Date: Thu, 23 Feb 2006 20:16:37 -0800 (PST)
From: Skorpio <j_skorpio_2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: Thug Cash Master -  Part 14  (author, interr)

This story is pornoGRAPHIC fiction!
If you are under the age of consent,
turn back at once!  Otherwise, read on...


THUG CASH MASTER,
by Skorpio.

Part Fourteen:   Blackout



"Reese axed me to keep an eye on you," said Malik,
pointing the remote at the television set, muting the
volume.  "That means I'm gonna be your Master `til he
gets back."

"Yes, Sir," Brad replied.

Before lowering his gaze, Brad's eyes lingered for a
moment on the thug's taut, slim torso and wiry
tattooed arms.

"Do you know when Master Reese will be back?"

"Sit yo' ass down!" said Malik. "On the floor!"

Malik wished there was a remote control for whiteboys.
 He imagined one with a Pause button to make them
freeze, a Mute button to make them shut up, and a Play
button to make him suck dick!

Now that would make for a dope sci-fi movie, thought
Malik.  Why don't they show that kind of stuff on TV?
 The next best thing to a remote control was an
obedient servant.

Brad sat upon the floor.  For the second time that day
he found himself dominated by someone other than his
Master.  Where could his Master be?  Brad wanted to
tell his Master everything, whatever the consequences.


Meanwhile, Malik went on, "I don't think you're givin'
me enough respect, muthafucka!  Next time you ask a
nigga somethin', you better say `please Sir.'  Hear
me, boyeee?  Guess Reese ain't finished schoolin' yo'
ass!"

"Yes, Sir," said Brad, contritely. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"That's better!  And yah, I know when my nigga comin'
back, but I ain't tellin' you.  Might be a few
minutes, might be hours.  He might not get back for
days, but you not gonna know `til he comes walkin'
through that door.  Meantime, you're under my
jurisdiction, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," said Brad, fidgeting.  His buttocks were
tender from the violent flogging received the night
before.

"You scurred to look at me, boy?"

"No, Sir," he replied.  "But Master Reese told me not
to look at him directly."

"Is that so?" said Malik.  "Do you know why he told
you that?"

"Because I'm inferior to him," said Brad, like a
schoolboy reciting his catechism.  "I'm not his
equal."

"Now that's what I like to hear!" Malik roared,
slapping his knee.  "Maybe my boy did drop some
science on you, after all!  Take a good look at me and
tell me what chu see!"

Brad slowly raised his head.  His eyes took in the
young thug's large, bare feet and surveyed the furry
brown calves.  Black trunks covered his knees.  Brad
lifted his eyes to the rugged six-pack, before resting
on the lean chest with nipples like iron rivets.
Sweat burnished the brown body like a patina.

Malik possessed a square-jawed face with chiseled
cheekbones, lavish lips more apt to scowl than smile,
and a trimmed jet-black goatee glistening of coconut
oil.  White nylon tie-strings dangled down his back
like ribbons from the do-rag capping his skull.  Both
ears glinted with diamonds.

Lost in the thug's darkling, heavy-lidded eyes, Brad
nearly swooned.  He could not bear the intensity.  It
was like being blinded by the sun.

"Tell me what you saw when you looked at me," demanded
Malik.

"You're a God, Sir, like my Master," replied Brad
without thinking.  "I'm just a little white worm."

"Hell to the yah, that's you, aiiight, a li'l white
worm!"  Malik chuckled, deeply.  "That's for damn
sure!  You even look like a worm.  You got any
sisters, worm-boy?"

"No, Sir."

"That's aiiight. If they looked anything like you,
they'd be too ugly to fuck.  What about your mama?
Does she like niggas too?"

"My mother is deceased, Sir," said Brad, with a lump
in his throat.

"Sorry to hear that, worm-boy.  Do you think your mama
is up in heaven?"  Malik's voice was cold as
ice-water.

"Yes, Sir."

"You think she sees everything you do?"

"Yes, Sir, I suppose so."  Brad quavered.

Malik came to his point:  "How do you think ma-dukes
up in heaven feels about her son bein' a cocksucker,
givin' niggas blowjobs and bein' a fuckin' slave and
shit?  How do you think that makes your mama feel when
she looks down and sees what you all about?"

Brad's head drooped, overwhelmed with self-loathing.

"Speak up, boy!" Malik demanded, leaning forward.
"How does your mama feel?"

