Dark Dealings ((LitShark & SannaBlonde82))

[LitShark]

Eric Johnson checked his stainless Rolex, a much less gaudy timepiece than most of his contemporaries wore, but it did what it was supposed to—it kept the time. Eric—or E&J as he was often called, a nickname from childhood when he got sick on cheap brandy with his friends. Eric had once been someone described as having “a bright future,” by teachers and counselors far and wide. He got into a prestigious university on both sports and academic scholarships and even got his picture taken for the local news for getting a 1550 on his SATs, the highest in his district (though to this day he views it as a personal disgrace that he didn’t score 1600).

Eric’s late father, Col. James Johnson had raised him in the “twice-as-good” philosophy that his generation abided as a means of survival. For a black man to survive in America, he needs to be twice as good as the next best white man. Like most good parables, it made sense, and had led an entire generation of men and women like his father to achieve great things in the name of being twice-as-good.

Perhaps Col. Johnson’s only flaw, his Achilles heel was that he fell in love with a fair-haired white woman who came from an upper-class family. Eric’s mother, Tanya was white, but her decision to marry his father left them both outcast by her family and his community. It was a taboo for both races to cross lines, and for Col. Johnson—formerly a pillar of the black community, it was a brutal betrayal for one of the rare, uncorrupted, successful black men to marry a white woman.

Eric barely had a chance to know his father before he was killed in a traffic stop when the trooper caught sight of his military issue sidearm in the glove compartment when he reached for his vehicle registration.

Though his father had never touched the weapon and made every attempt to comply with the officer, the officer said in his statement that he’d feared for his life and the presence of the gun led the board of review to determine that the shooting was justified. The officer wasn’t even reprimanded.

Tanya didn’t take the death well at all. Cut off by her wealthy family, she lost the ability to support Eric or even care for herself properly, developing bad habits and drug addictions that became her daily routine.

Eric left for college not one day too soon, and though his mother still required and inordinate amount of his time and attention, the discipline he’d learned from his father served him well in juggling sports, his education and his mother’s proclivities. But in spite of all of his hard work, Eric learned that the past was something he couldn’t escape from.

Back home on spring break, Eric had been spending time with some of his oldest friends from the neighborhood, most of them full-time block boys by now, but all of them loyal and overjoyed to see the golden boy again. Though he declined to smoke weed with them, they were celebrating his return and he didn’t think much of riding with them to a local hangout spot that was known for having amorous young ladies.

The group of young, black men were stopped by the same officer who had killed Eric’s father and from the moment his smug, white face leaned into the driver’s side window of the Impala, Eric’s life was never the same. All four occupants of the car were arrested and brought in on drug charges for possession of marijuana with intent to sell—intent, they were able to prove based only on the quantity. Even though Eric swore he hadn’t been smoking and tested negative for any drugs, the charges were enough to lose him his scholarships and get him kicked out of school.

That was how this young man with a “bright future,” who everyone said was “so well spoken,” ended up as a local leader of the notorious Rollin’ 22’s street gang in South Central Los Angeles. His mother died of an overdose, not long after he lost his scholarships—but Eric found that he liked his new life more than he’d expected to. He liked drinking and doing drugs, he liked making and laundering vast sums of money—more than his father earned in a lifetime of “honest work.” Most of all, Eric loved outsmarting the police. His life experience had given him a healthy mistrust of police, and he reveled in being so much smarter than even the smartest among them.

The one thing that Eric didn’t like was the violence—it was much too loud, too hard to cover up and typically required special preparation on his part, to outsmart the Federal police who dealt with murders. There were no shortage of others for whom violence was the primary draw—like Eric’s oldest and closest friend Dale, Loc to his friends.

Loc was exactly the type of young man that most white people feared when they saw a black man. Quick to anger, reckless and arrogant, not to mention sexually gratuitous and misogynistic. But for Eric, he was still the skinny little dweeb who broke his leg trying to jump a stolen bike off the roof on a cardboard ramp.

This day, seemed like any other—Eric double checking his ledger books and triple checking the weights of pre-measured baggies, Loc smoking a blunt and dancing to abrasively loud rap music from his most valuable possession, his Wilson Audio WAMM Master Chronosonic sound system that was almost too tall for the room.

This house had once been Eric’s father’s, the crowning achievement on his illustrious career, but after his mother had turned it into a drug den, there was little sentimentality left for the house itself. Only his father’s wart medals from Viet Nam which hung above Eric’s bed reminded him of that better, “bright future” time.

“Cut that shit off, I’ve got a call coming in from the towers,” Eric called over his shoulder at Loc, “you know how fucking hard it is to get a phone in there. If you get Omar busted for this one, the replacement’s going to be in your ass when we get it to him.”

“Shit, nigga. Calm your ass down,” Loc sneered, muting the stereo by remote, “give a nigga a chance to do the shit before you make up a big story ‘bout how deep you gon’ get in my ass.”

Loc had a point, but Eric wouldn’t admit it. Luckily enough, Eric’s Nokia burner began vibrating on his desk. He answered it quickly.

“Are we in business?” Eric asked, anxious about what was in essence a very simple extortion gig, Wall Street white boy pays for protection—but it made him nervous that half of the operation was happening in prison where he couldn’t be a witness to the dealings.

“Yeah, we’re in business. She should be coming by in the next hour or so, he gave her all of your instructions and she’s on her way there now.”

“And she’s ready to be searched, right? I don’t need some white bitch up in here screamin’ ‘rape’ as soon as I put my hands on her.”

“She knows.”

“A’ight, good work. Keep the phone safe, I’ll text you if I need to talk,” Eric pressed the end button and swiftly snapped off the back of the phone and removed the battery.

The phone battery was tossed into the top drawer of his desk while the dead phone was placed in a locking bottom drawer. Eric gave Loc a nod and the music resumed. Because of the loud music, though. Neither Eric nor Loc heard the first timid knock on the door with its peeling exterior paint.

 

[SannaBlonde82]

It started at Harvard, maybe even earlier. Larry Peterson's naïve attitude to the world got him into trouble. He never really did anything wrong himself, he just happened to surround himself with people who saw a chance to use the part of Larry's brain that was brilliant and make money from it. And that wasn't necessarily good for Larry.

An exam scandal where he had "helped" a couple of student friends a bit too much, almost cost him dearly, but he got out of harm’s way thanks to an influential family member with the right connections at the business school. The same family member saw to it that he went straight to working with a hedge fund on Wall Street. To begin with, Larry settled in nicely and proved useful at different risk management techniques. And during this period, he even met his future wife, Anna.

They lived on the upper east side in a lovely apartment. For five years a nice life in N.Y, Anna the cultural animal that she was, introducing Larry to the world of theater, art and literature. Who would have guessed Larry would attend poetry readings, learn to appreciate Norwegian playwright Ibsen or the abstract art of the Italian futurists? Not Larry, anyway.

But soon after that, things slowly started to go south. The first decision - to move out to Los Angeles to help start a new investment management venture - wasn't wrong per se. And that's what his father told him too. "It's a nice initiative, Larry.. but, these people.. do you trust them? What do you know about them? Make sure you do some research, boy!"

But Larry didn't. He jumped in with both feet first. He took his beautiful, blonde wife (no one in their right mind could believe such a woman had chosen Larry for anything than money - but actually, she had) and moved out to La La Land.

The first year was ok. Money was made. Big house was bought. Larry's sister who was a struggling actress stayed in their guest house and they had friends over to pool parties and barbecues and yes, life was good.

