by Cairo
“Yeah, that’s right. Beg for this dick, bitch.” He slaps me on the ass, then bites me on both asscheeks, hard. I wince. The niggah thinks it’s a sign that I’m lovin’ the shit. He bites me again. “I’ma fuck you real good, bitch.”
“Yesss, ffffuck mmmeeee . . . ”
I feel for my blade. Panic hits me when I don’t feel it. I keep feelin’ for it. Prayin’. Ohmygod, one of them goddamn kids done moved my shit. If I get outta this shit alive, I’ma fuck ’em up.
I slip my hand under the cushion and there it is. Thank you, Gawd. Darius, where da fuck are you, niggah?! I wind my hips up at him.
“Ffffuck mmmeeee . . . ” I beg him to eat my ass, then feed me the dick. This seems to turn the niggah on more.
“Yeah, I’ma eat that ass out, then fuck da shit outta you. You want me to fuck da shit outta you, bitch?”
“Yessss.” I grip the handle of my blade, slowly pullin’ my hand from under the cushion. He bites me on the ass again. This time breakin’ skin. I gasp.
“Yeah, you like that shit, don’t you, slut?”
“Yessss. Oh, yesss.” It hurts to speak, but I gotta push through the pain. I hear him in back of me fumblin’ with his pants ’til he finally pulls out his hard dick. “You tell anybody ’bout this and I’ma fuckin’ kill you, then have ya muthafuckin’ kids bodied.”
My heart aches. I grip the blade. He punches me. “Bitch, you hear me talkin’ to you?”
“Yes. I-I-I hear you, boo. I ain’t . . . gggonna say nothin’. Eat my ass, baby, then ffffuck me . . . ”
“Yeah, that’s right, bitch! Beg for this shit.”
He pulls open my asscheeks. My stomach rumbles. My head, neck, and back ache. I am sore and goddamn bruised. “Ohh, yesss . . . ”
The niggah puts his face between my booty cheeks. I wait. Count in my head. He is lickin’ the rim of my ass, then stickin’ it in my hole. I moan. He eats my ass like it’s gonna be his last meal and my last time breathin’. Shit splashes outta me. It gets in his mouth, all in his face.
“What da fuck! Aaagh, bit—” I swing my arm backward, plungin’ my knife into his stomach, then knock him off’a me. The niggah gasps, clutchin’ his wound. And I feel a surge of energy rush through me as blood is seepin’ through his fingers. This niggah was gonna do me good. I can barely see outta my eye, but I can see enough to know I got his ass good. Shit is oozin’ outta my ass and runnin’ all down my legs. I got diarrhea, bad. But I don’t give a fuck. I kick him in his chest and he falls backward. I run into my coat closet and grab my baseball bat and start beatin’ him with it. I am swingin’ ’n shittin’ all over myself at the same time.
I grit my teeth and grunt through the pain. I can barely move my mouth. “Nigga-bitch, boom, boom! Thought you was gonna do me, huh, nigga? Whose pussy you gonna cut out now, niggah?” Whack! I crack him in his face. Blood splatters everywhere. “You beat the wrong . . . ” Whack! “ . . . bitch, niggah!” He groans. “You gonna die, niggah! You tried to leave me dead, bitch!” Whack! “I’ma slice ya dick off, coon-niggah-bitch, and send it to ya wife!”
His limp dick is hangin’ there waitin’. I lean over him, then squat over his face and shit all in his face. I ain’t callin’ no goddamn cops. I’ma handle this niggah on my own. This isn’t how shit was ’posed to go down, but the niggah got me flippin’ the script. And the niggah gotta pay no matter which way you look at it. Either way, this coon-niggah-bitch had it comin’. I yank the knife outta his stomach. Blood spurts out. He gasps.
“Nigga, I don’t want you to die. I want you to live without this”—I take his dick in my hand—“this big, floppy dingaling. You tried to take my pussy, niggah! You wanted to do me, bitch!” I slice into his dick. “Now I’ma do you!” He jerks his head up, screamin’. His head falls back when he sees me slicin’ off his shit. He screams louder, then passes out.
“Yo, Ma!” Darius yells, racin’ through the door with Beetle behind him. They see all the blood and shit and this niggah’s dingaling sliced off. “Fuck! What da fuck happen, yo?!” He’s pacin’ the floor like a mad man. “What da fuck this nigga try to do to you, yo?!” He stomps him. “Niggah, what you try to do to my moms, yo?! Answer me, bitch?! You put ya muthafuckin’ hands on my moms, niggah?” He stomps him in his head.
JT ain’t movin’. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. And I don’t give a fuck. All I know is I gotta get this dickless niggah up outta here and get this blood ’n shit cleaned up before my kids get home. Beetle eyes me as if he’s readin’ my thoughts, grabbin’ Darius.
“Yo, man. We gotta get this niggah up outta here, yo, fast.”
“Yeah, you right,” Darius says, pullin’ out his gun and firin’ two shots in his chest. “Let’s dump this niggah’s body, yo.”
I stare at my son, my firstborn, and eye his best friend and one of my secret Mandingalings as they scurry around gatherin’ up sheets and blankets, then roll him up. They move the coffee table, then drag JT’s lifeless body to the edge of the five-thousand-dollar area rug I bought with his money. They roll his ass up in it.
Darius shoots me a look. He frowns. “Yo, Ma. Fuck you standin’ there for? Toss that niggah’s dick and go wash ya ass and get this shit cleaned up. Me and Beetle gonna handle this niggah’s body.”
“Yo, what about da niggah’s whip?” Beetle asks. Fortunately, it’s not one of his official shits. It’s one he uses to get his creep on in.
