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Authors: T. Styles

Tags: #African American, #General, #Fiction

Prison Throne (10 page)

BOOK: Prison Throne
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Aw shit!
She was bound to be a handful.

Rasim hung in the doorway and refrained from taking another step inside of his own home. He knew how Mute Candy felt about Snow. The world did. Her feelings were almost as strong as his but not quite.

              With a serious attitude problem and with eyes on Rasim the entire time, Mute Candy snatched her leather coat off the chair and punched each arm into the holes. For added flair, she snatched her purse off the table and threw it over her shoulder so hard it slapped against her back and she burped. With her items in order, she stomped toward Rasim and scrutinized his eyes.

When she held back long enough, she slapped him on the right side of his face and proceeded to the left. With his face burning red, she tilted her head, pointed aggressively at her cheek and he bent down and kissed it.

              “I love you too,” he said because it was true.

Mute Candy stomped out of the house leaving him and his girl alone.

Her antics may have seemed bad but Rasim knew the only other person on the planet earth who loved Snow as much as he did was Mute Candy. He was lucky she chose the method of slapping him as opposed to anything else. Why, just last Christmas, Bernard Miller from Bladensburg, Maryland, found himself in front of her car when he hurt her cousin’s feelings. So Rasim was grateful.

When Mute Candy left, Snow was sitting on the sofa with her legs pressed against her chest. She looked over at him. She looked like a little girl who just received the news that both her parents and best friend were killed in the same day. Always at Rasim’s beck and call, she asked, “You want me to make your plate?” Her voice was subdued.

“No, baby,” he swallowed. “I can’t eat a thing.”

Rasim maneuvered his tall body toward her slowly. When he stood above her, he reduced his height so that he was looking directly into her eyes. Since it was widely known that Snow did limited talking, especially when she had to express her feelings, he moved to kiss her without asking. Her feet fell to the rug and she pushed him with a shove of her tiny fist.

He didn’t give a fuck though.

She was his bitch and it was time to beg until his knees bled.

So Rasim attempted to kiss her again and this time she used her knee to press his lanky body out of the way. However, Rasim of Pakistan was nothing if not persistent.

              “I’m sorry,” he whispered kissing her softly on the cheek. This time he nailed it.

“Stop,” she said so softly her voice was almost undetectable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he kissed her neck.

With each peck, he apologized until her face was covered and he kissed each tear away. Since he had begged a thousand pardons it was only fitting to kiss her eyelids next. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” he repeated as he removed the gray University of Maryland Dance Academy sweatshirt she wore.

Snow tried to fight but it was no use. The only thing she wanted in the world was Rasim. The humans on Planet Earth could keep everything else.

Rasim was so sorrowful that he chanted, “I’m sorry” as if it were an ancient incantation that would make her forget how Selena suckled his dick hours earlier.

He was passionate and he wanted Snow to know that he would cut off his hands if he were sure it would stop the lust he had in his body for Selena. “Hit me,” he begged.

“No, Rasim,” she whispered.

He aggressively gripped her wrists and got in her face. “Hit me, bitch.”

It was amazing!

He said the magic words with the proper power and Snow slapped him so many times his bottom lip cracked open and bled. Suddenly she was crying again.

Bloodied and bruised, he said, “I love you.”

Snow couldn’t hit him anymore so she spit in his face.

He didn’t wipe it away. He let it remain because she put it there.

“I love you,” he said again gazing into her eyes.

She spit harder and it dropped on his bottom lip and he licked it off.

Passionately she snatched his face against hers and kissed the blood off of his mouth.

When she was done, Rasim chanted repeatedly how sorry he was and by the time he was finished he kissed her out of her clothing and she was laid before him on the floor naked. As he stood on his knees and observed her beautiful body, he felt like shit. How could he keep treating his angel so poorly?

Snow’s hazel eyes looked upon him with mercy. All she desired was for him to stop breaking her heart. Stop making her cry and stop allowing other women to touch what was rightfully hers. His body.