But then he fucked up. Big time.

The details of the financial transactions that led to Larry Peterson's fall from grace would be a story (a rather boring one) all unto itself - let's just say that three years after their arrival in California, Larry was in an orange jumpsuit awaiting judgement in a federal court of law, with his softly sobbing wife sitting in the bench row behind him.

__________

Anna Johansson moved to New York when she was 21. Her father was an American diplomat and her mother was Swedish, and she had spent her first 20 years moving between Stockholm, London and Paris together with her family. But finally her parents had settled in the States and Anna, her parents and her little sister Maria lived together in a house on Long Island. Anna went to Columbia University, and during an internship at a major art gallery midtown, she met Mr. Larry Peterson one evening at a bar.

It was far from love at first sight. It was more a case of what some might even call stalking - but finally the tall and statuesque Anna caved in and she and the shorter and hardly statuesque Larry became a couple. An awkward couple, a weird match - but somehow they made it work and dare it be said – true love won. They were married a year later. Anna dragged Larry round Manhattan, delightfully happy to have someone to preach to about her interests in the world of art and culture. Everyone else thought she was dreadfully boring and pretentious, but Larry was happy.

And why was Larry happy? Well, one reason was very primal - and that was the simple fact that Anna Johansson had qualities that appealed to the heterosexual male. Sexy was the right word for it. She wasn't classically beautiful like say, a model, but she just had a way of carrying her hour-glass body and her long blonde hair that was very special. She was a major head turner. And the most rewarding thing about turning your head when she passed you, was what you saw when you did. A big, round, lovely ass.

Anna knew this. But she didn't play it much. Her girlfriends were both envious and amazed, knowing that if they had those qualities, they would tear the living hell out of it. Anna didn't. She played it cool, was careful with guys and immersed herself in her interests instead, and boys wasn't really one of them – unless they were on a wall in a gallery or on a stage.

The move out to California was something Anna resisted at first. She wanted to stay near her family and her friends, and what culture was there in L.A?? Nothing. Just the damn beach, a scorching sun and that smog. That's how she saw it, and their first time there wasn't easy on her. She struggled to adapt, but finally succumbed to the different lifestyle. No one was more pleased than the male population of the state - suddenly the discreet and conservative Anna was wearing much less under the Californian sun, and despite the tough competition in a city like L.A, Anna Johansson stood out to anyone who cared to look - and many did.

She seemed to be adapting to the new lifestyle - even wearing minimal and flimsy bikinis at their pool parties. When Larrys sister (a green-eyed ginger with a petite body) and Anna entertained at home round the pool - well, needless to say, Larry's friends and colleagues were there in droves. Anna was never unfaithful, mind you, even though guys - even so-called friends of Larrys - made plenty of advances.

And then the trial. The whole episode was a nightmare. From what seemed to feel like over a night, her life was turned upside down. She knew nothing about Larry's work, and had never taken any interest. But she wasn't stupid, and when the police showed up on their doorstep with a warrant to confiscate all the computers in the house, she knew. Yes. Her darling husband had been well and truly fucked by his companions, she knew it, she had suspected they were shady men. And now they had done her Larry in.

So, a month later, the call came. Anna was at home alone one morning, when her phone buzzed and she answered.
"Hi baby.."
"Larry!! Oh god, how are you??"
"Not good.."

Anna was taken aback by the tone of Larrys voice - he wasn't a macho type of a man, but he was usually talkative enough and confident - now he sounded afraid.

"Why..?? Darling what's wrong? Please, tell me.. hello? You still there?"

And then Larry told her. Just like that. He needed protection inside. There was no discussing the matter. And he had to pay for it. A gang had put their teeth in him, there was nothing he could do.

"But.. can't you talk to the prison... people..? Surely something can..."

Larry interrupted her upper-class Manhattan snowflake liberalism:
"No. This isn't the upper east side. I'm fucked, Anna. If you want to see me again, you have to do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand??"

No, Anna didn't really. But she understood the seriousness of the situation now, it was enough for her to hear the fear in her husbands voice.

"Ok.. I understand.. so.. you need my help? What can I do..?"

"Yeah, actually. I do. I need you to deliver a package. Money. I'll give you the address, and the whereabouts of my money tomorrow."
"Ok honey.. Who are they? Who do I give..."

Larry interrupted her again:
"It's south central, Anna. Do I have to spell it out for you??"

He didn't. She might be the most un-street-smart woman in the western hemisphere, but this she understood. Jesus Christ. What a mess. She felt a growing irritation now, at the position Larry had put her in. And that he was speaking to her in a way she didn’t like one bit.

“No you don’t. Please don’t be angry with me. I’ll do my best to help you.. It’s not easy.. I’m not the one who got caught..
Larry interrupted her once more:
“Ok. So you’ll do it? You have to, Anna!!”

She said she would, and they hung up. Anna took off her bikini top and went out back to the poolside. It was a silly rebellion - but with Larry not here there was no one to complain about her topless sunbathing. She studied her breasts, cupping them with both hands. All the silicone out here had made her think.. They were hardly small, but she had to admit to herself that she liked the look of some of the good boob-jobs she’d seen around here.. Hmm..

Two days later Anna was on her way in a cab to a part of the city she had never visited. The cab driver, who had asked about the address twice (“..are you sure, madam..?”), stole glances at her in the rearview mirror. Beside her lay a bag with the money, and maybe if she was more street-smart and aware of the real world around her, she would have been in a panic. But Anna wasn’t. Yes, it was weird, and yes she watched the news, but from her liberal view of the world it was the white community who instigated fear when it came to places like south central. She wasn’t afraid of black people. “I mean, yes ok, I don’t actually know any black people from the suburbs.. but..”, Anna thought to herself.

She reached the address, payed the driver and as he drove away she turned around on the sidewalk and looked down the street. On either side, small one- or two story matchbox houses with front yards and fences. They had passed a street a while earlier that looked to be in much worse shape, and Anna had been relieved they didn’t stop there. Well, this wasn’t that bad, she thought. It's houses. She'd pictured something worse.

But she couldn’t deny that her heart was beating faster, and she was well aware of the eyes from people who saw her now, and how she stood out like a sore thumb. She had tried to dress casually – jeans, a white top and white sneakers, nothing fancy, nothing to reveal where she truly came from she thought – but of course it didn’t make any difference. She could never hide the white, blonde diplomat daughter, especially not here. Her socio-economic background was ingrained in every cell.

Anna thought it was probably not a great idea to stand here looking for too long, so she hurried up to a gate in a steel wire fence about 3 feet high and checked the number, which she could barely make out on the wall of the house. On closer inspection it didn't seem to be in the best of shape.. Anyway, this was the place. She opened the rusty gate and walked up a pathway to the porch. From inside she could hear loud rap music, and was surprised and delighted to recognize the song! She softly swayed her broad hips to the beat, knocked on the door as she murmured the lyric..

 

[LitShark]

The second knock came as Loc changed songs, allowing Eric to hear the door and he quickly whipped the door open to see Anna there, swaying her hips back and forth, looking like her jeans were painted on her. The bitch was thicker than chunky peanut butter. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom without pretense, his brow knit halfway down and his lips made an O shape and he looked as if he might say ‘ooh’ but instead said nothing and pulled Anna inside by the wrist.