The mineral glow of his eyes was cold and penetrating.
 Brad felt naked and vulnerable, as if all his deepest
feelings were ripped from him.  He erupted in tears.

"Ashamed, Sir... she's ashamed of me!  My mom is ashamed
of me!"

`I got an idea!" said Malik, jumping up.  "Let's make
your mama even more disgusted with you! C'mon, follow
me."

Wiping his tears, Brad trotted after Malik into the
bathroom and dropped to his knees when the young thug
snapped his fingers.

"Good li'l slave," said Malik.  "You're a regular
android, ain't chu!  Don't need no remote wit' chu!
You just do what chu told, ain't that right.  You just
obey.  I like that.  I really respect you for holding
that attitude.  You know your place.  That's nice.
Pull down my gear."

Brad held his breath as he tugged the black mesh
shorts.  He swallowed, seeing Malik's long brown cock
and heavy balls spring free.  The thug raised the
toilet seat and squatted.  His massive member dangled
over the rim.

"You can suck my dick while I take a dump," said
Malik.  ""Don't forget mama's watchin'."

Like an infant with a pacifier, sucking dissolved all
Brad's fears and insecurities. Time stood still with a
throbbing cock inside him.  Fellatio fulfilled him. It
was his nature.

The juicy cock doubled in size in Brad's gaping mouth.
 Malik grabbed him by both ears and held him down on
his dick until he released his bowels. The rising
stench was not altogether unpleasant to Brad's
olfactory senses, acrid yet sweet, like the odor of
rotting flowers.

Grunting with satisfaction, Malik grabbed the whiteboy
by the hair and lifted him off his cock. Malik stood
and turned.  His round, brown ass was an inch from
Brad's face.

"Wipe my ass!"

Brad unrolled toilet paper and proceeded to swipe
between the firm, muscular cheeks.  He wiped with
extreme care, tossing the soiled tissues into the
toilet bowl.

"Sure you got it clean?"

"Yes, Sir," said Brad.

"Then, you won't mind licking it!" said Malik,
laughing softly, enjoying this.  "Clean my ass with
your tongue. Get busy!"

With both hands, Brad spread Malik's tight cheeks
apart and began licking with his small, yet eager
tongue.

"Lick it clean!" said Malik. "That's right, lick my
ass, worm-boy!  A nigga don't need to wipe wit' chu
around!  Your tongue ain't nothin' but toilet paper,
is it!"

Without warning, Malik spun and seized the kneeling
whiteboy by the throat.  He pushed the ass-wipe's head
into the bowl and flushed.  Brad held his breath and
closed his eyes.

"Stick out your tongue!" shouted Malik. "Stick it out
or I'll drown your sorry ass!"

Brad forced his tongue through pursed lips, determined
not to swallow the filthy water, but he could not help
it.  His face thrashed in the swirling water until
Malik released his grip.

Coughing and sputtering, Brad tumbled back, dripping
with filth, stinking with the sweet and sour fetor
cloying his nostrils and a foul flavor in his mouth.

"That's where toilet paper belongs and don't chu NEVER
forget it!"  boomed Malik.  "You're just one step away
from getting' flushed. Now clean up and scrub this
bowl. Make it sparkle. When you're done, present
yourself!  You got ten minutes."

Brad hastily washed his face with cold water and
attended to scrubbing the toilet.  Lacking a watch,
Brad had only a vague idea how much time was passing.
In less than eight minutes he presented himself to
Malik on his knees.

"Look at me!" asserted Malik.

Brad looked into Malik's hooded eyes and felt his soul
turn inside out.  The thug studied him thoughtfully,
penetratingly.

You've got somethin' on your mind, don't chu!"
demanded Malik.

`Yes, Sir," said Brad.

"Call me Master!"

"Yes, Master."

"Mo' better!" said Malik.  "You got somethin' on your
mind, is that right?"

"Yes, Master."

"Break it down to me."

Brad stammered, "Something happened at work today.
Something bad."

"Go on," said Malik, intrigued.

Brad explained how Aaron Levitz pressured him into
giving a blowjob and not just a one-time deal.  Levitz
expected oral satisfaction on a daily basis.  Certain
he failed his Master and sure to get another beating,
Brad did not know what to do.

"Is that all?" asked Malik, with a snicker.  "What's
the problem?"

"I don't think Master Reese will like it."

"All you doin' is suckin' dick. That's what you do.
That's what you are.  You're a cocksucker, so just be
yourself.  Suck that dick!"

"Suck whose dick?" said Reese, entering.

