen. It just wasn’t in me, but seeing her in tears, I’m telling you right now, and I am unashamed to admit it, I had to choke back some pretty major shit or else I was gonna break down right in front of her. I quickly pulled my hoodie off, and wrapped it around the girl. Under any other circumstance seeing a girl that tiny, wrapped up in a XXL thermal hoodie would have been adorable. Now? Knowing that this was probably the first piece of kindness anyone had shown her in such a long time? It made my fucking blood boil, I mean seriously guys, I was ready to start breathing FIRE, I was so pissed off.

I scooped her up into my arms, and that same feeling inside when I almost cried happened again, as I felt her worm her way closer to my body, still crying. I knew Jensen had a jeep, and that he used it for his legit work in carpentry, so I carried her upstairs and stopped, smiling. That fucking black pit bull I had made friends with had followed me into the house. She was sitting in the kitchen, looking at the basement door, waiting for me to come back. All I could think was ‘Good, something to look out for her, while man bun and I have a LONG chat’ and so I headed to the garage door. I left the girl lying in the back seat completely covered by my hoodie, and let the dog follow her up into the jeep. She gave the girl one sniff, and sat down on the floor of the jeep, and put her head right next to the crying girl. Well, now at least, I knew, I could go have a long talk with douche beard.

I came back down into the basement, just as Jensen was starting to wake up. I gotta tell ya, the look of complete fear in his eyes when he saw me carrying his portable air compressor, and his brad nailer in my hand was more satisfying than anything I have ever felt in my life. “Alright Bearded Lady,” I growled at him, and shot him that fucking grin. I was very happy when I heard him whimper under that grin, “We’re about to have a little chat about the girl upstairs, and about all of those girls in the folders you have upstairs. This is not gonna be fun, well… It’s gonna be a LOTTA fun, for me…” And I slapped that brad nailer down into his kneecap, with that immensely satisfying ‘Chthuck!’ followed by Jensen’s screaming.

I found out a lot of shit about that filthy cock sucker that night. I found out where and when each, and every one of those little girls had been found, held, and disposed of. I found out that he had been making a TON of money selling the videos of what he did to those little girls. And I found out that he had used a large portion of that money to actually buy the girl I had just taken from him. Every fact I pulled out of him, was at the insistence of that brad nailer. I left him in that basement, with over forty nails driven into the various parts of his body. No matter how much I despised that fucker, I do still have to give him credit for a few things. First, he had an absolute FUCK TON of cash squirreled away, we’re talking almost one hundred grand buried in a numbered account (Oh yeah, I got THAT information too!). Second, he stayed conscious through all forty plus shots with the brad nailer, so he was at least tougher than I gave him credit for. Unfortunately for him, that meant, after I ran out of nails, he was awake for when I started beating him with the nail gun.

I dragged his body up the stairs, sat down at his desk, and went through each of those folders, (thankfully there were only ten of them) and put a name to each of them. Again man… FUCKING AGAIN!.. That feeling like I was about to cry hit me. I swear, I don’t know what the fuck was wrong, but if it kept up I might have to go burn down an orphanage to make myself feel better. By the time I was done, it was nearly midnight, and I knew I had to get that girl (Turns out she had never even been given a name, man bun had bought her from some Russian deep web site where they sold off the kids that were born to their trafficked hookers.) some medical help. I propped Jensen up in his computer chair, and, even though he was already dead, I couldn’t help but take a few more shots at him. Then I dialed 911, and told them I had found a dead body at this address.

When I got out to the jeep, I saw that the girl had fallen asleep, and that her guard dog, had curled up with her. Her little arms were wrapped around the dog’s neck, hugging her fiercely. AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING ALMOST CRYING!? I needed to get this girl some help, and the only person I could think of was Monica.

Monica was a hang around for the club. She REALLY wanted to be an Ole Lady, but every member that tried to nail her down, got turned away. She was mix raced (Black and Irish, fiery and proud) and she was fucking gorgeous. One of the only reasons I never tried anything with her, was because of how hot she was. Like I stated earlier, I am NOT a good looking man, and as easy as it would have been to simply fuck a hang around, something about this girl was intimidating. She was nearly as tall as I was, her light caramel colored skin was fucking flawless, her hair was frizzy, but more like an Irish redhead kind of frizzy, not nappy like a lot of mixed race people. Her facial features were the best mix of features, she had the full pouty lips of the black, with the high cheek bones, and slim nose and jaw of the Irish, and electrifying bright green eyes. But I think it was how smart she was that kept me away. She was a trained surgical nurse, and had spent seven years in the army patching up mangled soldiers before coming back stateside, and hooking up with The Hellions. She was exactly what I needed right now.

It was nearly one in the morning when I started banging on her door. She had, apparently, inherited a small home from her parents, and she lived there, alone, with only the occasional patched member staying the night. But there I was, a small, tightly wrapped little bundle in my arms, a skinny, but cute dog at my left, banging on her door like a swat officer about to breach. She opened the door, and Jesus guys, I’m telling you, I had to give her a double take before I could speak. She was wearing a teeny little spaghetti string tank top, and a pair of sky blue boy shorts, and my dick started trying to think for me. “Nails?” her voice, even though clogged by sleep, was still breathy and dark, it was another of the things I think intimidated me, it was so hot. “It’s one in the fucking morning, what are you doing here?”