After the door slammed loud behind them and Eric turned the bolt, he nodded to Loc who cranked the volume of the song to the maximum capacity of his grandiose stereo system. It was uncomfortably loud, even for Loc who’d damaged his hearing some eight hundred different ways. If anyone was dumb enough to be listening through a wire, it would damn sure make them rush to remove their headphones.

When Anna opened her mouth, presumably to complain about the volume, or even just in surprise, but Eric held his index finger over her plump lips—not that anything she might have said could be heard over the music. He held her other wrist now, wrapping her body in his and manipulating her arms like a marionette until her hands were flat on the vibrating surface of Loc’s speaker tower.

It would be an understatement to say that Eric’s search was thorough. Both hands began wrapped around one of her ankles moving slowly up over her jeans, around her calf, up her thigh until his hands could no longer remain together, but they converged between her thighs, one hand roughly stroking the crotch of her skin-tight jeans while the other gripped one ass-cheek and jiggled it for a moment.

It was then that Loc got his first good look at Anna, even though he practically shouted, “God damn, that ass!” it went unheard by anyone.

Eric repeated the process on her other leg and ass-cheek, the space between her thighs receiving a double dose of deep rubbing. He turned out her front pockets next, dragging his hands up her toned stomach to her firm, natural tits. He tugged her bra down under her blouse, feeling her bare tits in his hands, squeezing them, lifting and dropping them, gauging their weight.

After he was satisfied, he moved his hands back down to her hips and then back under her blouse along her back, across her shoulders and back down again. He gave a hand signal to Loc and the volume was lowered back to a more reasonable listening volume.

“Upstairs,” Eric said matter-of-factly, his mouth close by Anna’s ear.

Not even waiting for her to put herself back together, Eric snatched up the bag she’d brought and began to carry it up the creaky wooden stairs, the polish worn away from the center of most of them. Loc helped himself to a healthy grab of Anna’s ass when she passed him. He winked and gave her a thumbs up.

In Eric’s room a sleeping bag was nailed up across a broken window, doing a poor job of separating indoors from out. There was also a grey, plastic money counting machine sitting atop a grey, steel desk. Sitting at the desk, he dropped the bag in the center of it and opened it to begin thumbing through the bricks of cash.

When Anna entered, Eric locked eyes with her.

“Close the door and lock it,” Eric demanded, his voice already sounding threatening and full of rage, “what the fuck is this? I was told to expect more than this. Where’s the rest?”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

How fast her mood changed. From gently appreciating the music and with an almost adventurous feeling in her, she was brought down fast. The strip search had been unreal.

It was too much to take in, the way she’d been manhandled, the deafening loud music, the messy room, the two black males who seemed so aggressive and mean (even if the one sitting had smiled and seemed more easy-going). No one had ever treated her like that, and ordinarily Anna would have screamed out. But she froze, thinking that there maybe were fire arms on the premises. She wasn’t wrong.

And having her breasts exposed like that.. and his hand between her legs. My god. A different woman would have slapped him, and Anna thought about that for half a second, realizing that she had actually never striked another human being – and this was hardly the time or place to start. She thought about Larry in jail and what he was going through - maybe as we speak. Perhaps this was a small price for her to pay, she reasoned.

Walking up the stairs, Anna felt the other man’s hand on her ass, grabbing without a care of any consequence, and his appreciative thumbs up caught her off-guard. She glared at him, instinctively trying to dissuade him of such behavior with an angry face. But his arrogant smile and that idiotic thumbs up neutralized her completely.

“I.. But I don’t know anything about that.. I was just told to bring you the bag.. I’m sorry..”

Anna stuttered her reply, she had never ever been spoken to like this. She felt her face burn, fiddled with her hair, nervously pushing a strand behind her ear. She felt like a schoolgirl being told off, but this was.. much worse. The decrepitude of this room, even worse than the one downstairs, got to her. Was that a sleeping bag hanging in the window?? What was this place? Anna had never ever come across anything like it. Except from TV and movies. But this was the real deal. Her heart beat furiously as she saw into the dead eyes of the man counting her husband’s money.

 

[LitShark]

“So, it’s your husband’s fault? Is that it?” Eric asked, stacking the five bricks of cash on his desk and casting the bag aside in disgust, “because this is half of what he was instructed to have you bring to us. It’s disrespectful, he’ll have to pay for this. I guess we’ll stop short of killing him, but his face will surely never be the same.”

Eric trailed off, dreaming up what tortures would be appropriate for their mark Larry. The first rule of extortion was never to accept the first offer, but nonetheless, Eric had been told to expect at least $100k for the mark’s payment, and this looked like about fifty. Still, better to be sure than trying to guess. He broke the bank seals on the first stack of hundreds and stacked them carefully into the top tray of the counting machine. He pressed a button, there came a beep and then the fluttering pitter-patter of bills being flipped rapidly though the counter.

Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-pip-pip-pip-ip-ip-ip… BEEP!

The first ten was square.

Eric gathered the stack from the bottom tray and folded it in half, wrapping it with a rubber band before breaking the bank seal around the next ten. He repeated the process, this time looking over at Anna as the machine counted.

Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-pip-pip-pip-ip-ip-ip… BEEP!

“Go sit on the bed,” Eric demanded, leaning back in his creaky rolling chair to snatch a hoodie off the bed and clear a spot for Anna to sit on the forest green comforter, the bed seemed to be the cleanest surface in the whole house, it at least was made, “so you’re sure your husband meant for you to only bring us this much? He’s going to have to take an ass kicking from his cellmate for disrespect like this. Nobody disrespects me like this…”

Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-pip-pip-pip-ip-ip-ip… BEEP!

Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-pip-pip-pip-ip-ip-ip… BEEP!

Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-pip-pip-pip-ip-ip-ip… BEEP!

“This is fifty G’s you brought me. My guy was promised a hundred by your husband. If he told you to bring this and nothing more, he deliberately disrespected me, the guy offering him protection and you—since I’m damn sure not letting you go anywhere until we work out how I’m going to get the rest of my money. What do you see in an asshole who’s willing to put you in danger like that?” Eric bundled the last ten grand in a rubber band and slipped that one into his sock before swiveling in his chair to face Anna, looking stern, “we might have to kill the fucker. Nobody disrespects the twenty-twos like this, not even mark-ass crabs.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

Anna sat down slowly on the bed, as in slow-motion, trying to take in what was happening, staring into a an empty space in front of her. Not knowing what to do with her nervous hands, she clasped them and put them between her thighs. She imagined her Larry in the prison infirmary, badly injured. Oh god.

And then this scary man in front of her.. Anna tried to take in what he just told her, tried to process it. But it wasn't easy - she was as far from her home turf that anyone could possibly be.

She thought about the disrespect, of this man and of the men inside, that Larry apparently had shown them. At the present, she really had no reason to doubt that this guy was speaking the truth. How could Larry be so unbelievably stupid?? And then Anna thought about herself, her own current situation. Fucking hell, Larry?? Have you put me in harm's way, you silly stupid man??

"No.. please.. I'm sure there's an explanation! I.. Larry wouldn't be so stupid, he's not a tough guy, he's just a.. I mean, he's from Rhode Island.. Please, there must something we can do..!!"

Anna suddenly spoke fast, loud, desperately. She was close to tears. Was that a smile on their faces? She couldn't be sure..

"Oh god.. please.." She pleaded, before unclasping her hands and putting them up to her face. Hiding, like she wasn't there now. It was all just a nightmare. Wasn't it?

