tagNovels and NovellasBy Demon's Driven

By Demon's Driven


Author's note: The story is part of Literotica's unofficial tag team competition. Twenty of Literotica's authors have accepted the challenge of being randomly paired with a partner to co-author a story under the pen name "The_Odd_Couplings." The pairings have remained anonymous and the true authors of this story will be revealed in the comments section one week from today.

Disclaimer: Because part of the fun of this challenge is the secrecy of the partners I would like to ask that readers and fellow authors alike refrain from posting their guesses in the comments section as we would like the scoring to be as fair as possible.

- - By Demons Driven - -

"Oh, I don't think so." JD muttered as the light turned yellow.

The light was a five way stop and Miranda had told him to get his ass to the club and fast. He gunned the engine of the gray sixty nine Firebird and went into the oncoming lane to pass the van in front of him. Cutting back across, he flew under the light just as it turned red.

A glance in the mirror showed the van driver flipping him off and JD was sure he had blasted the horn, but couldn't hear it over the sound of Hinder's 'American Nightmare' blasting through the speakers loud enough to cause the car to vibrate. Every note of the song caused a sharp pain in his already aching head, but he hadn't stopped for coffee and needed to clear last night's Tequila from his head.

He took the corner fast and hard, causing the tire's to squeal. Partway through the turn he punched the accelerator sending the car into a fishtail. Grinning, he yanked the wheel in the opposite direction, eased off the gas then floored it. The car rocked before straightening and shot down the street at over seventy. When he reached the next corner he slowed the car down to turn, then slammed on the brakes.

"Motherfuckers." He hissed, staring at the sign for "The Devil's Playground."

The eight foot square sign featured a blond woman in a revealing Devil's costume complete with horns, tail and his favorite part, an airbrushed protruding forked tongue waving proactively. She was surrounded by flames and written across the bottom were the words, "Hotter than Hell."

Spray painted in thick black letters across the sign were the words, "Salvation, not sin, is the answer!" below that was "Heaven rewards the saint not the sinner!"

"Bullshit." He muttered, "Most saints were murdered by the idiots they were trying to save."

Removing his Foster Grant sunglasses, JD looked into the mirror. His normally bright emerald green eyes were currently dull and surrounded by red. The back room of the club had been open for forty eight straight hours to entertain a group from New Orleans and he'd stayed the entire time making sure everything stayed sane and safe. Well, as sane as possible when dealing with a group of people whose capacity for perversion was matched only by the wealth able to procure that level of debauchery.

JD had been requested to participate in quite a few of the weekends festivities. Between the sex, the drinking and watching a non-stop orgy that would make one of Caligula's feasts look like a square dance, he had reached the end of even his legendary endurance. He'd finally staggered home at three am and Miranda had called him less than six hours later.

He doubted she would call just for the graffiti and after rubbing his burning eyes drove down the long narrow road that led to the Playground. The club was located near the shipyard and there were no residential properties, just warehouses and businesses, making it a perfect location for a sex club. No nosy neighbors creeping around or kids that neighborhood groups could use as an excuse to close him down or get him to move.

Not that the club hadn't had its share of threats, but when the backroom clientele featured a senator, several councilmen, two members of the DA's office and as extra insurance a female judge who when not in her black robe could be found in The Playground in a dog crate begging to suck cock through the bars and be fucked in the ass.

But lately another threat was rising in form of Reverend Zachary Knox a fire and brimstone preacher whose church, The Sacred Truth was currently the second largest in Boston. Knox had been even bigger down south. His ministry in Alabama had been popular enough to have a weekly television show. Five years ago Knox had stepped down as Pastor of the original Sacred Truth saying that God wanted him to spread his word to others around the country nd headed up east.

Once his church became popular Knox had started a family values kick targeting adult bookstores and the local strip clubs. Knox had forced Cheaters doors to close last year by making enough noise and gathering enough support to drive their clientele away. Not that JD cared, it was one competitor out of the way and he had hired three of their best girls and their top bouncer.

