by Sa'id Salaam
Murder would be a tough act for her to digest, so she decided to try talking to her mother one more time. She was her mother after all, surely she would protect her child. Even animals care for their young. Hearing her mother cackling on the phone, Triste held out on what she had to say for a minute, so she wouldn’t interrupt her. She also did a little ear hustling while she waited for her mother’s attention.
“Girl, I’m so sick of this yellow bitch, I don’t know what to do!” Janice said to her friend who was on the other end of the phone. “I swear, I’ma end up droppin’ this little heifer back off to the Foster Care Center and let them keep this check! No wonder her real momma ain’t wanna keep her! Oh, girl, let me tell you, lil’ miss thang had the nerve to try and tell me my man been touchin’ on her! Like somebody really would want her lil’ narrow ass! You should see the way this bitch be walkin’ around here like she ‘all that’!”
Triste was blinded by the tears and rage as she walked away. First, she walked into the wall as she retreated, then she accidently walked right into Joe.
“Whoa, lil’ momma,” Joe said when she bumped into him. He took the opportunity to rub her budding breasts’. When he got no resistance, he reached around to feel her butt. If Janice wasn’t at home, he would’ve raped her right then and there.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Janice screamed, when she walked up on them and saw Joe touching Triste. Triste was so relieved that he’d been caught in the act, a smile formed on her face. She immediately got punched in the face knocking the short-lived smile right off.
“Bitch, you in here rubbin’ your lil’ ass on my man’s hands!” Janice yelled and kicked the fallen child. She stomped on the girl as if she was on fire.
“Chill baby, I’m OK,” Joe said pulling her away. “Why don’t you roll us up a blunt and let me get you a beer.”
“OK baby,” Janice huffed, winded from the expenditure of energy. “I saw that lil’ bitch touchin’ you and I couldn’t help but go crazy!” “I know, I know,” he said leading her to their bedroom. Once he he’d gotten her settled down, he went to go and spike her beer. He had a hot date planned for the night.
******
“You ready for me?” Joe asked seductively while he stood in Triste’s bedroom door. He actually leaned against the frame in a sexy pose. When she nodded ‘yes’, his dick throbbed from the excitement.
Triste was bundled up like the last time he’d raped her, except there was one new accessory added to her dress-code for the night. She still wore the coat, the boots, the pants, the shorts, etc. Except, this time the difference would be the pistol underneath her pillow.
“No,” she said plainly as he moved closer to her bed. Not that he would listen, but to ensure she would be from blame. She didn’t whine, plead, beg or resist when he began stripping her of her raiment.
Once the child was completely naked, he snatched her little legs opened and admired the view only a pervert could find appealing. He stood and undressed himself as she reached her hand behind her and eased it underneath her pillow.
When Joe leaned in, a smile spread across Triste’s face. It was not the smile of the happy, but one of the mentally ill. The second his hairy lips touched her hairless lips, the gun came out into view. Joe may have had just enough time for his brain to process the sight of the gun before it went off and exploded.
The bullet made a small clean hole when it slammed into his head, but made a mess when it came out of the back of it. The bedroom wall looked like someone had thrown a water balloon filled with brain matter and blood onto it. Joe still had his tongue out and a look of utter surprise on his face.
Triste got out of her bed and looked curiously at the brain matter lying on Joe’s back. People so often hear the term ‘blow someone’s brains out’, but seeing it, is a different story all together.
She walked down the hall to where her drugged mother slept soundly and peacefully as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Then, she fired the gun a second time at the pink hair rollers that adorned her mother’s head. Triste then lifted the gun to her own head and pulled the trigger. She pulled it again, and again, and again. She hadn’t realized she’d emptied the weapon in Janice’s skull. Even though she hadn’t gotten to kill herself, Triste still died that day. All her hopes and dreams of college, and some day having children of her own, were slaughtered.