“I’d give you my soul if you would just promise to stop hurting me, Rasim,” she wept as her body convulsed. “I just can’t take it anymore. Have mercy on me. I’m begging you.”

Now it was Rasim who was choking up. He wiped his tears away with his wrist, grabbed the comforter she was using off of the couch and put it over her body so that she would be warm.

              He stooped down and kissed her lips, “I’m so sorry, baby. That bitch doesn’t mean anything to me and I will never hurt you again.”

Her mind maintained that his tongue spoke lies but her heart rejoiced. Whether or not it was true, for the moment anyway, it felt so damn good.

Rasim lowered his body and gently spread her legs apart. He could smell the faint musty odor stemming from her pussy but it was not offensive in the least. It just meant she had been a wreck since she left dance class and, thanks to his bullshit, she didn’t have time to shower.

Even if she smelled of the foulest sea, he would still kiss her until she was all clean. Because he was certain that, if nothing else, he was the only man who had ever entered her body, which was more than he could say for Selena the Siren.

He placed his partially open mouth over her pussy and blew a blast of warm air onto her clit. He liked to heat up her button before he did his thing and she loved it too.

“Piss on my face, Snow,” he ordered.

“No, Rasim,” she whispered and tried to clamp her thighs together.

He slapped them apart again and his red handprint presented itself on her skin. The only time Rasim agreed with beating women was in the bed and Snow secretly loved it.

“Piss on me,” he demanded more aggressively.

Fuck that nigga!
She thought.

If he wanted it, she would let him have it. So she relaxed her body and pissed all over Rasim’s face, drenching the carpeted floor beneath them.

He wanted to be degraded.

He wanted to be punished.

When she was finished, she felt eerily vindicated but Rasim was far from done. He blew warm breaths into her pussy again until she was as hot as a furnace. He lapped his tongue repeatedly over her clit. Up and down, left and right until her syrup was oozing into his mouth.

“Rasim,” she wept, “I love you so fucking much.” Snow was crying real tears, not tears of joy and that fucked with Rasim’s head.

It hurt his heart to know that because of the shit he did on the street, he had broken his angel’s heart yet again.

Worried she was on the verge of cumming too soon, he stopped laboring on her clit. Instead he entered her warm tunnel with his stiff tongue recurrently, until she was clenching his ears like handles and bucking her hips wildly.

Rasim was skinny but he knew how to beg and fuck. That was for sure.

After fifteen minutes, when he’d given her tunnel the proper observation, he revisited her clit again. Rasim’s dick was so swollen and erect that it was uncomfortable to lie on his belly so he reached into his jeans, shifted that bitch to the right and proceeded to handle his business.

Not being able to enter her was torture!

As much as he wanted to bury himself inside of Snow’s body, this shit was not about him. It was all about his sweet baby.

However, in a surprising turn of events, Snow was so wet and Rasim was so turned on that he was able to rub one out on the floor anyway. It was the first time he was able to cum like that but he would never forget it. Without the benefit of entering her body, she still satisfied him.


Rasim was even more passionate as he gripped her thighs and buried his face so deep into her mound that, before long, Snow exploded over his lips. Even though she begged him to stop because her clit was tender, Rasim licked and licked until all of her juices were gone and that’s when he really went to work on her.

The morning dropped by when Rasim finally stopped. And it was only because his jaw was so stiff it was discomforting and she couldn’t cum anymore if she tried.

That was the best begging he had done in his life and he only hoped she could feel his heart and feel his sincere apology.

He regretted hurting her.

He truly did.

Rasim had to hit the blocks to get his paper but he didn’t want to leave her.

He was still between her legs when he looked up and asked, “Can I stay here a little longer?”

She smiled because she was so worn out that she didn’t want to go to dance class either. “Yes, Rasim,” she whispered.

So he lowered his head and took a nap right next to Snow’s pussy.