 

[LitShark]

As Anna was falling to bits and pleading, Eric couldn’t stop himself from breaking character just briefly, he couldn’t force down a chuckle when she said ”…he’s from Rhode Island!” like an excuse, but he covered his mouth until he was able to reestablish his mean-mug. He reminded himself that he was pissed off, disrespected and got back into character by flexing every muscle in his body at once.

“Enough!” Eric shouted, his voice aggressive even above the music filtering in, the shout filled the room like a firecracker, if Anna wasn’t his mark, a different white woman might have successfully called the shout an assault in court, “put your hands down, pull yourself together. You’re going to make me sick… I’ll figure something out…”

Eric already knew exactly what he was going to do, but a con was exactly like chess, he was already predicting the fallout from the moves he’d resolved to make, then for the main players, one move further—after I… then she… then he… then I…

“My next call into the prison is at eight tomorrow morning, if you stay here as collateral on the rest of your husband’s debt until then. The interest, you’ll pay. In favors,” Eric had swiveled in his chair and rolled over to where Anna was sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs spread on either side of her, “see, for disrespect of this kind, somebody’s gotta pay the interest with their body. His is worth less.”

Eric said the last bit in one breath, so it sounded like worthless.

It was about seven forty-five, and Eric had lied about the call schedule. He was supposed to check in with Omar at 8 that night, and if Omar wasn’t able to reach Eric, he was under specific instructions to beat the shit out of Larry. It was the first indication that something was wrong, which it was—but something was also very right. This plan was designed to also steal Larry’s wife as well as his money. Larry’s bragging about his gorgeous, thick bride was what made him a prime candidate for the 22’s Protection Plan.

Both Larry and Anna’s pussy were going to take beatings tonight.

“Either you pay or he pays. Why don’t you show me some of that dancing you were doing outside? Move those hips for me and I’ll consider letting you pay off the interest.”

*-*-*​

“Lights out!” the CO called out over C-Block, followed by a percussive sound of a lever being thrown and the central lights over the block cut out.

Just as it went dark, Omar pried open the tank on the toilet and reached into the water, retrieving a red Nokia phone in a Ziplock bag with a rubber band around a separate bag for the battery. He locked the battery in place and powered on the phone, pressing his thumb hard over the speaker holes so it wouldn’t beep. He checked the time, it was 8:01 PM and he pressed the only contact in the phone labeled just “22”.

“We’re sorry, but you know what to do is offline or unavailable right now…” the automated voice rang into Omar’s ear, “if you’d like to leave a—”

“That’s not good news for you, Gordon Gekko,” Omar smirked, shaking his head as he ended the call and hung up, “something went wrong with your payout.”

“What? Why? No! I—I—sent Anna to… I” Larry was stammering, tucking himself up into the corner of his bunk like some kind of pathetic, primal defense for beta men, “she—she—she must have stolen it! That bitch! I’ll get her—your guy can find her!”

“Shut up now, it’s 8:05. I’ll try one last time, but if there’s no answer…” Omar pressed the call button again.

“We’re sorry…” Omar powered off the phone and disconnected the battery.

“She says they’re sorry, Larry,” Omar shook his head mournfully, repackaging the phone, “it’s just a beating, dawg. Straighten up.”

“Oh God, no! Please don’t do this! I’ll get you more money—the offshore money! Please! You can have my wife! She’s got a big ass, you people like that, right?”

“Stop it, Larry,” Omar placed the lid back on the tank, turning back and cracking his knuckles, “you’re making a fool out of yourself. Most of us get jumped in when we’re thirteen or fourteen. You want to be my blood brother, you gotta bleed.”

In a flash, Omar was on him, stuffing a clean washcloth all the way down his throat so he couldn’t scream. The much larger man drove his knee down on Larry’s inner thigh, pinning him to his bunk, but not quite hard enough to break his femur. The punches followed in a volley, each impact felt like a sledge hammer, as Omar hadn’t had any nerves left in his knuckles since the nineties.

First, Larry’s jaw became dislocated, then his eye socket was fractured, then his nose broken, then the nose again. The washcloth allowed him to keep all his teeth. When he was done, Omar reached down, his hand big enough to close around Larry’s whole face. With a loud crack, he reset Larry’s jaw, then he pulled the washcloth out of his mouth slowly.

“See, it’s over now. You’ll live,” Omar’s voice was almost reassuring, he draped the washcloth over Larry’s face when he was done, “nothing personal, dawg. It’s just business. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

The shout had an immediate effect on Anna. She shut up, and looked with her big blue eyes into the brown eyes now less than a foot from hers. And couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Favors? What favors? Her body?? They wouldn't... would they? It was stupid question that even she knew the answer to. Yes of course they would. She found it hard to breathe, having to make a conscious effort.

Dance for him? Not likely. She thought about Larry, and what he was going through. Would her subserviance here, make things better for him? She wasn't convinced. She wasn't even convinced she cared enough.

She felt a sense of calm now.. True. Anna was in a scary place and situation. But she was braver than many gave her credit for. A bravery not primarily borne out of experience, but borne out of intelligence. She too, could play chess. Her father the diplomat came to mind. What would he have done?

Well, first and foremost, he would have done what was best for him.

What behaviour would serve Anna best at this moment?

"Ok then.."

And without further ado, she stood up, listened to the beat and slowly moved her hips to it. She looked down at Eric, almost defiantly. And even though she hadn't planned to, and didn't really mean to, she kept looking at him, as her hips and ass swayed more intensely to the music.

Anna looked over at the other guy, filled with some sort of newly found confidence:

"Hey.. you.. what's this song?"

 

[LitShark]

EJ smirked as Anna looked deep into his eyes, almost defiantly and he finally felt like he could see his grander plan coming to fruition. In that moment, he saw in her eyes something that he’d doubted in her to that point and he finally saw her as more than a sexy piece of ass. She had will, intelligence and courage—all traits that he had uses for, beyond just her sexy fucking body. As she swayed in place to the music, Eric gently slid his palms along the outer edges of her thighs, feeling her moving under his hands.

“Shawty’s got heart,” Eric chuckled, approvingly, “and she do look like she was poured into them jeans.”

EJ hadn’t noticed that Loc had followed them upstairs until Anna looked up to him and asked about the song. Loc, who still hadn’t looked beyond Anna’s appearance—but truly, didn’t need to know much else about her to approve of the hustle—answered confidently while using the tiny remote in his hand over his shoulder and pressing a button to increase the volume as the song changed.

“This one called, I Like,” Loc answered, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as the heavy bass resonated through the antiquated floorboards, “and I do… like. I’m Loc by the way.”

Loc made a big show of biting his bottom lip and slowly drawing it out from behind his front teeth, shrugging out of his red flannel to reveal his broad, muscular and tattooed shoulders. Loc was less inclined to flatter Anna, lest she gather up the gumption to assume that she had the leverage to jerk them around in any sense. Eric was still more concerned with how and when he was going to get the rest of the first installment.

“Alright, alright,” Eric interrupted, not sure that he was ready for Anna to know them by name yet, even if they were using aliases, “let’s stay on topic for just a moment. You keep moving, but just listen to what I’m asking. Do you and your husband have a joint checking account? How much is in there now? Is the house still in debt and could you borrow more against it?”

While he peppered her with questions, Eric finally moved his left leg enough that she was no longer pinned between his seated body and the bed and could dance her way into the rest of the bedroom if she so desired. But he still had business for Loc and wasn’t ready to turn Anna over to him just yet.

