The Inheritance Pt. 03

"Y-yes, Ma'am." I peered at her through the leg holes.

The floozy turned to Hakim. "Can I hit him?"

My master, who was kicked back on his bed, shrugged. "Do what you want with the bitch."

Gina surprised me by punching me full force in the face. I doubled over holding my nose while Hakim cracked up.

"Damn, bitch, you have a hard day or something?"

"No, coke just makes me mean." The woman smiled and kicked me in the stomach, dropping me to my knees. I curled up in an attempt to protect myself against Gina's barrage of kicks to every part of my body, listening to Hakim's belly-laughs whenever she'd score a good one.

After several minutes of terrible pain, Hakim finally intervened, although he wasn't thinking of me.

"Alright, leave Twinkie alone and come suck my dick," he said. "Twinkie, get up here and suck my toes."

Dragging my aching body from the carpet, I positioned myself at the foot of the bed and complied with the humiliating, although now-routine order.

And then something snapped. After all the rapes ... all the bitch-slaps ... after so many nights of having to give the smug thug "a little sugar" ... after all the put-downs ... all the depravations ... when I looked up from my lowly post and saw Hakim kicked back on the bed so casually betraying my wife, while doing his best to humiliate me in front of his side ho, a vessel broke deep inside me. I decided enough was enough.

I vowed then and there I was going to do whatever I could to put a stop to this nonsense and protect my wife and stepdaughters from the monster who was trying to ruin our lives.

"The Inheritance," Chapter 23

by c.w. cobblestone

After spending a week at Isaac's house in permanent "pretty" mode, I wasn't used to putting on pants. But my master was drinking cognac and had a craving for cigars, and wasn't about to send me out in a wig and nightgown.

Hakim ordered Antoine, one of his lieutenants, to drop me off at our house so I could pick up my car to run the errand.

"Don't let the pussy boy ride up front," Hakim said. "I don't allow it."

Antoine huffed. "Aw, come on, Hakim, I don't want to drive this little bitch around like a chauffeur."

My master shrugged. "Fuck it, put the bitch in the trunk, I don't care. Long as he don't ride up front."

That's exactly what Antoine did, and I rocked and rattled in darkness the entire way home.

The car rolled to a stop, the trunk popped open, and I stumbled free. Antoine took off without a glance back.

The house looked spooky with the windows boarded up. I shivered when I thought of how close I came to getting killed, and how one or more of the girls would've surely gotten shot if they'd been home. The only thing that had saved me was being on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

Elegance Hut Fine Tobacco & Accessories was still the only place nearby that carried Padron cigars, so after gassing up my car I hit the road. After so much time being cooped up at Isaac's place for the past week, with Hakim hovering over me seemingly every second, I felt a rush of freedom driving alone on the freeway.

I purchased the cigars and as soon as I stepped out of the store, a black SUV with tinted windows screeched up in front of me. The door opened, revealing a smirking Agent Fawlking.

"Hey, Timmy, we keep meeting up here. What a coincidence. Anything new? Buy any sugar lately? How about buttercups? I hear those are popular these days."

"Kiss my ass." I balled my fists.

"No, Timmy, that's actually your job," Fawlking shot back. "Just ask Hakim."

Fuming, I turned to leave.

Agent Anderson leaned over from the driver's seat. "Wait, a minute, Tim. Don't mind my partner, he can be a bit over the top. Won't you please get in the backseat, so we can talk? I think we may be able to help each other out, Tim."

Part of me wanted to tell these assholes to go fuck themselves, but remembering my promise to do whatever I could to stop Hakim, I found myself sliding into the vehicle.

"I can't stay gone long or Hakim will get suspicious," I said.

"We won't be long, Tim," Agent Anderson said as he pulled out of the tobacco store parking lot.

"You've got to promise me that nothing will happen to Amber or the twins," I said.

"Of course, Tim." Agent Anderson looked at me through the rear-view mirror. "They haven't done anything wrong anyway."

"I know, I just want to make sure."

Agent Anderson nodded. "Nothing will happen to them; you have my word. Okay, Tim? Now, what do you know?"

After having so much bottled up inside for so long, as soon as I opened my mouth the words started pouring out. I told the agents all about the following Tuesday's scheduled purchase of 20 kilos of Killa Dilla from the Peruvian cartel at the abandoned meatpacking warehouse on the South Side. Agent Fawlking scribbled in his notebook while his partner drove with a shit-eating grin.

