Retribution (12 page)

“Do you hear me, you nasty, slutty-ass, dick-suckin' bitch?!”

He has his face inches from mine, again, hurling insults at me, his hot, funky breath beating me in my face. “Fuck you, nigga!” I
snap. Then without any thought, I spit at him. My saliva clings to the front of his mask.

He punches me in the head. “Bitch, you fuckin' just spit on me! I should break ya damn jaw.”

“Fuck you,” I snap again. “Break it, nigga.”

“Oh, I'ma break it aiight, bitch. After you suck down my dick and I nut in ya slutty-ass mouth.”

“Fuck you!” I yell again. “Just kill me and get it the fuck over with, you weak-ass motherfucker. Ugh, hiding behind a mask! You bitch-ass, limp-dick nigga! You ain't no real nigga, pussy! The only bitch in the room is you.”

What I've said must have struck a nerve. The nigga charges me, grabbing me by the neck and throwing me to the ground. “Bitch, I've been tryna be nice to your ho-ass, but you wanna play me. I will snap ya fuckin' neck…” He tightens his grip around my neck.

OhmyGod, he's really going to kill me,
I think, feeling the life being choked out of me. I try to search the room for an escape, a weapon, or both. But my goddamn hands and feet are tied. I am fucking helpless! My eyes grow wide, pleading. The only thing I can think about is getting out of here alive. Hoping someone finds me. Hoping this nut will show some pity on me, and let me go. However, at this very moment, it's obvious I've not only pushed the envelope to the edge, I've sent this maniac into a fit of fury. In his eyes I see death—mine!

“You wanna die, bitch?”

“N-n-nooooo,” I manage to push out, gasping for air.

Somebody from upstairs opens the door and yells down. “Yo, nigga, I told you the bitch is pregnant, so chill the fuck out down there. Get ya nut, and bring ya dumb-ass back upstairs.”

“Fuck!” he snaps, glaring at me. Finally, he loosens his grip. I
cough and gag, and try to suck in air. “You gonna act like you got some fuckin' sense, and do what the fuck I say?”

I'm convinced if I want any chance of making it out of here in one piece, then I had better put on an Academy Award performance and act as if my life depended on it. And in this case, at this very moment…it really does!

I blink back tears, nodding my head. “Yes,” I say in a whisper. “Anything you want, baby.”

He keeps me pinned under him, his hands loosely around my neck. “I don't wanna hurt you, but I will. You understand me?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to hurt you?”

I rapidly shake my head. “No.”

“You gonna suck this dick the way you did my man, right?”

I nod. “Yes. I'll suck your dick all night for you. Any way you want it. Just don't hurt me…please.”

“If you bite my shit like you did my nigga, I'ma shoot ya brain outta ya skull, you hear?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He lets go of my neck, wraps his hand over my mouth and face, squeezes. His thumb presses into my left cheek while the rest of his fingers dig into my other cheek. Stares me in the eyes. “I'm a nice guy, yo. But I promise you. Any slick shit and I'm gonna bring it to ya fuckin' head, you dig?”

I nod.

“Good,” he says, letting go of my face, then lifting himself up off of me. “Don't diss me; don't talk slick; don't have me split ya shit.” He sets the chair up, then roughly pulls me up off the floor and sits me on it.

With one hand, he pulls his dick out of the slit of his boxers while holding the barrel of his piece to the side of my head, then
presses his dick up against my lips. It's bigger than the last one I sucked. It looks to be almost eleven, maybe twelve, inches. And it's about as thick as a can.

“Lick that shit,” he orders. I do. In slow, wet strokes I slather his dick with my spit until he is as hard as a gold brick. “That's right, wet that shit up…now open ya mouth and suck on that shit.” I do what I am told. My lips stretch over the head of his dick, my jaws unlocking to adjust to the width. I serve up the head nice and wet and sloppy. I slurp and suck and stroke his dick with my lips, mouth, and throat for what feels like forever. But in my head, I am counting the number of slurps; I am counting the rhythmic number of times my head bobs back and forth on his cock; the number of times he pulls back from me 'cause the shit's getting too good to him. “Aaah, fuck…goddamn, bitch, your throat game is…aaah, fuck…”

The final count in my head is a hundred and forty-seven thrusts before his body shudders. He lets out a loud moan, then shoots his load, emptying himself into my mouth as if it is a septic tank. It's hot and slimy and has a strong odor that is making me gag. He cocks his gun. “Spit my shit out and I'ma blow a hole in ya skull.” I clamp my mouth shut, hold his waste in my mouth, hoping he hurries up back upstairs so I can spit this nasty shit out. As if he's read my thoughts, he walks over to the pool table, tears off a piece of duct tape and walks back over to me with his wet, sticky cock still dangling out of his boxers.

