Vinnie's World 3: Buying Tasha

By Ezra Zane 

Kate, my beloved friend, was right. She said to me, "I told you what to do. Find some young ones and train them like you want. Get three or four. Leash and collar them. Have them sit around in harem clothes or bondage costumes awaiting your next command."

I certainly wanted to continue with my women. Lorena, Lily, Carolyn, and the others would always be an important part of my life. I wanted to have fun with some new ones when they came along. A few desperately needed my attention, like Musette. She did call me the next morning, but I'll tell you about that later. There were clients that occasionally came to me with a woman they wanted to receive my special treatment, like Marie.

I wanted all of them, but I wanted a different kind of woman, too. A woman like Sonya had been. One that was mine only.

I put the word on the street that I was looking for a young and tender girl. I didn't say what I wanted with her. No one cared on the street because there was an excess of young and tender girls. Some were the daughters of street women. Most were the city's or suburbia's lost kids, turned on by drugs, or turned off by stifling homes. A few were untamed animals searching for adventure. There was a steady stream of new ones.

I'd turned down seventeen different ones, but I wasn't losing hope. I knew the right one was out there someplace. The process was pleasant enough. I'd fucked all seventeen. One of them appealed to me enough to buy her. Women aren't bought and sold, you say? Let's not argue that now. 

The girl was thin and tall, with stringy dishwater blonde hair and a sad downturn to her wide mouth. That wide mouth could take a cock some women couldn't get between their lips. We all worked with her to make her a better cocksucker. She sucked eight to ten cocks a day, and by the time she left me, she gave head with the best of them. I turned her over to Phyllis Green, my favorite madam. Phyllis could always use a new girl, particularly one with oral skills.

Then Jerome called and I agreed to meet him. He ran a stable of about fifteen whores and kept his ear to the ground. Only about five eight and wiry, Jerome was a typical pimp. He sidled up to my car as his eyes searched for potential trouble. There was always trouble on the street. When he eased in the back seat of my limo, the smell of cheap cologne burst like a stink bomb.

"Hear yo' lookin' for a girl," he said.

"A special girl," I answered.

"I'z got one. I let yo' has her, but she's won't be cheap. She be a virgin and she be the best looking one come along in a while."

"You haven't broken her in yet?"

"Naw. She be fifteen and ripe though. You don't buy her, I be breaking her in this week."

"I want to meet her," I said.

He grinned at me, gold and silver on white with a black background. We discussed her price and I agreed to an inflated number, but I told Jerome I knew it was inflated and she'd better be the best. He made a hurried call on his cell phone before telling Mica, my driver and bodyguard, where to go.

We drove to an old apartment building in one of the seedy parts of the city. In another ten years, the building would be part of the decayed mass of housing that was marginal for human use, but the rats would still live there.

There were four of them waiting when we arrived, a mother and three sisters, each sister the product of a different father, all accidents in the plying of the mother's profession. The mother and two sisters were dressed like whores in the skin-tight, cheap clothes that were their advertising and their albatrosses.

One daughter was darker-skinned than her mother. She was plump and had the large ass of many black women. The other daughter was smaller, with slanted, flattened eyes. She looked vacant-eyed and anorexic, probably from drugs.

The mother, a light-skinned black, looked used and useable. She couldn't have been more than thirty-five, but the lines on her face made her look older. Her large breasts fought the containment of the tank top. When she looked at me, her expression said that she liked sex and was willing to take me for a ride. For an instant, I considered taking her there as her family watched. Jerome wouldn't mind, not if I paid her price.

I wondered if the daughter that I might buy had the same need for a man on her and in her. That daughter was behind the others, perched on a table with her knees under her chin and her arms wrapped protectively around them. She wore a baggy, ragged sweat suit from a used clothing shop. I couldn't see her eyes, but she was watching me from behind the protection of long and unkempt hair.

What did she think as she studied me? A white man in her black world. A man dressed in an expensive and proper suit, not in pimp finery. A man without jewels and gold dangling from every extremity. A man she knew had come to buy her if she appealed to him and, if he bought her, to take her away to what she could only imagine or fear. Did she want to leave this place with such a man? Or did she want the streets?

"Come here, Tasha," Jerome snapped.

When the girl didn't move, Jerome made a noise deep in his throat like an animal ready to fight. Obviously frightened, the whores backed away.

"Jerome," the mother whimpered, begging him to stop, but he silenced her with a look. I'd guessed the mother had protected Tasha from Jerome's untender touch, but there'd be no protection for her tonight.

"I says come here," he repeated. His fist was clenched in a ball.

"I'd like to talk to Tasha alone, Jerome. You don't mind, do you?" I said quietly.

"Huh? No, but the little bitch better be sweet or I be breakin' her in tonight. Leroy be breakin' in one of his. Another be easy, and I likes to breaks 'em in. You hear me, Tasha? I be breakin' you in tonight if Mr. Costello's not happy with you."

The mother and two sisters were frozen and Tasha trembled.

"Follow me, Tasha," I said, which she did as I walked out the door.

I opened the door to my limo as Bigun, my other bodyguard, stood by passively. Tasha crawled in ahead of me and curled into a ball in the corner. I waited about five minutes before I spoke. She watched me the whole time from the protection of her hair.

"My name's Vincent Costello. Call me Vinnie," I said. She didn't move. "Do you want to be a whore, Tasha?"

"No girl wants to be a whore." Her voice, soft and feminine, radiated fear.

"What do you want to be?"

"A doctor. A medical doctor."

"That takes good grades and hard work."

"I make straight A's. Not little A's. Top grades. I'm smart and I know how to work." A fierce pride resonated from her.

"I like that. I'm looking for the smartest woman I can find."

"Why?"

"Are you that smart?" I asked, ignoring her question.