But Cheaters and the other clubs were mostly just skin factories, stripping, lap dances and that was it. A couple of clubs had backrooms where the strippers would fuck the clients, but it was quick, get them in, get them out sex and most of the money went right back into the drugs sold there.

The Devil's Playground was a strip club to the public, but behind the scenes a full out fetish club where a man or woman could find anything they desired. Group sex, hardcore BDSM, foot fetish, rape fantasies, humiliation, no matter how bizarre the kink, if it was requested and paid for, JD's staff could provide it. Unlike the other meat markets JD's girls were not just strippers, but high end prostitutes from across the country he had lured to work for him.

The Playground differed from the other clubs by having a section for the ladies and all his male dancers were former escorts and sex club workers. Three of them were bisexual which along with the women who would swing both ways gave a client every possible option to enjoy. Having started out as an escort and stripper himself years ago, JD knew how to keep the employees happy. They were well paid, had choices in what they did and if any of them had personal issues he would do what he could to help.

Granted it wasn't that JD considered himself all that nice of guy, but it was smart business. He lured people from other clubs, but no one ever deserted him. The fact he retained the same people and they were professionals, not coke heads and street whores, gave his wealthy clients confidence that their secret desires would be handled with discretion in addition to getting the best of everything they wanted. Most importantly unlike the other clubs no drugs were allowed to be used or sold in the Playground.

Any person found using or dealing was fired and any client would be told not to come back. If they used they could do it on their time, sex and lust were the only vices served at his club. That helped with getting the police and other authorities off his back. There was rarely any real trouble at the Playground and the occasional trouble maker could easily be handled by his bouncers or JD himself if he was in a shit mood and felt like getting out a little frustration.

No, the Devil's Playground was just that; a playground of the flesh. Straight up sexual satisfaction no matter what flavor you craved. The club had just celebrated its tenth anniversary and JD was making a killing and was not shy about doling out bonuses and gifts to again ensure the loyalty of the best sex workers on the coast. Any past threats had always been dealt with quickly, but this fruitcake was proving a problem and JD's gut, which he trusted above all else, told him Knox wasn't going to0 go away easily.

That feeling was confirmed when JD pulled into the large parking lot and saw the dozen men and women walking around the front of the club holding up signs with assorted religious propaganda scrawled across them.

"Fucking great."

This had started a few days ago with just a pair of the lemmings hanging around and handing flyers for Knox's church out to the customers and employees. JD hadn't cared too much, but within three days there was a half dozen and they were engaging the clients in conversation warning of sin and God's judgment. Most of the people laughed it off, but a few had commented on them and JD had gone out there and asked them to leave.

They'd done so without argument, but were back the next day and this time with a couple of guys in suits who claimed they were Deacons of The Sacred Truth. They told JD they were not going away this time and they were breaking no laws as long they were peaceful. JD had called the police which was when it was explained to him that although he owned his building and it was private property, the large parking lot was nothing more than an open area of the cities property and they were within their rights to be there.

When he protested he was asked if he paid any rent or taxes for using the cities property? JD promptly backed down not wanting to expose the fact a local councilman had made it so he didn't have to. The Church goers were a nuisance, but not enough to stir up real shit, that was until now. Not only the sign, but this was more of them than he had seen before and the signs were something new.

JD guided the car around them and pulled into his customary spot alongside the building. Shutting off the car he frowned at the sight of the channel twelve news van that had pulled up against the fence in front of the abandoned warehouse that ran along the back of the club. The owner of the warehouse let JD use it as a back entrance for the club for a thousand a month. People who didn't want to be seen parked on the other side of the warehouse and were let in by a bouncer and cut through to the other side where they would need only walk a few feet from the warehouse to the back door of the club.