The Georgia Justice System, in its infinite wisdom, thought it OK to charge Triste as an adult for the double homicide she’d committed. There were of course, the obstacles of the mother’s naked boyfriend found dead in Triste’s bed. The verbal, mental and physical abuse also had to be covered up. Luckily, the Public Defenders are just as corrupt as the District Attorneys, and agreed to conceal any and everything that could be favorable to the defense. That’s the “Just-Us” system of the great state of Georgia.
“A cold blooded assassin! Killer!” The District Attorney yelled to a terrified Jury as he pointed at the little girl at the defense table. “Shot her own mother fourteen times, in her head.”
Triste sat confused as her trial went on around her. She was portrayed as a ruthless gang banger who was responsible for all the recent crimes that had happened in the city of Atlanta. Her lawyer nodded in total agreement as the Prosecutor did his song and dance for the Jury.
At the end of the show, they didn’t clap or ask for an encore, but they did find Triste guilty on all counts, which was basically the same thing.
“I sentence you to two consecutive terms of life sentence in prison,” the judge said, barely controlling his excitement. He had vowed to give away a million years before he’d leave the Bench, and now, he was a little closer to reaching his goal. The Judge had barely even paid any attention to what was actually going on during the trial, since he was so busy on his calculator. Each life term would carry thirty years before an inmate would be considered for parole. He’d just added another sixty years to his tally. The now twelve year old, would be seventy-two years old before being reviewed for parole, Just-Us
“Your Honor, my client is still a minor,” the over-weight public defender said, speaking up for the first time since the one day trial had started. He’d just earned a free dinner to add to his girth.
“So, I can’t send her to prison?” The Judge asked worried about his numbers.
“Sure your Honor,” the District Attorney cheered, “she’ll be housed in Shady Springs Home for Girls until her eighteenth birthday.”
“Whew! I thought I’d lost one,” his Honor sighed. The Judge then brought down the gavel on the young killer’s life.
~ Chapter 2 ~
“Fifty to fuck, twenty if you just want your dick sucked,” young Trixie said, reading her fast-sex menu. The white man in the expensive car was her favorite type of customer. Small dick, big money and cum super quick; so quick they sometimes went again in the time it should’ve taken to turn one trick. Her pimp didn’t get the money from seconds. This type of customer left tips too. Panama didn’t need to know about that money either.
Her pimp, Panama, was called such because he hailed from the small Central American strip of land that connected the two American Continents. He was a short, but powerfully built man who spoke good English, albeit, his strong accent. He pronounced the letter V as B and switched J for Y, and vice versa. Instead of saying young vagina, he’d say Joung bagina. He’d come from a long line of pimps. Some of the clans were in wood, some were into oil. The Ortegas sold bagina, and lots of it. He dabbled in other illicit trades, but pussy was his bread and butter.
“How old are you?” The john asked, scanning her small but well developed thirteen year old frame. To him, she looked like a woman, but had he wiped the lust out of his eyes, he would’ve clearly seen a child. Actually, he’d wanted to put his dick in his own child too, but that would’ve cost him a hell of a lot more money that he was about to spend on the prostitute.
Trixie hadn’t been selling her body for long. Her uncle had only recently
sold her body to the pimp to settle a debt. Still, she had taken to it like a fish to water. The girl loved sex and money, so one for the other was a win-win situation in her mind.
A little while back, before Trixie started turning tricks, she was an absolutely beautiful little girl named Janay. Janay was a shade lighter than tar, which made her already bright smile look that much brighter. Her slanted eyes glimmered like coal in her pretty face. A full head of black hair rounded out her good looks.
Janay was a rarity among black children in the fact that she had both parents in the same household. Her parents had been married for several years before their only child had come along. She was more-so an accessory to the young couple. The Jacksons lavished their child with whatever she desired. Their generosity did not make up for the fact that they were piss-poor parents.
The Jacksons were throw-back hippie, free-love, flower child freaks. They walked around naked and often had sex in front of the child. When Janay was just ten years of age, she’d inquired about the large assortment of sex toys her mother kept around the house. Her mother had not only explained, but demonstrated the usage of the toys as well. She’s taught her 5th grade daughter how to masturbate. Weed and wine flowed freely throughout their home, and Janay was allowed to indulge in both. She got high almost daily, with one or both of her loving parents. Movie nights in the Jackson home, was ‘the shit’. The couple experimented in swinging and wife swapping until Mike Jackson had gotten his feelings hurt.