"My teachers say I'm the smartest they've seen in a long while."

"That's intelligence, and I want that, too, but I said smart. Are you smart enough to know when you're well off? Are you smart enough to know a good deal for you?"

"Sure," she replied but there was a tinge of doubt in her voice.

"I want to see your body. Take off your clothes."

She didn't move.

"See. You're not that smart, because, if you were, you'd know I can be a lot meaner than Jerome if I want to be. I can break you, Tasha, and make you the lowest whore on the street, but I can be something else, too. I can be the best friend you'll ever have, a friend who'll protect and care for you. If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll see that. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, in a sick, sad tone.

"Undress, and never make me ask twice again."

She sobbed as her hands wrapped around the hem of her top. She kept her head down as she slowly raised the top, like a striptease. First, the flat stomach and narrow waist came into view. Then her breasts, which were covered by a thick, plain bra. She reached behind her to unfasten the bra, which arched her back toward me, but she crouched over to hide herself before the bra slipped away. She was crying as she removed the pants to reveal long, shapely legs.

I didn't speak as she stopped with her thumbs in the elastic of her plain old-fashioned panties, which were dirty and torn. Her body heaved as she cried, but she controlled herself and slipped them down her legs. Her bush was heavy and black.

"Kneel between my legs," I ordered.

Her movement was graceful, but her body was shaking in anticipation of my taking her. She knelt like a little girl with her knees tightly pressed together, her back hunched. She folded her trembling hands in her lap, one hand over the other as if trying to stop the tremors. Her hands stilled before I raised her head to look at her.

Her face had a rich, light coffee color, as if her blackness was only a quarter of her heritage. Her features were fine with big green eyes, a full lower lip giving her a pouting expression, high cheekbones, and flawless skin. She was absolutely beautiful, but her eyes were more than beautiful. They were one pair in a million. Those eyes were wide with fear and wet from crying.

"You did a good job of hiding yourself as you undressed, but I want to see you. Do what I tell you or I'll throw you out naked and let anybody who comes along fuck you. Keep your face toward me and your hair back. You have beautiful eyes and I want to see them."

She hesitated and her eyes held a million questions. I reached for the door handle.

"I'll do it," she whispered.

"Get on the seat and offer your breasts to me."

She slipped up on the seat. The hardest part for her was keeping her face exposed and her eyes on mine. That's what ripped away the protection of self she'd built over the years. She was trying to read me and understand what was happening to her as she put her palms flat on the seat with her elbows locked. Fear flashed in her eyes before she gritted her teeth. Slowly, she arched her back, raising her breasts toward me. She looked surprised I didn't reach for them, but that'd be later.

"Arch your back more, Tasha, and lean toward me. I'm the man you want to play with your breasts and you're giving them to me as a present. That's right. Hold that pose. You have lovely breasts. Has a man ever seen them before?"

"No, sir," she said.

"You've kept yourself well hidden."

"Yes, sir."

"No boyfriends?"

"Boys in this hood just want a fuck 'n suck. No boy's my friend."

"I'm not a boy. I'm a man and I'll be your friend."

I made her wait that way, with her breasts thrust out and her eyes on mine, until the muscles in her jaw relaxed and acceptance showed on her face.

"That's good. Lean back against the seat."

She moved slowly. When the cold leather touched her back, she flinched before settling back against it with her legs tightly closed and her hands folded in her lap. She waited for my direction and her breathing was her only movement. I was in no hurry. I was enjoying looking at her. More than that, she needed some time to become accustomed to me.

"Let me have your right foot," I said.

Tentatively, she extended her leg to me. I wrapped my fingers around her ankle and pulled her foot into my lap. I massaged the bottom of her foot slowly, using my thumb against the soft area below the ball. She trembled and goosebumps broke out on her upper chest. I kept massaging as I spoke again.

"It's hard on the street, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do your sisters charge for a straight fuck?"

"A hundred dollars, but Jerome takes most of it."

"How can they save any money for a dream?"

"They can't," she replied despondently.

"Who do you trust, Tasha?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who are your friends on the street?"

"Momma's my only friend."

"Who wants to help you realize your dreams?"

"Just Momma."

"You can trust me, Tasha, if I can trust you. If I can trust you, I'll be the best friend you ever have. Now touch your left foot to the door on your right."

She kept her eyes on mine and her breasts pointed at me as she rotated her hips to comply. The position tightened her muscles. I didn't touch. I looked, and as I looked at her, I let her see warmth and friendliness in my expression.

"Get on your knees on the seat with your ass toward me."

She shook her head "no" even as she complied.

"Look back over your shoulder at me and spread your legs."

Her sweet pussy winked at me from between her legs. I ran my hands up her taut legs, which made her body tremble and her eyes widen. I stroked her pussy lips with my thumbs as my hands held her thighs. When I saw the first sign of arousal, I stopped touching her.

Following my instructions, she posed for fifteen minutes or so, showing me every part of her body. My cock was rock hard as I watched her. She did have a magnificent body. But her reaction, not mine, was the key. She was losing her fear of being naked with me and responding sexually to my hands on her. She fought that response. There was a wanting in her she was afraid to let out.

"Very nice, Tasha. Now kneel between my legs again."

I held her head so she couldn't look away. When I leaned to kiss her, she tensed, but didn't pull away. I released her and leaned against the seat back.

"Have you ever been kissed," I asked.

"No, sir," she said not looking at me.

"Has a man ever touched you?"

She hesitated.

"Don't lie to me," I said coldly.

"One of Momma's dates tried to get to me."

"Was he successful?"

"He ripped off my blouse. Then we stopped him."

"How?"

"Momma jumped on his back."

"And he quit?"

"No. I hit him over the head with a lamp. I hit him three times. He bled a lot and Jerome took him to the hospital."

"Do you know what a breaking in is?"