Darius starts pacin’. “Fuck! Shit! Let me think. Fuck!” He turns to me. His eyes are dark and scary. “Yo, why da fuck was this niggah up in here, Ma?! Why da fuck was you messin’ wit’ this grimy-ass muhfucka?”
I’m in so much pain. I can’t even speak. The reality of what just popped off has finally hit me. And I’m through. “I-I . . . ”
Beetle cuts him off. “Man, we ain’t got all day for this. We gotta move this niggah, now.”
“Yeah, you right. We gonna have’ta drop this nigga in da trunk, then dump his shit somewhere.” Everything is movin’ so fast. They have his body rolled up inside the rug. They have it all planned out. Beetle’s gonna drive JT’s car to one of their boys’ chop shops downtown. Darius is gonna follow Beetle there. Then later tonight, they’ll dispose of JT and his car. There’ll be no traces. This niggah will be M.I.A.
I swallow.
“Shit! We need da keys to his shit,” Beetle says. They drop the rug, then unroll it. Beetle quickly fishes through his pockets. He pulls out a roll of money, then tosses it to me. It lands on the sofa. “You keep that shit.”
I nod. Any other time, my pussy would be seepin’ juices at the thought or sight of collectin’ a thick knot of money. He digs in his other pocket, pullin’ out a set of keys. He tosses them to Darius.
Darius shoots me another look. “Why da fuck is you still standin’ there, holdin’ da niggah’s dick in ya hand. Flush that shit!”
I blink. “I’ll g-g-get rid of it as soon as y’all l-l-leave.”
They roll JT’s body back up inside the rug, then lift it. Beetle looks over at me. “Shut and lock this door behind us. Don’t open it ’til we get back. We gonna handle this, aiight?”
I nod. I watch as they carry his ass outta here. This is one time I’m glad ain’t nobody outside to see shit. And obviously they ain’t hear shit, either. And if they did, not one bitch called the police. For once motherfuckas mindin’ their own business.
I lock the door as soon as they walk out, then watch them toss JT into the trunk. Beetle slams the trunk shut, then opens the door and gets behind the wheel. Darius hops in his car. I watch them back out, then pull off. The whole time I’m holdin’ my breath.
I wince, touchin’ the side of my face. My jaw feels broken. I walk over to the mirror hangin’ in the dinin’ room and almost faint. The niggah beat my face to pieces. My right eye is so fucked up and swollen I can hardly open it. I have blood caked up all over me. But I’m glad the niggah didn’t gut my face or my ass like he said he was. Oooh, niggah, you did me dirty. I wince again
as I touch my face. But you got done dirtier, bitch. I glance down at his dick still in my hand. You was about to catch it anyway. Too bad you ain’t gonna be around for the rest of the fireworks, niggah.
I walk into the kitchen, pull out a ziplock bag, drop his dingaling in, then seal the bag shut. “I’ma use ya dingaling as my party favor, nigga-bitch,” I say to myself as I pull out a Tupperware bowl. Boom, nigga, boom! Sliced ya shit right down to the stump, bitch!
I lay his dick inside the Tupperware, seal the lid tightly over it, then open my deep freezer. I dig down into the bottom of the icy box, makin’ room, then drop the container in. I cover it up with frozen chickens and slabs of ribs, then slam the door shut.
I need a doctor, goddammit! But I ain’t tryna do shit ’til Darius and Beetle get back here. I don’t wait to shower or clean up before walkin’ back into the livin’ room and searchin’ for my cell. I get on my knees, groanin’ but relieved when I find it in back of the sofa. I take a deep breath. Then dial the number.
“That niggah-coon tried to kill me,” I hiss, feelin’ myself gettin’ overwhelmed at the thought of my kids findin’ me dead up in here.
There’s a gasp on the other end. “Oh God!”
“It was a close call. I thought he was gonna shut my light switch out. He fucked me up real good. But he got got. I’ma hood bitch. And you know we fight dirty, boo.”
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Oh nooo. It isn’t a bad idea; just an unexpected change of plans, that’s all. But this works out better. He asked for it, so now he got it. That niggah’s takin’ a permanent nap.”
“What now? I knew this might get messy.”
“It’s time to move into phase two, boo. And it can’t get no messier than it already has. Trust me. The niggah tried to do me good. But I took his ass down.”
“We should call it Operation Take Down.”
If my damn face wasn’t cracked, I would smile. “Ooh, yesss, goddammit. And we gonna do ’em up right!”
We disconnect.
I glance over at the freezer one last time before goin’ in to scrub off this shit and blood from off’a my body, then cleanin’ up this mess. Yeah, coon-bitch, all nine inches of that thick, juicy black dick of yours is gonna be sautéed and served to the rest of them no-good niggahs. Boom, niggah, boom! You fucked the wrong bitch, boo!
Stay tuned as the drama continues to unfold in Retribution: Deep Throat Diva 2!
About the Author
Cairo is the author of The Kat Trap, The Man Handler, Daddy Long Stroke, Deep Throat Diva, Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang and Man Swappers. He currently divides his time between northern New Jersey and California where he is working on his next literary masterpiece. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name.
If you’d like to know more about the man behind the pen, you can visit him at www.facebook.com/cairoblacktheauthor, www.planetzane.org, or on his website at www.booksbycairo.com.
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COVER DESIGN BY MARION DESIGNS
COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY KEITH SAUNDERS
ALSO BY CAIRO
Deep Throat Diva
Man Swappers
Kitty-Kitty, Bang Bang
Daddy Long Stroke
The Man Handler
The Kat Trap
Strebor Books
P.O. Box 6505
Largo, MD 20792
Strebor Books Online
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2013 by Cairo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.
ISBN 978-1-59309-433-1
ISBN 978-1-4516-7842-0 (ebook)
LCCN 2012951352
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition March 2013
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs
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