“I need your help Monica, and I need it right now.” was all I said, as I tried handing her the girl. Now… I say I tried, and that’s exactly what it was, me trying. As soon as I held her out to Monica, she surged out of my hands like a spring under pressure, and latched herself onto me. She was shaking, not trembling, fucking shaking, like she was having a seizure, and whimpering in my ear. The longer I was in this little girl’s presence, the more I thought I let Jensen off WAY too fucking easy. Monica gave me that ‘What the fuck!?’ look, and I shrugged as I started talking, “I found her in Jensen’s basement. Turns out, now we know why he never hooked up with any of the hang arounds. But she’s in a bad way, and I can’t bring her to a hospital, she’s got no paperwork, and according to what he said before I finished with him, she doesn’t even have a name!”

Monica’s face went from puzzled, to outraged, and right into furious. But as soon as I pushed back the hood covering the little girl’s face, the only thing I saw was concern. Surprisingly, I thought, she looked even prettier then, than when she was trying to be seductive. Again guys, I’ll be honest here, I had NO clue what I had just stepped into, but shit inside of me was getting so turned around, I was having a hard time finding straight. This fucking night was almost too much for me. “Come with me,” Monica whispered, as she gently touched the girl’s cheek, and led me to the smaller of her two spare bedrooms, “Put her on the bed, I need to get her a sedative, and an antibiotic. As soon as she’s asleep, I’ll start trying to patch her up.” I laid her down, and her dog (I thought of the dog as hers, since, she was gonna need something to look out for her, when I was gone) hopped up on the bed, and laid down next to her protectively. I watched as Monica prepped a small syringe, and turned to walk out of the room, until Monica’s voice stopped me. “Hey Nails?” I turned to her, and, again, I’m not sure why, but my heart dropped into my stomach, when I saw her smiling at me “I didn’t think you had this kind of care in you. I’m glad I was wrong.”

I TRIED to smile back, but by this point in the day I was mentally exhausted, and my grin shot up instead… And FUCK ME, twice in one fucking day, I met someone that could take both barrels of it, and not flinch. She kept that smile on her face, and looked me dead in the eye right through it. I could make a man like fucking HARVEY shudder with that grin, but a horrifically abused little girl, and a hang around who used to avoid me like the plague, could take it like I had just offered them a fucking ice cream. I couldn’t help it, I retreated like the french during World War Two.

It was nearly two hours later, and I was sitting in Monica’s living room, in a nearly broken down Laz-E-Boy, when she came back out. I could see that she had been crying, and she was hugging herself tightly, as she sat down on the couch. “OK Nails, I did everything I could for her. But there is a lot of damage that’s gonna have to heal on its own, but she’s gonna survive,” her voice was thick, and I could tell she was on the verge of crying again, “Now, please, PLEASE, tell me you didn’t let that mother fucker live!” she actually choked out that last word, as she started sobbing.

This was still a night of firsts for me, and I can’t seem to say this enough, but I had no idea why I was doing it. I got up, and pulled Monica into a hug, and it wasn’t a hug that said, ‘We’re about to fuck, get ready!’ I was legit trying to comfort her. I gently stroked her back, and rubber her shoulders, as I rocked her back and forth, shushing her as she wept into my chest. “Don’t worry Money,” I said softly, using the nickname the other hang arounds had given to her, “You know how Nails takes care of shit,” I had to stop and clear my throat, because it felt like I was about to fucking cry. AGAIN WITH THIS TEARS BULLSHIT! “I left him sitting at his desk, with a mountain of evidence in front of him. Dead. He never gets to hurt anyone ever again.”

She pushed me back into the chair, and sat down on the couch close to me, her eyes were bright with a weird mix of anger, and happiness. “Details Nails. I want FUCKING details!” You ever see a chick so pissed she can somehow manage to talk without moving her lips? Monica did just that, I mean she was fucking SNARLING mad. I’m pretty sure, if she had the power, she would have resurrected Jensen, just for the pleasure of murdering him, over and over again. Know what else I noticed about that time too? Monica was fucking HOT when she was angry! But right now, she wanted details, so details she got.

It didn’t take me long to explain it all, but I started at Jersey Giant, and went all the way through to banging on her door. I wasn’t emotional about it, I didn’t get choked up, and thank fucking Christ, I didn’t feel like I was about to cry, while I spoke to her. But I told her everything I did to Jensen, including every nail I popped into his worthless ass. When I was done, Monica smiled at me, and WHAT a fucking smile! Of course this was just before she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me so tight I almost choked, and then kissed me on the cheek…

OK… I feel this needs to be said now, before I continue. Up to this point in my life, that was the first kiss on the cheek I had gotten since I was five or six. My mom had stopped kissing my cheek when she realized the kind of monster I was becoming. So… When Monica kissed me on the cheek like that, I think anyway, it had a harder impact on me, than if she had hit her knees and started blowing me. I actually felt that little kiss in my fucking TOES. And from the way she looked at me, it seemed like, she was feeling the same way. Those bright green eyes of hers were wide open, and staring at me like I’d just mushroom stamped her.

“You ummm…” she stuttered, and even that, coming from her, was hot, “You should probably go do something about Jensen’s jeep, before it’s reported missing. Come back here when it’s all done, you can crash in the spare bed.”

