tagNonConsent/ReluctanceEric Lacroix Ch. 02

Eric Lacroix Ch. 02

bymarkydaysaid©

(All characters in this story are 18 or older. Those characters mentioned to be in high school are seniors, and also 18.)

The Gash had always been the worst part of town, the worst of the worst. A black and grey scab festering with violent crime and disease ridden prostitutes, it was an urban labyrinth filled with monsters and ghosts that the rest of Climax City simply ignored. The gleaming glass towers of the wealthier part of town peaked over the dirty smoke-stained roofs of the Gash's industrial skyline, always condescending to it like Heaven itself to a pile of shit.

But things had started to change. A new drug was getting passed around, a new drug called Ero that got your heart racing, your blood moving, your mind expanding, your pussy wet, and your dick hard. Ero did everything you wanted it to and it did it right.

There was only one supplier of Ero in the city, and indeed the world, so needless to say that this man was becoming very, very rich, and he was using his invention to turn the Gash into his own little kingdom, building nightclubs and high-end stores, renovating apartment buildings and funding beatification projects. The Gash was going to become this man's personal paradise.

But to make a paradise out of a shithole, you had to get rid of all the shit.

#####

Inside a hot, humid strip-joint on the Gash called Santa Puta, a man simply called Sancho was grinding up some white powder with a razor blade. Sancho was the proprietor of Santa Puta, and a drug-dealer besides. For much of his adult life money, drugs, and easy pussy rolled through his hands like water from a tap, but that tap was starting to run dry, and Sancho was a thirsty man. He was not dealing with the drought well.

The door to his dirty office swung open and in walked one of his bottom bitches, a tall chica with smooth tan skin, long black hair, puffy cock-sucking lips, and giant fake tits. The only thing she was wearing was a microscopic red thong, transparent plastic high-heels, and a sparkling layer of body-glitter. Her nipples were dark and erect from sexual frustration. She hadn't gotten fucked properly in a week, which for a woman like her was a very, very fucking long time. Sancho had been having trouble getting it up lately, and there hadn't been many customers in Santa Puta looking for expensive pussy.

"Shouldn't you be working the pole, Malinche?" Sancho growled. His eyes were red. He hadn't slept in days.

Malinche sneered. "Damn, Sancho. There ain't be a single paying customer all day. What the fuck? I use to pull a grand a night in this place, and now these cheap drunks won't even slip me a single."

Sancho growled. "It's that fucking white boy. Eric Lacroix. Muthafucker's been buying up every venue in The Gash and getting all the talent. Faggot's trying to . . . uh . . . 'gentrify' us out of business. It's all because of that fucking drug of his. Faggot use to be some kind of chemistry wiz in college before he dropped out. Heard he was a real nerd or something. Speaking of which, try this, bitch."

Sancho held up a knife with the white powder on it.

Malinche sneered. "What is it? That don't look like blow."

"Just snort it, bitch. Damn."

The big-titted whore did as she was told, leaning over until her massive breasts rested on the cold surface of his table, her nipples hardening from the cold. She ran her nose over the blade and snorted the drug. Instantly she felt like sneezing, throwing up, and coughing at the same time.

"What . . . what the fuck is this shit?" she whined, sneezing.

Sancho looked downcast. "It's . . .it's something I've been working on. Something that'll get your pussy wet."

Malinche was sticking out her long, talented tongue as she tried to clear her sinuses of the disgusting powder. "It's fucking gross, papi. Ain't you got any Ero?"

"Ero? Ero? ERO!!" Sancho seethed with rage as he banged his fist against the table. "Ero's the whole fucking reason we're being ruined! Ero is what that faggot Eric Lacroix's been making all his money with! You fucking slut! Have you been snorting Ero? Fucking whore!"

Sancho reached into his desk and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at Malinche's face. She wailed and tripped over her own long legs, falling onto the closest sex-stained couch, her limps flailing and her breasts bouncing.

"No! Papi, please! I only just did it a couple times, and I didn't even pay for it! Please, daddy, I didn't-"

But her hysterical, pathetic begging was cut off as the door to the office swung open once again, and this time entered two more beautiful women, but these two were very different from a dirty cock-sucker like Malinche. For one thing, they were fully dressed . . . mostly.

