by Shani Finn
A Sister's Revenge
by
Shani Finn
© 2013 Shani Finn. All rights reserved.
SmashWords Edition
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WARNING:
This book contains graphic sexual content and extreme violence including forced consent, reluctant sex and extreme violence. All characters engaging in sex are 18+
Adults only.
Not for sensitive readers.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Maya’s skin was moist from the battery of the South Chicago summer heat and she could feel her make-up threatening to stain her cheeks if she didn’t get a cold beer in her gullet soon, but a straight tequila would do her better this time, calm her nerves and make her just a little meaner than usual. God knows she needed it tonight.
From beneath her six inch heels the tar breathed up the heat of the dying day and in the light of the street lamp her small muscular contours glimmered as she walked up to the Bridgeport house party. The halo of light crowned her short black hair, unstirred by the birthing breeze that constantly whipped up the ash up from the barbeque and settled on the meat, much to the dismay of the Hector and Ruiz, who cussed out the wind and lamented the positioning of the grill tonight. As much as their leader knew about chopping cars and moving merchandise, he was no genius when it came to common sense and recognizing good barbeque spots.
The petite Latina strode with confidence that matched her beauty, but her pretty face and youth only masked her intent. She was behind enemy lines now, but her enemy was easily blinded by the thrall of allure, especially if it came in twenty year old skin and a pair of jeans that could turn a lesbian to stone.
The bass was pumping in her gut as she entered the bustling house, filled with writhing bodies, inked skin and the smell of musk and alcohol. All around her skanks with mocha skins and hungry lips ground their hips against lewd gangsters of Carlos the Claw, cheap and desperate to be accepted by the very men who’d kill their families without a second thought. Maya hated these women.
Sluts deserve the treatment they get, she thought to herself as she licked her glistening lips suggestively, marking her territory as a force to be reckoned with.
As she passed through the orgy of bad men with defiant sexuality, her heart secretly pounded in fear. These were the very men who had killed her little sister when she was seventeen and dumped her body before delivering her pendant, the mirror of Maya’s own, at the bottom of a bottle of eighty proof tequila blanco left on the porch along with ten severed fingernails in an ornate rosewood container. They nail polish was Angelita’s. There was no body ever recovered and therefore the crime was dismissed as rumor, but she knew better. Maya could not help but relive the pain her family went through after the disappearance of Angelita. The way her mother wept, collapsed upon the wooden boards of the front door at the discovery; how she clenched her teeth like the fisted hands that clung to her rosary while she wailed in her sleep over a fallen daughter.
Maya’s heart began to race, but it was not the anxiety of her covert vendetta this night so much as it was the welling rage that brewed in her chest with every image in recollection.
She bit her lip as she locked onto Perez, the man she approached about an audience with his high king, Carlos. He stood in the corner of the main living room, barely visible in the low light of the dark yellow lamp which hid under draped bandana which sported an array of stains Maya did not even want to contemplate.
Perez was huge, beyond Mexican and scarred. His cold black eyes found her quickly and in the brightening glow of the cigarette he sucked on, his face yielded a chilling smirk. She came after all. The small beauty with the flawless curves nodded to him and dropped her dark eyes to the giggling young woman kneeling before him in the shadows.
Maya sat down on the couch in the corner, and her throat felt dry as she watched Perez shove his cock into the kneeling girl’s mouth, carelessly dropping his cigarette ash on her as he motioned Maya to wait. She tried not to look, but she had to sell the part and appear indifferent. It made her sick. There was still time. She could still leave and abort her plan, but what would she accomplish? She will have let her family down. Angelita had to be avenged. Maya did her best to keep a straight face as she imagined her sister kneeling in front of Perez, and she gagged on the thought of what her sister had to endure at the hands of her boyfriend and his cohorts before she died.
The girl choked on his shaft, but he had her firmly by the hair with his other hand and recklessly rocked her face into his scrotum as he smoked, unperturbed by the bystanders. He enjoyed being watched by the stunning little Latina on the couch, but did not bother to look at her. In front of him, the girl uttered her panic though the wet lapping of his thrusts, and as her eyes looked about the room, her gaze found Maya’s. They stared one another down – both masking their fear behind a mock indifference.
Maya had as little respect for the gang’s whores as she did for its enforcers. Lately, it was misleading though, as many of the gangs had allowed women to join as enforcers and there was very little in telling them apart from the common sluts. This was Maya’s in. Her deceit rode on this very license and its credibility. Her determination subdued her unbridled angst and every time she even entertained thoughts of submitting to her fear, her mother’s wails, calling out to Angelita, haunted her ears. It had to be done.
The kneeling slut clutched her hands on Perez’s thighs as she gagged, and Maya almost called out to him to let the woman breathe, but she remained still, watching. Perez winced at the long nailed clench of his whore and looked down at her in fury.
