pure x hustler;
ship ; jolinsky
summary ; the pures are the sweet, gentle virgins on the north side of town. they were not ever known to sexual intercourse and are quiet harmless. the hustlers were the ones who knew sex like they knew their name. they lived on the south side. the rules are if they catch a pure by their side, they can kidnap the pures and make them theirs. jack has been captured by a large group while walking from his angry husband. his husband had never raped him because they dont know what sex is. he is given to jack g who is very happy to baby his new slave.
jack johnson's point of view;
I stare up at the group, tears rushing down my cheeks. One of the men had a lollypop in his mouth, popping it out to speak to me.
"What are you doing out here, kid?" He growled, lifting me to my feet.
"I-I-I"
"Answer the fucking question." He seethed, making me jump and his group laugh.
"My husband is hitting me." I cry, backing into the brick wall as the group of hustlers swarmed me.
He placed the lollipop into his mouth again, walking close to me. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and brought them over my head, taking his other hand and grabbing the hem of my shirt. He lifted it up, seeing the cuts on my chest. I made these only because Nash told me to, Nash being my husband. Nash would also make marks on me because he liked it.
"Who did these?" He asked, looking at me sternly.
I couldn't reply, my sobs taking over everything.
"Was it your husband?" He asked me, smacking my cheek for me to pay attention.
"Some were." I stammer softly.
He brought his hand down, placing his hand on my jawline. He lifted my chin, probably noticing the hickeys and the bruises.
"Hm. He's mine." He told his gang, making them cheer.
My eyes continued to water as he took my wrists and walked me to his car. He opened his passengers seat, shoving me in. He went into his drawer that was in front of my seat, grabbing handcuffs. He handcuffed me to my seat, buckling me up.
He closed the door, walking to the driver's side. He got in, starting his car.
"Where's your husband?" He asked me, closing his car door.
"Last time I saw him, he was smoking pot at my house." I muttered while crying.
"Shut up and enjoy the ride." He said, pulling out.
"Where do you live?"
"Please don't go back. I'm begging you." I cry.
"Would you stop fucking crying? Damn pures are annoying." He growled, turning down a dark road.
I was silenced as I look out the window.
"Are you going to make me your slave?" I ask, blinking away quiet tears.
"Yes. You'll work for me. You know the rules. We got you, you're now mine." He explained, pulling down another road.
"Are you going to hurt me?" I ask shakily.
"Hurt you?" He asked confused.
