by J-Blunt
Nurse Baccara stood in the doorway wearing a black leather corset, black thong, a garter belt, fishnet stockings, and black heels with silver spikes on the toes. Around her neck was a choker with a leash attached. In her hand was a whip. Her dark hair hung loosely in wet curls and she wore light makeup.
“I don’t care about your dreams, pig. What do you want? All you blacks are alike. Rapists and murderers. I don’t care about your suit and badge. You ain’t nothin’ without it. Just another piece of shit.”
Pop adjusted his aviator glasses, peering down his nose at the Columbian beauty, his other hand resting on the butt of the pistol in his side holster. After a stare down, Pop stepped into the room and grabbed the leash connected to the collar on her neck. After wrapping it around his fist a couple of times, he yanked her into him aggressively and continued pulling until she was standing on her tippy-toes, the choke collar cutting off her air supply. “Who you think you talkin’ to like that, bitch? I’ll break yo’ ass in half! You hear me? You prolly illegal, ain’t you? If you don’t got a green card, that’s yo’ ass, bitch.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” she managed, barely able to breathe or speak. Pop was choking her for real, her face turning red as veins bulged from her neck.
“Get against the wall and let me search you!” Pop demanded, letting go of the leash and pushing her against the wall. After locking the door, he spun around and began an aggressive pat search. He cupped her breasts, rubbed her body, and gripped her bare ass cheeks. Then he moved his hands to the front, digging into her thong and rubbing her pussy.
“Mm!” the nurse moaned. “Stop it, you black bastard! All you want to do is rape me. Stop!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Pop demanded, sticking a finger into her wet pussy.
“No! Stop!”
Pop spun her around quickly, wrapping a hand around her throat. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up? Get on yo’ knees. I got somethin’ to shut you up.”
She tried to put up a fight, but Pop forced her to kneel. “No! Fuck you! I won’t suck your dick. Fuck you!” she refused, turning her head when Pop stuck his dick in her face.
“You don’t wanna suck it? Well, I’ma beat yo’ ass wit’ it!” Pop said, grabbing his dick like a baseball bat and slapped her in the face. Four dick slaps later, she gave in.
“Okay! Okay!” the nurse cried.
Pop groaned like a bear when she took him in her mouth. The nurse sucked him aggressively, using both hands and lots of slobber. When he had enough, he snatched his dick from her mouth and slapped her with it again.
“You don’t deserve to drink my nut. Getcho ass up. Where that muthafuckin’ green card? You betta have it or I’m lockin’ yo’ ass in detention.”
“I’m not illegal. I was born here. I’m a citizen.”
Pop took a look around the hotel room and seen a suitcase on the bed. There was a combination lock on it. “Open it.”
“No.”
He snatched the whip from her, holding it over his head. “Open it or I’ma whip yo’ ass.”
“No,” she refused again.
Pop grabbed her from the floor and shoved her onto the bed roughly. Then he took the cuffs from his waist, handcuffed her to the headboard, and forced her to kneel face down, ass up. “Tell me the combination.”
“No,” she said, hiking her fleshy cheeks in the air, anticipating a slap from the whip.
Pop gave her what she wanted.
“Ah!” she screamed as the whip bit into her skin.
“Tell me that combination.”
“Fuck you, you black piece of shit. Fuck you!”
Pop whipped her several times, her ass turning pink and red with welts, and the nurse loved it. She kept pushing her ass in the air for more. Pop whipped her harder until she eventually gave in.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you. Stop. Please.”
When she told him the combination, he opened the suitcase and found it filled with sex toys. Pop rifled through it like he was looking for contraband. “I don’t see no ID or Green Card. I’m takin’ you to ICE.”
“No! No! Please, don’t do this. I have to take care of my family. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
Pop ran the whip lightly up and down her body. The nurse shivered when the leather moved across her stinging ass cheeks. Then Pop grabbed a black mask from the suitcase. It had a large ball where the mouth was that would keep the mask wearer from talking or screaming. “The first thing I want is for you to stop talking,” Pop told her as he put the mask on her face.