"Yes, sir," she said. She looked away and her voice quaked in fear.

"Look at me when you speak to me," I said sharply.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked up and said again, "Yes, sir."

"How do you know, Tasha?"

"My sisters were broken in. I helped care for them when they brought them home."

"What happens?"

"They take her."

"Who takes her?"

"Pimps. A bunch of them."

"What do they do to her?"

"Rape her. Whip her."

"It's a gang rape?"

"Yes."

"Where do they rape her?"

"Everywhere."

"Where's that?"

"Her pussy. Her mouth. Her ass. They rape her over and over."

"Where do they whip her?"

"Everywhere."

"Be more specific," I ordered.

"Her breasts, between her legs. Her whole body. Even the bottom of her feet."

"What do they whip her with?"

"Ropes, or wire."

"Do you remember what your sisters looked like after they were broken in?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

"How did they look?"

"Bad. Real bad."

"Did they like being broken in?"

"Oh, no! Nothing hurts as bad as that."

"And you want that?"

She shook her head. Clearly she was terrified, which is how I wanted her to be. A deep sob escaped her.

"Please, Mr. Costello. Don't break me in. Please! I'll be good. I'll do anything you want. Oh, God, please, don't hurt me like that," she burst out in a torrent. She was trembling like a cold, wet puppy.

"Why do they break in a woman?" I asked.

"So she knows who owns her, who she has to please. That's what Jerome said. I'm smart. I can please you, Mr. Costello. I'll do it without the pain. I promise! Give me a chance to show you how good I can be. Please!"

"I know you'll be good if I break you in," I replied coldly.

"I'll be better if you don't. I know I will, Mr. Costello. I'll do anything for you. Anything you want. Please don't hurt me!"

She collapsed in a crying ball at my feet. I didn't move as she sobbed in her fear. Her fear was important to me. She had to realize I was the meanest man on the street so she'd want to please me above all things.

Fear was the stick. I was going to give her the carrot, too. I waited until her tears stopped.

"Look at me," I said very softly. Slowly her eyes raised to mine. "I don't want to hurt you, Tasha. I want you to have a good life, a happy life, and a life of fun and pleasures. I never want you to have pain. But I'll give you pain if I need to. I'll give you more pain than you can endure if you betray me. Do you understand?"

She sobbed and nodded.

"One of two things is going to happen tonight. You'll make me happy, or Jerome will break you in. When the night's over, you'll either be sleeping in a nice, big, warm bed curled up next to me or you'll be huddled in pain on the floor of your mother's apartment after they break you in. Which is it going to be, Tasha?"

She didn't flinch as I stroked her hair. Thick and coarse, but not kinky, it was filthy with an unpleasant odor. A thousand emotions flickered across her face, but fear was there the most. Tears slipped down her cheeks to wet my hands as I held her face. She didn't struggle or try to pull away.

"I'd rather be with you," she whispered.

"What did you say?"

"I want to be with you," she said distinctly.

"If we're together, what'll we do?"

"Have sex."

"That's just part of it. I'm not buying a whore for the night, Tasha. I want smiles and eagerness to please me. And I don't want average sex or even good sex. I want great sex, hot and happy sex."

"Yes, sir."

"If you want to be with me, you need to make me happy, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, do it."

Tentatively, she reached for my zipper.

"No, Tasha. That comes later. Kiss me."

She lifted her head toward me. She was surprised I made no move to meet her. She scooted closer and stretched until her lips touched mine. Her lips were closed and her breath matched her hair for foulness.

"Is that supposed to make me happy? You may not have been kissed, but you know that wasn't good," I said.

When she kissed me again, I kept my mouth closed. She looked puzzled.

"Tasha, you're beautiful, but beautiful women are a dime a dozen. You have a magnificent body, but so do a lot of women. Women with heat are what a man wants. Make me want you."

Tasha was only fifteen, but she wasn't some child from a safe, protected environment. She was from the mean streets, and the daughter and sister of whores. She might be a virgin, but she had the body of a woman and she knew the score. That's what her expression told me before she kissed me.

"That's better. Keep doing it."

She slipped her arms around my neck and kissed me again. Tasha's lips were soft, pliant. Her tongue slipped between my lips. We kissed until I felt her enjoy it.

"Where should my hands be?" I asked.

"On me," she whispered.

"Put them where you think I'd want them." I replied, holding my hands out to her.

Her eyes were a woman's eyes, knowing with a hint of sexual teasing and pride, as she took my left hand and placed it on her waist. Like a cat, she watched me as she slowly pushed my hand down until it cupped the meat of her ass cheek. She took my right hand in both of hers and opened it, stroking my fingers with her nails. She brought it to her lips and kissed my palm before guiding it to her breast. Her hand around mine massaged the tissue of her breast. She gently moved my finger and thumb to her nipple.

"Like this?" she teased. There was a twinkle in her eyes.

"Very nice," I replied.

She kissed me as I played with her body. When I was a kid we called it "making out." That's what Tasha and I did in the back seat of my limo until I felt the heat of a woman overcome the fear of a girl and her kisses became wanting. When I pushed her down until her ass rested on her heels, she looked confused. I took her hands in mine.

"Listen very carefully. The next few minutes are going to be the most important ones of your life. I'll do what it takes to make you a doctor, or whatever else you want to be. I'll pay for the schools and books, teachers and tutors. I'll take you places far away, places you've dreamed of seeing. I'll pay for all of it. I'll give you time and help to get it done. I'll give you your dream, Tasha."

Had there ever been hope in her life? She could dream, but it took hope to make her dream seem real. That's what was in her face as she stared up at me. She wondered if I was the way to make her dream come true.

I wanted her to believe I was that way. Her path to her dreams. If she believed it, she'd be what I wanted.