Loose black stonewash jeans hung from his narrow hips
and a tight black muscle shirt hugged his physique.  A
gold chain circled his neck and a gold watch was on
his wrist.

"I said, suck whose dick?" Reese repeated.

Malik nudged Brad.  "Tell him," he said.

Nervously, Brad recounted all that transpired with
Aaron Levitz.

"I'm very, very sorry, Master... I didn't have a choice...
 He's my boss, he made me do it... He said he would fire
me if I refused.  I didn't know what else to do, Sir...
Forgive me, Sir."

Reese patted Brad's tousled head and let him lick his
fingers.

"You did right tellin' me," said Reese, subdued like
the calm before a storm.  "Don't chu worry none. You
ain't gettin' punished."

"Thank you, Sir!" gushed Brad with gratitude.

"You can crawl to yo' room now and say your prayers,"
said Reese.  "Then, get some sleep.  I got
instructions for you tomorrow morning.  Until then,
don't worry about nothin', you unnerstand?  I'm gonna
take care of this."

"Yes, Sir," said Brad.  His eyes welled up like a
puppy dog's with undiluted gratitude and affection.

This abject look was not lost on Reese, who added,
"You might be a piece of shit, but you belong to me
and nobody messes with my shit!  Now, go to yo' room."


Brad scurried off on his hands and knees.  A few
moments later he could be heard praying at the altar
in his room, reciting: "I am a little white worm. . .
"

"I like how he does that!" said Malik, dapping Reese.
"He worships you, man!"

"I'm his God."  Reese shrugged his shoulders.

"Yah, but he loves you, man!  This bitch would do
anything for you!"

Reese's ample lips smiled.  His sharp eyes cut Malik a
wordless glance.

"Dayumm, I need me a slave!" said Malik.

"It's good to be the king," said Reese.

"So why do you care about some fag messin' with your
slave?  Keeps him busy, keeps him in his place.  Why
not?"

"It's the principle!" said Reese.

"The principle?" echoed Malik, with raised brows.
"Now you startin' to sound like me!"

"Maybe," Reese acknowledged.  "That's why
I thought you'd unnerstand, man!"

"Aiiight, what you got in mind, nigga!  I know you
plottin' somethin'!"

Reese:  "If this white pussy asked me tight,
I might've let him use the worm.  Don't got no problem
with that.  But threatenin' my income, that's another
story!"

"What we gonna do, blood?"

"We gonna blackout on his ass, that's what we gonna
do!" said Reese.  "Pure and simple, yo!  I got a plan,
but I'm countin' on you and Dre to help me out."

"We got yo' back, nigga," said Malik. "You know dat."

"I know dat, nigga," said Reese.  "Now, lissen up...
this what I got in mind..."

Reese broke down his plan.

The next morning, Brad's alarm clock went off at
six-thirty as usual.   He prepared his Master's
breakfast, prayed before the altar, showered in cold
water, dressed, and fixed sandwiches for his lunch.

Just before Brad departed, Reese invited him to kiss
his dick.  Brad loved placing his lips on his Master's
cock.  He wished he could suck his Master's cock, but
being permitted to kiss it every morning, he had to be
content.

Reese took this opportunity to instruct Brad how to
proceed.  It made Brad feel good, safe, owned, knowing
his Master would take care of Aaron Levitz.

"Unnerstand what you have to do?"

"Yes, Master," said Brad.

"You better hurry," said Reese.  "Don't want chu to
miss yo' bus."

Brad rushed down the stairs and caught his bus in
time.  He rode for thirteen blocks in a state of
oblivion.  He was a slave.

>From the snack bar in the lobby of his building, Brad
purchased coffee and an onion bagel with creamed
cheese with the few extra dollars his Master gave him.

Brad boarded the elevator to the sixth floor and made
his way through a maze of cubicles.  The usual faces
greeted him.  A wire in-basket on Brad's desk was
filled with documents awaiting filing, mindless work,
the kind he did best.

He was relieved of contacting his Master every hour by
phone.  Every hour, on the hour, Aaron Levitz passed
by, but Brad did not look up from his work.

At 11:00, Brad was busy filing near his cubicle when
his boss stopped by.

"Don't forget," said Aaron Levitz in a low voice, "My
office, twelve o'clock."

"No, sir, I haven't forgotten," nodded Brad.

One hour later, Brad approached his boss's office. The
secretary was away from her post.
Aaron sat behind his executive desk with its English
Cherry finish.  The vertical blinds were drawn and the
radio issued classical music -- Mozart, if Brad was not
mistaken."