So I did. I drove it to the playground, A FUCKING BLOCK from his house, and torched it. I walked to my bike, which just happened to take me past Jensen’s place, where cops were crawling all over it like ants on a carcass. I imagined the detectives inside weren’t going to be spending a whole lot of time trying to find that scum bag’s killer. I followed the four blocks up and over to my bike, threw on my colors, and beat pavement back to Monica’s. By the time I got there, I was so tired, I simply walked in, found an empty bed, and collapsed.

I woke up to a smell I hadn’t experienced since before I left home. Fresh brewed coffee, and MY GOD, did it smell like an angel just came on my upper lip! Of course it wasn’t until I sat up, that I realized two things. First, I wasn’t in my shitty little efficiency. Yeah, I know, even after four years I was still in that one room palace. The plus side of it was, because I lived so cheap, I had stashed aside almost two hundred grand between snatch and grabs, and my cut on any job I pulled for the club. Combine that with the money I now had from Jensen, and life was looking pretty good. The second thing I noticed was, some time in the night, someone had stripped me down to my boxers. And of course, following the life logic of the past twenty four hours, I noticed this about a second before Monica walked out of the master bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around her head. And fucking naturally, my dick decided THAT was provocation enough to make its own appearance, as the traitorous fucker slid its way out the fly of my shorts.

“I’ve never been given a standing ovation this early in the morning,” I swear, the smile on her face was scarier than any grin I’ve ever shot anyone in my life. It fucking paralyzed me, and I didn’t know what to say, but there was something about her, that just left me tongue tied. “Don’t worry Nails, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” that same smile she gave me last night was painted across her face again, “Though, I gotta say, nothing quite so… Monolithic,” and she turned around and gave me a view of an ass, that HAD to have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

“I’m uhhh…” What the fuck was wrong with me these last two days? I couldn’t think, act, or fucking talk straight. I had to get this shit figured out. “I think I’m gonna go see if the kid is awake yet.” As I pulled my pants and shirt back on, and beat a hasty retreat out of Monica’s room.

I walked into the kid’s room, to see her huddled under my hoodie, and the blanket, her little arms wrapped around her dog’s neck. The hood was pulled up, blanking her face in deep shadows, and all I saw of her were the grubby little fingers of her hands, and dark, fearful eyes, watching me warily, taking in every move I made. When I got close to the bed, her dog whimpered a little, and her tail gave a few little wags. When I stopped at the foot of the bed, I whispered, “Heya kid, you hungry?” Her arms tightened around the dog’s neck when I stopped walking, but, and this I’ll never understand for the rest of my fucking life, as soon as I started talking, she relaxed, and looked up at me, with the biggest brightest gray eyes I have ever seen, and at the word ‘hungry’ began nodding like a bobble head doll. “OK then, you wait here, I’ll get you some food, and then you can eat alright?” I got another rapid nod of her head, and so I turned and walked out of the room.

I was pulling on my boots when Monica came down the hall, “I’m going to get breakfast at Mickey D’s, what are you having?” I asked as I slid my colors back on. She gave me her order, and smiled at me again, and I nearly walked into the door when the full force of it hit me. Fuck me man, I think someone slipped me something, cus this was definitely NOT me.

I took the bike down the road to the fast food joint, walked inside, and ordered almost thirty dollars worth of food. You ever see a kid who thinks he’s tough finally get a look at someone who he knows can break him? The little punk behind the counter was one of those kids. When I walked in I heard him talking about some fight or other, where he had apparently “almost killed that lil nigga” and how hard he had hit him. It was like listening to Ricky Marten giving advice on how to pick up chicks, THATS how full of shit this kid was. Of course he stopped talking, when the two teenaged girls he was trying to impress went pale as sheets, looking at me. And he nearly shit his pants when he turned around and saw a full patched outlaw standing there, annoyed that my order hadn’t been taken yet. I left him with one piece of advice as I left, and that was to “pull up your fucking pants, you look like a fag hooker trawling for cock”. Of course the laughter of his two little fangirls made it all the worse for him.

Back at Monica’s I handed her her surprisingly large order, two bacon egg and cheese biscuit’s, and three hash browns, for a girl who could only weigh maybe a buck twenty, I had no idea where she was gonna put it. I also had no idea what the kid liked, so I picked her up a bunch of everything. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, you name it, I wanted her to eat everything she wanted. I also got four sausage biscuits for her dog too, poor thing hadn’t eaten since she took down half my beef jerky yesterday.

The dog didn’t seem to care what was in my hand, as long as it was food, and she devoured all four in a few bites each, her tail wagging hard enough to pop into the kid’s side with a slapping sound. The sensation, apparently, was a nice one, because she actually smiled at it. And then her eyes went wide as saucers, as I started unloading the bags full of food in front of her. Seeing the expression, and I don’t really know how to describe it, she looked half afraid, half stunned, as I opened all the containers full of food and placed them in front of her, it nearly broke something inside of me. Fucking Jensen, now I KNEW I had let him off WAY too fucking light.

She didn’t even try using the fork I tried handing her, she tore into everything with her bare hands, stuffing her mouth full of food until she could barely chew. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down kid,” I said, worried she was gonna get sick, “No one’s taking your food away, eat all you want, but slow down, you’ll hurt yourself.” I took hold of her hands, thinking to stop her from just cramming it all into her mouth. She froze, and started trying to scramble away from me, abject terror written all over her face. Again, I didn’t know how to respond to this, so I used my fallback and shot her my grin. She stopped fighting, and looked me in the fucking eye again, and smiled back at me. What. The. FUCK!? “Just slow down kid, eat it all if you want, but slow down, I don’t want you throwing it all up.” Apparently this got the point across, because she managed to swallow the giant mouthful of food, and then began eating at a more reasonable pace.