The first was a tall, slightly tanned Hispanic woman with stylish curly brown hair that bounced above her shoulders. She wore a very tight white suit, the pants being so tight that they looked painted on her slender legs and athletic ass. She wore a small white blazer over her firm, perky breasts, but that was it. Her open jacket revealed nothing underneath, nothing by a couple gold chains that hung tantalizingly down her soft cleavage. She had a cocky, arrogant smirk on her face, and her large eyes sparkled behind a pair of $5,000 dollar sunglasses.

The second was a voluptuous black woman with a short, style pixie-cut and the most sexual swagger Sancho had ever seen in a bitch. Her clothing was a tight, formfitting dark blue business-suit, so formfitting that it was almost pornographic. Her breasts were captivating to look at and her ass swayed like a wrecking ball, and even Sancho finally felt his dick getting hard for the first time in weeks just looking at her. The cleavage of her suit was open very wide, revealing a ridiculous amount of smooth, shiny cleavage. On her left tit above her heart she had a tattoo, a black fleur-de-lis.

Sancho recognized the symbol immediately, and he knew who these two bitches belonged to.

"You're Lacroix's girls," Sancho said, breathing so hard he spat a little. "You're his . . . what does he call you . . . his Queens?"

The two women looked at one another friendly enough, smiling softly, but a feral tension was sparking between them. These two were rivals, lionesses fighting for the same position in the pride.

"Alessandra Martinez, the White Queen," the women in the open jacket said, snarling slightly as if it disgusted her to say her name to someone like Sancho, someone she obviously thought was a piece of shit.

"Tanya Washington, the Black Queen . . . obviously" the black goddess said, her name rolling off her tongue like she was eating melted chocolate. "Officer Tanya Washington."

The black woman dropped something heavy onto the desk. It was a police badge.

"What the fuck?" Sancho asked. A large vein was pulsing in his forehead. "What the fuck is this? Lacroix had cops working for him? Fucking cops?"

"We've been sent here today to tell you that Mr. Lacroix is very interested in buying your establishment," Tanya said, affecting an obviously insincere voice. "He's already purchased most of the businesses in the area and you seem to be one of the last holdouts."

Sancho was grating his teeth and sweating profusely. His hand was getting so slippery that he felt his grip on the gun becoming uneven. The bitches didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that he was armed, like they thought they were immortal or something. That really pissed Sancho off. People use to fear him, respect him, and now cops were coming into his office and telling him about his business. The implications of what Tanya said were obvious. Lacroix wanted him to sell. Lacroix wanted to turn Santa Puta into another one of his flashy clubs. Well Sancho wasn't going to let that happen. The Gash had been a hellhole and a terrible place to live, but it was his home. Santa Puta was his home. He wasn't going to let some white boy wannabe-gangster with a chemistry degree ruin that for him.

"I ain't selling-"

"Good," Alessandra cut him off. She quickly withdrew a small gun with a very large silencer from her jacket at aimed it directly at his face, shooting him twice in the skull. The gun made a small thumping sound, like a book falling on the ground, thanks to the silencer's noise-suppression. The entry wounds in his forehead and face were so small that they were almost invisible, but the back of his head exploded like a watermelon, splashing the entire wall with chunks of red and grey.

"Your place will sell for a lot less at police auction," Alessandra smiled.

Malinche screamed. "AAAHHH! Holy fuck! Holy shit! You murdered him! Papi!"

"Damn," Alessandra hissed. "I forgot that bitch was there."

Malinche grabbed a bong from off the table and attacked the Alessandra with it, but the slender beauty was too fast for the big-tittied whore. Alessandra spun, and launched a perfectly executed kick across Malinche's face, cutting her cheekbone open as the sharp heel of Alessandra's shoe hit her.

Malinche crashed across Sancho's desk, her big fake tits landing with two loud PLOPS, and her juicy ass waving up behind her, offering a very tempting target.

Malinche felt her tiny thong being pushed down, and then something cold, metallic and hard pushed against her swollen lips. She was so horny (even after witnessing her pimp's death) that the metal shaft entered her pussy like a hot knife cutting into butter, and she was instantly dripping down it and onto Alessandra's hand.

"Like that bitch?" Alessandra asked, whispering into Malinche's ear as she held the whore down. Alessandra started moving the metal cylinder in and out, slowly fucking the whore with a steady rythm. "Do you like getting fucked by the gun that just killed your papi?"

Malinche's eyes went wide as she gasped. She craned her head to see in the dirty mirror on the wall that Alessandra wasn't kidding. The White Queen was fucking her up her pussy with the silencer of her gun, and her finger was still on the trigger.

