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The only thing on my mind as I reach out and touch the front of Red Shorts’ shorts is getting out of here alive, and getting home. I slowly rub his dick until it starts to grow. Then I reach for his waist and pull his shorts and boxers down. His dick is discolored. It’s light brown with a reddish tip, and curved. I take it in my hand. Kiss it, lick it, then take him in my mouth. I bob my head slowly at first, then pick up speed, making popping sounds with my mouth.
“Aaah, shit…”
“How that shit feel, man?” I hear someone ask.
Red Shorts dips at the knees. “Nigga, what you think? Good, muhfucka.”
Someone laughs.
“Aaaaah, fuck, baby…goddamn…shit, baby…aaaaah, shit. Oh, fuck… oh fuck…I’m cumming…aaaah…”
I pull out and jerk him off, letting his nut hit me in the face. Niggas start clowning his ass for busting off so quick. “Yo, fuck all ya’ll muhfuckas. I haven’t busted a nut in three days. You let this bitch suck you and let’s see how long you hold out.”
“Fifty says I can make this bitch’s jaws lock,” the nigga wearing yellow shorts says. He pulls out a fifty dollar bill, slapping it on the pool table. Red Shorts bets him.
“Yeah, aiight,” Red Shorts says. “Make it lock, muhfucka.”
Yellow shorts steps up to me. I look up at him. “Damn, this bitch is sexy,” he says, pulling his shorts down. His dick is real short and fat. I keep a straight face, slipping him in my mouth. It doesn’t take much effort to swallow him. But the nigga proves me wrong. His dick is a grower, not a shower. It starts off small, but grows into a long, thick dick. I slurp and gargle and slob him down until his knees start to buckle. Niggas in back of him are cheering him on. Hooting and hollering. But in the end, he loses. The nigga starts shooting his seeds all over the place. Everyone laughs. “Yeah, muhfucka,” Red Shorts says, sparking another blunt. “Just what I thought, nigga. That bitch’s neck game is da truth.”
The rest of the night these niggas take turns getting swabbed. Finally they decide they want to get creative and have me crawling around on the floor. Shouting out orders like: “Get on ya fuckin’ knees.” When I don’t move quick enough someone comes at me yelling, “I said get on ya gotdaamn knees, bitch!”
Someone else yells, “I’ma fuck that throat real good. Crawl, bitch.”
Then someone else demands, “Look at this dick, bitch! Look at how hard you got it. I’ma face-fuck the shit outta you. Open your motherfucking mouth. Say, ’Aaaaah’, bitch!”
“Where the fuck you think you going, bitch? You’re going the wrong way. Crawl ya ass over here …”
“Nah, fuck that,” another nigga says. “Bring ya ass over here. My dick needs to get wet, too…”
“You surrounded by a buncha dicks, bitch…suck ’em all…there you go…suck on all them fuckin’ cocks,” another nigga shouts.
“Open wide, bitch…Say aaaah.”
“Aaaah, shiiiiiiiiit. This is one deep-throat suckin’ bitch, yo…”
“Lick my fuckin’ balls, bitch. Yeah, teabag them shits.”
This shit goes on for what feels like forever. There’s a long glob of spit hanging from my chin. Cum dangles from my lashes, drips from my nose, is smeared all over my face. My knees are starting to burn; beginning to ache and bleed from crawling on the concrete. I’m gasping for air; gagging. Gulping in air.
Every last one of these masked niggas have made me feel cheap and dirty. But I suck them and make their knees buckle and their bodies shake, holding back my tears. I want to get out of here. Every so often I turn my eyes over toward Calm One. He watches me quietly, reassures me with his eyes that this shit’s almost over.
I continue sucking, continue slurping, continue teabagging until they all can barely stand. Calm One finally walks over and puts an end to the show. He tells them all it’s
a wrap. Tells them they need to get me out of here. He helps me up off my knees. Walks me back over to the chair, then handcuffs me. Everyone stands around bragging, gloating, and clowning those who nutted faster than the others. Then they all follow Calm One upstairs. It isn’t until the door closes that I keel over and throw my guts up.
When the door opens again, someone shuts the light off. It closes. And I am sitting here in pitch darkness. There are no sounds. No one is stirring around upstairs. I think I hear steps creaking. But I am not certain. I can’t say anything. Then out of nowhere there’s a dark shadow swiftly up on me. I can’t make out who it is. Everything is black. He is wearing all dark colors and a mask. A gloved hand quickly goes around my throat and, at any moment this nigga—whoever he is—will either beat me unconscious or kill me. The latter seems to be his intention.
THIRTY-THREE
I awake in excruciating pain. There’s a vicious throbbing in my head. I try to open my eyes to take in my surroundings. But… my left eye feels heavy as if someone has placed a weight on top of it from being punched in it. My right eyelid flutters. I attempt to open it against the bright white lights, but it is too goddamn painful. I can hear a machine beeping next to me.
Slowly, reality finally sinks in…He didn’t kill me. He left me for dead. But I am alive! Somehow, I am in the hospital. I am not sure if I should be thankful that those crazy motherfuckers didn’t murder me like they threatened, taunted, they would. Or if I should be pissed the fuck off that they didn’t.
My lips burn and feel cracked and sore. I attempt to swallow, but my throat is raw and dry. There’s a tube in my right arm. Probably an IV tube, I think, wincing at the thought of having been blindfolded and beaten and choked and forced to do sexually degrading things to a room full of unknown niggas who took turns having their way with me—fucking my throat, nutting in my mouth, my face, while slapping me around. OhmyGod, I hope none of them niggas gave me an STD, or infected me with HIV or Hepatitis. How the hell will I ever be able to look at Jasper? What do I tell him? That I was kidnapped? Raped? That I sucked a bunch of dicks and turned a few niggas out? What can I possibly tell him?
Someone comes into the room and starts fumbling with the tube in my arm, checking my fluids. A nurse, I believe. As she’s leaving from my bedside, someone else enters the room. Jasper, I say in my head. Before he ever opens his mouth, I know it’s him. I can feel his presence; smell his scent.
“Is she okay? Has she awakened yet?” I hear him ask.