While she was engrossed in her breakfast, I grabbed the sausage egg and cheese mcgriddle I had ordered for myself, and took the dog outside into Monica’s back yard. The poor dog obviously had to go pretty bad, because she took off like a fucking dart, and ran behind a huge pine bush to take care of business. I was standing on the porch waiting for the dog to finish up, when Monica came outside with a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to me.

“Can I ask you a question Nails?” the request caught me off guard, in the past twelve hours, she had spoken to me more, than in the past year she had been with the club.

“You just did,” I know, I know, pretty fucking witty of me right? Yeah, here I am standing next to a chick so hot she intimidated ME, and I go for witty sarcasm. Jesus, I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me! “Of course you can ask me a question Money, the only time I don’t answer questions is when they’re asked by cops,”

“Why’d you save her?”

Again, FUCKING AGAIN! I had to bite back an impulse to burst into fucking tears. These girls were bad for me, I knew it, deep down inside, I knew they would probably get me killed one day, but also knew, for some reason, I wasn’t about to let them go. “I dunno, honestly. I saw what that prick was doing, and what he had already done, and…” I shrugged, there were no words in my vocabulary, that I could string together, in any combination, that could define what I had felt at the instant I decided to save the kid.

“You could have left her for the cops to find, you could have dropped her off at a church, or a hospital, no questions asked,” I could feel it, she was pressing me, for what, I had no clue, but she was pressing me. The problem was, the only response I had to being pressed, was to press back, with my fists, and I didn’t want to hit her. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be some kind of monster, I’ve done terrible shit, to so many people, and I’ve enjoyed every second of it, and all of a sudden, I didn’t want to hit someone. The very idea of it made my head hurt, like someone was pounding a rail spike through my skull. “You could have dumped her on the side of the road somewhere, and no one would have questioned why ‘That bad mother fucker Nails’ would have done something like that. But you came here looking to help her. Why?”

I finished my coffee, in one long BURNING fucking gulp, and just looked out over the fence surrounding her back yard. “I don’t know Money,” what a lame fucking excuse, but it was the fucking truth, I had no clue, “I just did what I always do, I did what felt natural,”

She just fucking smiled at me, and walked inside, “I’m gonna give her a bath, give us about an hour or so, then she can have her dog again OK?” of course I just nodded, wondering what the fuck I was gonna do now.

As it happens, the kid had honey blonde hair that took Monica almost an hour of washing to come clean. And once her skin was actually bare of all the dirt and grime Jensen had forced her to live with, it was a pale olive. She was also painfully underweight, and according to Monica, around eight years old, judging by her mixture of baby, and adult teeth. Fucking Jensen…

I spent the next few days between the clubhouse, and Monica’s, I made one stop by my place, and that was to grab the duffel bag full of my cash reserve, and drop it off. I didn’t need four years of my life going up in smoke when some dope fiend kicked my door in. I brushed off Jensen’s death, and the ensuing investigation behind what was found in his house. Always falling back on the line “I knew there was something I didn’t like about that fucker” but I studiously avoided any questions about the way he died, and how it looked like something I would have done.

Finally on day five of this fucking roller coaster I’d been on, I got cornered by Harvey, and he put it to me. “You kill Jensen Nails?” jeez with the voice he had, that question nearly made my blood freeze. “You been busy these days kid, and it sure looks like something you’d’a pulled,”

I was so fucking glad Monica had seen some shit like this coming, and she came up with the perfect story for it. And damn if it didn’t hit Harvey like a brick, “I been busy yeah. But I been busy taking care of my kid.” I swear you could have knocked him over with a feather. I spun him the story about some chick I knocked up back home, sending my daughter ‘Rebecca’ to live with me, so I’d been out of my head trying to get my life wrapped around being a dad, when I never had one of my own.

So that became my life for the next six months. Monica didn’t so much invite me, but showed up at at my apartment one day with boxes, and packed me up, moving me into her house, so I could help keep an eye on Rebecca… ah, Rebecca… The day after my talk with Harvey, I told her I had decided to call her Rebecca. The smile on her face, and the dry, unused voice of that little girl, as she repeated her name… Fuck me man, I nearly cried again, these girls were gonna fucking kill me!

It cost me nearly twenty grand, but I had the full compliment of official documents made up for her, with my name as her father. Jesus, I was now a father, and for the first time in my life, I was actually content with what my life seemed to be becoming.

It was the day after those documents were complete, I was sitting in, what had become, my chair, after dinner. I had never been a big fan of TV, so I had not turned it on, I just sat, looking out the window, wondering why I was doing everything I was doing. When a little hand, still slightly sticky, from the ketchup that it had dipped french fries in, touched my fingers. I looked down into the, now bright, and somehow, happy eyes, of Rebecca. “Daddy?” her voice was still unfamiliar, she rarely spoke, having had to be retaught how, “Ky’have hug?” that fucking did it, those eyes, that had been so empty, and then so scared, were now sincere and loving as she looked at me, asking me to touch her in a way she had never asked before. Her hands extended, looking to wrap themselves around my neck, as she looked to be comforted, by someone who never showed comfort to anyone in his life.