"You may have just saved Amber's life, Tim," Agent Anderson said when I was finished. "And maybe even your own."

We circled back to the tobacco store. "Be careful, Tim, and keep your mouth shut at all costs," Agent Anderson said as I opened the door and stepped out. "This will all be over Tuesday."

I drove to Isaac's house feeling buoyant and proud of myself for the first time in memory -- and then, within minutes of walking through the door, I got knocked right the fuck back down.

Hakim and Isaac had been drinking all day, still celebrating the previous evening's agreement with the Peruvians. When I presented my master his box of cigars, I noticed Buttercup under the table sucking his toes.

Hakim grabbed a cigar from the box and I moved over to Isaac. He also took one, and I set about lighting both men's stogies.

"Isaac and me decided to get some strange tonight, Twinkie," my master said, slurring his words. "That means tonight, you belong to him."

I glanced at the older man, who winked at me. "Good to have you, Twinkie. First thing you can do for me: I need to piss but that bathroom's a loooooong way down the hall. So, guess what?"

Gulping, I managed to reply, "uh, y-yes sir?"

"You're gonna be my toilet, sissy. Ain't you happy?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Isaac stood, unzipped his pants and pulled out his long, crooked dick. He smiled. "Come on, Twinkie, I know you're thirsty. Get your sissy ass down here. You don't have your wig and makeup on yet, but I got to go, so we'll just have to make do."

With tears in my eyes, I knelt in front of him. It took all my inner strength to pry my jaws open. Isaac proceeded to let loose a stream of piss that immediately overflowed my mouth and soaked my clothes and the carpet around me.

"Oh, no, Twinkie, you let my urine spill on the floor," Isaac said, acting like I'd just committed the worst infraction imaginable. "You know I can't let that slide, right?"

I cried harder, piss running down my nose. "I-I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry, my ass." Isaac twirled his cigar. "Get over here and drop them drawers."

I was scared to death as I trembled in front of my master's evil friend, pants and underwear crumpled around my ankles.

Isaac leaned forward and pressed the cigar against my dick.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, pleeeeeeeeeeassssssssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeee," I howled, although I somehow managed to stay still, knowing my punishment would be ten times worse if I moved away.

Hakim chuckled. "Damn, brother, don't ruin the bitch."

"It's just his little pink dick; it don't really serve a purpose anyway, other than for fun, right?" Isaac again pushed the cigar onto my penis and I screamed until nothing more came out.

"Now, then, lick that piss off the carpet, Twinkie," Isaac slurred as he retook his seat on the couch.

As I leaned down and began swabbing my tongue against the stinking, damp carpet fibers, I shut out the entire, fucked-up world and started the countdown: Only three days, 15 hours and 23 minutes until Tuesday's scheduled dope deal with the Peruvian cartel -- and, I prayed, a major cocaine bust for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration that would put Hakim, Isaac and the rest of the Stomp Boyz in federal prison for decades to come.

"The Inheritance," Chapter 24

by c.w. cobblestone

The phone rang while I was rubbing Hakim's feet. When he muted the TV and said, "hey, Baby Girl," I almost lost my breath, knowing my precious wife was on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, baby, I been meaning to call but I been busy with all kinds of shit." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, bitch, I care about my goddamn daughters; I told you, I been too busy to call. Put 'em on the phone if you want me to talk to 'em so motherfucking bad, but I ain't got a lot of time because I'm right in the middle of something."

There was a pause. "Oh, hey, sweetie," he said in a syrupy voice. "Oh, yes, Daddy still loves you, Leesa. Daddy's just real busy right now. Yeah, of course, you can come home soon; we're gonna get that house on the lake, remember? The one with the swimming pool? I just have some things to take care of first. It won't be long. Okay, honey, now put Shanice on the phone."

After another pause, Hakim continued in the same fake tone. "Hey, Shanice, you know your daddy still loves you, right? What's that? Yeah, you can come see me ... um, but it's gonna be later. Daddy has a real important meeting tomorrow and some other stuff to do, okay? Alright, put your mama back on the phone."

I fumed as I continued rubbing lotion into Hakim's feet, listening to the way he talked to my wife. "Hey, Baby Girl. Yeah, what the fuck, I did tell them I want to see them, but I told them it has to wait. What? I don't care if they're tired of the hotel, goddamn it; they're gonna have to stay there for a while. Now, I got other shit to worry about; quit calling me to complain, bitch."