"Think about it. Dr. Tasha Johnson."

She quivered and tears burst forth, flowing unabated down her cheeks. Had she ever cried for her dream before?

"Yes, Tasha. I'll give you your dream. You can ask Jerome. Ask anybody. Vinnie Costello's word's as good as gold. And I'll give you my word."

"What do you want?" she whispered. Her tongue snaked out to swipe tears away.

"You. You for ten years. I want you to do what I tell you, when I tell you. You'll do it without question or complaint and with an attitude that'll make me happy. It won't be just sex, but you'll do that, too, with me and with others. It'll be hard work because I'll demand of you what I want. I'll push you to be a doctor, too."

"You won't need to push me for that," she said, with a toughness of the street married to determination to leave that street behind her. "Why are you doing this?"

"That's none of your business. All you have to do is decide. You can be a street whore for Jerome tomorrow or you can be a doctor after ten years with me. You'll have to trust me, but I'll do my part if you'll do yours."

"I'll do it," she said.

"Don't be so fast to answer. I want you to think about it. When Vinnie gives his word, he'll die before he breaks it. When other people give Vinnie their word, they die if they break it. Or they wished they'd died," I said using the cold, dead, fear-inducing voice that was well known to my enemies.

She was studying me. "I've thought about it all my life. I'll do it. I won't break my word," she said resolutely.

"Then we have a deal?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. We have a deal."

I pulled her up to me. She was surprised I didn't kiss her. I simply held her. In moments, she was holding to me fiercely. Tears began again, this time from the uncontrolled joy of seeing her dream near her grasp. I waited until she'd calmed.

"Get dressed, but don't wear your bra," I ordered.

She was stunned I wasn't going to use her. As she scrambled to get into her clothes, she studied me, looking for clues. She found none.

"We're going to watch the breaking in tonight. Don't look away. I won't let it happen to you as long as we've got a deal. Understand?" She nodded. "The deal is you belong to me, will do as I tell you, and that you'll make me happy. Understand?" She nodded again. "Good. Let's go back inside."

When we returned to Jerome and his whores, Moreen, Tasha's eldest sister, was on her knees working on Jerome's cock. Tasha turned away.

I pulled her against me and said, "Watch. You're going to please me with your mouth any time I ask. You need to see how it's done." 

I wrapped my left arm around her waist. My right hand slipped under her top to cup her full breast. Her nipple immediately hardened. As she watched and I played with her nipple, her ass rubbed against my cock. It was involuntary. When it happened, she gasped and willed herself to stop, but I felt her quiver as the heat rose from her. After Jerome unloaded in that well-trained mouth, I told him we wanted to watch the breaking in. He shrugged and agreed.

Tasha's mother cried when I told them she was leaving forever. Her sisters were envious of her good fortune. Tasha packed her few belongings in a shabby suitcase and hugged her family goodbye.

As the women watched, I handed Jerome a stack of hundred dollar bills. He riffed them as he grinned from ear to ear and the light twinkled off the gold and silver in his mouth.

"Bought and paid for," I said.

"Yes, sir, Vinnie. You've paid for her. She's your whore now. "

"Do you understand, Tasha?" I asked as I stared at her.

She didn't stoop and try to hide behind her hair this time. She stood straight and tall as she looked me in the eye.

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'm yours, Mr. Costello. You own me," she said.

I took Tasha's hand and led her from the room. She didn't look back.

******

The purpose of a "breaking in" is to cause a woman to quickly and eagerly obey her pimp. It's as violent as anything you can imagine. It isn't sex. It's punishment, intimidation, and humiliation. Mostly, it's pain. Intense, personal pain.

Tasha and I were going to watch a breaking in. Mica parked the limo in front of a partially-burned-out, forlorn tenement on an old, dirty street. He walked over to talk to a couple of street kids hanging around. When he was through explaining the situation, those kids would watch the limo for us.

Mica opened the back door. I exited and extended my hand to Tasha. She was trembling when she took it and her eyes were wide with fear. We walked up a flight of rickety stairs to reach the place the pimps had chosen to do their deed.

People would hear the noise, but no one would intervene. If anything, they'd realize it could happen to them. The pimps liked that. They thought it would expand their influence. However, one of the more successful pimps was an effeminate acting, spare, Hispanic who never broke in his girls. They fucked their hearts out in gratitude.

Tasha was the only female in the room. I was there with Bigun and Mica, who are my men. The pimps were Jerome, who sold Tasha to me, Leroy, who was breaking in a whore, Shine, and The Nose.

"Who's the white boy?" Leroy said looking at me.

His eyes left me to burn into Tasha. She held my hand in both of hers and partially hid behind me.

"I'm Vinnie Costello. You're new in town," I replied.

"Yeah, but I be hearin' of you. What do you want?"

"I understand you're breaking in a new whore. Tasha wants to watch," I said in a non-confrontational tone. "Tell me about your whore."

"College bitch. The little white slut likes coke, but she don't like to pay for it."

"What do you want for her?"

"Four big ones."

"I'll give you one, sight unseen."

"Make it two and a half."

"One and three bits. That's my final offer," I said.

"Okay."

"I want you to break her in."

Leroy smirked. It was like buying a pig in a poke, but I wanted to do two things - make a deal with Leroy and make an impression on Tasha. He didn't care about the girl, only his money.

Leroy dragged in a burlap bag smelling of urine. If he'd followed the usual procedure, the girl had been bound, gagged, blindfolded, and stuffed in the bag. Then they'd peed on it, soaking it with their smell. She'd been in the bag anywhere from one to twelve hours. She might even be dead. It was a risk I was willing to take.