I wrapped my arms around her gently, and pulled her up onto my leg, as I felt her arms go around my neck. She squeeze me tightly “Thank you daddy, for saving me,” I broke. I fucking broke. Everything inside of me, that had been carved out of stone. The part of me that made me the monster I had always been, didn’t crack, it didn’t break, those simple words, and that simple gesture, dropped a fucking atom bomb on them. They fucking vaporized under the simple touch of this little girl, that I had saved. And behind that wall, was a single, irrevocable truth about my life. This little girl was a microcosm of every terrible act I had ever committed. And here she was, hugging me, because of one act of kindness, that I couldn’t even explain. And right then and there, I knew, I had to do everything I could to help, and protect, this girl. I tightened my arms around her, buried my cheek into her hair, and I cried.

Yeah, I know, so shut the fuck up about it. I cried like I had never cried in my life, even as a child. I wept hard, bitter, icy tears as I remembered everything that Jensen had done to this little girl. I thought of all the suffering she had had to live through, and I cried all the harder. I rocked Rebecca gently, as I cried, and whispered promises into her ear, telling her no one was ever going to hurt her again.

I rocked Rebecca gently, hugging her close, sniffing occasionally, and smoothing her hair, until I felt her fall asleep in my arms. I looked up, and realized it was dark, the sun had set, and I was sitting in the dark, holding one of the few bright spots in my life. And then I saw her. Monica was standing in the kitchen door, her arms crossed, and smiling at both of us. For the first time, in the entire time I knew her, that smile didn’t smash me, but made me feel like a real human being. She took Rebecca from me, and gently carried her to her room, still smiling.

I was still sitting there, in the dark, wondering where the fuck everything that had just happened, had come from. When Monica suddenly slipped into my lap, naked, and wrapped her arms around my neck, and slammed me back into the chair, with a kiss the likes of which I have never had in my life. Her tongue gently traced its way along my mouth, urging me to open, and when I did, it drove in, lashing against my own. The sensation was… Well it was really… Alright, I’m gonna be honest here. If you offered me one billion dollars, and put a gun to my head, I wouldn’t be able give you an accurate description of what it felt like to receive my first kiss from Monica.

We were suddenly hungry, our hands pulling and tearing at each other, as we both struggled to consume more of one another. Her small, soft, hands slid under my shirt, and she shocked the hell out of me. She had some trouble pulling the shirt up over my thick frame, and, I can only guess it was either impatience, or desperation, but she actually tore my shirt from hem to collar! “Nails!” she growled into my mouth, as she caught my lower lip in her teeth, “If you don’t help me get these fucking clothes off of you,” I swear there was a fire in her eyes, and seeing it, turned my cock from a baseball bat, into a fucking iron bar, as she kept talking, “I’m gonna get a fucking knife, and cut them off you!”

Needless to say I was naked in fucking NO TIME! A man does not tell a woman THIS gorgeous, to wait. I don’t think my pants had the chance to fully settle on the floor, before Monica was launching herself into my body. Her arms and legs wrapped around me, and I got another of those kisses that I felt so deeply in my body, it made the soles of my feet tingle. I was ready this time, and I kissed her right back, our tongues searching to find the deepest parts of our bodies. I slid my hands down her long, slender back, to find that ass. MY GOD! What an ass! I swear it should be put on a stand, and shown off in the finest museums in the world! Her cheeks filled my hands, until I could just curl my fingers down around the edge of them, and she moaned deep into my mouth when I squeezed.

“You’re such an idiot Nails,” she whispered, as she kissed her way across my cheek until she was breathing in my ear, “I’ve been waiting for you to do this for over a year. Now take me to bed, and fuck me!” and she bit my earlobe as I felt her hand slide down my stomach and grab my cock.

The cock grab took precedence over the words, and, still holding onto the ass that would plague my dreams for the rest of my life, I BOLTED for that bedroom! By the time I toed the door closed behind us, Monica’s legs were locked behind my waist, and she was grinding her scalding hot pussy against the underside of my cock. I walked us to her bed, and knee walked up the mattress until her back settled into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. We hadn’t stopped kissing the entire time, and felt very reluctant to remove my lips from hers. Of course, she took the choice away from me as she pulled her mouth away from mine, and whispered to me, “Nails, I’ve been trying to get your attention for almost a year now, now, do me a favor, and get that cock in me NOW!” and the hand holding my dick in a vice, guided my knob to her soaking wet cunt.

I was seated at her entrance, and her eyes went round as hubcaps when I pushed into her pussy… I would swear this on a stack of fucking bibles, but this was absolutely, the single most amazing cunt my cock had ever been in. She was as hot as a furnace, and wet as the Amazon in the rainy season, and it felt like every muscle in her was trying to lock themselves around my cock. I kept pushing into her, my eyes locked onto hers, until my balls came to rest on that magnificent ass. The tip of my head was nudging a hard little lump inside of her, and knew I was touching her cervix, and her gasping moan told me she loved it.