He covers my mouth with the tape. “Just in case you think you gonna be slick and spit my nut out.” I gag. “Hurry up and swallow that shit, so I can take that tape off. Otherwise I'ma leave it on.” I take a deep breath, frown, then swallow it down. “That's a good bitch,” he says, grinning. He yanks the tape from my mouth.

“Why?” I ask, hoping I can get this nigga to open up, maybe
get him to have a change of heart and let me go. But the nigga dashes any hopes of that happening when he slaps the duct tape back over my mouth.

“Yo, you ain't here to be muthafuckin' friends, so don't be askin' a buncha muthafuckin' questions.” He starts walking toward the stairs, but turns around. “You need to use the bathroom?” I nod. “Piss on ya'self,” he snaps, walking off. “You smelly bitch!” I watch him take the stairs two at a time, then shut the door at the top of the stairs, locking it.

• • •

Mona's crying snaps me out of my reverie. My own face is now wet from tears. This time it is Mona who is up on her feet, rubbing my back, trying to comfort me. “Them fucking bastards! Oh, Pasha, I'm so sorry you had to go through all that.” She wraps her arms around me. “And Jasper fucking did this to you?” I nod, wiping my tears. Rage sweeps through me like never before. More determined to make that nigga pay for what he did to me. “He ain't shit for doing this!” Mona snaps.

“He's a no-good, grimy nigga, that's what the fuck he is,” Cassandra hisses.
Click, clack, click-clack.
“Now you see why them niggas gotta go down. And JT's ass was right in on the shit, too, like I knew. Ole big-dick, dirty nigga. That's why I sliced his thick juicy dingaling clean off the goddamn bone. But, my gawd, he could fuck. Shame the nigga had to be put down, like the rabid dog he was.” She pops her gum again. “All that big, thick dick gone to waste. Mmmph.”

Mona and I both stare her crazy-ass down. I think we're both too stunned to say shit. It's not every day you hear some chick talking a matter-of-factly about how she sliced a nigga's dick off
right after she stabs him up. A part of me wants to know what she did with his dick. The other part of me knows enough to know that some things are better left alone.
I wonder how many other niggas' dicks she's sliced off.

Mona's right. This bitch is ruthless.

“Now, Miss Pasha, girl, I need to know if any of them niggas slipped up at any time ‘n' said anyone's name.”

I shake my head, shutting my eyes while flipping through the snapshots of my kidnapping. “No. I don't think so.”

“Think, long ‘n' hard, sugah-boo.”

I rewind the memory disc in my head. And then a voice comes to me.
“Yo, she bit the shit outta L. Tried to take that nigga's balls off, yo…”
I quickly blink open my eyes. “I remember one of the niggas referring to the nigga whose balls I tried to bite off as
L.”

“L?”
She blinks. “What did he look like?” I take a deep breath. Tell her he was taller and thicker than the two niggas who snatched me up in the parking garage. He was more menacing, too. I can still see everything the nigga had on. Faded blue jeans, a gray wife beater and a pair of green, white, and gray AirMaxes. He was dark-skinned and had a real deep voice. And there was something in his eyes that made me think he was two screws from crazy.

“That's all I can remember. His face was covered. I keep playing over in my head how that nigga told me he wasn't the kind of nigga to take no for an answer. That he takes what the fuck he wants.”

“Ooooh, nooooo, goddammit. He sounds
exactly
like this crazy nigga I had met down at the club a few weeks back. And his name was
L.
No, it was something else, but he introduced himself to me as
L.
I know I had got my throat real wet that night, but I know my shit wasn't
that
drenched. I think that's the same nigga who tried to do me at the bar, Miss Pasha, girl. That dirty nigga
told me he wanted to fuck me deep in my fat ass. And although my cootie-coo did get kinda moist when he said that shit, there was somethin' in his eyes that told me he'd punch a ho's sockets in and use her titties as a punchin' bag. The nigga practically told me he took what he wanted, the same shit he tol' you. Ooh, that nigga-coon told me that he wanted to take me outside and fuck me inside out.”

