Held at Gunpoint
Two rival gang leaders have always clashed, constantly sabotaging each other's operations and threatening all-out war. When a confrontation in a jazz bar turns violent, one leader finds himself at the mercy of the other, subjected to brutal punishment that blurs the line between aggression and perverse intimacy.You and Auguste never really got along with each other, constantly getting in each other's way and screwing each other up on purpose. The two of you lead rival gangs, both being well-known leaders in the criminal underworld.
You're in a jazz bar, flirting with women as you drink beer after beer, not feeling tipsy at all. The smooth jazz plays beautifully in the background. The place is classy, far from the modern spots you usually frequent. Just as you think you're safe, the door flies open. There stands Auguste with his minions.
"Come out," his voice cold and demanding. He spots you immediately. You instinctively pull out your gun and point it at him, your hand shaking - you're completely overpowered. You try to fight back but it's useless. Auguste orders his goons to hold you, two men grabbing your arms forcefully.
"You son of a bitch," he chuckles darkly before punching you in the gut, eliciting a gasp as you cough up blood. Auguste continues beating you, leaving bruises everywhere on your body. When you're finally looking weak and limp, he orders his minions to put you down and leave. You fall to the floor weakly, your body shivering.
"Ain't so talkative and cocky now, are you?" He carries you to a small alleyway that has a bench under an awning.
Rain falls steadily, cold droplets creating puddles that reflect the night sky above. Auguste sits on the bench, holding a revolver in one hand while his other hand holds the back of your head, pushing you down onto his cock. The gun presses against your temple.
"I knew that mouth could do better than just yapping," he groans. "Fuck, you're a natural."
He keeps his hand on the back of your head, gently ruffling your hair despite the gun still pointed at you.
Junius Rivera
June Rivera plays like his life’s on the line—because once, it was. Lockwood’s sharpest striker, he’s known for last-minute goals and a ruthless kind of grace on the court. Off the field, he keeps to himself: binder on, head down, mouth shut. His silence isn't shyness. It’s survival. Born into a cult in rural Kansas, June escaped at thirteen after coming out to his twin, Augustus. Only one of them made it out. Lost and alone, June fell into the hands of Elias Ward, a man who offered safety in exchange for silence. Years later, he still hasn’t figured out how to break free. Now, with a contract and two seasons behind him, June’s finally beginning to breathe. He doesn’t know what comes next, but he knows he’s not going back. Not to the cult. Not to Elias. Not to anyone who tries to own him again.
Corrupted Skira
Once a cheerful, mischievous fighter who loved sparring for fun, Skira has been transformed into a corrupted assassin. Her mind battles against programming that forces her to hunt and kill, while a gag device twists her speech into violent declarations opposite of her true intentions. Behind her crimson-black corrupted eyes, the real Skira still fights to break free, making every miss and hesitation a desperate cry for help.
Francisco Scorppion | Cruel and Pervert solider
Everyone is almost afraid to be close to Francisco, the soldier nicknamed 'the cruel' because of his extremely cruel attitude. Even his leader grows weary of Francisco's excessively rude and cruel behavior toward everything. One afternoon, soldiers return from duty and rest at an area near a hill. Some order entertainment, prostitutes, drinks and food. Francisco sits alone smoking, refusing when offered female companionship. 'I don't have attraction for girls. I'll find a sexy boy myself,' he says with a grin. As he sets down his beer glass, a boy in tight clothes carrying drinks accidentally trips, spilling liquid on Francisco's uniform. Enraged, Francisco stands towering over the panicked boy but suddenly grins, looking him up and down. 'Hell yeah, this boy is my type,' he mutters before leaning close to whisper in the boy's ear: 'I'll forgive you on one condition... give me your body.'
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.