I couldn’t believe the feelings I was getting from her pussy, it was like it was custom made for my dick, and I had to clench my teeth to stop myself from firing off right then and there. Monica’s hands tightened into a death grip on the back of my neck, as I pushed her left knee up to her shoulder, and her right leg out to the side. We were beyond words, we both knew what we wanted, and that this was not going to be some bullshit like in the movies. This was not going to be making love, like you see in the romances, this was gonna be fucking, and it was exactly what we both wanted.

I pulled my cock back, luxuriating in the feel of her ultra tight cunt rippling around me, and then thrust back inside of her, with a fierce grunt. Monica squealed in the back of her throat, as she felt my cock head again bump into her cervix. The position I held her hips in, allowed me complete access to her body. I pulled her body back into me, using my grip on her legs for leverage, causing my thrusts to elongate, as I pushed them away on the out stroke, and toward me on the in stroke. I swear, it was like every muscle inside her pussy was consciously trying to mold itself to the shape of my cock on every stroke.

I was grunting like an idling motor, as I slapped my hips into hers, causing her clit to grind along the entire length of my cock with every stroke. Her breath was coming in short, heavy, gasps every time my pubic bone slammed into hers. I forced myself to tear my eyes away from hers, as I looked down and watched her tits bounce with every thrust. Her tits were large, but not ungodly huge, (I would learn later that she was a 36C) and had a pear shape to them, that allowed them to sway freely, without having that strange saggy look most black chicks with large tits seem to have. They were topped with a gorgeous set of milk chocolate brown nipples, that were almost as thick as the tip of my pinky. And watching them move spurred me on, it was like they were begging me to fuck harder, wanting me to see how wild their movements would become.

And damned if I didn’t answer that call to action! I started thrusting my hips into Monica’s like a pneumatic drill. Pulling her back into every thrust, with every ounce of strength I had. Suddenly, and I mean out of fucking NO WHERE, her back arched, and her jaw clenched. I watched as her body was wracked with spasms, as she grabbed fist fulls of the bed sheets. I felt the already tight walls of her cunt clamp around me in a strangle hold. I slowed down, allowing her to ride her waves of pleasure, as I kept thrusting through her first orgasm, waiting for the contractions to slow enough for me to pull the next trick out of my hat.

Her back finally relaxed enough to let her take a deep breath, as she looked up at me with a Cheshire Cat smile. I wiped that smile off her face, with a single quick move. Letting go of her thighs, I slid my hands behind her back, and scooped her up to me, crushing her tits between us, causing her to squeak in surprise. I leaned in for another of those kisses I had suddenly become so addicted to, as I snaked my arms down, and under her thighs, my elbows locking into place behind her knees. Monica’s eyes shot open in surprise, as I lifted her up my cock, with only my arms. The shock turned to wonder as I let her fall back down my cock. Feeling her pussy clenching around me, as he body weight alone forced me inside of her, was a sensation unlike anything else I have ever felt. I mean to say, this wasn’t a new position for me, but HER pussy, was just THAT much better than any other I have ever been inside of!

I felt Monica wrap her arms around my neck and lean back, forcing me to support her weight with my arms, as my cock pushed itself all the way into her. Then, and I swear, she HAD to have been taking lessons from me somewhere, she grinned at me, and nodded her head. I’ll be honest here, I nearly dropped her at that. She was giving me permission to use her as my own personal jerk off tool! And use her I did! I wasn’t gentle, or loving about it, I simply tightened my grip around her waist, and began slamming her body up and down along my dick. OK… I gotta say it. If I thought her cunt felt good before, the pressure, and heat, only seemed to increase, as I slammed her down on me. It was, beyond a doubt, the most primal, animalistic, sex I have ever experienced. And she seemed to love it just as much as I did! The walls of her cunt began to spasm around my cock almost immediately, her body wracked in convulsions, as I pummeled into her.

Finally, it was more than even I could take. In one, titanic heave, I jammed my cock into her as deep as I could. And my orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks! And mean it hit me! There was no warning, no tingling that told me it was about happen. It was suddenly just… There. Without so much as ‘Hey you’re about to nut’ my dick just seemed to explode. I fired rope, after scalding rope of cum deep into Monica’s pussy, my hips jerking in small thrusts, as I embedded my seed into her body. And I guess feeling it was some sort of trigger, because no sooner had I started cumming, did her body lock into a heaving, squealing tremor, that seemed to grow more, and more intense as my orgasm continued. By the time I was done cumming, her body was stuttering, and shaking like she was having a grand mal seizure.

I lifted her up, my cock still embedded in her to the root, and held her body to mine, letting her ride out the sensations, as I kissed her around her face, and neck. The whimpering, purring sounds coming from deep inside of her throat, washing over me, like the blessings of some long dead, and forgotten fertility goddess. And somewhere, deep inside of my mind, a thought sprang up, ‘So this is what it’s like to finally be happy?’

Monica’s eyes were closed, and a smile of pure contentment was riveted across her face, as I laid her down gently on the pillows. I slowly pulled out of her white hot cunt, and rolled to her side, gasping for my own breath like man who just ran a marathon. And Jesus strike me dead, if I’m lying here, she actually moaned in disappointment, when my cock left her body!

“I have been waiting for you to do that to me since I first saw you at the clubhouse Nails,” she whispered softly, as she rolled onto her side, and wrapped her slender arm around my chest.