Leroy cut open the sack and dumped her on the ground. When her purse fell out beside her, Mica retrieved her ID and gave it to me. Her name was Melanie Phillips and she was twenty-one. Melanie had been bound in a ball. They'd used handcuffs and chains to allow her to be bound indefinitely without cutting off circulation. She was still dressed in a typical college skirt and blouse. Gray duct tape covered her eyes and mouth.

I leaned against the wall and pulled Tasha back against me. Her ass was against my cock. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pinning her against me. My other hand seized her chin.

"Watch everything, Tasha. Don't look away. Don't close your eyes," I whispered in her ear.

She took short, quick breaths, put both her arms over mine, and held on tightly. My fingers on her carotid artery could feel her racing pulse.

"Leroy," I said. His dead cruel eyes fixed on me. I thought he was high on drugs. "I want to hear the girl and see her eyes."

Leroy grinned and yanked the tape off Melanie's mouth, which pulled off a layer of skin and left her lips red and raw.

She gasped for air, struggling to breathe. Leroy yanked her upright with one hand, his long black fingers like snakes crawling in her brown hair. She was sitting on her heels, hands cuffed to the steel chain around her waist, ankles bound together.

Leroy yanked the tape off her eyes, revealing brown pools of fear. He slapped her back and forth, back and forth, until her cheeks were swollen and her lip bleeding. She made little, sick sounds, like a wounded animal. Tasha squirmed in my grip.

"No little white bitch gonna' steal my coke. You be a whore now. Leroy's whore," Leroy said to the helpless Melanie as his fingers crushed her cheeks into her lower jaw. She gurgled, unable to speak. "I be breakin' my whores in so's they be like I want 'em."

He shoved her on her back. They moved quickly, with the smoothness of experience. Leroy undid her cuffs and the chain. The Nose slipped a loop over one of her wrists and yanked it tight before crossing her wrists and binding them together. Jerome removed the chain binding her ankles, wrapped a loop around one ankle and yanked. Shine's rope was around her other leg. They stepped away, pulling her legs apart.

Leroy's switchblade clicked.

"God, please, no. Don't hurt me," she begged.

He cut off her clothes as she screamed, "Please, please. Have mercy."

Melanie had a decent body, but it was nothing exceptional and she'd benefit from losing a few pounds. Shortly, that body would be red and blue and in a great deal of pain. When she struggled and screamed, the three pimps holding her pulled against the ropes, making them dig into her flesh. Leroy yanked his trousers down and his cock, black and hard, popped free. He dropped down between her legs.

"You gonna be raped now and not by some limp-dicked white boy, but by my big black cock. I's gonna rape you anytime I like, you cokehead bitch."

He positioned himself at her entrance. The other pimps yanked, spreading her wider. Leroy drove his hard cock into her pussy with one brutal stroke. To my surprise, I didn't see any blood, which made me wonder if Melanie liked it rough. He fucked her as hard as he could with each thrust driving her naked body against the thin mat on the cold concrete floor. When he was ready, the pimps moved as one, yanking Melanie to a sitting position. Leroy forced her mouth open and came there. She choked on his cum and it spewed on him and her breasts.

He slapped her hard, and blood from her nose sprayed the air.

"Swallow next time, bitch, or I'll cut your nipple off," Leroy barked.

He staggered back and took the rope from Shine. It was his turn to rape the girl and he was every bit as brutal. They all raped her twice. The last time Leroy raped her ass. Melanie screamed in fear and pain until her voice was a never-ending rasp.

It was all different and all the same. A cruel black face over a terrified white one. The stench of bodies and sexual fluids. Grunting thrusts, begging bleatings. Violence and terror.

It didn't take long for her to be raped eight times, for her to bleed from their entries, for her face to be swollen in pain and covered in their cum. But to Melanie, and to Tasha watching her, it was a lifetime. A lifetime of fear and pain.

Tasha shivered and crushed against me when it began. When she sobbed at the first rape, I covered her mouth with my hand and said, "Be quiet and watch. That way you'll know what you're missing as long as you make me happy."

She tried turning her head away, but I held her firmly, making her watch. Only once did I have to tell her to open her eyes. She cried and shook in my arms. Now she was limp. My support was all that kept her from collapsing on the floor.

"Now the fun begins," Leroy said as he wiped his brow on the remains of Melanie's blouse.

He picked up a wire coat hanger. Standing over Melanie, he bent it double. She knew what was coming and fought desperately to get away, but the three men holding her ropes grinned at her helplessness.

"I's gonna whip you, whore. Yo' lily white body be a blue body soon," Leroy threatened.

Her left breast instantaneously turned a brilliant blue when Leroy whipped the hanger against it. He waited until her scream died in the air before he stepped back and, with a flick of his wrist, slammed it against her pussy.

Again and again, he swung the wire against her. On her back and calves. On the inside of her thighs and the tender area below her belly button. But mostly on her breasts and pussy.

Melanie gurgled, paled, and began to shiver violently and uncontrollably.

"That's enough, Leroy," I said. "She's going into shock."

"Leroy says when it's enough, not some honkie asshole."

"I paid for her. Remember?"

When he reached for his pocket, I thought he was going to return my money, but he flicked open the switchblade and drew back to throw it.

The roar of Mica's nine millimeter Glock filled the air. Leroy flew backward as blood spurted from the hole in his chest. His vacant-eyed corpse left a trail of red as it slid down the wall.

The other pimps were frozen in place. Tasha wasn't breathing. Melanie was covered in Leroy's blood, mixed with her own.

"Bigun, you and Tasha help the girl. Go on, Tasha. Move," I said, pushing her toward the beaten victim.

"How many girls did Leroy have?" I asked.

"Seven," Shine answered as his eyes flicked between Mica's gun and me.

"That's two apiece and one left over," I said. "I'll take the white girl and my money. Who'll get rid of Leroy?"

"I'll do it, but I wants three whores," Shine replied.

"Is that all right?" I asked.

They nodded.