The club itself didn't open until two on Monday's but the back rooms were open twenty four seven with at least a few girls and two bouncers on duty. JD hoped no one had been wandering behind the club in case someone had an appointment. As soon as he'd pulled up, the van doors opened. The man driving slid the side door open and removed his camera. The woman exiting the passenger side came quickly around to the front. JD squinted, the movement causing his swollen eyes to sting even more, to get a good look at her. When he did, his lips formed into the smirk that many thought was a permanent fixture on his face.

Molly Malone who had lead Channel Twelve's attempt to expose the Playground two years ago. For her part in that embarrassing debacle, Molly was now relegated to the five am news and an occasional local interest story no one else wanted. How she would warrant coming here for this he had no idea. Then again she already had a history with him so who better to send? He assumed she hated him enough to give it a shot and the network likely saw this as a throw away story. Why risk their real talent getting burned?

She stopped several feet from the van and turned to watch the cameraman fiddling with his equipment. Her hands were on her hips and he was sure she was telling him to move his ass. Removing a pack of Camels from his pocket, JD lit one and took a long drag. He'd probably smoked five packs over the weekend marathon and the smoke seared his lungs.

He held it there, forcing his body to endure the discomfort. Most people eschewed discomfort, but JD embraced it. It was only through pain that one could truly endure pleasure and appreciate comfort. He exhaled and put the glasses in the pocket of his black t-shirt. Seeing he was going to be on camera he looked closely at his face in the rear view mirror. His eyes looked as if he had just been on a bender, which he had and maybe the glasses should go back on. Then again he did have a reputation to uphold.

Taking in the rest of his face, he had no other complaints. JD was a good looking man and knew it. That wasn't just narcissism, but the fact he'd been being told that by women since he was in his teens. Good looking enough that by eighteen he was making a living by whoring himself to several older housewives with a lot of time, a lot of money and who had husbands who barely paid attention to them.

JD's features were smooth and flawless including a pair of high cheekbones and eyelashes that most women had to pay for. Those eyelashes surrounded eyes, which when not burned out were his best feature. They were bright and stunning, cat's eyes many had referred to them as and they went well with his thick jet black hair. His looks had earned him the nick name pretty boy from more than one person and depending on his mood JD would play into that by styling his hair and dressing the part.

At other times he would leave his hair tousled and hanging down over his eyes and sport a five o clock shadow, that combined with the tattoos that adorned his upper body, gave him a bad boy look that definitely played better with most of the female clientele.

JD was currently in the latter mode, he'd run his fingers though his wet hair before leaving his condo and hadn't shaved in two days leaving a dark scruff. He smiled in the mirror checking his teeth which were as perfect as the rest of him and after another drag on the cigarette, got out of the car. He heard someone yell and turning saw one of the God freaks pointing at him. They didn't come any closer, but they knew he would have to walk their way to enter the club.

What JD knew was that his cooler, Jimmy would be in the doorway watching as he most likely had been since the fruits showed up. Not that JD was worried the middle aged out of shape lemmings would threaten him or that he couldn't handle them if they did, but he needed to keep the headlines that they were harassing him, not him assaulting them.

* * * * *

Molly climbed out of the van and had a quick look around. Shit, she couldn't believe she was back outside this club. She cringed remembering her old producer, who in search of some sort of expose like that of Heidi Fleiss, had dragged his crew including the fresh faced and idealistic Molly out to investigate this place.

The whole exercise had been doomed to failure. Without anyone on the inside all they had was unsubstantiated rumors to go on and when it had exploded in their faces it had ended her career as a rising new star in the Boston Media. Still she hadn't ended up like most of the team who had received their pink slips within a few days of the fiasco.

She eyed JD Walker, surreptitiously, what a fucking peacock, she thought. Checking himself out before the camera goes on. She bit back a retort that would have ended with her calling him a princess or something and turned to her camera man, Joe, who rode in the news van with her.

Feeling angry about being here again and seeing JD strutting and waiting for them to roll camera she turned her sour mood on Joe. "Geez, Joe! Can't you just for once get your shit together without screwing around? My god, you're worse than an old woman the way you fuss over that camera."

