The Perpetrator Part II
Copyright @ 2006 Dapharoah305



The Perp laughed at me, silently, a hearty chuckle. I was filled with fear. I started thinking of all the people I hurt in my life, who could this person be who was in my home doing this to me? I wiped piss on this dildo, slowly, staring at it like it was holding the Beretta. I hurt so many people in my life because I was selfish. It was all about my dick and making it spit pleasure back then.

"Suck it," said the Perp, with that goddamn whispering tone of voice that drove me crazy; and not in a good way. I had a thought and I hoped I was right. What if the gun wasn't loaded? What if he was just scaring me?

What if...

"No," I shouted, my voice filling my house at breakneck speed. I hopped up to my feet so fast the Perp took a step back and shot at my feet, sparks flying from the nozzle and impulsively I hit a perfect back flip over the low-table and landed on the couch, shaking like a great snow storm was terrorizing my living room.

"Get down." Showing great restraint, controlling the voice, remaining calm and this unnerved me..

I got down.

"Get on your knees."

I got on my knees, tears falling down my face, hands trembling, legs cramping, palms sweaty, scalp itching so terribly I was too afraid to flinch, too afraid to scratch it.

"Come closer to the dick."

I did.

"Suck the dildo bitch! Suck the piss off the dildo."

"Goddamn! Why are you doing this." I looked up and the smile returned, the glittering eyes, the danger. This was unnecessary. Uncalled for. Ridiculous. Crazy. Sheer lunacy.

And yet there was something.

Something about...

Something about that smile!!!

He put the Beretta on my nose. "Suck the fucking dick bitch or Coroners will decipher your brain cells from your buggers on the fucking wall behind you."

Whisper, whisper, WHISPER! Talk, bitch! my mind screamed. I was crazed. I had a feeling if the Perp started using his regular voice I would recognize it.

I hesitantly sucked the pissy dildo, my stomach, heart and bowels moving towards my asshole for one quick release and all that came out was gas, I farted so loud I nearly passed out.

The Perpetrator didn't care.

"Dick...dick is a powerful thang, isn't it? Dick causes men to cheat, steal, rob, kill, yearn, satisfy, pleasure, commit suicide...all that. Dick...will bring about your ruin. You hurt me really, really bad..." The niggah sing-songed, like a nursery rhyme. I shook with fear. The hair stood up on my body. For one quick second the Beretta dropped to his side and I jumped up and took a swing at him, for dear life, it was now or never and he ducked, rose the back of his head into my nuts, sending me to the floor and he stomped my chest.

"Bitch," came the angrily harsh whisper. "Get up, bend over the arm of the chair, its time to show you who do the fucking up in dis house, and it ain't your Mama cunt fuck!"

I was in so much pain.

"Alfred Symone, get the fuck up. Or mah little friend will show you how big of a man he is."

I struggled to get up. He took me by the arm, gently, and helped me up, the gun aimed at my ass. I couldn't believe this.

And yet.

And yet there was something...


And yet there was something about his touch.

Familiar. So recognizable.

But from who, and where?

I started thinking about all the people I hurt in my life. All my brothers, sisters, parents, friends, family, foes...I was a selfish prick back in the day, drop-dead good looks, a die-hard body I worked on like Picasso on the regular, all the pussy I got, all the niggahs I fucked and left, left, left. Like Howard, a niggah with sickle cell (but fine as a bitch) that was my best friend since first grade. We were closer than close, we knew everything about each other. One day the Selfish side of me, when we were in the 12th grade, made me fuck the niggah. I wanted his sexy ass, 'cause all the bitches wanted him, bitches I wanted at that and he was cock blocking so I unblocked my cock and did what I had to do. I drugged his soda when we went out to eat, lured him to my Ford pick-up truck I bought for three hundred dollars from a cluck, drove him out into the wilderness, fucked the niggah in that tight asshole every which way, making him moan and scream. I raped him basically. He was fine like that. He begged me to stop, telling me some sob story that he trusted me, he was drunk anyway, and I said, "Naw niggah you gotta let me get dis asshole niggah I want this shit ! Every niggah in school wanna fuck you, you pretty bitch!" and the crickets heard him when I tore through that asshole without no lube and left him bleeding to death. I changed schools, moved out of the state with a relative and never heard from him again.

And now karma was in my house as I bent over the arm of the chair, about to shake out of my skin from the ignorance of the unknown.

What was about to happen to me?