“Loc! Four racks for the safe. Go handle that while she answers my question and we make some money moves. Then you can break out the Louis and we can party,” Eric tossed one bundle of cash after another to Loc, who deftly caught each bundle.

“Shit, nigga. I been drinking since I woke up, you ain’t my mama,” Loc scoffed, despite going to do as he was instructed, but not before calling over his shoulder, “just for that, the white bitch is gonna hit this blunt before you, too.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

"I woke up this morning, with a brand new swag
Like fuck these niggas, let’s get this cash
I like money and bitches, and bitches with money..."

Anna looked over at Loc.
"Hi Loc.."

The looks he was giving her and the expression on his face, it was impossible not to react in some way. So she looked back, and didn't make any real effort to hide what she was thinking, and Loc definitely saw it - the way she looked at his upper body, the muscles, the sheer mass, the tattoos, the broad grin..

And then that line repeated.. "..bitches with money..".. Yes she was. A bitch with money.

"I'm sure we can work it out.. the money I mean.."

Anna looked at Eric, trying to convey the fact that, really, money wasn't going to be a problem. That was her reality, her background: Money was never a problem.

She kind of liked his hands on her thighs like that. She shouldn't, but she did. She couldn't really explain it. Anna wasn't sure if maybe she was just fooling herself to survive, or actually.. adapting - just like she had adapted to California when she unwilllingly had moved out here with Larry.

Moving out on to the small floor space, still moving to the beat, she looked at Eric and then at Loc.

Break out the... champagne? Anna thought to herself.. hm.. yes please, why not. Might as well, yes? Some champagne couldn't hurt, and it might take the edge off some of the aggressiveness if they went to party mode.

A blunt? Anna guessed marijuana, and it made her feel extremely uncool not to be sure. What was weird, but perhaps significative of her background, was that she had almost no experience of smoking weed, but had done some coke since moving out here. It was her crazy actress sister-in-law who had offered it to her 5-6 times, and Anna had found out that she liked it.. a bit too much. But she could hardly ask for that now.

 

[LitShark]

Loc was none too pleased to have to abandon the little bout of eye-fucking he was doing with Anna while she danced, but he was getting to the ass-end of his forty and a blunt sounded about perfect right then. Even though he was still playing the con, Eric must have liked what he saw as much as Loc did, he didn’t break out Ace of Spades for just any ho, much less a mark. He was already lighting the blunt when he reentered with the bottle in his right hand, no glasses.

As if reading her mind, Eric unlocked the top drawer of the desk and produced a mirror with a few carefully cut lines of pure, uncut blow lined up. He used a rolled up $100 bill that was laying on the mirror parallel to the lines to do one then another, one for each nostril before passing the mirror.

“Do one line, it’s uncut so it’s probably stronger than any you’ve had before,” Eric advised, handing the mirror to Anna, “but don’t refuse. Cops refuse drugs.”

By now, the room was filling with potent weed and tobacco smoke, from the cigar paper that surrounded the weed itself. Loc was happily toking up while swaying to the music himself, he slid his heavy, red flannel off of his shoulders. He set the bottle on Eric’s desk.

While Anna was busy with the mirror, Eric helped himself to unbuttoning and unzipping her tight jeans, gripping the belt-loops to tug it down over her round ass. He tugged on the jeans until they bundled up around her knees and left her exposed from the waist down.

“Yeah, alright. I believe that you’re going to get me my money. So, hit that blunt, do another line and make yourself comfortable. We’ve got something that we’re going to give you now,” Eric explained, his tone still casual, businesslike.

“A couple of somethings,” Loc interjected.

Eric slapped her ass, lifted and dropped it to watch it jiggle around in her sexy panties.

“Do you know how to twerk?” Eric asked, taking back the mirror so that Loc could hand Anna the blunt, “if not we can teach you.”

Eric set the mirror back on his desk and began unwrapping the cork for the bottle.

 

[SannaBlonde82]

Anna should have guessed that if there was coke here – there was a high probability it would be on offer with the champagne and marijuana. And lo and behold from out of a drawer it came. Anna felt a buzz in her, the psychologically conditioned reaction to the high she knew was coming. And no, she wasn’t about to refuse. She wanted it. The acceptance inside her that she wanted nothing more than to snort this line – liberated her and so she took the rolled-up bill without hesitance and bent over the mirror, holding the bill with her left hand and pulling her hair out of the way with the right.

Anna could feel within two seconds that this was a whole lot stronger than the bland stuff her sister-in-law used to offer her (always highly secretively if Larry was around – he hated drugs in any form). And at the same time as she felt Eric starting to unzip her jeans and tug at them, the rush set in. She still had one hand resting against the table, as she pulled her head back, sniffed three times and wiped her nose, throwing the bill down.

The synchronicity of her being undressed with the cocaine rush was perfect. Because she had no defence – actually, in that brief moment, her whole world turned around and she WANTED her jeans pulled down. She WANTED her bare, white ass shown, she WANTED to have her ass-cheeks jiggled like that. She WANTED… them. It was unbelievable, the effect of it.

Anna hade felt the high before, and that it had an instant effect of arousal on her, but this stuff.. it quadrupled the effect. A tingling sensation spread throughout, every nerve alive. And when told to do another, even though she hardly needed it, Anna bent down and did another. And hit the blunt once. Carefully though, her little experience of it was enough to know it could make her feel sick.

The second line sent her spinning out of control.

“Oh god haha!!” Anna laughed, feeling euphoric, the effect of the marijuana too, put a big smile on her face.

“Fuck, that was good.. haha..!!”

She laughed again, and squealed and giggled like a girl when her ass was slapped, lifted and jiggled, pouting her ass out as Eric handled her. She was in Colombia heaven and had no plans of coming down. It was scary the effect on her, the buzz it gave her – she would reason later. But it wasn’t just the blow. She was an upper-class white woman with two gang-banging black guys, hardened criminals – and even though she had never had the fantasy herself, now that she actually found herself in the situation, she knew she belonged. But yeah. It was the coke that tipped the scales.

“Hahaha! If I know how to twerk?? What, you boys think white girls can’t do it? Well let me show ya..”

Anna bent her knees and put her hands on them, and pointing her ass in their direction she started moving to the beat. And then she shook her stuff, knowing full well she had the most perfect ass there was for twerking.

“Good enough..?? You like it..??”

 

[LitShark]

When Anna bent over and started twerking Loc choked on the smoke he was inhaling and alternated between laughing and coughing for several long moments. EJ smacked her bare, jiggling ass-cheek as the one closest to him dropped back down again. He leaned forward, mouth open wide and let her thick cheek drop onto his face, teeth sinking into the soft, white flesh as he finished yanking her jeans around her ankles.

Eric bit just hard enough to leave a bruise behind, before letting her step out of her jeans and tossing them over his shoulder onto the bed. He slapped the same spot he’d bitten—even now, his expression was implacable, as if still crunching numbers, assessing value on her body—her individual parts, one at a time, on their own merits.

“That is a nice ass,” Eric conceded, slapping the jiggling cheek again, the whole side now painted red, “especially on a white bitch.”

“Nice nothin’, my nigga. That’s a PAWG there!” Loc interjected, much less committed to his poker face and already out of his tank top, muscular, tattooed torso on proud display.

“The true work of art is but a shadow of divine perfection,” Eric countered, quoting Michelangelo before doing another line and popping the champagne, “open up, Snow Bunny.”