It was a gray day and the sun was hiding behind chunky clouds. God was threatening the young hustlers with rain. Rasim, Donald, Brooklyn and Chance were standing against a fence in front of a building within the projects, waiting to serve customers.

Although the sky would most likely open up and spill water, the day was actually heavy with possibilities. Earlier Donald received a call from Phantom, their boss, and it sounded promising. If shit worked out, he could earn more money, which meant an increase for them all.

Rasim was
ecstatic for Donald because over the six years after the rape charge, he couldn’t seem to catch a break. He was in prison for a year and came out lost and confused. It wasn’t until Sheila was mysteriously found with her neck slit open that Donald was blessed with a bout of good luck.

For starters,
he married a girl who reached out to him on a pen pal site and wrote him frequently while he was locked down. When he came home they had twin girls and everyone said he seemed more relaxed since he was a dad. He didn’t pop off the handle much anymore and all he could talk about was his kids every free second he got. He wanted to be the parent he never had and he did an outstanding job. Everyone surmised that even a wild bear could show love to its cubs.

If he received the raise from pawn to lieutenant, he would be able to help his wife, who held a government job, with the expenses. He would save his paper, buy his family a nicer home and move them from DC to Maryland.

“Who fucked you up?” Chanced joked looking at Rasim’s mouth. Snow had thrashed him something fierce and it showed.

His homies looked at him and awaited an answer.

“Your mama’s fat ass,” he winked.

Everyone chuckled.

“Man, I can’t stay still,” Donald said as he continued to look up the block for Phantom’s car. “Where this nigga at?” He looked at the watch on his arm. He stuffed his hands in his jacket.

“I don’t know why you worried,” Brooklyn responded as he leaned against the fence, making it squeak. Over the years, he lost a few pounds, which he converted into muscle, and during the summer months he would fake spill some shit on himself to gain a reason to take off his shirt and flex his muscles. The bitches loved it but his homies hated the show. “You got that. You already know.” He slipped his hood over his head.

“Right, who else gonna get it?” Chance asked as he served a chick he fucked once in high school who was so skinny he almost didn’t recognize her. “Me?” He pointed to himself. “Or that fake ass exhibitionist to your right?”

“Fuck you,” Brooklyn said.

“What about me?” Rasim joked as he popped a few sunflower seeds into his mouth.

“Ain’t nobody hiring your Afghan ass to do nothing but find Saddam Hussein,” Chance responded with a corny joke he was known for. “I know you got his number
, don’t you? Tell the truth.”

Rasim wore a smile but he was sure getting tired of people bringing up Hussein whenever he was around. He did all he could
to look like his friends, including stuffing his Kufi in his pocket, wearing baseball caps and hiding most of his face. Most of the time, he looked Indian or black. But at the end of the day they always reminded him about who he really was…Pakistani. And he didn’t know who to hate more because of it. Himself for neglecting his religion and people, or his friends.

“I’m not trying to hear that shit,” Rasim said as he pretended to busy himself with the phone in his pocket. “How ‘bout you check under your mama’s gut for the nigga.” He paused knowing his parents owned a bakery and Chance’s mother was overweight. “That bitch eat more product than she sell.”

The young men spent another ten minutes laughing and disrespecting each other’s mothers until Donald said, “Rasim, go get me some Hennessy from up the street. My nerves gonna be bad unless I get a drink.”

“Aight,” he said as he zipped his jacket.

“I’m going with him,” Brooklyn said.

“I don’t give a fuck, nigga,” Donald responded.

He gave Rasim the money and he and Brooklyn bopped up the street to the liquor store. Neighborhood rock stars since day one, they waved at the locals on the way to their destination. They talked about their girlfriends and how Rasim got caught with Selena again and how he was really done with her this time. Brooklyn heard all the shit before but he was reminded of something when he heard Selena’s name.

“Hey, you ever see her kid?”

Rasim frowned. “Naw, why you ask that?”