One night, at a swinger’s club, the couple had met another attractive couple and they arranged a swap. Mr. Jackson thought he’d gotten the best of the deal because Mrs. Swanson was a gorgeous, voluptuous, carmel colored sex pot. Her husband was an average height, with average looks; nothing special, but Delia Jackson had gone along with the swap to please her husband.
When he and Mrs. Swanson got down to the get-down, he almost fell all the way inside her cavernous vagina. Momma had a huge pussy! He did all he could do with it, which seemed to please her. She rode him to one final orgasm and collapsed on his well-formed chest.
“Whew, that was great!” she exclaimed, “so nice to have a normal sized dick inside of me. Your poor wife must be going through it right now.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Jackson frowned.
“My husband has an enormous cock, and he fucks for hours! He’s a machine-that guy. A fuckin’ jackhammer!”
Mr. Jackson was so hurt he didn’t touch his wife for a whole week. She had limped around the house the next morning after the swap, humming Anita Baker, while he pouted. From that point on, he’d sworn off swapping. She was suddenly sufficient.
The Jackson house was an affectionate household. Besides the sex, there was plenty of kisses, hugs, and I love yous; more sex than anything though. The couple fucked day and night like rabbits. To add even more spice, they often took weekend jaunts to sex each other crazy.
Finding a suitable sitter had always been a challenge. Both set of grandparents had already passed on to whatever fates they’d earned in life. Of course, due the couple’s lifestyle, they couldn’t just have anybody watch their child, especially since the twelve year old sipped wine and smoked weed. Can you say “jail”.
Janay’s Uncle Maurice wasn’t a suitable sitter. It had been out of sheer desperation that Delia had given her brother a chance; another chance actually. He’d already fucked up his trust with her several times over, but she’d crossed her fingers and tried him again. Her sitter had backed out on her at the last minute, and she had a romantic getaway weekend already booked at the Hilton Head Island. Mr. Jackson frowned at the decision his wife had made, out of fear for his home, more than for his daughter. Janay could take care of herself. It was Maurice who’d need watching. Mrs. Jackson had finally agreed to let Mr. Jackson hit her in the ass, and it was settled.
To say Maurice was a piece of shit could get you sued for slander. He was a complete and total fuck-up. A bad child, corrupted teen, and now, even less of a man. He had an excellent upbringing, but had traded in his silver spoon for a coke spoon and ultimately fucked up his life. He had just recently completed a short stint in prison and vowed to turn his life into another direction. He did, but it was fucked up in that direction as well. Since doing right wasn’t an option, he’d started working dealing blow for a pimp known as Panama.
“Well, at least he’s on time,” Mrs. Jackson said when Maurice rang the doorbell. She took his being on time as sign of his new maturity. She sniffed him for drugs and alcohol, as she hugged him, although coke didn’t smell.
“Now Maurice, you stay out of our stash! Janay has plenty of weed and I’m sure she’ll share with you,” Delia warned her brother. She then took several minutes to reiterate all of the house rules and directives once more, then handed him a document that contained the same information.
“See you guys in a few days,” Mrs. Jackson called out, waving as her husband backed out of the driveway. The statement couldn’t be called a lie, even though it wasn’t true, she had no plans on dying today.
To ease the monotony of the long drive, Mrs. Jackson decided to suck Mr. Jackson’s dick along the way. She had plans to break her old record of blowing him for two hours. Only problem was that blow jobs are both relaxing and distracting. It’s hard to watch a movie while getting your dick sucked, let alone, trying to watch the road. As such, Mr. Jackson was paying more attention to his wife’s tonsils rather than the task at hand. Their vehicle slowly swayed into the lane of oncoming traffic.