"Do you want my help in deciding who gets what whore?"

"We can do it," The Nose replied.

"Then our business for tonight is concluded," I said.

After Bigun carried Melanie to the limo, I injected her with a sedative that knocked her out. Bigun put her in the trunk. I called Dr. Gallo on the cell phone. Doc was an old friend who attended to all my medical needs. Melanie would stay at his clinic until she healed.

When Tasha got into the limo, she curled into a ball in the corner. Her hair was back so I could see her face and her eyes never left mine.

"Did you enjoy watching that?" I asked.

"No, Mr. Costello," she whispered.

A tear slipped down her cheek as those huge green eyes stared at me out of her light coffee face. When I took her hands in mine, she stopping breathing.

"I'll say it again because I want you to understand. If you make me happy and if you are loyal to me, that'll never happen to you. Never, because I'll not do it for ten years. Then you'll be Dr. Tasha Johnson, who'll move out of this hellhole of a neighborhood and live where things like that don't happen to anyone. Remember our deal."

She nodded and exhaled loudly when I released her hands. Tasha was quiet as the limo whisked through the streets, but she never looked away from me. She was digesting all she'd seen and heard tonight. The breaking in had rocked her to her soul, as I knew it would. I didn't speak to her. I wanted her to dwell on what she'd seen and what I'd told her.

When we got to the Sunset, I led her toward my quarters. She carried the small suitcase that contained her worldly possessions.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"It's called The Sunset. It's a bar, restaurant, and motel. I own it."

"You do?"

"Sure. I own it and a lot of other things."

"Like me?"

Innocent question? No. Not when I saw her eyes. Questions and hopes and fears flashed across her face like neon.

"Yes, I own it like I own you, but, no, it's different because there's nothing and no one like you. You're special, Tasha."

Her eyes blinked as her mind raced, then a soft smile and a twinkle appeared. She was still smiling when we went through the steel security doors to my quarters.

"It's beautiful," she said.

I gave her a minute to explore my suite, which is a living room, bedroom, small kitchen, and bath.

"Let me show you your room," I replied as I opened the door.

"My room?" she whispered.

"Sure. Haven't you ever had your own room?"

She shook her head, but I knew the answer before she gave it.

There was a single door off my bedroom that opened into a three by three alcove. Three doors opened from that alcove, each into an identical bedroom. Tasha would have the one on the left.

"This is yours, Tasha," I said, opening the door for her.

Shyly, she stuck her head in the door as if she were afraid it would disappear before her eyes.

The room was twelve by twelve, not including the walk-in closet. The walls were painted in a light rose. There was a new double bed, with matching dark oak head and foot boards, against one wall, accessorized with a night stand, lamp, clock radio, and chest of drawers. A computer table with a computer, monitor, and printer was against the wall. She gasped when she saw it. Lovingly, she ran her fingers across the keys.

"It's a new Compaq computer and HP printer. The latest models," I said.

The outside wall of the room had high windows that ran the length of the wall, but were only eighteen inches wide. There'd be plenty of light during the day, but no opportunity for entrance or exit that way. There were reproductions of great art on the wall, a stereo set with some CDs stacked by it and a bookcase with books I'd selected. The CDs and the books were the classics.

"There aren't any clothes or personal items. We'll buy what you need, and we'll buy the books, computer programs, and other things you want when the time's right."

She bounced on the edge of the bed with glee. She couldn't believe what was happening in her life. I picked up the telephone.

"Send Bertha in," I said into the handpiece.

"Take off your clothes, Tasha," I said to her.

She was shy about undressing, but she took off the smelly clothes and put them neatly on the chair. She sat on the bed again and covered herself with her hands. She'd be over her shyness soon enough.

When Bertha walked through the door, Tasha gasped and tried to hide herself.

"Stand up and let her see you," I ordered. "Bertha, go to Wal-Mart and get her some clothes and shoes that are modest and befitting a fifteen-year-old."

"Fifteen-year-olds don't dress modestly these days. Anyway, with that body, why would she want to be modest?" Bertha replied with a grin. "What's your size, girl?"

'I don't know," Tasha replied.

"Vinnie, let me a get a tape measure," Bertha said. When I nodded, she left the room.

"A lot of people will see you naked, Tasha," I said conversationally. "You'll get used to it. Have you ever had new clothes?"

"No, sir."

"And you've never had clothes that fit because you can hide from the men that way?"

"That's right," she said, as if sharing a secret.

"You'll wear some clothes that'll make the men drool, but there's only one man you belong to, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir. You. Vinnie Costello."

"Are you sure?"

"I know why you made me watch tonight," she said. Her back was straight, her head high, and her hands were loose by her sides. When she looked me in the eye, hers were intent and honest.

"Why?"

"So I'd fear you. You and the pain I'd get if I didn't please you."

"That's right, and you remember it, Tasha."

"I will, but Mr. Costello."

"Call me Vinnie."

"Vinnie, you're a very clever man. You know that I want to be a doctor and that I'll do whatever it takes to be one. You told me you'd give me that and I believe you."

"I didn't lie."

"I know you didn't. I'm smart, too, Vinnie. I know what I want and now I know how to get it. I'm not going to let this chance slip away."

She'd moved subtly to give me a three-quarters view of her body. She stood on tiptoe, the left leg straight and under her, the right one forward with pointed toes. Her back was slightly arched, her high breasts like dusky melons ripe for the picking. Men kill for women who didn't look nearly that good.

But it was her face that thrilled me and made me ache. A face without trepidation. A face of promise and desire. A face that could make a man cut his own throat.

"And, Vinnie, I know what you want. You'll be pleased with me. I promise. By the time I'm a doctor, you'll think I'm the best bargain you ever made," she said. There was a sureness in her voice, a strength and honesty that was unmistakable.