When he was sure the mask was secure, he flipped her onto her back and ripped off her thong. After forcing her legs open, he grabbed a set of medium-sized anal beads from the suitcase and began kissing his way up her thigh, stopping when her got to her pussy. He kissed the lips a few times before attacking her pearl with his tongue. The nurse went wild as he began inserting the balls into her ass. When he knew she had reached her peak, he began pulling the beads out slowly, continuing to suck her clit. If the ball wasn’t in her mouth, the nurse’s screams would’ve made the neighbors call the police.
When her orgasm passed, Pop stood and looked down at her. The nurse was breathing hard, her skin flushed and sweaty. Her eyes were low like she was high and filled with a desire for more sex games.
“I hope you don’t think we done,” Pop said, licking her cum from his lips.
She couldn’t talk because of the ball in her mouth, so she mumbled something, giving him an angry stare. Pop responded by grabbing her arms roughly and unlocking the cuffs. He led her into the bathroom and cuffed her to the shower rod. He left the bathroom for a few moments and came back naked, holding a bottle of sex oil.
“You don’t deserve for me to stick my black dick in yo’ pussy, so I’ma fuck you in yo’ ass until I get fired. And I popped a Viagra, so it might be a while.”
***
“Oh my God, that was so hot!” Nurse Baccara moaned, rubbing Pop’s chest as they lay in bed.
“I didn’t know you had all that freak in you.”
“With the right person, anything is possible. I like being around you. When I’m with you, I feel free. You bring out my hidden wants and desires. I would’ve never done anything like this with Marciano. He would think I’m a nasty slut.”
“That’s ‘cause you fuckin’ wit’ a chump. Any man that won’t let you be you or tries to stop you from experiencing all life has to offer ain’t worth yo’ time. You a dime, baby. A relationship is about you doin’ you, him doin’ him, and y’all doin’ y’all. If you never feel comfortable enough to express all of you, how can y’all do y’all?”
“We can’t. And he used to be so cool. But ever since New Orleans he been insecure and acting like a bitch. Always accusing me of cheating and checking up on me. I’m tired of his shit. I want to leave him, but he suicidal. I think he will try to kill us both.”
“That ain’t no way to live, shawty. For real. How is it you work in a prison and then gotta go home to one? That ain’t love. Plus, you been in this hotel wit’ me all day. You know that nigga gon’ be unhinged the next time he see you. Then what?”
“I don’t know. Being with you has been the break I needed. I haven’t had good sex since the last time we were together. I can’t keep living like this. I need a change. I wish he would just die.”
A gleam shown in Pop’s eyes. “What if that could be arranged?”
She looked at him questioningly, and then she realized what he was talking about. “No, no, no! I don’t mean literally. I don’t want him to die. I was just expressing myself.”
“What if that is the only way you can be free? What if he keep on stalkin’ you and threatenin’ you? Like you said, you can’t keep livin’ like that.”
“But death? No, I can’t do it.”
“Who said you had to do it?”
She studied Pop for a long time. “What are you saying?”
“That I’ll do you a favor if you do me one.”
“I don’t
know. I seen shows where people always get caught for this type of stuff. I don’t want to go to prison.”
“I know what I’m doin’, baby. And I’m trynna make yo’ life easier. I wanna fuck wit’ chu, and I ain’t finna be worried ‘bout this sucka-ass nigga fuckin’ wit’ us. If you want what I want, just say the word. You don’t need to do nothin’ or know nothin’.”
“And if I agree to this, what do you want?”
Pop smiled.
***
The gray Durango pulled to the curb of a yellow and white brick house. Marciano stepped out, tired from a long day as a mechanic at an auto parts store. After grabbing the bag of groceries from the back seat, he locked the truck and walked toward the house. He climbed the porch and stuck the key in the lock. As soon as the lock clicked, someone big, fast, and strong moved behind him, locking him in a chokehold. Marciano tried to scream and struggle, but it was no use, the muscular arm wrapped around his throat squeezing like a boa constrictor, taking away his breath and then consciousness.