Larry had been driving big rigs for ten years. He had been up for five days straight, thanks to large lines of crystal meth. He had picked up a big headed, skinny prostitute at the last truck stop. Lounge Lizards, as they affectionately were known as, were known to work for dope, cash, or rides. Larry had given her a little bit of each and had put his dick all the way up in her brain
Both distracted drivers had leaned back in their vehicles and each had their eyes closed, awaiting the blast-off for the orgasm that had built up in each of their dicks. Neither, never stopped to look up and see the other coming, no pun intended. Four people passed into the past- tense instantly, without ever feeling a thing. The Jackson would qualify for half off cremation since the ensuing blaze only did half the job.
With the death of his sister and husband, Maurice had inherited far more than he could handle. Janay was the sole beneficiary of the million dollars in insurance money, as well as all assets. The policy called for a generous executor’s fee for the person who’d take the responsibility of caring for the Jackson’ child until she would turn eighteen years of age.
Janay was beyond devastated when she learned of the loss of both her loving parents. She was inconsolable for weeks, smoking and drinking more and more each day. She and her uncle became regular get- high partners. He introduced her to x-pills and xanies. The coke he kept to himself. It wasn’t long before they started fucking each other. It could have been Janay’s fast ass who proposed the sexual act between the two, but however it had happened, the uncle went for it. Soon, she moved into the master bedroom with him as if they were a real couple.
In less than a year’s time, he had already fucked up a lot of the monthly fee he was receiving to care for his niece. He liquidated a lot of valuables from the house, and had sold the remaining car. He still somehow managed to run up a huge debt in Panama.
It was Maurice’s idea to sell his kin to pay the tab, but Panama was elated to add another piece of young bagina to his stable. Janay’s life changed in an instant. One minute, she was playing with toys, and the next, she was a toy that customers played with. Her life was sex and drugs, and she loved it. The sexy clothes, guns, and danger had turned her out; or was it her parents who’d turned her out?
******
The john was so pleased with Trixie’s little trick box that he didn’t last a full minute inside of her. With more time and money to spare, he shelled out another twenty for a ‘spit-shine’. Trixie kept that money separate from what she wo
uld turn into her pimp. One of the older girls Panama employed taught her to squirrel away the money she earned as tips.
Lady, who was everything except one, was the head hooker, the bottom bitch. She would school all of the new girls in the fine art of selling pussy. The fundamentals of fucking for a fee. Most of the young ones were so used to fucking for fun, they had to be reprogrammed. She taught them all how to spot a cop from a mile away, and what to say to avoid pandering charges. She’d told them to always offer a date, and then, let them ask to buy some pussy.
Trixie like most girls had gotten relaxed and began relaxing the rules as well. In the contest to catch tricks, the race goes to the swift. An expensive car pulling onto the track started the one hundred hoe dash. Trixie still being a kid, usually won that race. She would take off with her little Stilettos clicking, leaving the older hoes in the dust. A late model Sedan crept through and she was inside the vehicle before the driver could come to a complete stop.
“Fifty to fuck, twenty to……oh shit,” Trixie screamed seeing her trick was a tricky cop. Officer Temple had been working on the Vice Team for twenty years, and indeed knew the tricks of the trade. Pulling up in a seized luxurious car, had tricked Trixie. Seeing how sexy she was, he immediately wished he could introduce his dick to the back of her throat, but he didn’t touch kids. In fact, seeing the whores get younger each day disgusted him. Trixie tried to jump out, but Temple had hit the locks and pulled off.
“You have the right to remain silent….” He began reading her rights to her. In dealing with the criminal Justice System, you had very few rights, so you’d better take advantage of the first one, which was to remain silent. You have the right to have your rights violated. When they had gotten Janay’s chatter-box into the next room, she began to talk nonstop. She’d given up Panama’s complete operation; she told them everything. Everything she’d said was used in the court of law to help convict the pimp. He was sentenced to twenty years for buying the kid. Another twenty years for pimping the kid, and the Judge even hit him with an extra five years for saying ‘joung bagina’; forty-five more years towards that million.