I turned away to keep her from reading my face because I couldn't hide how much she appealed to me. In the last instant our eyes met, I saw in hers that she'd read mine. She was as pleased as any woman is pleased when she knows her man's desire is almost beyond his control.

"You know what I want to see?" I said, changing the subject.

"No."

"I want to see you walk across the stage and receive your diploma when you become Dr. Tasha Johnson. That'll be a great day indeed."

"Yes, it will," she replied in a voice full of fierce pride.

"But until that day, I want to see Tasha Johnson as Vinnie's girl."

"I'm happy to be Vinnie's girl." She smiled and it wasn't a girl's smile. It was a sexual, open, confident woman's smile. "Vinnie, will you make me a promise, please?"

"What?"

"You're going to make me a woman tonight. Your woman. Promise me you'll give your woman a chance to please you, Vinnie, because she wants to make you the happiest man on earth."

That's when I almost lost it. I wanted to grab her, to crush her beneath me, to bury my head in the softness of her breast, to whisper in her ear, to lose myself in her heat. Thank God, Bertha returned.

Bertha measured everything from the size of her head to her feet, and I recorded the measurements as she called them out. The three most common quoted measurements were 34 - 18 - 35. The 34 was accompanied by a D cup. Tasha did have one hell of a body.

"Anything else, Vinnie?" Bertha asked.

"Take her old clothes and throw them away," I replied.

"Man, these stink," Bertha said as she gathered Tasha's things.

"Come on," I said to Tasha. She padded behind me to the bathroom.

The bathroom was palatial with the largest Jacuzzi tub made, three sinks, and a wide dressing table between sinks two and three. There was a multi-person shower with six shower heads, vertically aligned three each on two adjacent walls. A seat was built in to the third wall. The fourth was glass.

"Is it hard to smell as badly as you do?" I asked.

She grinned. "I work at it. Even Leroy doesn't like a woman who stinks like I do."

"You'll smell as sweet as a rose from now on. There's a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash in that drawer. Get started."

As she leaned over the sink brushing her teeth, she watched me in the mirror as I undressed. Tasha knew how to pose. Her legs were straight and her ass stuck out toward me. When she saw me watching her, she shifted her weight to her left leg and bent the right one. She angled her body so I could see her dangling breasts in the mirror.

When I pulled down my boxers, her eyes widened and she stopped, foaming at the mouth with Colgate.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She blanched and furiously brushed her teeth before rinsing.

"I asked you a question."

"You're a big man," she said softly.

"You saw four other cocks tonight."

"But they weren't like yours," she replied.

"Ever seen anyone fuck?"

"Sure. Tonight."

"That was punishment. Have you seen sex for pleasure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, you know. The apartment's small."

"Don't lie to me, Tasha. If you didn't want to watch, you wouldn't have seen it."

"That's true," she whispered.

"Did you masturbate as they fucked?"

Tasha squirmed and blushed, making her skin a cherry cola color. She couldn't say it. She nodded her head.

"Glad to hear it," I said with a grin. "Do you masturbate often?"

She nodded.

"How often?"

She looked away, but, in an instant, she looked at me seductively.

"Every day," she whispered.

"Do you orgasm?"

"Every time."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Masturbate."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Don't be coy. Tell me exactly how you masturbate."

"In my room. In the dark."

She looked at my face and sighed. She knew I wasn't going to let her off the hook.

"When no one's there, like when Momma's out with a trick, I turn off the lights and lie back on my bed. I touch myself first. You know. Not between my legs. My belly. My sides. Mainly my breasts. I pull my legs up and stroke the inside of my thighs. Then I stroke down there. You know, my pussy. I stroke my pussy lips. I stroke back and forth. I pull my short hairs and stroke."

She was imagining it. Her eyes were dreamy and wet before they closed, and her hand fell between her legs.

"I pull my knees up higher, to my breasts. With one finger of my left hand, I rub my button. Then I put a finger of my right hand in my pussy. That finger goes back and forth in my pussy. The other finger makes my button go round and round. Back and forth. Round and round." She giggled. "I can feel it when it starts to build. Feel the twitch. Faster now. Back and forth. Round and round."

"You can finish telling me later. Come join me," I said.

I stepped into the shower and turned the water on. She took a deep breath and stepped in beside me. I shoved her under the hot spray before turning off the water.

"Head first," I said, reaching for the shampoo.

I washed Tasha from head to toe with shampoo, soap, and a wash cloth. I even did the bottom of her feet. Her big eyes watched me intently as I washed between her legs. I turned on the water again and rinsed her. It was more than getting her clean. It was feeling every part of her and letting those parts become accustomed to having my hands on them.

Then I turned off the water and told her to wash me. She did a thorough job. When it came time to wash my cock and balls, her touch was light, but sufficient before she rinsed me. She started rhythmically rinsing my cock with her hand around the shaft. She watched it harden in her hand.

When she looked in my eyes, she shuddered and goosebumps covered her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed when I kissed her gently. After we dried each other, I took her hand to lead her to bed.

When I stopped to get condoms, she said, "I'm on the pill. Momma didn't want me to get pregnant."

"Oh?" I said.

"I'm a virgin, Vinnie, but Momma knew I masturbated and she knew what she was like. She was whoring when she was my age. Anyway, Jerome had his eye on me. She told me my time couldn't be too far away."

She followed me into the bedroom. After I pulled the covers back, she lay down in the middle of the bed without being told and brought her knees up. I lay down beside her and pushed her knees down. She kept her legs together. Our bodies touched, but I kept my hands to myself.

"Sex can be enjoyable, Tasha. Didn't your Mother teach you that?"

"Momma loves the fucking. She said sex was so good she'd fuck any man who asked even if they didn't pay her, but men are mean sometimes. Like tonight with that white girl."