When Marciano awoke he was in the house, sitting in a chair in his living room. On the table in front of him was a liter of tequila. On the couch across from him was a big man dressed in dark clothing, wearing a ski mask. He also held a big revolver in his fist.
“Who are you?” Marciano asked weakly, rubbing his neck.
“Yo’ judge. Drink.”
Marciano looked to the bottle of liquor and then back to his ‘judge’, trying to find something recognizable. A scar. A tattoo. Skin shade. Anything. But the big man was covered in black from head to toe. He even wore gloves on his hands.
“M-my judge? I don’t understand.”
The big man pointed the gun at him and cocked the hammer. “Shut the fuck up and start drinkin’ or I’ma blow yo’ shit off.”
Marciano reached for the bottle and twisted off the cap. He brought the bottle slowly to his lips and took a sniff.
“That’s a new bottle. The faster you drink, the faster we get this over.”
“Y-you want me to drink all this?” he stuttered, looking at the bottle like it was poison.
“Either that or I shoot you. Yo’ choice.”
Marciano took a long drink, the liquor burning as it flowed down his throat. After a pause, he took another and kept at it until half the bottle was gone. “I can’t drink any more,” he breathed, looking like he was about to be sick.
“Too bad. Drink or you dead.”
Marciano began drinking again. He kept taking little sips until most of the bottle was gone, then he lowered it, spilling liquor in his lap as his head lolled around his shoulders like it was about to fall off. Drool spilled from his mouth along with drunken laughter. Pop Somethin’ took his cue, getting up and approaching the drunken man. Marciano didn’t even put up a fight when Pop put the .357 in his hand. After positioning the pistol to his head, he assisted him in squeezing the trigger.
Pow!
Chapter 6
“I feel bad about not being there for her,” Queenie said, teary-eyed as she watched the casket being lowered into the ground.
“Me too,” Princess said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “We didn’t even know she was sick. She didn’t tell nobody. That’s what I’m mad about. She didn’t even give us a chance to prepare. That was selfish as hell.”
The sisters stood beside their mother’s grave holding hands, surrounded by family members they hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. After a few more words from the preacher, everyone piled in cars and drove to Uncle Larry’s house to celebrate Patricia’s life. About fifty family and friends gathered inside and outside to eat, drink, and express their condolences. The sisters were sitting on the couch in the living room, nursing drinks while people walked up expressing well wishes and telling stories about their mom.
Neither twin paid attention to the knock on the door. A tall, dark-skinned, balding man walked in and was greeted by the family. When the newcomer spotted the sisters, he made his way over. “Hey, girls,” he greeted in a voice barely above a whisper.
Queenie and Princess had their heads down, staring into their drinks, but when they heard the voice, their reactions were instant. Princess’s face displayed a rage that would frighten the devil and a host of demons. Her tear-soaked, red-rimmed eyes burned with hate and anger. Queenie’s mug was also twisted into a mask of hostility, her breathing harsh, posture tense, and ready to attack.
The newcomer noticed their demeanors and put his hands up, palms out. “I don’t mean no harm, y’all. I seen Patricia’s funeral on Facebook, and I just wanted to pay my last respects.”
Princess’s rage was unbridled as she shot to her feet. “Was you thinkin’ ‘bout that respect when yo’ pervert-ass was rapin’ us, Chauncey? Fuck you, ho-ass nigga!”
The commotion and loud accusation got everyone’s attention. They all looked just in time to see Queenie shoot to her feet and punch Chauncey in the face. Princess’s fists flew in rhythm with her sister’s as they beat up their childhood monster.
Instead of breaking up the fight, other family members joined in, and they kicked the molester’s ass all over the living room. Somehow he managed to get away, but instead of trying to flee through the door, he went right for a window and crashed through it, but getting away wasn’t so easy. Some of the hurting family members jumped out the window behind him. Others used the door to run outside, and they all took turns kicking Chauncey’s ass down the block. When they got tired of chasing the pedophile, the family members slowly made their way back to Larry’s house, gathering on the lawn. After gathering around the twin sisters, Larry got their attention.