“Don’t you be scratching me, puta,” he rasped through clenched teeth and pulled her head back to face him. The woman shook her head, begging as he lowered his cigarette onto her temple and laughed at her squirming attempts when the orange burn melted into her skin. Her hands clasped around his wrist in defense, but Perez did not like to be challenged. He brought his fist down on her and with a yelp she fell limply on the cold wooden floor.
Perez looked at Maya now. There was no remorse in his eyes, in fact, she almost felt like he thought her a good substitute. Perez signaled to someone in the next room and nodded as Maya briefly looked at the drooling waif on the floor. On the back of her hand was a small brand in the shape of a butterfly and Maya noticed that several women at the party sported these. She reckoned it was a gang brand and imagined the pain of such an embellishment.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and Maya jerked from her horrid imagination. From above her Perez’s tone was a marriage of lust and duty.
“He will see you now, chica.”
Maya’s heart skipped a beat and she found her mouth too
dry to speak, but she had to maintain her pose, her charade had to be convincing beyond a fault. She got up and gave Perez a long hard look, her demeanor confident and defiant. Her small hands grazed his inked forearms as she ran her fingers to the beer bottle he held and she gently took it from him, locking her moist lips around the opening like she sealed the deal. In the smoky dim light and throbbing hip hop the brute smiled coldly as he watched her swallow.
_________________________________________________________
Perez led Maya down a narrow corridor, past the kitchen where a group of drunken brothers played a drinking game that involved more than tequila. Their ruckus drowned out the fading hip hop of the front house and Maya cringed at the loud crashing that ensued every few moments when someone lost the round. It sounded harsh and destructive, but she did not turn her head to look as she passed the doorway, because she was frightened of the idea of locking eyes with them. She also had to appear unperturbed by it all.
Everything changed as she followed the massive Aztec to a paint peeled door at the end of the hallway. From the pounding of rap music and stench of spilled beer and sex sweat, the atmosphere now harbored a seriousness, an apprehensive silence locking it from the rest of the house like an invisible veil of danger. There was a different scent wafting about her as Perez opened the door and ushered her inside. It was opium. She knew the odor. She smelled it the night they took her sister in their overcrowded Chevy low rider and drove her straight to hell.
Inside the sound of Fear Factory was blaring and Maya knew she had entered a place harder than supermax prison. The petite beauty felt her knees buckle ever so slightly as Perez closed the door and motioned for her to take the stairs down to the well lit basement where she could hear them. Her chest ached at the sound of their voices, three different barks of the dogs she could not wait to put down. Perez looked down from behind her, running his eyes over the contours of her firm curves and the way her tight jeans strained over her buttocks as she descended carefully.
“What’s wrong?” he said suddenly. “Second thoughts?”
It was truer than he knew, but she glimpsed back at him without flinching.
“No, pendejo, I am wearing heels, going down a shitty old staircase, and I don’t wanna ruin my shoes,” she snapped at him, balancing out the shiver from her voice with great effort. Perez laughed.
The smell was overwhelming and for a moment she could have sworn it contained a hint of the perfume Angelita used to wear. She had often smelled her sister’s perfume, her shampoo, her favorite body lotion in the oddest places at the strangest times, but her shrink told her that it was just grief at the loss of a loved one. Her grandmother, on the other hand, told her it was Angelita’s spirit watching over her. Right now she hoped for the latter. Tonight was the first night she was not wearing their matching necklace and she swore when this was over, she’d have a necklace for Carlos – made with a pretty slipknot.
Her blood ran cold as she turned the corner into the room. There he was. Maya knew him like she saw him yesterday. The black slicked back hair, the tall and slender body and that goddamn Jesus tattoo on his neck. He was not a day older, although over a year had passed and the way in which he fondled his switchblade made her sick. Angelita was smitten with him; Maya remembered, and the day she disappeared they had had a fight. He wanted her to be his right hand in gang affairs, but she was always a very defiant girl and she had an aggression about her that rivaled his. He could not allow that little puta to dismiss the Alpha male in front of his pack. She clung to her little sister that day, begging her not to get into the car, but Angelita was fearless…and it was her undoing.
Maya had always been the conscientious one, but she had a bit of her sister’s fire and tonight Carlos and his dogs would meet her inner bitch. Her purse weighed heavy against her right hip as she strode regally toward the two seated gang members. Carlos rose to his feet and she noticed that his arms had been sleeved by tattoos since she last saw him. They rippled over his lean physique as he reached out his hand to her, impatient to bring her closer. Maya looked at his handsome face, his cheekbones like that of a vampire under eyes like burned coal.
“Come here, mama. Let me have a look at you,” he smiled and Maya’s skin crawled as Perez’s body pushed against her from behind, securing her from leaving. He was cold and his shirt wet from beer-drenched perspiration. She stepped into the light, the hidden Glock in her purse begging to burn them. Carlos hunched down, breathing in her face as he spoke. “Do I know you?”