"Oh . . . oh please," Malinche begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't . . . please don't-"

"Well you better cum then," Alessandra said in a hot, husky voice. "You better cum your fucking brains out, otherwise I'm going to feel bad about myself."

Despite the fact that she had a loaded gun up her snatch and she was getting raped inches away from the corpse of the man who owned her, Malinche was in fact getting wetter and hotter by the second. Danger had always excited her, ever since she was a teenager and her first orgasm came from riding her boyfriend's motorcycle while he did a drive-by that killed three rival gang-members and one innocent bystander. Malinche had fucked his brains out that night. She loved him, until Sancho killed him. Then she loved Sancho. Now . . . now she guessed she loved this crazy bitch.

"This bitch isn't getting wet enough for me," Alessandra complained. "I like my bitches real fucking wet. Tanya, give her a hit of Ero."

Tanya broke out a small cigarette case, but instead of a cigarette out came a tiny bag of sparkling white powder. She held it up to Malinche's nose and as the whore panted and gasped she breathed it in, and within milliseconds her body was transformed into a divine, spiritual machine of sexual energy. The colors in the room came alive with erotic vigor, especially the red of Sancho's blood, and she could feel he departing soul ejaculating into her mind. Suddenly she melted into a single, infinite universe of orgasmic bliss, and all of her negative feelings about life were washed away as her nipples grew harder than diamonds and her pussy started to leak like a waterfall.

"Oh . . . oh fuck . . . yes . . . OH MY FUCKING GOD YESSSSSS!!"

Malinche was cumming her fucking brains out, drenching Alessandra's gun, hand, and the floor with her sputtering, squirting pussy-juice. She was shivering and rolling around, her body quaking with mind-breaking pleasure, and she was now crying tears of joy instead of fear.

As she slowly came down from her messy orgasm (which had lasted several minutes) she smiled weakly and forgot about Sancho.

"I . . . I came," she said, grateful and reverent of her new mistress.

Alessandra snickered evilly. "Yeah, you fucked my gun real hard. I think it's going to cum too."

Malinche's eyes went wide when she realized what Alessandra meant.

"But . . . no! I love-"

"Oh no!" Alessandra said, faking an orgasm and pretending the gun was a penis. "I'm cumming!"

Alessandra pulled the trigger. She pulled the trigger until the gun went 'click.'

#####

"You're a real twisted bitch, you know that?" Tanya said as they walked back out into Santa Puta, which was a rather small and claustrophobic club with ugly red lights and a sticky floor.

"Yeah. That's why Daddy loves me more," Alessandra said, wiping down the barrel of her silencer with a cloth.

"I just don't think it was necessary to kill her. At least not like that."

"Daddy said no witnesses. He doesn't want this 'unfortunate incident of gang related violence' to get in the way of his acquisition of the block. With things the way they are now the city will be grateful that an entrepreneur philanthropist like him has taken oa interest in the Gash. And besides, I thing you're starting to enjoy the wet-work just as much as I do."

"Bullshit!" Tanya protested. "I do not enjoy-"

At just the moment the door to club sung open and in walked a petite little stripper with big fake tits who couldn't have been much older than 19. Her black hair was done up in pigtails, and her nipples were covered by pink pasties in the shape of stars. She looked at Tanya and Alessandra and instatnly knew something was wrong.

"What's going on?" the little stripper asked. "Where's Sancho? Where's Malinche? What are you two-"

Tanya instinctively reached out and grabbed the girl's chin with one hand and the back of her head with the other. She spun her hands around so fast that the girl's pigtails flew up.

SNAP!

The stripper fell to ground dead.

Alessandra laughed as she left the club, walking over the girl's corpse. "See? You loved that!"

Tanya grumbled. "No I didn't."

"Whatever killer," Alessandra made a little gun gesture with her finger and thumb and pretended to shoot Tanya. "We should split up. Daddy wants us to 'buy' two more clubs tonight and it's getting late. The Amazon and Wildcatz."

"I'll take the Amazon. I'm a friend of the owner and I'd like to acquisition it WITHOUT killing anyone."

Alessandra snorted. "Whatever dyke. You would want to go to the lesbo bar. Alright, well I'm off to start another bloodbath. Later, bitch." Alessandra blew Tanya a kiss and strutted out.