"You may enter, Bradley.  Close the door behind you
and come closer."

Brad closed the door and approached his supervisor.
Aaron's cuffed and pleated gray slacks and white Joe
Boxer bikini briefs were around his ankles.  His
pointed, reddish penis stood at attention, resembling
a stinkhorn mushroom.  Large nuts rested between his
hairy thighs.

"You know what to do," said Aaron, with almost a
giggle.  "Suck my cock, bottom boi."

Brad wet his lips and went down, teasing the head of
Aaron's cock with his tongue and then licking and
kissing his balls.  He licked the shaft, and then
sucked for several minutes before Aaron's body began
to tense.

Sperm gushed down Brad's throat like lava.

"Shit, you're good!" Aaron exclaimed in awe.  "You
really like this cock, don't you, boi!"

"Yes, sir," said Brad, in accordance with his Master's
wishes.  "I love your cock."

"I can tell," said Aaron, still catching his breath.

"Do you want me to suck it some more?" asked Brad, on
his knees, with wrinkled, interrogative eyebrows.

Aaron laughed.  "Not right now, boi. You can't get
enough cock, can you?  Such a slut!"

"Yes, sir," said Brad.

"Your boyfriend is a lucky dude," said Aaron.  "You
probably suck him off every night, don't you."

"Oh, yes, sir," Brad attested.  "But my boyfriend
doesn't live with me, sir.  I live alone, so I don't
see him every night.  I'm home alone most of the
time."

"Is that right?" said Aaron, pulling up his pants.

"Yes, sir," said Brad, on his knees.  "Thank you for
letting me suck your beautiful cock.  Thank you, sir!"

"You are such a bottom!  So are you going to be home
alone tonight?"

"Oh, yes, sir!  I'll be alone tonight.  If you want to
stop by, I'm at 665 South State Street, Apartment
2-B."

"Sounds good," said Aaron, jotting down the address.
"Is nine o'clock good?"

"Nine o'clock is fine, sir.  I'll be waiting."

"You really want my cock, don't you, Bradley!"

"Oh, yes, sir!" said Brad, emphatically.  "I love your
cock.  I can't wait to suck it tonight."

Aaron replied, "You're going to do more than just suck
it."

"I want to feel you inside me, Sir!"

"You better not talk like that.  You're getting my
cock hard again," warned Aaron.  "I've had a lot of
bottoms before, but you're different.  I like you,
Bradley. You know how to service a top!"

"Thank you, sir," said Brad. The taste of cum lingered
in his mouth.

"You better get out of here before I have you suck my
cock again," said Aaron.  "Get back to your cubicle.
See you tonight around nine."

"Yes, sir," said Brad, withdrawing.

The afternoon hours crawled.  At the stroke of five,
Brad rushed out.  Aaron observed his precipitous
departure with a knowing smile.

On his way home, Aaron stopped off at the gym.  He
completed three sets of bench presses, worked his
arms, and did seventy-five crunches on an incline
board.  Afterward, he took his time showering and
dressed slowly, because he liked looking at the other
men.

Aaron picked up dinner at Boston Market and brought it
home to his brick townhouse on the west side, where he
dwelled alone.  Aaron sat in front of his large-screen
TV with a plate of meatloaf and creamed spinach.

He had been out of the closet since age eighteen, but
he never managed to extricate himself from guilt.  He
liked sucking cock, but in any encounter he had to be
the top with a bottom who openly and unashamedly
desired him.

Aaron showered and dressed.  Black leather pants and
an open, white linen, short-sleeved shirt completed
his ensemble.

At ten minutes to nine, Aaron Levitz parked his
Mercedes Roadster outside 665 South State Street.  He
took a swig of Courvoisier from the flask he kept in
the glove compartment, and then locked his car.  He
knocked at Apartment 2-B.  His cock was hard.

"Come in," said Brad, answering the door in blue jeans
and a green tee-shirt.

Globed candles illuminated the apartment.   Incense
was in the air.  Aaron looked around, nervously.  He
had a bad feeling about this.  His cock shriveled.

"Are we alone?" he inquired.

"No, we're not," said Brad.

>From the master bedroom emerged Reese, Malik, and Dre.
They were shirtless.  Their polished eyes glinted in
the candlelight.

"I want to introduce you to my Master and his
friends," said Brad.



TO BE CONTINUED...
IN PART 15:  NIGHT OF RECKONING