Her throat closed up at his words. Her resemblance to Angelita could get her killed and her thoughts jumped to pull her weapon sooner, but she composed herself.
“No, I don’t know you. I’m new in Bridgeport…in Chicago,” she quickly corrected herself. “Got sick of the politics in Jersey. They don’t see the potential in the niñas and I ain’t nobody’s skank, you know? I want to run with the brothers. Do the dirt. I can shoot and I know my product, papi. What do you say? How do I get in?”
Maya almost believed her own lie and found herself up against Carlos’ chest, working her charm. He smelled like sawdust and tequila, a surprisingly alluring scent. Perhaps it was the opium floating in the room, but Maya felt her inhibitions less constraining and for the first time she knew she could actually pull this off. Initiation wouldn’t be a light feat, she knew this, but only if they told her to kill someone would she refuse. All else was a sacrifice she was willing to make to take them down.
Carlos scanned her body with his eyes and poured a shot of tequila. Her breasts were large for her frame and she oozed sensuality, but her eyes looked hard. The perfect combination for a female inductee and he would not deny himself. He threw back the liquor and pulled a face as he looked at his men in the pale white light of the single bulb that hung from the reinforced beams by a long electrical wire. They were hungry.
_________________________________________________________
“Listen baby, I have nothing against gender equality. I never thought bitches could make it as runners, but lately I am more open minded. If you want to run with my pack, the price is usually high. Boost three cars in one night,” he started.
Don’t know how to do that, she thought.
“Cap a carbon we point out to you,” he said while watching her tough expression turn frail.
No way I’m doing that.
His two lieutenants started sniggering behind her and her heart sank. Carlos offered her final choice with clear intention.
“Or you have to put out with my boys Ruiz and Perez here, show us what you can take, ‘cause this business is no place for chicas who fold.”
She could hear them grunt. Repulsed, she put on her poker face and faced the two big tattooed men. They would be easier to surprise if she had them with their pants down, so to speak, and suddenly the prospect looked acceptable to the end of her strategy.
“No sweat,” she said and carefully lowered her purse to the ground, without revealing it’s deadly contents. The thin strap fell from her right shoulder and she could hear them stop breathing momentarily.
Before she could let go of her purse Ruiz latched his hands over her buttocks, shoving her off balance in his zeal. She watched Carlos pour himself another shot and sit down on the far end of the room, stretched out across the stacked gun crates and like a Roman Emperor he waved his hand for them to proceed.
Perez stood in front of her. He pulled her top down slowly and the friction of the fabric hardened her nipples and with that, hardened her captors, as well. The edge of the material sank to her waist, revealing her ample breasts. Perez wasted no time. He sank to his knees in front of her and crudely locked his mouth over her breast, sucking so hard that it made her cry out, but she could not move. Ruiz stood firmly against her, reaching around her hips to unbutton her jeans while his erection prodded her back.
The bruising attention given to her breasts had her gasping and she could feel Perez’s calloused hands pull her pants down. His brother gri
pped the front of her panties and pulled the material together in his grasp. The thin cord it formed slid into the crevice of her slit and he pulled up hard, practically lifting the small woman off her feet as it cut into her clitoris. Maya screamed as tears welled in her eyes, but Carlos watched without any change in expression. The force of Ruiz’s tugging burned into her and she prayed for the fabric to tear under his force but his hasty friend ripped them off, relieving her. Perez pinched her nipple between his teeth and she screamed shamelessly as he bit just a little too hard. Maya tried to place her hands over her chest, but Ruiz grabbed her wrists and crossed her arms behind her back, his weight preventing her from pulling them free. He leaned hard against her and she felt the head of his cock burning into her dry vagina as his brother pulled off his belt and threw it around her neck.
Maya screamed with every thrust that ripped her tender skin and closed her eyes, the face of her sister flashing in her thoughts, her revenge driving her to keep her mind on the end game. Suddenly she felt Perez shove his member between her lips and teeth, tearing the corners of her mouth and the tightening belt slowly asphyxiated her as he screamed.
“Suck or die, puta!” he screamed and loosened the pressure just enough for her to breathe. The throbbing head hammered the back of her throat and at once Maya saw the face of the kneeling woman again.
My God, I’m just like her! Her hysterical thoughts echoed through the warm bloody mess that ran down her legs. Beneath her raw knees, the basement floor was cold and unforgiving and she wished she was dead as Perez choked her on his hot load and pulled his belt free. Ruiz rammed her wildly, his grip bruising her hips and his greasy obese body weighing her knees into the cement. Suddenly the sting of the leather belt bit over her back and shoulders. Her raw throat birthed a painful cry as the lashes came in between each of her rapist’s thrusts, cleaving open her skin where the belt struck twice or three times over. Ruiz roared as he ejaculated and discarded Maya’s exhausted body on the floor.