“Cassandra, please,” Mona says dismissively. “That could have been anyone.”

“Sugah-coon,
boom!”
Cassandra snaps. “You stay tryna test my patience. Don't do me with that it coulda been anybody shit. I wasn't just anybody. You wanna know why? Because a week or so later, Dickalina told me that her nigga Knutz wanted to introduce me to some nigga fresh outta jail. And she called him
L.
And then she told me that he didn't like anyone playin' with his balls 'cause some bitch had tried to bite his shit off so he don't like anyone tryna lickin' on 'em.

“Now tell me, sugah-boo. How many niggas
you
know who got niggas callin' them
L,
and he done had his balls almost bit off? No, that's the same nigga. Oooh, yes, gawd! That's that nigga-bitch. I knew there was somethin' real messy about his ass. I'm so glad I ain't give that dirty nigga none of this booty heat.”

I feel my jaws tighten. I can still hear him screaming, mercilessly, for help as I bite into his balls.

Mona blows her nose, then says, “All of this shit is fucking crazy. I can't believe what I've gotten myself into. Pasha, I know you said earlier you were almost certain JT was there, too. But now I need to know if you're absolutely sure.”

After hearing all that I've heard tonight, I'm one hundred-percent for sure. That nigga was there.

I nod.

“Oh God!” she gasps. “What about Stax? You think he was there, too?”

I shut my eyes one last time, bringing the memory back into focus. Stax has his daughter's face tattooed on his right forearm. Most of them wore long-sleeved tees. The ones who wore short-sleeves, I don't remembering having tattoos. Maybe he wasn't one of the niggas down in the basement ramming his dick down my throat. Maybe, he was upstairs the whole time. I open my eyes, fighting back more tears.

“I honestly don't know.”

Cassandra stands, stretches, then walks over to my desk, digging through her handbag. “Then there's only one way to find out.” She pulls out her cell and a folded piece of paper. She glances at the phone screen, grunting.

I raise a brow. “How's that?”

“You're gonna have'ta fish the nigga. And before you start babblin' 'bout what you can't do, don't think I ain't peep how that sexy motherfucka be peepin' you on the low, Miss Pasha, girl. Stax's fine ass wanna do you, sugah-boo. So, use that shit to ya advantage. You need to do what you do best. Give that nigga one of ya deep throat specials ‘n' suck the info outta that nigga's big-ass dick. The streets stay talkin' 'bout that dingaling being big ‘n' juicy. But I still ain't run up on a bitch, yet, who can confirm if it's tree trunk thick or not. And if it is, that nigga's real stingy with it. I know who can get it though.” She tosses her head, giving me a raised eyebrow. “You, Miss Pasha, girl.”

“Bitch, your ass is crazy and trifling to the highest degree,” Mona snaps, getting up from her seat. She tosses all the balled-up tissue she's had in her hand in the trashcan. “Pasha isn't gonna stoop that low and do no nasty shit like that.”

Cassandra plants a hand up on her hip. “Mmmph. I don't know
why not. It ain't like she wasn't already out there suckin' dingdong anyway. Shit. And that ain't no rumor, sugah-boo. That came straight out of the cum-guzzler's mouth. She loves to suck that wee-wee.”

I shoot her a nasty look.

“What?
What I say that you ain't already say? Shit, you know it ain't no secret. Booty loves takin' it in the ass. And
whaaat?
So what if you love takin' it to the back of the throat? Suckin' dick is good for the soul, Miss Pasha, girl. Do what you love, sugah-boo. But this time, don't be no fool about it. Suck that shit for a cause.”

Mona rolls her eyes. “Stax is Jasper's cousin. Or have you forgotten that?”

“Booga-coon,
boom!
And the nigga wants to fuck
his
wife, who likes takin' dingdong to the back of her throat. And
whaaat?
Ain't nobody forget shit. But obviously
you
have. Now I ain't one to be messy. And I ain't about to spill no family secrets, so don't do me. But
you
know all 'bout how messy them nigga-coons are; especially JT's no-good, child-molestin' ass.”

What in the hell is Booty's crazy-ass talking about now?
I cut my eyes over at Mona. The color in her face starts to drain. She blinks. Whatever family secret Booty is referring to has clearly shaken Mona. But she holds it together.