“Everybody, listen up. I know we ain’t the tightest family, and we done a lot of wrong to each other, but one thang is fo’ sho. Don’t nobody fuck wit’ a Jackson and get away wit’ it. Girls, I’m sorry y’all lost y’all momma. That was my sista, and although she had her flaws, she loved y’all. And just know I’ma always be here. We will always be here for y’all ‘cause we family. Now, er’body bring it in for a family hug!”
***
Queenie tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she walked up on the porch of the red and blue house. She had rehearsed the lines several times, hoping to get them right, hoping she would be received with open arms and not hostility. After ringing the doorbell, she fidgeted nervously, waiting.
“Who is it?” a woman called from behind the door.
“Queenie.”
Two locks clicked and the door swung open. Shanice’s eyes were wide with expectation. “Where is Paul?”
“He not here. It’s just me.”
The expectation in her eyes changed to questions. “Why you here without my cousin? Is it about C-Note? Where is he?”
“I came here to talk. Can I come in?”
“Yeah. C’mon. You want somethin’ to drink?”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you got.”
The women settled at the kitchen table where Shanice poured glasses of sweet iced tea. Queenie noticed that although Shanice tried to look strong, the uncertainty about C-Note was taking a toll on her. Shanice was still and would always be a beautiful woman. The pregnancy had her reddish-yellow skin glowing, hair looking shiny and healthy, and slim and curvy frame looking good in the white yoga pants and t-shirt, but her eyes told a truth her lips didn’t have to. The light in them had dimmed, and she had heavy bags underneath.
“Damn, this some good iced tea. Er’thang you do is magic,” Queenie said after taking a long drink.
Shanice acted like she didn’t hear the compliment. “So, where is my cousin? Do you know where C-Note is?”
Queenie had rehearsed the answer to this question on her way over, and even though she knew what she should say, actually getting the words out was hard. In Shanice’s sad eyes she seen hope, and Queenie didn’t want to take that away, so she hesitated, unsure what to say.
“Oh, my God! He’s really dead? For real?” Shanice asked, the world crashing in her eyes as she collapsed
in the chair.
Even though Queenie knew it to be true, she didn’t want to be the one to reveal the news. She reached out and took ahold of one of Shanice’s hands. “I don’t know if he’s dead. Pop Somethin’ won’t talk about it.”
“Why not? I thought you was his bitch.”
“I am. But he has secrets.”
Shanice leveled her eyes at Queenie, staring at her intently. “Tell me the truth. Please. I need to know. What happened to C-Note?”
It took all the willpower Queenie possessed to tell the lie. “I don’t know for sure. I thought him and Pop was goin’ to take care of the drama, but Pop came back alone. He was bloody and beat up. When I asked what happened, he wouldn’t tell me, and he told us not to talk to you. I wanted to reach out to you so many times, but I didn’t want to go against my man. He don’t even know I’m here now. I just came to let you know I was close by. I’m in Texas for a funeral, and I wanted to let you know I’m here for you if you need anything.”
Shanice started to cry. “He’s dead. I know it. I can feel it. I just want some closure. This is fucked up. I’ma have two kids without fathers. I hate my life right now.”
Queenie went to Shanice and wrapped her in a hug. “Don’t say that, gurl. It’s gon’ get better. I’ma help you any way I can. Just let me know.”
Shanice got mad and pushed Queenie away. “How you gon’ help me, Queenie? You don’t even know me!”
“That don’t matter. We sistahs, and sistahs gotta stick together. I got your back. For real.”
Shanice’s features softened and she began crying again. Queenie closed the distance and wrapped her in a sisterly embrace, rubbing her back and saying soothing words. Then Shanice perked up, her eyes red-rimmed, angry slits. “Paul killed him for snitching, didn’t he?”
“What? No, I don’t think so. C-Note was his nigga. And he loves you like a sister. He wouldn’t do nothin’ to hurt you.”
Shanice lay her head against Queenie and began crying again. “It just don’t make no sense.”