The Inheritance Pt. 01-02

"Come up here, Twinkie," he said. I scrambled from my place at the foot of the bed. When I arrived at his bedside he reached over, lifted the hem of my nightie and pressed the lit end of the cigar against my ass cheek.

"Yeeeooowwww!" I jumped to safety and rubbed the sore spot.

Hakim pointed. "Get your faggot ass back over here."

Eyes watering, I inched toward the bed. Once I was in range, Hakim again raised my nightie and touched the cigar to my ass, causing me to yelp and flinch, although this time I didn't try to get away. A single tear worked its way down my face.

"Sorry, Twinkie, I know it hurts, but I'm having fun." He leaned over and pushed the stogie against my flesh again.

"Owwww, please, sir!"

Amber snickered and pointed. "Every time you make him jump, his flab jiggles."

Hakim burned me again and I screamed louder.

"Oh, come on, Twinkie, quit being a baby. The twins are asleep, so you're gonna have to be a good sissy for your daddy and stay quiet." He tapped his cigar against my ass three times in quick succession. Tears flowed freely as I bit my lip and danced in place.

"Stand still, faggot." Amber scowled. "If he wants to burn you with his cigar, you fucking stand there and take it. You hear?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am." I could hardly utter the two syllables over my sobs.

She scoffed. "And wipe your face, you fat bitch; you got mascara running everywhere."

"Yes, Ma'am--owwwwwww!" I screamed as the stogie hit home again.

Amber surprised me by laying back on the mattress and fingering her pussy as Hakim continued leisurely touching the cigar to my ass. By the time he grew bored, I had painful red circular marks all over my buttocks and thighs. I stood before the reclining couple, sobbing my poor eyes out.

Hakim handed me the cigar butt and chuckled. "I know that was mean, Twinkie, but what's the point in having a sissy if you can't have fun with the bitch once in a while? Tell you what, I'll make it up and do something nice for you. Sound good, Twinkie?"

"Y-yes, sir," I lied. It didn't sound good at all.

Hakim rolled over and tapped his butt cheek. "You seem kinda sad and out of it tonight, Twinkie -- so, how about you come and give your daddy a little sugar? That'll make you feel better. Hit them lights, Twinkie."

"Y-yes, sir," I gurgled, choking back tears before ducking into the master bath, flushing the cigar butt down the toilet and flipping off the bedroom light. Then, like I'd done every night since Hakim had moved in, I burrowed under the covers and gave my master a soft rim job.

"Mmmm, that's nice. Good night, Twinkie."

"Gdddnrrrttt, srrr," I mumbled into his heinie-hole, envisioning Agents Anderson and Fawlking sitting in the back of a laundry van down the block, monitoring us through headphones and laughing their asses off.

"The Inheritance," Chapter 15

by c.w. cobblestone

Veronica took one look at me and doubled over cackling.

"OMG, are you fucking kidding me?" She composed herself and shook her head. "What the fuck are you wearing, Dumbo?"

Amber sidled up behind me and nudged me out of the doorway. "We call him Twinkie now, Ma, at least when the kids aren't around." My wife hugged her mother and escorted her into the house. I was glad to shut the door behind them before the neighbors could see me in my wig, makeup and nightie.

Hakim strode into the foyer and my mother-in-law's face lit up. "Hey, you!" She rushed toward his open arms and they embraced for a good two minutes before she stepped back and looked him up and down. "Damn, you look good -- like you always did."

"So do you, Ma," he said, reaching down and brushing her cheek. "I'm sure you're still causing men to have heart attacks all over The Loop."

Veronica blushed. "You always were a charmer, you sexy-ass, black motherfucker."

"Careful, baby, Mama's gonna try to steal you from me," Amber joked as she locked arms with her man.

"Twinkie!" Hakim boomed out of the blue, his deep voice making me jump. "Where's your manners, bitch? Ask Veronica what she wants to drink."

"S-sorry, sir, um, yes, Ma'am, would you like your usual screwdriver, Ma'am?"

Veronica cracked up again. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't ready for all this." She smirked at Hakim. "What the hell, my daughter's not woman enough for you? If you needed some more female company, you didn't need to slap a wig on this fat piece of shit; I'm always available if you need more, honey. Who do you think taught Amber everything she knows?"

Hakim threw his head back and laughed. "No, Ma, Twinkie's not a substitute for another woman; Twinkie's a sissy. Ain't you, Twinkie?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And sissies do things women won't do -- don't they, Twinkie?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"You mean like getting me my fucking screwdriver 10 minutes after I asked for it?" Veronica snapped as she headed toward the living room. "He's still useless. You can put lipstick on a pig, or you can put a wig on a fat loser and it won't make a difference -- he's still gonna be a fat loser."

