Page 72 of Deep Throat Diva

“Yeah, you,” he says, lowering his voice. “A muhfucka’s horny as fuck, yo.”

I grin. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Keep that dick hard for me. I’ll be home shortly.”

“No doubt, baby. Hurry ya sexy ass on.”

“I’m on my way,” I say, giggling as I walk across the street toward the parking garage. I look around and notice that there is no movement anywhere. “See you when I get there.”

“No doubt, baby.”

We say our goodbyes, then disconnect. I’m surprised to see how empty the parking garage is. Then again, it’s a Tuesday night, I reason in my head, walking toward my car. The mall didn’t have many people in it tonight to begin with. I stick my hand down into my bag for my car keys. I feel around in the bottom for them, finally pulling them out. I disarm the alarm. Open the back door and toss my bags in. Before I can shut it, I feel my hair being violently pulled and my head yanked back; then I hear the click of a gun. The sound of it being cocked as it presses against my temple. My heart stops, then starts racing a mile a minute. I drop my cell and keys.

“Bitch, if you so much as flinch, I’ma dead ya ass right here. You hear me?”

I nod, practically about to shit on myself. The only thing I am thinking at this very moment is: Not this shit again! But here I am in motherfucking white suburbia in the middle of a parking garage of an upscale mall and I have another goddamn nut standing in back of me with a gun pressed to my head. Unfucking believable!

“Good. Now do as I tell you and I won’t haveta spill ya pretty, lil brains out all over this concrete.”

The voice is deep, and unrecognizable. My mind is reeling. I have to get someone’s attention before this kook does God knows what to me. I have two options. I can scream at the top of my lungs and attempt to fight him, hoping someone hears me. Or I can scream and get my brains splattered all over the place. I swear this is not how I want to die, murdered—like my mother and father. Think, bitch!

I open my mouth to scream, but he whacks me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, causing my knees to buckle. “Don’t even think it. I promise you. On e’erything I love. I will kill you, bitch.”

“Please,” I plead in a whisper, “my wallet’s in my bag. I only have a few hundred dollars on me, but we can go to an ATM and get more. Whatever you do, don’t hurt me.”

He yanks me by the arm. “Bitch, shut the fuck up and walk.” He tightens his grip on me, and starts dragging me toward a burgundy van. “You think I waited all goddamn night out in this muthafuckin’ parkin’ garage for ya money? Silly bitch! I don’t want ya goddamn money. I want somethin’ way better than that shit.”

OhmyGod, this nigga is gonna rape me! Right here! In the middle of this parking garage! Where the fuck is everyone? Where the fuck is security? Think, bitch!

“What, you want some pussy? You can fuck me right here, baby. You don’t have to rape me for it.”

“Bitch, shut ya smutty ass up. Ain’t nobody tryna rape ya trick ass. Now let’s go.” He yanks me by the arm. Tries to drag me with him.

For some reason I realize this is my last shot at getting away. If this nut takes me off in his vehicle, I may end up at the bottom of a river, or chopped up into tiny pieces, then tossed out somewhere. Win or lose, I have to at least try. If I have to die, then I need to go down with a fight. I start screaming at the top of my lungs and violently swinging. “HELP! SOMEBODY! PLEASE, HELP ME! THERE’S A—”

Whack! He punches me in the mouth. Blood gushes out. “Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you, huh? I told you to keep ya motherfuckin’ mouth shut, you stupid bitch.” Whack! This time he hits me upside the head with the butt of his gun and everything around me starts to blur, but it doesn’t stop me from balling up both of my hands and swinging punches at him. I stun this nigga when I hit him with an uppercut, then connect two punches to his face. I start screaming—again, to no avail. Someone else runs up and grabs me from behind. I wildly kick the nigga in front of me.

“Yo, hurry the fuck up and let’s get this bitch up outta here before someone comes out,” the nigga in back of me says, trying to restrain me. Then, in one swift motion, there’s a blade pressed up under my throat. “I’ma tell you one time to shut the fuck up. Now shut…the fuck…up. Or I’ma slice ya muthafuckin’ throat, ya heard?”

I shut my mouth, but I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate as images of my mother being found dead in the trunk of her car surface. I can’t help but think how both of my parents were tragically murdered, and now…that may become my fate as well. I continue to struggle to keep them from taking me, but they overpower me. And, then, the nigga in back of me gets me in a choke hold—blocking off my airway, causing everything to fade.

When I open my eyes, it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. I am gagged and bound, riding in the back of a vehicle. It’s dark in here. I blink my eyes and try to adjust to the darkness, but then I realize that I am blindfolded as well. My head is banging and feels like it’s about to explode. I am not sure how long I’ve been passed out, or how long we’ve been driving, but one thing I am certain of: I am in some deep shit!

I close my eyes, tight. Hoping someone has located my car. That Jasper, or Felecia—anyone, is calling around for me, worried. I can’t stop thinking about Jasper. About how much I love him. About how ready I am to marry him. And how I want to spend my life with him. I am not only frightened about not knowing where these nuts are taking me, or what’s going to happen to me once they get me there. I am scared shitless about these motherfuckers killing me, then tossing my body where no one will ever find me.

I’m nervous. And I can’t stop wondering if I am going to be raped, first, before my body is disposed of. If they’re going to torture me, or make it a swift kill. They have me riding around in the back of this van, going God knows where. I unsuccessfully struggle to break free, but give up, realizing it’s a moot point. The only thing I keep thinking is: I don’t want to die! Not tonight! And definitely not like this: kidnapped, gagged, blindfolded, and bound!

I frantically rack my brain, trying to figure out who is doing this to me, and why. I can’t imagine whom I could have pissed off? What I might have said or done that was so fucked-up that would warrant this. The only person who comes to mind is that nut who had been harassing me. I knew not hearing from him was too good to be true. I force myself to think of happy things. Imagine being a mother. Picture myself going down the aisle. My wedding is less than a month away and here I am shackled like a slave. Then that book I read, Sold…no, not that one—Stealing Candy, comes to mind. OhmyGod, please don’t let these niggas be a part of some sex trafficking ring, I think, letting my imagination get the best of me. Don’t let them drug me, then sell me and use me as some underground sex slave. Suddenly, my panic intensifies, then turns to grief as my concerns and fear for my own safety shifts to that of my unborn child. What if I lose my baby, I think, fretfully. Oh God, please don’t let me miscarry. I beg you.

The vehicle abruptly stops. I hear a set of voices. Then a door opens and slams shut. My heart races, knowing I’ve probably reached my destination; hopefully, it will not be my final destination.

The back doors swing open, and I feel two sets of hands grabbing me by the ankles, pulling me out. I attempt to fight and squirm, to no avail.

“Th

is bitch is real feisty,” one voice says.

“Yeah, I’ma have a lotta fun tamin’ her hot ass,” another voice adds, laughing.

“Remember, she’s not to be hurt,” the first nigga says. His voice is not as gruff as the first nigga’s. He seems more rational.

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