As Anna continued to show off her most marketable asset and Loc continued to strip down in Eric’s bedroom, Eric took possession of the blunt and stood up, pouring the expensive, French champagne into his guest’s willing mouth, splashing her face and her tits, dribbling down the corners of her face and off her chin. He poured until the sound that the champagne made filling her mouth rose in pitch and her mouth filled up.

It seemed like she could hold a lot in there.

“You can fuck first, Loc. We’ll spit roast her, but I get to get her ass first,” Eric proclaimed, after hitting the blunt, sipping from the bottle and then blowing the smoke, “I bet her bitch of a husband hasn’t even pounded her asshole yet. How bout it, Snow Bunny? Did your hubby ever pound that ass?”

“Fine by me!” Loc announced, dropping out of his boxers and setting free his monstrous thick foot-long cock, “I’m ‘bout to fuck all the married outa this bitch.”

“Keep twerking!” Eric ordered Anna.

Loc was gripping the middle of his shaft, brandishing it like a weapon as he drank deep from the bottle. He spanked Anna one good time before lining up the head of his cock with Anna’s wet, eager pussy. He began pouring more of the champagne onto her jiggling ass-cheeks at the same moment he penetrated her, slamming her forward with his massive cock. Eric just smoked and watched her face, his expression still dispassionate.

“Look at me, I’m a rapper in nineteen ninety-eight!” Loc laughed, stopping pouring once he felt her perfect ass was sufficiently shiny, “a real PAWG, my nigga! A real life PAWG! Like a motherfuckin’ white whale!”

“Tell him how much you like it, bitch,” Eric demanded, his eyes fierce, seemingly enraged suddenly, “tell him you’ve never had it that good before.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

While the buzz of the coke took hold of her more and more, she frantically shook her ass at them to the rhythm of the music, now changed to a more up-tempo, stomping tune, some kind of dancehall/electro with a deep, grinding bass. Anna felt it vibrate inside, she laughed again and shrieked as Eric bit her and jiggled and spanked her. Haha it felt fantastic!! Who knew?!?

Oh god and now the fizzy champagne but she had never drank it like this, she tried to swallow some which she did - but loads ran down over the front of her, her white top now drenched and sticky.

Had Larry had anal sex with her? No! She was almost an anal virgin, and she made it clear to them, knowing full well that if they wanted her anally they would have her.

On command she kept twerking, while in her stupor also realizing that things were happening behind her back. She looked over her shoulder and through what was now almost a cloud of hazy smoke she saw the other guy pulling down his pants and jesus fucking hell what was that..??? The black snake hung there, too fucking big to stand in its erection but she could see it was hard. She couldn’t stop looking, her jaw dropping in awe of it.

And that word.. what was he saying? Not dog? No, pawd, pawg? What was a pawg??
‘Whats that?? Whats a pawg? She asked. But at the same time, the muscular guy with his black huge cock closed in on her from behind and she could feel his massive head against her, and his fingers pulling her thong forcefully to one side. Oh fuck.. oh god it was happening. For a second she saw herself clearly as if she hadn’t done two lines of high octane blow, a puff of weed and mouthfuls of champagne - and her heart sank like she was really just still that diplomats daughter studying art at university - but the second passed as fast as seconds do, and she was back on track. Ready for it.

And as his cock rammed inside her, separating her big white ass cheeks, and she felt the champagne flow over her body, she moaned from the bottom of her lungs:

‘Oh fuck yeah!! Fuck me! Please!!

 

[LitShark]

The song changed and the tempo, atmosphere and overall mood of the room seemed to change with it, as if Anna’s heartfelt moan and slutty plea unleashed some spell that relieved the tension in everyone present, Loc most of all. As his massive, wide cock plowed Anna’s tight, grasping pussy, Loc tried in vain to stretch her out enough that he could get the whole thing inside, slamming her insides harder still when he was denied full entry in his first effort.

Eric, by contrast, found his sense of humor in the abrupt mood shift, laughing heartily and enthusiastically both at Anna’s own eagerness and her ignorance of popular slang. Shit, he thought this whole thing was going to be more difficult. As EJ was still battling fits of laughter, Loc stopped pouring champagne and slapped Anna’s big, round, pale ass again—leaving behind another pink handprint that overlapped the first and set her juicy cheeks jiggling.

“Shit, we didn’t hardly have to twist your arm, did we, ho?” Loc taunted, still slamming Anna’s warm, wet hole like he was trying to dig a hole in wet sand with a stick, “look back at me, bitch. Let me see them pretty blue eyes, you sexy fucking whore.”

“Shit, the bitch practically begged for it as soon as she walked in. I bet she was hoping for this shit all along,” Eric joined in once his laughter ebbed enough for him to speak again, “PAWG is an acronym, simple bitch. It stands for ‘perfect assed white girl.’ Though you may be getting a little on in years to be a girl—perfect ass white lady, maybe.”

“I could give a fuck less, nigga. I’m gonna break this bitch in like new shoes and make her my ho! Don’t you want to be my ho, bitch? Walk the stroll for daddy and get dicked down like this every night? Answer me when I talk to you, slut.”

Again, Loc’s handprint overlapped his prior contributions, wearing her out on one side only, as if he was saving the other side for his compatriot. After the jiggling from his spank died down, Loc grasped Anna’s hips in each hand, lifting her and tilting her forward until her toes were barely touching the floor as he continued to batter her insides with his brutally hard cock.

“Take it!” Loc grunted each time he slammed her cervix, “take it you sexy, cheating whore!”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

"Yes! I wanna be your ho!! Fuck me!!"

The moaned, high pitched words just fell out of Annas mouth like the most natural thing in the world. And the repeated spanking of her ass-cheek felt fantastic. She never thought that being treated like this would feel so fucking amazing. Was it the cocaine? If so, surely the drug just helped release something already in her? Or had it altered her personality to the core? Made her a simple whore? A whore for black cock?

It was unbelievable how he managed to keep her on her feet, just holding her hips and banging her. She felt like she would fall forward everytime he rammed her. But she didn't.

"You sexy cheating whore..."

Yes. Yes she was. A fucked up, cheating whore. Her husband in prison, while she was in a run-down suburb getting used like a slut with coke running round in her veins.

And this massive thing completely ruining her and that sound, echoing against the walls, even over the volume of the music and the men's voices and her squealing - the sound of her moist cunt and ass getting pummelled. Bang, bang, bang, bang, over and over and over.

 

[LitShark]

Anna was just about losing her mind as Loc pummeled her insides with his massive cock—obviously she’d never had black dick before and wasn’t ready for the deep-dicking she was receiving. Briefly Eric considered that maybe this was all a setup, that she was just some talented actress playing the role of cock-drunk, slut-wife—but if she was acting, she was very invested in her role, that was for sure.

Loc couldn’t get enough of watching Anna’s thick, round ass jiggling as he pounded his hips into it and slapped it with his open palm, making a game of it, trying to make it so that her jiggle rings would overlap, but they never did. Instead, the pale, jiggling flesh just continued to undulate and quake as the impact tremors undulated their way through her supple flesh. The percussive sound of his body colliding with hers rose in tempo as the song continued to bump from downstairs, a fast song by any measure.

“We gonna wear you out tonight, whore!” Loc taunted, slapping her ass again, “we gonna fuck you so damn hard, you won’t even feel your husband’s tiny prick when he goes to fuck you! Cum on this black cock, bitch. Give it to me! Give me that fucking cream and call me a nigga while you do it, too.”