Amber snickered as she sat on the couch next to her boyfriend. "You never did like Timmy much, did you, Ma?"

"From the minute you brought the fat bastard home." Veronica sneered at me. "Okay, so he came from a family with money. That's nice -- but from the very start, he was just ... I don't know, a clingy, needy little creep." She turned to Hakim. "And then after you kicked the shit out of him in my living room, and the pathetic turd gets on his knees begging my daughter to stay ... well, I'm sorry, I've just never had any use for the little worm. Every time I look at him, I swear, I just want to slap the shit out of him."

"So, go ahead." Hakim chuckled and nodded toward me. "Smack the bitch."

Veronica smirked. "Seriously?"

Without warning, Hakim stood up and slapped me hard across the face. As I bent over sobbing and holding my cheek, he sat back down, crossed his legs and draped his arm over my wife's shoulder. "See? Twinkie's our little bitch; we can do whatever we want with him."

"Well, in that case, get your fat ass over here, Dumbo, or Twinkie, or whatever the hell you call yourself." Veronica's eyes flashed. "I think I'm gonna like this."

I crept toward her and when I got close, she snarled. "Lean your face down here, fuckwad, so I don't have to get up."

A split-second after I complied, her hand lashed out with a loud crack, whipping my head sideways and prompting applause from the audience.

"Damn, that felt good," Veronica said. "One more. Don't move."

She reared back and slapped me harder. I cried harder.

Veronica wiped her hand on her leg and sat upright on the couch. "Now go get my fucking screwdriver, like I asked for a half-hour ago -- Twinkie."

As I mixed drinks in the kitchen, I overheard Amber telling her mom that the twins were at a friend's overnight birthday party, a fact that hadn't been conveyed to me. All I had been told was that Veronica was coming over to eat dinner and play cards, that the twins weren't going to be home, and that I was to "make yourself pretty" for the occasion.

It had been Hakim's idea for me to get "pretty" for Veronica's visit; he constantly did things like that to make me miserable, simply to get a laugh. More and more, I was beginning to realize that Agent Anderson had been right: Hakim was a master manipulator whose malevolence rubbed off on those around him. While Amber, Veronica and the twins had always been unspeakably rude and often outright abusive to me over the years, Hakim's level of cruelty was something else altogether. This was a hardened criminal who took joy in my pain, and more than once it had occurred to me that the names "Hakim" and "Satan" contained the same number of letters. The guy was evil incarnate, and he scared the shit out of me.

I waddled into the living room and served drinks. As I stood before Veronica, she lifted my nightie to expose my frilly panties.

"Those are some cute undies, and there's hardly even a lump from that little dick." She turned to Hakim. "Can I make him pull his panties down? Amber's always complained about that little thing; I want to see it for myself."

Hakim raised his glass of cognac. "Of course, Ma, I told you -- Twinkie's here for anything you want. You don't have to ask me; whatever it is, Twinkie will be glad to do it. Won't you, Twinkie?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Veronica leaned forward and yanked down my panties. "OMG." She covered her mouth with her hand. "That has got to be the ugliest, most pathetic thing I have ever seen in my entire life."

"Did you think I was kidding?" Amber scoffed and squeezed Hakim's arm. "Why you think I was with this beautiful, big-dicked motherfucker the whole time I was engaged to the fat bastard?"

Veronica rubbed her fingers over the welts left by Hakim's cigar, making me wince. "Ooh, what happened here, Dumbo?"

"Um, I ... uh, my master was burning me with his cigar, Ma'am."

She guffawed. "Well, that wasn't very nice of him. Was it?"

"Um ... I don't know, Ma'am. Um, Master was just having fun."

"Well, it doesn't seem fun to me." Veronica pouted. "Poor Twinkie. Nobody's ever nice to you, are they?"

Without warning, she slapped the shit out of my balls; I tumbled to the ground and rolled back and forth in agony.

"Got 'em good," she chuckled. "Now, stand up, Twinkie. I want to kick those ugly little things."

As wriggled on the carpet I glanced up at Amber and Hakim as they relaxed on the sofa, drinks in their hands and smirks on their lips.

Hakim gestured. "You heard the lady, Twinkie. Get your sissy ass up."

I struggled to my feet. Veronica pointed. "Stand right there and spread your legs. And put your hands on your head."