He hung up, stared at me for a few seconds, and for no reason whatsoever kicked me hard in the face. I fell to the floor and sobbed.

"Quit your crying, turn out that goddamn light and get your sissy ass up here on the bed, Twinkie," he said. "I want that motherfucking tongue in my ass."

I hung my head, slipped into autopilot mode and focused my mind. It was close to midnight. In only a few minutes, it would be Tuesday. That's what got me through as I performed my nightly debasement -- that, and the burning hatred I felt for this evil, drug-dealing piece of shit. Every tongue swab was delivered with malice and the glee of knowing that the DEA was gearing up to put the ruthless sonofabitch and his gang buddies in handcuffs.

After Hakim dozed off, I pulled my face from his bum and took my usual spot on the floor near the bed, where I'd crashed each night during the week we'd stayed at Isaac's house. There was no getting to sleep, though; all I could think about was finally being free of Hakim and reuniting with Amber and the twins.

As I lay in the dark, I kept wondering whether I'd ever admit to my wife and stepdaughters that I'd had a hand in Hakim's return to prison -- and then I'd try to push those thoughts aside, afraid I'd jinx things if I thought of his arrest as a foregone conclusion.

I pondered how Hakim had hovered over my marriage for so long, and it made me ashamed of myself for putting up with it. For years, I'd tolerated a life of humiliation, busting my ass to support Amber and the twins while they treated me like shit and worshipped Hakim as some big hero who could do no wrong. But I sensed that was starting to change, and although I wouldn't have chosen how recent events had played out, I was glad that perhaps the girls were finally getting to see the real Hakim, not the idolized version he'd presented to them in letters and in the prison visiting room. The real Hakim was a selfish criminal thug who only cared about himself -- and yet, I had willfully allowed my family to fall into this brute's clutches.

The second-guessing continued, and I asked myself why I had always been so desperate to keep Amber in my life. Whenever she'd threaten to leave me, I'd fall into a full-blown panic attack. I probably didn't need a psychology degree to figure it out: I felt unloved as a child so I was hooked on the first woman who showed me any tiny bit of affection. That woman turned out to be a gold-digger who liked to fuck black guys; or, at least, one particular black guy.

My mind wouldn't shut off as I lay on the floor next to the snoring Hakim. An endless loop replayed the episode seven years earlier when he'd kicked my ass at my mother-in-law's house. It was a landmark event in our family history, a story that would come to be retold dozens, if not hundreds of times, always accompanied by smirks and chortles.

A few days before this monumental ass-whipping -- the day after Amber had given birth to the twins -- I'd called her in the hospital to break up with her. During the phone call, my brother and dad were literally perched over my shoulder.

"Honey, how could you?" I bleated.

"It just happened, Tim. I met Hakim at the club and we started going out, and ... well, I don't know what else to tell you. It happened."

"But ... I ... I thought you loved me, Amber? How could you do this to me?"

"Listen, if all you're gonna do is whine, I'm hanging up."

"Y-yeah, okay, Amber, listen, I'm sorry, let's talk about this."

"Well, so far, all you've done is whine."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

From his spot over my shoulder, my dad bellowed: "What are you saying sorry to that bitch for?"

"Yeah, Tim, tell the cheating cunt what's up," my older brother Tim screamed. "She fucked you over -- now dump the bitch."

My father scowled. "Do it, Tim. Now."

I sucked in a breath and let it out: "Amber, what you did to me is ... you really, really hurt me. So ... I don't want you to .... I don't want ..." I started crying.

"Do it, goddamn it," my father hissed.

"I ... don't want you to come home, Amber," I managed to say before my father reached over and hung up the phone for me.

"Good job, Timmy," he said, patting me on the back, his jowls jiggling. "Looks like you finally did something right."

But after going back to my empty mansion and sobbing for two days straight, I broke down and phoned Amber. She wouldn't pick up. Knowing she likely was staying at her mother's house, I made the drive across town, bolted onto her porch and started knocking. Then I pounded.

"Amber, I love you," I yelled. "I'm sorry. Can't we talk? Please? We can work this out."

The door swung open and a huge black stranger glared down at me.

"Motherfucker, you better get the fuck out of here."

"I ... I need to talk to Amber."

Veronica's voice carried to the porch from inside: "Get the fuck out of here, Tim, Amber don't want to see you."

I ducked my head in the doorway, spotting Amber on the couch next to her mom, with the babies in the crib nearby.