Perhaps it was inevitable, but Loc now griped a fistful of Anna’s long, golden hair in one fist, his bicep flexing as he tugged her back into his brutal, rapid-fire thrusts—bouncing her body around like a paddle ball.

“Move the bitch’s face over here,” Eric instructed, out of his jeans at last with his fourteen-inch cock making a circus-sized tent in his boxer shorts, “we’re gonna play a game, see how good you really are at taking these big, hard, black cocks. Come here, slut.”

Even with Loc mercilessly pulling her hair, Eric was able to palm the back of Anna’s head and guide her face over to his lap, just as he tugged down the waistband of his boxers, letting his thick, heavy cock spring up and make contact with her face, hard enough to make a sound. Still controlling her head, actively preventing her lips or tongue from touching even the very tip of his cock, Eric dumped a slightly more than modest pile of powder onto his stomach, just below his naval.

“Now, listen good, white-bitch. You’re going to swallow my cock all the way down, whether you want to or not. But, if you can get all the way down, you get the prize. You’ll just have to figure out how to snort it with your throat stopped. If you can’t take me on your first try, and you cough, or puke, or even exhale too hard, you’re going to blow your reward all into the carpet.”

“Damn, homie. Stop wasting the product.”

“Relax, this is from my personal stash—besides, I think she can do it. She’s a top-notch fuck-pig, aren’t you, ho? Go on, now. Swallow this black dick and get you your reward… There she goes…”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

If anyone who knew Anna from before had looked into her eyes at this point they would have been severely worried about her. Like seeing someone you know possessed by an evil spirit. The cocaine had it's part in it, there was no doubting that, but it couldn't nearly account for all that Anna was feeling as the two black men abused her body, abused her soul.

Her eyes were glazed over, both looking sluggishly drunk and crazed at the same time. Orgasms were happening, even though they really shouldn't considering the way she was being harshly treated - but they were all the same. And she moaned and squealed herself through them but had no time to breathe or reflect on them.

As Loc commanded her to call him a nigger, she complied and gasped the word as he pulled her hair backwards towards him. The verbal insults that were hurled at her should have hurt her, but they just served to excite her even more. Fuck-pig.
. Such a dirty horrible thing to call a woman. But hey, she was. She was their fuck-pig and right now right here she wanted to be. How was that possible?? A question for later.

Anna gave it a brave and valiant try but there was no way she was reaching that line of coke at the end of Eric's long, fat cock. No way. And after 3-4 attempts, panting and drooling with her hair still tightly pulled back and Loc still inside her - all three of them realized she wasn't going to succeed.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

“Stupid fucking bitch!” Eric shouted as Anna choked for the third time and her hack scattered the generous line of blow across his stomach, “you really are useless, even as a whore. I’m starting to think that ass of yours isn’t even worth the interest we’re forgiving. Maybe your piece-of-shit husband doesn’t live to see the morning… maybe you’re more useful as a rich widow.”

Eric gripped one of Anna’s ears in each hand, using them like handles to raise her face up off of his cock and force her to look him in the eyes—unfocused as they were. He slapped her across her face, hard and without hesitation. When she didn’t seem to become more responsive, he slapped her again.

“You worthless, fucking pig! Jizz mop, whore!” Eric slapped her again as Loc slammed her cervix once more, “apologize for losing my shit, you incompetent bitch! That blow wasn’t yours to lose! Now you’re going to have to pay—even more than you were already going to.”

“Ease up, my nigga,” Loc intervened from behind, releasing her hair in favor of her shoulders while E manipulated her head, “don’t be too hard on my bitch before you try out this pussy. Bitch feels tight like a tick’s butthole. Her husband must not fuck her for shit.”

Loc slapped the same, round ass-cheek he’d been hitting all along, following the blow with a series of short, fast thrusts that kept her round ass jiggling long after the hit. The two men were manipulating her like a marionette, Loc’s huge cock wedged against her cervix and shoving her hips back and forth while Eric used her ears to work her head and mouth.

“You’ve got until Loc nuts in that tight, wet pussy of yours to show me something, you worthless excuse for a cum-dump. If you can’t impress me with how well you handle my cock, I’m going to send word to my guy inside that your dipshit husband’s time is up. You’d better figure out some way to fucking impress me enough that I give a fuck to slam that fat ass of yours. Show me that you’re more than some blonde hair and a tight pussy,” Eric was shouting in her face, tuned up on blow himself and aggressive. He slapped her again for emphasis.

“Shit, bitch—you’d better hurry then. I’m about to fill your fucking guts up with all this black cum,” Loc interjected, his tempo increasing as his core muscles flexed, “I’m about to fucking nut, bitch!”

“Hurry up, slut!” Eric demanded, slapping the other side of Anna’s face this time, “impress me, or you’ll never see your husband again.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

The rough fucking from behind she could take. Actually she noticed that she enjoyed it even. Anna had never been taken like this, and even though she did encourage men to be a bit more "commanding" in bed, most men couldn't deliver. A lot of the time, it was enough for her to moan "fuck me harder!!" to a man for him to fuck her harder for like ten seconds before shooting his load.

This was not the case here.

The verbal abuse, now getting worse - came as a natural consequence of the rough usage, like the two things went hand in hand. And like she deserved it. She was being a cheating slut in the worst possible way and of course she needed to hear it.

But Eric's threats were different. It frightened her.

"But.. oh my god.. no I can't.. what do you want me to do?? Please... tell me..!!"

She tried pleading with him. It was obvious to all three that she would not be able to take his cock any deeper in her mouth - her jaw and mouth cavity already sore from trying. She would do anything now, but she could not for her life come up with what would trump swallowing his full length.

"You can fuck my ass.. DP me.. please.. anything..." Was her last, desperate attempt.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Eric just laughed at Anna’s pathetic attempts to placate him. Desperation was very sexy to him, powerful and feared as he was. He liked Anna much more than he intended to let on, but he wanted her to be able to deep throat him with ease, and a gentle hand was the exact wrong tool for such an endeavor. Nonetheless, he felt that she’d earned some encouragement from him, so when Loc hammered his monster cock into her weeping pussy again, he kissed her passionately and deeply, sighing through his nose against her face.

“I’ll give you a chance to entice me with that jiggly, round ass of yours, don’t worry. But first, I’m going to get my cock into your throat. I don’t care if you gag, just get it down—” Eric smirked after the kiss broke, “once you get it all down, I’ll even let you cum. I’m sure you’re getting close. Deep breath in…”

Once he’d instructed her, Eric shoved her head down into his lap, forcing his thick, hard cock into her throat like he was putting a sock on a foot. When her throat clenched and retched around his head, he moved his grip to the back of her head and slapped his right hand down on the back of his left hand, making a loud clapping noise. Like he was hammering down a nail, Eric slapped the back of his hand over and over until he’d successfully forced Anna’s face into his lap. The slapping hand reached under her face and pinched closed her nose. Eric gently shook her head from side to side, relishing the momentary grip of her retching throat before he released her head, allowing her to come up for air.

“That’s a good, whore. You can cum now, slut,” Eric grinned, helping to smooth some of Anna’s wet, matted hair out of her face, “you may be useful after all.”

“Shit!’ Loc groaned, slapping the same spot on her ass, this time the slap was somehow appreciative, “I’m about to cum too. I hope you’re on the pill, bitch.”

