Deep Throat Diva (33 page)

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
grow
er, not a
show
er. 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.

“She’s stirred some,” the female voice says. “But she hasn’t actually opened her eyes. Her vitals are good, so that’s an excellent sign.”

I try to speak, but my jaw is wired. My lips are dry. My body is weak and sore. I groan, wanting to lick my chapped lips.

“Hey, baby,” he says. I mumble words inaudible to him, forcing my one eye open. Jasper’s face comes into view as he takes my hand into his. He smiles at me. “Don’t try to speak, baby. You had me worried as fuck, yo.”

I scan the room the best I can with one eye. See the nurse walking back into the room. He tells her I’m awake. “I’m going to get the doctor to come in and take a look at her,” she replies, turning around.

“Aiight, cool,” Jasper says.

“How long have I been here?” I ask, straining. It hurts to talk; it burns when I swallow. Four days, he tells me. Tells me an early morning jogger found me lying in the park, bloody and unconscious, and dialed 9-1-1.

“Why would someone wanna do this, yo? You know how fucked up I’ve been over this?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, turning my head from him. How the fuck do I tell him that I literally sucked a looney nigga out of his crazy-ass mind? How do I tell him that I was bored and horny and got caught up posting ads for oral sex? That I’ve become a full-fledged cock and cum whore?

“Damn, baby. You had a muhfucka so fuckin’ worried ’bout ya
sexy ass. Word is bond! You had a nigga stressin’ hard, yo.” He squeezes my hand, then brings it up to his full lips and kisses it.

Jasper becomes quiet, staring off into the distance. I watch him out of my one good eye, wondering what’s going through his mind. He looks tired, worried. And my heart aches, knowing that I’m the cause of his troubles. I squeeze his hand, bringing his attention back to me. When he turns to look at me, I notice tears gliding down his face.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I hear myself asking in my head, feeling myself becoming overwhelmed with care and concern and guilt and love for him. “Talk to me.”

He shakes his head as if he can hear me. “I’m so fuckin’ glad you aiight, feel me? This shit…not knowin’ where you were had ya man fucked up, for real, yo.” His voice trails off as he’s wiping his tears. “I’ve never cried over no fuckin’ chick before, yo. That’s how fucked up this shit has been for me.”

I am staring at him, hurting for him, for me. Wishing I could have stayed off my knees, kept the dicks out of my throat, and waited for Jasper to come home to me, like I promised him I would. Seeing him cry is killing me.

“I love you so fucking much, yo,” he tells me. He lets his tears fall unchecked. “Seeing you like this hurts me.”

I hear one of my attackers’ voices in my head.
You stuck up, dick-sucking bitch. I’ma gag you on my cock for a while. Then when I’m done with that, I’m gonna flip you over and mercilessly fuck you in that fat, juicy ass of yours until I bust my nut in you. Then I’ma give you a piss enema deep in ya ass. After that, we should toss ya smutty ass out so you can face the world knowing you’ve been completely degraded and humiliated. And if you ever open ya fuckin’ mouth to tell anyone, I’m gonna hunt you down and slice your muthafuckin’ throat.

I feel myself choking back tears. I squeeze Jasper’s hand, my
only way of comforting him.
I hope I didn’t lose the baby,
I think, shutting my eyes.
I will never be able to forgive myself if my recklessness caused something to happen to my baby
. Instinctively, he touches my stomach as if he senses my burning need to know. “I’m all fucked-up inside, baby. I’m tellin’ you, yo. This shit had a muhfucka on edge.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so fuckin’ relieved you and the baby are aiight. That’s all that matters; feel me, yo? If I woulda lost you and my seed, I’da lost it for real, yo. We connected, baby. You hear me?” I nod. “For life.” His eyes lock onto mine. There’s pain and hurt mixed with love in them. I stare back at him, unblinking. My heart aches for the pain I’ve caused him. Tears are streaming down my face. I close my eye, again. Slowly turn my head from him.
To teach you a lesson… To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson…
The words replay in my head, over and over.
To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson…
I swallow, hard. Slowly, I turn my head back toward Jasper. He’s talking to two detectives, a white male and black female. I overhear him telling them to come back in a few days; that I need my rest. Another voice blares in my head, causing a pounding headache to surface.
Yo, nigga, what the fuck you doin’? She’s pregnant… I told you, muhfucka, nothin’ happens to her or her baby…

She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant.
Those words echo in my head as I repeat them over and over and over, again. How did he know I was pregnant? The only person who knew was…I blink back tears.
OhmyGod, it can’t be
. I glance at Jasper. Watch him wipe tears from his face. I stare at him as he walks over to me. He shares a slight smile. Pain shoots through my head. I let out a loud groan, which causes Jasper to press the button for the nurse.
Don’t have me fuck you up, yo…If I find out you playin’ me, yo…I’ma fuck you up…I’ma fuck you up…I’ma fuck you up…
I blink, blink again…
she’s pregnant…to teach you a lesson…

He sees it in my eyes—fear. The nurse rushes in. I hear him tell her that I’m in pain. I grunt louder. “Hellllllp…me…”

The nurse rubs my hand. “I know, sweetie; you’re in a lot of pain.”

I grunt louder. “Helllllllp…meeeee…”

“I know, sweetie. I’m going to see about getting you something for the pain.” I shake my head, grunt again. “Nnoooooooooo…hellllllllllp…me.” She continues to fumble with my IV. Tells me everything’s going to be okay. She doesn’t understand my grunting. Jasper does.

“Yo, is she aiight?” I hear Jasper ask. “Is the baby okay?”

“Her vitals seem good. But I’m going to have the doctor come in and have a look at her,” I hear the nurse tell him.

“I’m worried about her and my baby.”

“Don’t worry. Your fiancé and baby will be fine. Let me go get the doctor.”

I grunt again. Make loud, agonizing growling sounds as she walks out of the room.

I’ma fuck you up…let me find out you playin’ me, yo…I’ma fuck you up…to teach you a lesson…She’s pregnant…
Everything around me is blurry, but I think I see Jasper smirking. Or is he smiling. He leans in, kisses me on the forehead, then softly on the lips. “I know what you’re thinkin’, baby…” I hear him say.

My head is pounding. The tears burn my eyes. I blink them away. I feel like someone is crushing my chest. I struggle to breathe. Fight for air. I’m starting to hyperventilate.
OhmyGod! OhmyGod! OhmyGod!

Jasper strokes my face. “It’s over wit’, baby…all that shit you was doin’…” He pauses, lets his words hover over me. Then he leans into my ear and whispers, “I warned you, Pasha. Told you don’t fuckin’ play me, yo.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cairo is the author of
Daddy Long Stroke, The Manhandler
and
The Kat Trap
. He resides in New Jersey, where he is working on his next literary creation,
Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang.
His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can email him at: [email protected]. Or visit him at
www.booksbycairo.com
,
www.myspace.com/cairo2u
,
www.facebook.com/CairoBlack
, or
www.blackplanet.com/cairo2u

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