Duke
#2 of Detective Carmine
The second chapter of Detective Carmine introduces us to bad boy Duke. This chapter features more story building, and most of the porny stuff is at the beginning. How much sex features into each chapter will probably vary significantly, based on what I've felt inspired to write and what characters are involved.
(Warning: rape, watersports, violence, vulgar language)
The bitch squealed for mercy as the fist-sized knot strained and stretched his poor, abused ring out, before popping free with a loud 'SHLORP'! Duke unceremoniously shoved the tatted-up biker face-first into the puddle of dickspit on the ground of the dirty alley. Wrapping one hand around the base of his fat rod, the leather-clad wolf growled in delight as he unleashed a torrent of hot, golden piss all over the lanky coyote whimpering beneath him. "AHHH yeah, thanks fuckface," the large lupine rumbled out while marking the subordinate gang member splayed out on the ground. "And next time, make sure you have my fuckin' money, you stupid shithead."
Duke tapped his dick a couple times to make sure he had waved off most of the piss and dredges of cum before cramming his dick into his leather pants as best he could manage. Not having waited for it to recede into his sheath, it created an obnoxiously large bulge in the crotch of his pants. A thick glob of slimy saliva was spat on his victim's face for good measure before the enforcer yanked open a beat-up, old metal door leading into the back of the bar. Marko was rolling around in pain, covered in piss and cum, but he did his best to pick himself up and limp off before Duke had the chance to send some of the other boys out back to also have their fun.
Many eyes turned to watch the imposing figure as he moved across the poorly-lit, smokey room and grabbed a beer from in front of a burly grizzly bear. The bear glowered and rumbled before dismissively waving one huge paw and ordering another beer. "So didja knock his teeth out, Duke?!" demanded a weaselly voice from the other end of the bar, a scraggly porcine peering at him.
"Come on," the wolf growled back without even looking. "You guys know what a sweetheart I am." A raucous round of laughter and catcalls circled the bar, including a loud thump of a fist impacting the bar top. "GODDAMN IT!" exploded an excited dog next to the pig. "C'mon, Don, pay up," the pig laughed while elbowing his drinking buddy. "Or maybe The Duke needs to show you what happened to Marko?"
Duke slowly turned in his seat, tugging at the winding impression in his pants created by the still-ready member. A couple smeared globs of cum decorated the top of his waistband. "We pay our debts around here, Don," Duke slowly rumbled out while giving him an intense stare. Cursing loudly, Don peeled a bunch of crumpled bills out of his pocket and smacked them down in front of the pig. "Aww, but we could have so much fun," the victorious porcine laughed and made kissy faces at the larger canine while scooping the money off the counter.
"Leftovers are in the alley, if you hurry," Duke said to no one in general while turning back to his pilfered drink. A gator and another dog at a billiards table threw their pool sticks onto the play surface, scattering balls everywhere as they rushed the door. "Easy on the fuckin' table, you bastards," the gruff hyena behind the bar shouted after them, a hurled glass shattering on the wall next to the door. The hyena bartender raced out from behind the counter looking to follow the pair. "That temper's gonna get you killed, Spike," Duke interjected before the furious hyena could run out the door.
Spike was more broad than he was tall, but the locals would compare him to a brick shit-house: although heavy set, the bartender also had arms that would put many professional bodybuilders to shame. He turned toward the larger wolf, advancing with nothing but red in his gaze and all the patrons of the rowdy establishment went silent, all eyes on the exchange. The wolf's leathers complained as he stood up from the bar stool and stared down at the raging bartender. Duke's eyes were cold and dispassionate. Somewhere in this exchange, the anaconda in his pants had finally receded back to it's lair, and the enforcer looked far more serious when he wasn't sporting a huge erection.