“We’ve still got some Plan B around here somewhere, just nut in her guts and let me at her. We can rinse her out between fucks if the others are squeamish about your jizz. You know I ain’t,” Eric replied to Loc as if they were alone in the room, then turned his attention back to Anna as if she were more pet than companion, “you ready for that, whore? Get some hot nigga nut up in your guts? Beg him to bless you with his dirty fucking jizz.”

If nothing else, Anna was obedient—everything else could be taught. Just as Loc seemed to be rounding the home stretch, Eric heard the front door slam open as the song on the stereo system changed over.

“Hello? What the fuck? Where ya’ll niggas at? I’m here to fuckin’ rob you!” Dread was shouting from downstairs. Eric hoped that he’d brought more beer.

“We up here, Dread!” Eric called down, “we got somethin’ you’re probably gonna enjoy.”

 

[SannaBlonde82]

It couldn't be done no it was impossible. It wasn't solely a matter of physical limitations, it was just as much a matter of mental ones. Who was Anna - if she could swallow the whole length of this monstrous black cock??

Well, if she did - she was no longer the university master degree daughter of a diplomat girl walking the streets of Manhattan going to art galleries kind of person anymore, was she?

No. As Eric somehow managed to force himself in, down her throat, making her eyes bulge, and the cock actually did disappear into her - she changed. In her soul.

The orgasm that followed, from Loc's insessant pounding, just served to underline this Fuck how she came, her poor legs twitching and as she was allowed to come up for air, she howled and yelped.

Anna could feel that Loc was about to cum too. She was on the pill but she didn't fucking care right now. She wanted his semen. And then she heard Eric talking about "others", and then the sound of what was obviously a friend of theirs arriving downstairs.

Were they going to...?? Anna, light-headed and having a hard time focusing on anything else than what was at hand, hardly reacted to it in her mind now. Ok another... fuck me then.. just fuck me.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Loc pulled his cock out of Anna’s jizz soaked pussy slowly, letting her feel each inch sliding out of her and his thick cum following it out. The ridge of his cock made a faint sound as he fell out, limp and expended, his cum dripping down her thighs. He put his cock away and lit a black and mild, changing the song for the first time in a while. Dread came in and laughed at the sight of Anna, bent over E&J’s lap, naked and leaking cum.

“You’re right, I do like that shit—but are you sure that’s really what we should be doing right now?” Dread asked, greeting Loc and then Eric with casual hand claps, “I thought you’d be laying low right about now.”

“The fuck you mean, man? It’s Friday,” Eric laughed, rising from his chair and letting his pants fall around his ankles, he led Anna over to his bed by a fistful of her blonde hair, “this whore’s husband is into us for some bread, we’ve got her as the collateral on his note.”

“That’s not what I mean, fool. Listen—”

Eric wasn’t listening, he was occupied with Anna’s round ass, spreading her wide and lowering her spread open anus onto his huge, wet cock. As she sank into his lap, he reached around, cupping and squeezing her breasts. He was feeling the coke now and her ass felt so warm and tight he could barely contain himself. Grinding her erect nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, he began to bounce her ass with his hips, fucking her ass slowly but so-fucking-deep.

“Damnit, E. Those Jump Out Boys from down Long Beach way are up here. They drove all the way out here talkin about how they know it was you that boosted their score and they’re coming to fry your fucking head.”

“Jump Out Boys—you mean those Crabs?”

“Yes, Fool! They’re here and they’re strapped!”

As if on cue, from outside drifted in the sound of masculine shouting and then squealing tires. The gunshots rang out next, fully automatic and very close. Shattering glass and broken drywall sped inward, showering Eric and Anna in white dust and pink insulation fibers. The hail of bullets passed smoothly through the sleeping back, making sounds like birds hitting a screen door and sending a shower of feathers inward. Eric wrapped his muscular arms around Anna and rolled off the bed with her, landing on top and unintentionally driving his cock balls deep into her ass. Loc was far enough away by then that he could dive into the hall where a second wall and Eric’s dresser protected him from the automatic gunfire.

Dread, however, wasn’t so lucky. When the bullets passed easily through the sleeping bag, he was standing in the center of the room, trying to warn them. When the squealing tires faded into the distance, Dread had feathers stuck to the wounds in his chest. He fell straight backward and landed hard.

“Fuck!” Eric shouted, rolling off of Anna, without thinking, he checked on her first, “you alright?”

After a brief pass of his hand over her naked body to confirm that she wasn’t bleeding from anywhere, he rushed over to Dread, grabbing a random undershirt from on the floor and trying desperately to plug Dread’s sucking chest wounds.

“Loc! Goddamnit, get up you fucker! If your ass ain’t dead, you’d better grab the cash, the yayo and all the guns you can carry! Text the crew to stay out of the hood tonight—can you drive, bitch?”

Eric turned back to Anna, clearly desperate to get his friend somewhere safe.

 

[SannaBlonde82]

It all happened so fast. One moment Anna was being fucked like a hoe and orgasming on a huge black cock, the next moment she was on the floor, the room filled with the deafening noise of gunshots. There was blood, there was panic and shouting and movement.

Anna thought later that she should have screamed and cried. Or become totally paralyzed by the shock. But as soon as she realized that she was unscathed, and she heard Eric shout at her asking if she could drive, Anna found herself reacting as if seeing herself from the outside. It's like when your only experience of violence is as a media consumer, you've learnt enough anyway to cope when the shit goes down proper. Anyone would say that's not how it goes down. But for Anna Johansson there and then, that's what happened.

She nodded, and reached for her clothes - pulling on her jeans and her top all the time horizontal on the floor. She paused for a short second when brushing up against what most certainly was now the corpse of Eric's friend, staring at the dead man's eyes. But she looked away, grabbed her converse from under a chair and looked over at Eric for instructions to what was coming next and how the hell they were getting out of here alive and into a car.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Dread’s gargling pleas told Eric definitively that his lungs were filling with blood. Moving quickly, but trying not to be frantic, Eric pulled a Bic pen from his desk and hurriedly broke the end off, pushing out the ink cartridge and clearing the plastic tube. The pen was swiftly inserted into the bullet wound that Eric assumed to have pierced his chest cavity. He sucked the blood from the pen and spat it on the rug---Dread’s next breath came in a ragged gasp as the pressure equalized and he was able to cough up the rest of the blood in his lungs.

“Hang on you motherfucker,” Eric demanded of his de facto patient, wrapping the pen and the wound in duct tape, “we got you. You hear me? We got you!”

Dread was still struggling to breathe as Eric picked him up in his arms, carrying him toward Anna’s vehicle and carefully loading him into the back seat, smearing blood all over the interior.

“Wait for Loc,” Eric said to Anna, addressing her through the rearview mirror, just in case the blood had spooked her, “shit! The burner!”

Eric realized that he’d forgotten the burner phone that he used to communicate with his contacts inside, and if he didn’t answer the next call Anna’s husband would have to likely pay with his life. He dashed inside, blowing past Loc who was trying to save several choice components of his stereo in addition to the guns and narcotics. Eric wanted to scold him, but he was holding up their escape more than Loc, so he held his tongue.

When Loc loaded up the trunk, he dove into the passenger’s seat and shouted, “go bitch! He’ll jump in on the street!”

Upstairs, Eric grabbed an armful of trauma kits from his desk in addition to the cheap, convenience store, prepaid phone which held a man’s life in the balance. Eric raced out to the street and dove into the back seat.

“Drive!” everyone shouted in unison as police sirens sounded in the distance, growing nearer.