"That wasn't sex. That was punishment. Michelle had stolen Leroy's cocaine and she deserved it."

"Maybe that's true, but I know men can be mean just because they want to be, even if the woman hasn't done anything. My sisters tell me about the mean ones, you know, and I see their bruises."

I didn't reply as she stared up at me. Big, beautiful green eyes staring longingly out of a milk and coffee face. God, I loved her eyes.

"I know you won't be mean to me," she said softly.

"I will if you need it. I'll be real mean if you cheat on me. What Michelle got will be a Sunday school picnic. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, but I won't need it. I'll be what you want, and, Vinnie, I'll be so good to you."

"Then I'll be even better to you, sweet and gentle as a lamb."

Her gentle, shy, even loving, smile warmed my heart.

"It's easy, Tasha. You concentrate on becoming a doctor and making me happy. I'll worry about everything else."

Watching the breaking in was to teach her I could be cruel and would be if I thought it was needed. Seeing Leroy's chest explode when he was shot was an unexpected bonus.

That was only one side of the coin. I wanted her to know I was her lover, and her protector and confidante, who'd take care of her, who'd let her dream, and help her fulfill those dreams. The fear would make her compliant and obedient, but I wanted her eager, too. I wanted her to squirm and get wet between her legs when she thought of me.

Her hands were by her side, her legs together, as my eyes roamed over her delicious body. When I touched her stomach, she flinched and covered my hand with hers. For a second, I thought she was trying to stop me, but she smiled and guided my hand to her breast. Her eyes fluttered and closed, her mouth opened in willing reception as I kissed her. She shivered as I rotated her nipple and her eyes dilated. Her hand squirmed to find my cock trapped between us.

I wanted her to enjoy every moment, to enjoy me. Ever so slowly, I tantalized her body until desire flushed away apprehension and her face was a study in need. She mumbled incoherently and a sheen of sweat covered her dusky lushness as I nibbled my way from her nipples down her belly to her bush.

"Has a man ever made you cum?" I asked.

"Nobody's ever touched me, except Momma and the doctor," she replied.

"I'm going to eat your pussy before I fuck you."

"Momma told me men don't do that."

"This man does, Tasha. He likes eating a sweet pussy like yours."

She raised her head to watch me as I slipped between her legs. When I kissed the inside of her thigh where it joins her body, she spasmed like she'd been shocked. She watched me with big, unblinking eyes as I nibbled and kissed my way up toward her hip and down the mound of Venus. When I kissed her pussy the first time, her head fell back on the bed and she groaned.

I had all the time in the world and I used it to build Tasha's desire. When I felt her gently urge my head harder against her pussy, I wrapped my fingers around her wrists and held her arms by her side.

"Please, Vinnie," she whimpered.

Her legs were up and open as I sucked and licked Tasha Johnson to her first orgasm with a man. It was a hell of an orgasm as she bucked and squealed, twisted and thrust, against my mouth.

I nibbled my way up her body as she lay splayed and gasping. When I suckled her breast, she drew her knees up and reached for my cock.

"Put it in me, Vinnie. Come on," she murmured as she guided my cock to her sopping and bloated pussy. When she lodged my cock head in her slit, I tried to wait, but she wanted it. She rocked and thrust upwards, taking me in, and then letting me slip out of her.

I pushed slowly, feeling her tighten and relax, her hips move, her pussy spasm and throb as my cock went where no man had ever been. She had no hymen and there wasn't any blood. Just a hot, tight wetness pulling me in.

I let her adjust to the newness and to the feel of a man. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. Her legs were up with her knees bent, her face was passion, as I stopped with my cock buried in her to the hilt.

"It feels so good to be full of you," she murmured.

I rocked, moving my cock only an inch or so and pushing back into her. Tasha's eyes were dilated. Sweat sheened her tawny skin as the pressure built. She wrapped her long legs around my waist and her arms went around my neck.

"You're not going to hurt me, my sweet man," she whispered lovingly. "Fuck me good."

The first time she orgasmed, her legs were around me and her nails dug into my back, breaking the skin. The second time, her hands were pinned over her head and her feet were flat on the bed with her pelvis ramming mine. The third time her knees were under my arms as my weight spread her widely.

She wasn't a screamer. She was a whisperer, softly playing sweet sounds of love in my ear.

"Vinnie, I love you in me."

"Vinnie, my Vinnie."

"So good, Vinnie. Please. Please."

"Vinnie, I love your cock. I love it in me."

"Vinnie. My man. My man's fucking me so good."

"Yes, Vinnie. Yes. Oh, God, my man's so good to me."

"Vinnie."

"My Vinnie."

"Mine."

It was musical. The most beautiful music in the world.

She was depleted, her eyes pools of passion, her skin hot and wet, her muscles flaccid, her arms inert by her sides, when I spread her for the last time and pinned her knees to the bed with my hands. I let myself go, cumming in her as her pussy milked me.

"That's it, my sweet man. Fill me with your cum," she whispered.

I lay down beside her, covered us over, and wrapped my arms around her. She snuggled into my chest and was asleep in seconds.

She was going to be like her mother. She'd fuck because she loved it. And she'd be the best, as she grew in skill and appreciation of the sexual arts.

But would she be loyal to me? Or would she fuck any man who asked? Would she service me to achieve her ends or would she love me? Love? Yes. Love. Love me. Be loyal and faithful and her eyes light up when she sees me. You know love. It's the same in Vinnie's world as it is in your world.

For her sake, I hoped she'd be faithful - because I'd crush her if she betrayed me. I'd crush her to dust and throw her remains to the four winds.

But that wouldn't cure the ache that'd be inside me. That wouldn't ease my pain from her betrayal. That's why I hoped for my sake she'd be faithful. The last betrayal hurt too goddamned much.

The End