"Amber, please." Tears formed in my eyes. "I'm begging you, please. Can't we just talk?"

"Get out of here," my wife said.

"Please? I'm begging you."

Veronica tsked. "Hakim, kick this fat motherfucker's ass, would you?"

Hakim grabbed me by the collar and pulled me all the way inside. I hadn't yet regained my balance when he socked me in the eye and I tumbled to the floor. He yanked me upright by my hair and started bitch-slapping me left and right; I would've collapsed but he wouldn't let go of my hair until he was finished working me over. The entire time, the babies were crying in their crib.

"Please, please, ow, please stop, please, ow, please," I begged as Hakim's hand kept slashing across my face.

He finally let me drop, and kicked me twice in the ribs and three times in the ass before stepping on my head and grinding his foot down, wedging my face against the floor.

"I don't want you, Tim," I heard Amber say, although all I could see was the carpet. "I don't love you. I love Hakim."

"Yeah, fat-ass, take the hint." Veronica chuckled.

Hakim finally lifted his shoe from my head and I was able to twist around and see my wife holding her crying babies to her breast while her mother sat next to her on the sofa, smirking down at me.

"Now that you got your ass kicked Tim, you can go ahead and leave now," Veronica said.

My entire body ached but I managed to struggle to my knees. I felt like a marionette being controlled by some hidden force as I clasped my hands together and let it all out, blood dripping from my nose and words pouring from the heart.

"Amber, I'm so, so sorry. It was a shock in the hospital, and I didn't mean to run out like that. And my dad made me call you and break up with you; I don't want to want to do it. I don't want to break up; he made me. Please, you guys can keep seeing each other, it's okay, I just ... I just want us to be together still. You can see whoever you want, Amber ... just ... please!"

Veronica scoffed. "Can you believe this fucking loser?"

"Get the fuck out of here, Tim." Amber pointed at the door. "I told you I love Hakim, not you. Now, leave; you want me to have him kick your ass again?"

I skulked out of there thinking my marriage was over, and as I lay on the floor recalling that terrible evening, I thought of what might have happened had Amber and I not reunited. Would I have remarried? Would my second wife have also cheated on me and treated me like shit? How would Amber and the twins have turned out? Would she have found another sap who would've put up with half the shit I did?

My potential legal troubles were also keeping me awake. Although Agent Anderson had promised me there'd be no problems, I still didn't trust either of those dickheads, and was concerned that perhaps the feds might seize my mother's inheritance, claiming it had been used to finance a drug operation, which was the truth.

I listened to Hakim's disgusting snore, wondering whether losing the inheritance money might not be such a bad thing. It had caused nothing but trouble.

"The Inheritance," Chapter 25

by c.w. cobblestone

I was helping Buttercup clean the living room when I heard a thump and a crash, and before I knew it the front door was breached and DEA agents were swarming the house.

"Hands up!" several of them screamed, and Buttercup and I complied. A pair of agents cuffed us and two Stomp Boyz lieutenants who were in the War Room, as other feds tore through drawers and cabinets, ripped open pillows and couch cushions, and dug through every other corner of Isaac's house. I spotted Agents Anderson and Fawlking among the team of G-Men, but one stern glance from Anderson warned me to pretend I didn't know them.

Hakim and Isaac had gone to the warehouse to oversee the transaction with the cartel, and as I stood in Isaac's living room with my hands cuffed behind me, I assumed the two Stomp Boyz leaders and their cronies also were under arrest.

Buttercup and I were led to a DEA vehicle and put in the backseat before the agent walked away.

I feigned ignorance. "What the hell's going on?"

Buttercup blinked. "My master doesn't like me to talk."

I shook my head, disgusted with the brainwashed sissy -- and then I shuddered when it dawned on me how far Hakim had taken me down the same road. My revulsion for Buttercup turned to sympathy, although I remained quiet, since he wouldn't reply to anything I said anyway.

As I sat silently in the back of the DEA vehicle, watching the agents buzz in and out of Isaac's drug headquarters, I was thrilled and scared to death at the same time. I kept thinking how I hadn't gotten anything in writing from Agents Anderson and Fawlking, meaning they could leave me hanging and I'd have no recourse. Since Buttercup and I were living in a house with drugs and other illegal activity, we faced the prospect of criminal charges as well.

But then Agent Anderson, the more reasonable of the two, slipped into the SUV and smiled at Buttercup and me.