When I'd properly assumed the position, Veronica threw back her screwdriver, stood up, took aim -- and caught me square in the nuts with the toe of her shoe. I collapsed again and writhed on the carpet while everyone's cheers and jeers cut through the painful haze.

Amber chuckled. "Ma, I know you're having fun, but Twinkie's got to get dinner on the table. I'm hungry. And then after we eat, we can relax and play Spades, and you can fuck with Twinkie all you want to."

"Oh, all right." Veronica sighed. "Just one more. Get up here, Twinkie; let's make it a good one."

Trembling every inch of the way, I shuffled toward my smirking mother-in-law.

"Hands back on your head, Twinkie."

I repositioned my hands but this time Veronica made me wait several seconds. "You ready, Twinkie?"

I nodded. She faked kneeing me in the balls but pulled back at the last instant. I squealed and flinched.

Amber tittered. "Come on, Ma, get it over with, I'm hungry."

"Oh, all right." Her foot shot up and slammed into my crotch so hard I could taste her shoelaces. I dropped like a felled elk.

Amber drained her drink, leaned down and tapped the empty glass on my head. "Okay, Twinkie, enough laying around on your fat ass -- bring refills and then hurry up and get dinner ready."

"Ohhhhh, ooooooh, y-yes, Ma'am."

Somehow, I managed to pull myself halfway upright and hobble into the kitchen.

I served refills and then shuffled back and forth bringing in the tuna casserole and side dishes I'd made for dinner. As I squatted in front of the refrigerator preparing to remove a bowl from the bottom shelf, I heard Hakim's cell phone ringer go off in the next room. A few seconds later he walked into the mudroom a few feet from where I was crouched.

"Hey, what's up, brother? I can't talk right now. No, my babies' grandma is over. What's going on?"

There was a pause. "Oh, wow. That good, huh? Careful what you say on the phone, brother. We can talk about it in person. But, yeah, the 15th is Tuesday; if the shit's really that good, it might be time to make a move. We'll have to get rid of the other two first, but we'll worry about that when the time comes ... all right, Isaac, talk to you later."

Hakim hung up and headed back in the other room. I waited a few seconds before continuing my table-setting. As I worked, the words "Isaac Carlson" and "Stomp Boyz" echoed in my head. From what I'd gathered from Hakim's side of the brief kitchen conversation, it appeared this guy Isaac had found some cocaine that was of high-enough quality to prompt Hakim to withdraw significant money from my inheritance account when it became available in a few days, rather than sticking to the initial plan to save up enough cash over several months to make a larger score. But they'd first have to get rid of the two keys of coke that were stashed in my basement. That was a relief, since it meant the drugs would no longer be in the house -- and the feds would no longer have that to hold over my head.

As I set folded napkins at each place-setting, I thought about how Hakim had warned his friend to be careful discussing things on the phone, and wondered if my master suspected that the house was bugged. As usual, though, I put the myriad questions and concerns out of my mind and concentrated on being a good bitch, which in this case meant getting dinner ready.

Before long, the table was set and I called everyone to supper. When Hakim walked into the dining room and saw a fourth place-setting he stopped in his tracks.

"Come here, Twinkie." He snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot in front of him. When I was within reach, he grabbed my ear and twisted.

"Ow, ow, ow, sir, owwwwwwwwwwwwwww."

He twisted harder. "Who's that plate for, Twinkie?"

"Ow, sir, I ..."

"If you thought you were gonna sit down and eat, you're wrong, sissy." He released my ear. "Now, get that shit the fuck out of here. Like I told you, Twinkie, tonight is special. You stand near the table while we eat. Like a motherfucking maid."

"Yes, sir."

Veronica chuckled. "OMG, I didn't think he could get any more pathetic. Guess I was wrong."

"Yeah, Ma," Amber smiled and snuggled against her lover. "Dumbo always was a loser, but since Hakim came home, he's really been putting him in his sissy little place."

Hakim snapped his fingers. "Serve dinner, bitch."

I filled everyone's plates, and then stood near the table while they chatted and ate. After dinner, they broke out the cards and enjoyed an evening of liquor and Spades. I remained at attention during their card game, fetching refills and emptying the ashtray. Nobody gave a shit that my feet and back were killing me from standing there all night. Luckily for me, Veronica was a Spades addict and during the game she pretty much ignored me.

When Hakim called for his third glass of cognac, since there was only a drop in the bottle, I dashed to the basement to retrieve the extra fifth. While down there, I did a quick scan of each room, trying to figure out for the 100th time the location of the two kilos of coke the federal agents had said were stashed somewhere. I dared not spend more than a few extra seconds down there, though, before fetching my master's cognac and heading back upstairs.