“Tommy,” I interrupted her gently, “My name’s Tommy. I can’t be Nails here, I can’t be the monster Nails is, with you or Becky,” I was trying to explain to her how, by the widest margin of improbability, that they were now my family. And in order to BE my family, I had to be Tommy Granthem. “Nails would have simply torched Jensen’s house, collateral damage be damned. Nails would have already been dressed, and hopping on his bike, not lying here enjoying the woman of his dreams lying next to him…”

I never got the chance to finish my thought, as Monica launched herself into me, and kissed me even more fiercely than she had in the living room. “Say that again!” she demanded, as her arms tightened around me, pulling her closer to my body.

“Which part?” I enquired

“That last bit!” I swear, there was an intensity in her voice, I had never heard from her, and… It kinda made my cock twitch.

“Yeah Money, you ARE the woman of my dreams. I have never experienced anything like we just did. And I don’t really wanna keep looking. At the clubhouse, I HAVE to be Nails, but here, with just you, me, and Becky, I WANT to be Tommy.” I wrapped an arm around her, molding her body to mine, and kissed her temple, “Tomorrow, I’m getting your ‘Property of Nails’ patch made up. Ain’t nobody gonna claim you but me.”

The next morning I woke up, when Rebecca’s dog Bella, decided to start pouncing on Monica and I. My eyes opened slowly, as the exuberant, overgrown, puppy happily jumped around on the bed, telling us it was time to get up. I came fully awake, when I heard the bell like laughter of my little girl, trilling away on the other side of the bed. I sat up, and watched as Rebecca crawled up into the bed, and hug Monica around the neck. “Ky’call you Mommy now?” she whispered, in that loud breathy voice, that only kids can manage. And I had to wipe away my own tears, as I watched them begin to fall down Monica’s face.

Over the next few months, my life seemed to develop it’s own unique rhythm. At the clubhouse, and on club business, I was Nails. And I backed up every ounce of my reputation, if just a little bit less enthusiastically. I was still completely capable of casual violence, and it didn’t bother me if it had to happen. But at home, with Monica, and Becky, I was Tommy, and Daddy, and I had somehow found way to turn Nails off, while I was there. I discovered that the club had a daycare at one of the hang around’s places, and after a brief period of adjustment, and separation anxiety, Rebecca actually began enjoying playing and having fun around other kids. I spun the story about her mother’s new man being an abusive prick, explaining that Monica, and I were home schooling her, until she got caught back up and could join classes again on her own. It wasn’t the greatest story in the world, but with Monica there to back up the claims, and explain that she had been so isolated, that she had to relearn how to talk, it was believable enough that no one bothered to question it.

Over that same period of time, we had members come by the house, usually just a social visit, with guys who were my friends. You know, watch football, have a small cook out with their Ole Ladies, and kids. It might surprise you to know, but being an outlaw biker, does not mean guns, blood, crime, and violence 24/7. There are a lot of times, where all you’re doing is waiting on the next job, or going out and making money on your own. I had given up on smash and grabs, now that I had someone other than myself to worry about. But you’d be amazed at how much money a high end bar or nightclub is willing to pay a patched biker to be their security.

I was working at this place called Secrets, a downtown dance club, that, in my opinion anyway, was way too lax. They tried having me work the door to start, but my second night, I wound up throwing some punk who thought he was hot shit into traffic. The stupid fucker; one: tried sneaking airline bottles of vodka into the club, two: tried sneaking a knife into the club, and three: tried pulling the knife on me, when I told him to kick rocks. It didn’t last long, and his friends tried goading me into fighting all four of them, after they peeled their buddy off the street. The other door man actually had to explain to those college kids that it was not a good idea. The second the word Hellions came out of his mouth though, most of the crowd in front of the place seemed to disappear. So they took me inside, and had me walking the floor, breaking up, or stopping fights before they started. It was a job I actually enjoyed immensely, and the fact that I was making two hundred fifty dollars a night, just made it all the better.

Of course, life just can’t seem to let anyone have the happy ending they want right? In the course of my life taking a full one eighty, and settling into my new role as a dad, I completely forgot about Jensen. Except of course on those nights when little Becky was tormented by nightmares of her ordeal. On those nights, Monica and I held her while she cried, letting her know we were there, and that nobody was ever gonna hurt our little girl again. But the last remaining thread that was Jensen’s web, came lashing back into our lives when my doorbell rang one night just after dinner.

Pong had come by with a payout for a gun run I had put together. He never really got over his prospect’s death, and even though Harvey had cleared me on it, he never gave up the idea that I was the one who had killed him. So I was more than bit surprised when he walked in handing me my cut of the profit.

I got distracted from what he was saying when I heard a glass break behind me. I turned around and saw Rebecca, standing in the hallway, and there was abject, and all consuming fear in her eyes. Her glass of milk was shattered at her feet, and she had pissed her pants, as she stared at Pong with tears running down her face. “NO!” it was scream like I had never heard before, it was base, and primal, and she turned and bolted down the hall. I got two steps after her, when a fucking explosion rocked me from behind.

I felt two impacts, each like getting hit by a fucking bus, and suddenly I was on the floor, and I could feel blood seeping out under me. I was aware enough to see Pong walking down the hall, with a Colt 1911 in his hand, and I knew the fucker had just shot me. I could barely breathe, and every intake cause pain to rock through me like white fire. My ears were ringing, and my vision was starting to go dark, but I could barely hear Pong slamming against the heavy oak door of Monica’s bedroom. And it clicked. THIS was how Pong had known Jensen, the mother fucker had been raping Rebecca right along with him. He had hurt my little girl, and he wanted to hurt her again!