"This camera," he said hefting it into position on his shoulder, "Will put that pretty little pixie face of yours back on the news tonight." He grinned. Joe had a crush on Molly and even though she yelled at him more often than not he thought he could see past the confident, no nonsense reporter to the insecure little girl she was at heart, who worried over every detail of her report before heading out in the van.

Joe had tried to get her to talk about her past, where she was from, the town she grew up in but she always found an excuse to elude the questions he asked. He was convinced there was a secret there and he longed to know it, to know her, but there was little she would give away about her life before she had arrived in Boston. He didn't even know the name of the town she was from. Joe flicked on his camera and focused on Molly's face, holding up his fingers giving her a count in before she launched into her well-rehearsed opening dialogue.

Molly spoke slowly and clearly outlining the crusade of Zachary Knox and his followers to clean up Boston and close down dens of inequity like The Devil's Playground. Then watched as Joe panned the camera out and turned towards the preening peacock, JD Walker. He gave her a slow laconic smile that showed his perfect teeth. It would be easier to paint JD as the villain here if he weren't so damn good looking, Molly lamented.

She reminded herself that for her, JD was not the sole target of this piece. She had her own agenda, a vendetta against the good Reverend Knox and if she had to be here and give this pretty punk some air time to achieve her own agenda, then so be it. She waited until he had finished admiring himself and closed his car door before she moved toward him.

* * * * *

As soon as his car door closed, Molly and her cameraman were on her way over. JD made a show of stretching, letting his un-tucked black t-shirt ride up exposing his chiseled stomach and the word Dominatus tattooed across it. The sleeves slipped up his arms as well exposing his well muscled and heavily inked arms. The left arm bore a colorful naked winged succubus with the word Lust under it. The right featured The Celtic Devil, Pan, horns, hooves and red eyes glaring as he blew on his rusted horn to call the souls to him.

JD lowered his arms as Molly was now only steps away and unsnapping his jeans made a show of adjusting the large bulge in his boxers, the bulge that had earned his chances with all those over sexed cougars back in the day. They loved to talk and brag and once he had one and they told their friends how hung he was they had to find out for themselves.

"Excuse me, Mr. Walker?"

Ignoring her, JD blatantly lifted his cock in his boxers to move it to the side and left his jeans open giving her a view of the top line of his pubic hair. He zipped up, snapped his jeans and looking up, gave her a practiced smile that was about as sincere as he knew the beliefs of the stiffs in front of his club were.

"Good morning Miss Malone, I have to say I'm surprised to see you."

"I'm sure you are." She returned his smile with one as phony as his own and JD had to give her a point for it.

"I am, you didn't strike me as the kind that would come back after a beating like that." His smile turned into his trademark smirk, "Or are you a masochist?"

She smiled "You'd be surprised what a girl like me will come back for." If he was trying to intimidate her he definitely had the wrong girl.

He kept his expression neutral, but scored another point for her, tougher than she looked. Molly looked away from him at her camera man who was behind her adjusting something on the lens. As she watched him, trying to act as if she had no interest in him, JD gave her a quick up and down.

At a glance Molly Malone was nothing special; certainly not unattractive, but not the type to get someone to do a double take when she walked past. She was a few inches shorter than his five ten and had an average build, or at least that's how she appeared seeing she didn't wear anything that was tight or flattering enough to give a hint at what her figure was truly like.

Her black skirt was knee length and if her calves were any indication she had decent legs. The white blouse beneath the business like black blazer was loose and buttoned up close to her neck. His professional opinion as a purveyor of the female form was that smaller breasted women tended to dress that way. Her strawberry blonde hair was up, but looking at the amount of it pulled back in the clip he figured it had pretty good length.

Molly's eyes were dark and expressive and there was a patch of freckles around her nose that were made more prominent by her fair complexion. Overall he would classify her as cute, the girl next door type. After years of being exposed to, and enjoying, strippers and escorts of the highest quality, JD had found his taste drifting more towards cute. Something a bit different he supposed.

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