A couple dry-coughs were the only sounds in the room for a few seconds before the ill-tempered hyena's vision seemed to come to his senses. One outstretched hand was only a couple feet from being in Duke's face, it suddenly freezing in place. The look of rage rapidly drained away, Spike's face crumbling into a look of fear. The deflated hyena turned away and awkwardly knelt down to start carefully picking up the broken glass by the door. "Tch, whatever, Duke," the ill-tempted hyena retorted, although it was little more than a mumble.
Life returned to the patrons as they resumed their previous activities; it was like someone has briefly sucked all the air out of the establishment, and then returned it all at once. No one dare say a word about what had just happened. Duke tipped his beer bottle off the edge of the counter and it went clinking across the floor behind the bar. "Clean that shit up," the wolf growled, still looming over the hyena. "Sure, Duke," came the muted but bitter response.
The lupine didn't stand around to watch, he went to a door at the back of the bar and disappeared through it. A bored-looking bull with a shotgun sitting in an uncomfortable, small metal chair next to the door barely bothered glancing up at Duke as the huge wolf entered the room. "Duke, Duke, Duke," came a silken voice from the other side of a modest, paper-strewn desk at the back of the office. "I was wondering when you were going to drop by! I've got a job for you."
There was a sickening thud as the wooden bat clocked the restrained man in the side of the head. The victim and chair he was tied to both tipped over and crashed to the floor, the feline knocked unconscious. One eye was swollen shut and there were multiple bruises all over the puma's body, along with a gashed lip - and now presumably a concussion. Duke spun on his heel in response to the metallic clicking of a cocking gun. "The fuck're you doing?!"
A punk rat decorated in numerous piercings and wearing one of the gang's signature leather jackets was pointing a pistol at the motionless figure splayed out on the ground. "I'm finishing what you started! He's seen us, we can't just let him go!" The wolf took a step toward the rodent, pointing the baseball bat at the tag-along he had been forced to bring with him. "The boss said to send a message. He didn't say anything about killing him!"
"Pretty sure a dead body sends a stronger message that a battered one," the rat retorted, his firearm still fixed on the helpless puma. There was a loud 'THUNK' as the wooden bat impacted the gun, knocking it right out of the rat's hand and sending it skittering across the floor. A look of shock crossed the rat's face as he dropped to his knees and cupped his struck hand in the other. "My hand! I think you broke my fucking hand! What the fuck?!" Duke grabbed the rat by the shirt collar and almost effortlessly yanked him not just off the ground, but left his feet dangling in the air. bringing him in snout-to-snout, the huge wolf let out a deep, threatening growl. "We do what the boss says. The boss said send a message, not kill him. Get that through your thick skull, ratface!"
Duke had a certain way about him that made even the hardest thug stop and listen. This rat wasn't any kind of hard. Immediately putting his still-serviceable paw up in a sign of surrender, the rodent managed to squeak out: "Shit, I got it, I got it!" The huge wolf held him there for a moment longer before dropping him to the ground. "Get the gun, you stupid asshole," Duke growled out, his eyes fixed on the puma.
"You probably killed him anyway," his companion whined while he retrieved the sidearm with his good hand and stuffed it into one pocket as best he could manage. "Nah, he'll have one hell of a headache but he'll be okay. I only gave him fifty percent." There was no indication whether Duke actually believed that or not - he just looked down at the bound man with eyes hard and cold. "Have a nice night," he growled out while turning away, one large hand resting on the rat's back and shoving the punk out ahead of himself.
Marko sat in one corner of the bar, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with anyone while sipping his beer and sitting on an ice pack. The scrawny coyote had managed to escape getting caught outside the bar and limped back in later, where he promptly paid his dues; no one asked where he got the money from. As a pledge trying to earn his spot in the gang, he was a target for the existing members. He just needed to keep his head down and do what he was told - and, preferably, not have to learn too many hard lessons. Of course he'd gotten a couple indecent proposals upon his return, but no one was dragging him out back by his tail, at least.