“Because I swear he looks slam like you, slim.”

Rasim chuckled as they dipped into the liquor store and grabbed the Hennessey. “Yeah, aight. How he gonna look like me when she married that nigga? How you know it ain’t his kid?”

“Because lil youngin’ ‘bout five or six. And if I recall, that’s the same amount of years it’s been since you first fucked Selena.” He pointed a stiff finger into the center of Rasim’s chest. “Do the math, homie.” He stepped off and proceeded to the Funyuns aisle.

Rasim brushed him off because he knew it wasn’t his kid. Selena said she had a child with her husband. He didn’t want one but if he was a father, he would deal with it as best he could.

After buying the liquor, a large cup and a soda they were a block away from where they perched but before reaching Donald and Chance, Rasim said, “Hold this for a second.” He gave him the bag.

Always the jokester, Rasim poured all of the Hennessey into the cup and then poured the soda into the Hennessey bottle. Since his gag required three-part harmony, he poured all of the Hennessey from the cup into the soda bottle.

“I can’t believe you fucking up that nigga’s bottle,” Brooklyn said witnessing the ignorance.

“I ain’t fucking it up,” Rasim glowered. “It’s in here.” He raised the soda bottle.

“Yeah, but you got soda remnants mixed with his sauce and shit. You fucking up the flavor.”

Rasim waved him off and tossed the cup away.

“Alright, but when Donald cave your chest cavity in, don’t come crying to me.”

The friends headed back to the pumping area and Rasim handed Donald the soda dressed in a Hennessey bottle just as Phantom’s black Mercedes caressed the block.

Whenever he arrived, everybody, if they were fucking around, stopped.
Everyone fell in line, along with Donald, Phantom was Rasim’s other idol. When he parked he rolled down the window and looked at Donald. His five o’clock shadow sparkled like black diamonds. And the gold chain he donned fell against his black sweater.

He motioned with his head for Donald to come and Donald moved without hesitation.

Donald slipped inside of the Benz and melted into the black leather seat. And from the half rolled down window, Rasim and the fellas could see it all. It was as if they were watching an episode of
The Sopranos

As Donald got comfortable, Phantom observed the young hustler before saying a word. Although he was certain that Donald had enough gall, confidence and spirit necessary to run the block, he wanted to steal a few more moments to make sure he hadn’t missed a thing. After he swept over him with prying eyes and was certain his decision to promote him was solid, he leaned back in his seat and the leather moaned. “What’s in the bag?”

Donald pointed at it and said, “Oh this? The brown.”

“You not gonna offer me a cup?”

Donald grinned and said, “Phantom, you can have anything you want. That’s on my life.”

Luckily for Donald, Phantom wasn’t into niggas because he’d likely be on all fours with an ass full of dick after that declaration.

As Rasim stole peeks into the Benz in lieu of straight gawking he noticed how giddy Donald appeared. Around the crew, he was always serious and dark. What was different now? He guessed in the presence of a God he was fumbling. Rasim wanted the type of power that Phantom possessed for himself.

Prepared for everything, Phantom dipped into his oversize armrest and released two plastic cups.

That’s when Rasim wanted to shit himself, knowing full well that he had the real Hennessey in the soda bottle in his hand.

“I’ve been observing you and decided to elevate your status,” Phantom announced. “You’re a hard worker and you’re always on the block and I like that about you.”

Neither had taken a sip of the soda yet and Rasim was grateful.

“But I’m gonna be watching how you operate too. It’s one thing to lead your flock when you’re on the same level. It’s an entirely different thing to rule on high.”

“I’m up for it,” Donald said looking directly into his eyes. His right leg shook rapidly because he wanted this so badly his dick was beginning to stiffen. “You can count on me, Phantom. I’m as hard as they come.”

Donald appreciated his vigor. “To prosperity,” Phantom said as he raised his cup in the air in preparation for a toast.

“To prosperity,” Donald responded in kind.