"Crazy freak," Tanya said, reassuring herself that she hadn't become as twisted and insane as Alessandra had in their time working for Eric Lacroix, but as she walked over the 19 year old's body she didn't give it a second thought, when one year ago it was her job to investigate and avenge such crimes. But that was why she was helping Lacroix. Once he turned the Gash into a respectable part of the city the violent crime and forced prostitution would plummet. That's what she told herself. In reality, all she was thinking about was getting home as soon as possible, so she could get on her knees, stick her big ass in the air, and take her Daddy's big fat cock like the good little girl she was.

#####

The Amazon was a lesbian dance club, and for a place on the Gash it wasn't that bad. People knew each other, the drinks weren't spiked, and no one ever got shanked in the parking lot. There were fights of course, Tanya had been in a few, but they often ended with some very hard, very hot, very angry sex afterwards. The Amazon catered to a certain kind of lesbian: young, horny, and more than a little aggressive. It had been her favorite place to go after Alessandra left her for Eric Lacroix, because it was an easy place to work off some steam and get some easy strange. Now . . . now it was just going to be another notch in Lacroix's belt, and she was okay with that.

Illyria, the owner, an attractive by aged lesbian of about 45, was at the bar. Her large breasts were covered by a flimsy, dirty t-shirt and her wavy brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. In her twenties she had been a bombshell and regularly turned down marriage proposals from millionaires and movie stars, but she was the kind of girl who was only happy when she was eating out a fresh pussy or some bitch was eating out her, so she married a rich chump, divorced him, and used the settlement money to build the Amazon.

"Hey Illyria," Tanya said as she walked into the club, expecting it to be closed. "I need to talk to you about selling to Eric Lacroix. Don't be mad at me but I really need you to do this and I promise that-"

And that's when she realized something was wrong. It was 4am, one hour after closing, but the club was full. Stranger, it was full of people who were silent, still, and clearly not there for a fun time.

They were all women, and every single one of them were wearing outfits like something from an sadomasochist's nightmare mixed with a punk-rock concert. Lots of leather, latex, straps, buckles, bodices, thongs, tight jeans, ripped t-shirts, and wild haircuts. Nothing unusual about that (other than it wasn't punk-rock night or S&M night), but they were also all carrying weapons. Chains, knives, brass knuckles, baseball bats, and crowbars. This was a gang, only it wasn't a gang that Tanya had ever seen before.

"Tanya," Illyria gasped. "You shouldn't be-"

"Tanya Washington!" a raspy, bratty young voice said. "The Black Queen! Eric Lacroix's cop bitch! How nice of you to join us. We were just talking to Illyria about the same thing. It seems she's been thinking about selling the Amazon to Lacroix and letting him expand his little empire."

The one talking was a slender girl sitting in a stool by Illyria, with her back facing Tanya. She had an attractive body, a young one, that was the rare mix of curvy and petite by the look of her narrow, swooping waist and heart-shaped ass. Her midsection was totally bare, but her upper body was covered by a short, tight leather jacket studded with spikes, and her buttocks was covered by the smallest, tightest little leather booty-shorts that had even been made. Her perky butt was less than half covered by them, and her firm globes stuck out like a peach begging to be eaten. She had blue spiky hair with long bangs and her ears had were filled with piercings, but because she was facing away Tanya couldn't see much else.

Tanya realized that the punk-rock dominatrix bitches were circling her, closing the door from behind. One put a hokey stick into the door to jam it.

"I don't know who the fuck you little girls think you are," Tanya said. "But Eric Lacoix is not a man you can fuck with, and I am the last bitch on earth you want to piss off!"

"We don't want to fuck with Lacroix," the blue-haired girl said. She had a voice like a tomboy going through puberty, raspy and a little sweet. "We just want Lacroix to share."

"Share?" Tanta laughed. "Lacroix doesn't share."

"I know," the girl said, sounding annoyed. "He's been buying up every little inch of our favorite playground, pushing out all the fun freaks and geeks that make this place special, and he's been replacing them with hoity-toity rich bitches, poseurs, and douche-bags. He's wants to turn the Gash into the trendy part of town where all the trust-fund hipsters can drink microbrews and high-rolling Wall-street fuckers can spend $1,000 on a lap-dance. He's trying to take away our home."

"Your home?" Taya sneered. "I've never even seen any of you sluts before. Shit! Most of you look like your barely out of high school!"

"Some of us aren't," the girl giggled in a sardonic voice.

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