"How ya doin', Marko?" came the deep baritone of the wolf's growly voice as he entered through the creaky, wooden front door. "Hey Duke," he answered rather flatly, pointedly avoiding looking at the huge lupine which had raped him earlier, and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Most of the gang members would argue that Marko had known what he was getting into, the newbie simply hadn't expected 'it's your ass' would be taken quite so literally if he came up short on a debt. He seemed a bit sore about the whole thing, though.
Duke promptly headed for the door at the back of the bar; although he would have been back a while ago, he had to clean up some shit after they finished roughing up the puma. "Duke, what the fuck? That kid-" Spike started in on him, but the huge wolf snarled and slammed a fist upon the bar top, sending multiple glasses careening across the surface. "Shut the fuck up about it, you don't know anything!" Although the hyena would usually have a hot-headed response to someone speaking to him like that, it was Duke and Duke seemed rather angry about the subject. Buttoning his lip, Spike chased rolling bottles and glasses across the counter before they could crash to the floor and create an even larger mess.
Both large hands slammed against the door, causing it to rattle and the handle on the other side to violently smash against its neighboring wall. Everyone in the bar went dead silent, while most of the inhabitants of the office were caught by surprise. The bull next to the door fumbled his shotgun and dropped the damn thing on the ground, a couple other men in the room leapt back in shock. Only the boss seemed entirely unfazed by the towering wolf's outburst. "Boss, that fuckin' punk tried to-" The door, having rebounded from smacking off of the wall, loudly slammed shut once more and prevented the bar-goers from hearing the rest of the outburst.
"-shoot that guy! He mighta brought all kinds of attention, had cops all over us-" An older canine behind the desk, his fur greying but still wearing the same signature leather jacket, raised both of his hands up and caused the seething enforcer to stop abruptly. "Duke, I understand the situation but did you really have to break his hand? I sent him over to Doc, but he's not sure the kid'll even get full use of his hand back." The gang had a doctor with a small practice they kept on the payroll to take care of injuries off the record; they just called him Doc. The practice wasn't successful, which made Doc a prime candidate for some illicit work on the side.
"Well what the fuck, Paul?! Did you want me to let him just-" About this time, the bull had managed to recover from his the boisterous entry and a loud 'CLACK-CLACK' filled the room as he racked the shotgun. "God damn it, Jerry, put that fucking thing away before you hurt yourself," Paul interrupted Duke's tirade once more, looking right past him at the flustered bull which had pointed the weapon at the ranting wolf. "Sorry, boss," the admonished bull mumbled, both looking and sound as forlorn as a scolded child. There was a loud squeak as he settled back into his small, metal chair.
"Look, you're given far more latitude than anyone else in the gang, definitely a lot more than I should let you have. I let you come and go as you please. I usually let you pick your own crew. You're my best guy. But god damn, I ask you to show this kid the ropes and you bust up his hand, and put me in a real fucking awkward situation." Paul had built the gang from the ground-up almost by himself. Sure, they were wrapped up in a lot of stuff that society didn't like, but they were also outcasts, misfits. They were a family of the miscreants that didn't fit into society anyway, scrounging for whatever scraps of freedom they could salvage from the gutter. Sometimes that meant making agreements or doing favors that even Paul didn't want to be wrapped up in, and that's where Duke shined the brightest.
Duke took a step back and folded his hands in front of him - something very few other people would ever see. Turning his head down, for a moment there was a glimpse of a lost and scared puppy, albeit a giant one. "Yes, boss," the huge wolf responded. Paul sighed and leaned on the table, rubbing the top of his slender, brown-peppered-silver snout. He was a borzoi mutt, and it had taken a long time for him to earn the respect and following he had now with his silky voice and charming visage. "Look, go lay low for a few days and don't get yourself in anymore trouble while I get this mess cleaned up, alright?"
The Duke that left the bar was far different from the one that entered, and that fact alone was more disturbing to the rest of the gang than anything else.