Their cups knocked together and the moment Phantom took a gulp he winced and spit into the cup. Then he rolled the window down further and tossed the cup out. “You gotta start drinking better shit, man.”

Donald took a sip too and tasted the drink. He tasted the sweetness of the soda. He immediately peered over at Rasim who was covered in guilt. “Yeah, you’re right,” Donald said under his breath.

“Aight, well let me collect this money. You do what you do. I’ll have Paul hit you up later with that pack.” Phantom dapped him up and Donald slipped out of the car.

As Phantom’s car vanished into thin air, Rasim was already preparing to cop a plea. “I’m sorry, man,” Rasim said shaking his head as Donald approached. “I didn’t know you were gonna share your shit with the boss.”

“I told you this nigga play too much,” Chance responded stuffing his hands in his jacket and shaking his head.

Instead of breaking his jaw like the old Donald would’ve, he embraced him and grabbed his other boys too. The four of them acted like excited football players who won the Super Bowl as opposed to the drug mongers they really were. They slapped each other on the backs and Donald even took to smooching Chance and Brooklyn’s heads. Donald didn’t have time to be mad. It was a celebration because he was essentially a made man.

After he separated from the herd, Donald looked at Rasim and jokingly said, “Now give me my drink before I really do break your jaw.”

Rasim handed him the drink and tried to hide his excitement. He wondered how Donald felt now that he was in charge and he wanted nothing more than to be in his shoes.

The fellas were just coming down off of their high when trouble stepped on the block in the form of Levi, Terry and Wayne. They were knuckleheads from a rival project up the block and Donald hated them niggas. The most ironic part was that they were on foot when they could’ve been killed on the spot. Their fearless act was to display their bravery, not their foolishness.

Levi’s story was straightforward. He used to own the very blocks Donald and his crew were pumping on but when he got locked up for a week, Donald swooped in and planted his flag and Levi had been salty ever since. That’s one of the reasons Phantom fucked with him. He admired how he roughed his real estate.

When Donald saw them getting closer, he knew what time it was. “Brooklyn, give me the dragon,” he said referring to his .45 tucked in the large bush a few feet over from where his crew rocked out.

Brooklyn quickly obeyed and Donald cocked it. Brooklyn grabbed his 9mm and handed Chance a revolver.

Now that the men were strapped, Donald looked back and saw Rasim who was hanging around frightened and unarmed. “Get out of here, Rasim! We’ll get up with you later.”

“You sure?” Rasim asked trying to sound noble.

“Bounce, nigga,” Donald roared. “This shit ain’t for you!”

Rasim was the funny man and neither Donald nor his other friends looked at him as anything different. Still, he felt bad leaving his boys but he also knew they were right. He was not a gangster so he left his soldiers on the battlefield and drove home.




Rasim was standing in the middle of the floor pacing in circles. After he spoke to Donald and found out that the niggas who came on the block didn’t want the heat and left without drama, he thought he would rest easy, go home and fuck Snow.

He was wrong.

His hand trembled as he held the phone to his ear. “Please help me,” he said in a robust voice. “My life is on the line!”

“But I don’t know where she is, Rasim,” Maureen said truthfully. “The only thing she told me was that she had to get away.”

“Did she leave a new number at least?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Because she’s not answering the phone.”

“We are her parents, Rasim. Of course she gave us a way to contact her but I’m not at liberty to give it to you.”

“Please, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he begged with his voice hitting soprano notes. Before he came home, he had to piss but now his body had forgotten all about it. “I made a mistake but I don’t deserve to have my girl taken over this shit. Please, I’m on my knees!”

“Son, I hear you and I know you love my daughter,” she said with more compassion than she originally felt when he first called, “but Snow is a fragile angel. She’s not meant for this world. She’s meant for a man who can protect her and keep her heart safe and you failed. Which is sad because she always referred to you as Superman. I guess it was all a lie. Goodbye, Rasim. Be well.”

BOOK: Prison Throne
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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