Fuck seeing red. Fuck spitting sparks. Suddenly it felt like the very fires of hell itself just erupted inside of me. I could see the baseball bat Monica kept behind the door, lying on the floor where Pong had knocked it over on his way down the hall. And it just seemed to come to my hand as if I had willed it there. Suddenly I was standing, there was no pain, there was no fear of possibly dying. There was Nails. And Nails had promised his little girl that no one would EVER hurt her again!

I made it half way down the hall before Pong broke through the door. But it didn’t matter this time. Bella, Becky’s beautiful, loyal, and loving pit bull, now fully fed, and, according to her vet, weighing one hundred ten pounds, collided with him like a snarling, frothing, berserker! Pong’s gun arm was trapped in the massive jaws of a my little girl’s dog, and she was twisting, and savaging it as if she hoped to pull it off at the elbow.

Bella’s rush, pushed Pong back, down the hall, and as soon as he took that last fatal step, I swung that fucking bat like I was Babe fucking Ruth! I smashed in the side of Pong’s head, and drove through the swing with enough force to snap his neck. But it didn’t matter, this cock sucker had hurt MY little girl! One swing was NOT ENOUGH! I kept pounding that bat down onto his broken carcass until I felt he had had enough.

I stood there, swaying, suddenly unable to draw breath. I looked down at my chest, and saw my shirt covered in my own blood. Looking back up I saw Rebecca, and Monica running down the hallway toward me. And suddenly the hallway was spinning at a vertical ninety degree angle. Just before the back of my head slammed into the floor, I heard one, long, anguished scream, “DAAAADDDDDDDYYYYYY!” and then shit went black.


I woke up in the hospital, ten days after Pong’s visit. Turns out, I had nearly both bled to death, and drowned on my own blood. It took me nearly two months to be up and running again. Having to let ribs that were broken during surgery, heal, sucks, lemme tell you THAT first hand! Monica, and Rebecca were there every day. And every day, Monica and I made our plans.

The police called the attack “gang violence”, and since I was smart enough to not keep incriminating evidence in my own house, they bought the story about Pong holding some kind of personal grudge against me. And so there was no real investigation. Harvey bought the story about him deciding to take Jensen’s death out on me, hook, line, and sinker, so I had no worry about revenge, especially seeing as he shot me in the fucking back.

I got released from the hospital on July sixth, and attended the welcome home party at the clubhouse. Though I plead pain, and fatigue, and was allowed to leave early, Monica driving me home. On July seventh, at five in the morning, the moving truck that we had hired to pack our house up, pulled away from the curb, following Monica’s little SUV down the road, to our new home. In the driveway of the house was left a ’95 Harley 883 Sportster, with the patched vest of a Hellions enforcer, and his Ole Lady on the handle bars.

Home was far, FAR, away from Lansing, and The Hellions. Monica had called around, shopped out her resume, and gotten an offer as an O.R. Surgical Assistant in Flagstaff Arizona. We had drained Jensen’s account, and piled it together with all the cash I had squirreled away, and purchased a house under a completely different set of names (again compliments of that little dive pawn shop, who did surprising work with official documents) we each had a new name, social security number, new licenses, and shit if we felt like spending the ten grand a piece, we could have had new passports too. But we didn’t need it. Nails was dead. I didn’t need him anymore. I was now Thomas Braxton, with my fiancee Monika Lewis, and our daughter Rebecca. This was what I needed, this was the life that I wanted to build.

Somewhere, in the loving hug of a little girl who had been so terribly abused it amazed me she would ever be able to love again, I had found something inside of me worth loving. I had found the ability to love, in return for the love I was being given, by the two amazing girls in my life.

I found work as, what else, private security. I started on ground, working for people who needed muscle. But eventually, I made the contacts inside the industry, and started my own business, Bella Prima Security. We do pretty well, I contract long term personal security for celebrities up and down the west coast. Combine the two incomes with Monika and I, and our little family is doing just fine. We’ve been together for four years now. Married for two. Of course now, life has it’s own little issues. For example, Rebecca is now fourteen, and she has turned into, if I may say so without sounding like a overly bragging father, a stunning young lady! Which of course brought with it, the subject of boys. Somehow she put what Jensen and Pong did to her behind her. She is a remarkably well adjusted girl, and she actually wants to date, but me being me, I’m still a very scary individual. The first boy who knocked on the door to pick my Becky up, nearly shit himself. I explained that I expected my daughter to be treated like a lady, and if I even suspected he tried to be forward with her… Well there was a whole desert out there where no one would ever find him. Needless to say Rebecca was dropped off at home, a half hour early, looking very confused as to why her date wouldn’t kiss her goodnight. I slept soundly that night.

Monika, and I are expecting a baby of our own, and according to the sonogram, it’s a boy. Rebecca is excited to have a baby brother. And I’m over the moon at how my life is now turning out. I may have been a monster at one time, sure. But even Belle found her prince under the skin of the Beast. I’m not perfect, and some days, I think it might be easier if I let Nails out of his coffin. But all I need to do is look at my family, one girl growing into a beautiful young woman, one woman blossoming into the mother of my child, to know, sometimes it’s better to do it the hard way. I keep Nails buried. And I think I’m happier for it that way.