When it came time for Veronica to leave, she said her goodbyes and then smirked at me.

"Hey, Twinkie, how about one more for the road?"

"Um ... I'm sorry, Ma'am, uh, what do you mean?"

She scoffed. "Spread your legs, dumbass. Hands on your head."

With a gulp, I assumed the position and she kicked me in the balls, harder than she had all night. I dropped to the floor, clutching at my groin and groaning. My mother-in-law leaned down and spat in my face. She had sucked down one too many screwdrivers, and unleashed eight years of loathing in a verbal tirade for the ages.

"Look at yourself, Tim, Dumbo, Twinkie, whatever the fuck your faggoty name is now. Do you have any idea how fucking pathetic you are? You ridiculous, fat piece of shit. Who lets people walk all over them like this? You're the biggest fucking loser I've ever seen. You ain't good enough to drink my daughter's piss. And you ain't worth a pimple on Hakim's ass."

As much as I hated to admit it, I agreed with every word.

"The Inheritance," Chapter 16

by c.w. cobblestone

When I spotted the black Mercedes SUV pulling up in front of our house, two possibilities flashed through my mind: it was either those DEA assholes or the mysterious Isaac Carlson.

I got my answer when two giants in sunglasses and identical leather trench coats exited the vehicle, followed by a salt-and-pepper-haired black gentleman who was dressed to the nines. Peeking out the window, I watched as the trio made their way up the sidewalk.

The doorbell rang and I rushed to answer it. I had hoped for a relaxing week of vacation, but as I peered through the door glass at the three silhouettes on my porch, I had the feeling that wasn't going to happen.

I opened the door and blinked. "Um, can I help you?"

"Get Hakim. Tell him Isaac's here."

"One sec." I shut the door and scooted upstairs to get my master, who was lounging on his bed watching TV.

In response to my knock, he waved me into the bedroom.

"Um, sir, Isaac is here to see you."

"What?" Hakim jumped up. "He's here? Now?"

"Yes, sir, he's right outside."

He pushed past me and bolted down the stairs with me at his heels.

Hakim opened the door. "Come in, man," he said, and the three men filed into the foyer.

After everyone was inside, Hakim turned and slapped the shit out of me, and I doubled over in pain.

"Don't you ever leave my friends standing on the porch, you hear me bitch?" he snarled as I rubbed my face and cried.

"Yes, sir."

The older man chuckled. "Look like you need to teach your pussy boy some manners, brother."

"Still a work in progress; it's only been a week," Hakim said, waving his friends into the living room. The two leather-coated men continued standing on either side of the older man, who I assumed was my master's drug partner, Isaac, as he settled on the couch.

With my face stinging from Hakim's slap, I took the initiative to ask the men if they wanted drinks.

"Yeah, Timmy, bring that Hennessy and a couple glasses," Hakim said.

As I prepared the drinks, I eavesdropped on the conversation.

"We only got a little time; the kids are off school this week, and Amber took 'em clothes-shopping, but she'll be back soon," Hakim said. "I want to keep them away from this shit if I can."

"Of course, brother, family first. I just wanted to tell you about this--"

"Hold up, man," Hakim cut him off. "Careful what you say; I saw some feds down the street the other day; they acted like they were working on the phone line, but I know them motherfuckers when I see 'em. So be cool; someone might be listening. In fact, you want to take a drive somewhere?"

Isaac leaned back on the couch and shook his head. "No, I don't think we need to do that. Let's just say I got someone who wants to buy those two ... um, lamps. So, I came by to pick 'em up. We can talk about the other shit later, but I got to grab those 'lamps' now because my man is waiting."

"Hang on, be right back." Hakim headed to the basement, leaving me alone with the three strangers.

Isaac sneered at me. "So, you're Hakim's pussy boy, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"He turn you into a sissy yet?"

I lowered my eyes, causing him to chuckle. "Yeah, I got one of my own. Hakim's a hard motherfucker, so I feel for ya, white boy. He ruined a couple sissies in the joint. I guess as long as you do what he says, you'll be alright."

"Um, yes, sir, thank you." I had no idea why I was thanking him but it felt proper.

"Mine's a full-time sissy," he continued. "My little Buttercup; she's a peach. Brought her home from the penitentiary. Maybe someday Hakim will make you a full-time sissy, too. Grow your hair out, get you some breast implants, a little Botox."

I wasn't sure what to say so I bit my lip and kept my mouth shut until Hakim returned with a package that had eluded my earlier searches. He handed it over to Isaac, who passed it to the bodyguard on his right.