"The suspect, James Blacker, is considered armed and dangerous, he's wanted in connection with the Bank of America robbery on the south end of Detroit," said the pretty blonde reporter. Seated on her couch, Mistress Maleeka Browne sighed and shrugged. The tall and curvy, dark-skinned and big-bottomed, forty-something African American dominatrix yawned and stretched. With the U.S. economy in tatters, there weren't many clients calling for femdom work. If that shit continues, Mistress Maleeka Browne is going to have to get a regular job. Where's the fun in that?
"Another crazy black dude committing crimes when he could be doing other things," Mistress Maleeka Browne said to herself. After walking her dogs Lucky, Marquis and Harriet, she went to take care of her garden. While tending to her garden, Mistress Maleeka Browne listened to the hit song What I've Done by Linkin Park. She also ate some pistachios she'd bought at the Korean-owned grocery store down in the hood. Just an ordinary black woman going about her daily grind in the City of Detroit, Michigan.
Mistress Maleeka Browne used to work as a prostitute on the streets of Detroit, Michigan, before she became a professional dominatrix. A few years ago, after nearly overdosing on some bad drugs, Mistress Maleeka Browne found religion. The tall, sultry black woman stopped being a hooker, figuring that it's better to get paid to tie up and spank men for money instead of having sex with them. Mistress Maleeka Browne wants to eventually get out of this life of crime, find a husband and change her ways.
"Please send me a husband," Mistress Maleeka Browne said as she sang her prayers. The tall, mature black woman prayed fervently. Little did she know that her life was about to change. The City of Detroit, Michigan, is down the street from the City of Windsor, Ontario, but the two towns couldn't be more different. Mistress Maleeka Browne meets a lot of clients from Windsor, down in Ontario, Canada. Sometimes she wishes she could move to Canada and start fresh. Oh well...
James Blacker walked through the streets of west-end Detroit, decked out in a hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans. In a backpack, he carried the thirty thousand dollars he stole from the Bank of America located on Wentworth street in the south end of Detroit. James Blacker and his buddy Lincoln Lamont were supposed to get away and run to Mexico together with the loot but Lincoln got caught. James Blacker was on the run. He needed a place to hide until things cooled down.
As James roamed the streets, he wandered down a seedy block of Detroit's urban decay. There was a two-story house in the distance. The kind of tenement usually used by prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers and the like. James felt drawn to the place. As he drew near, he saw a tall, big-booty black woman tending to her garden. It was late September so that was weird. The Detroit winters are no joke. Sensing an opportunity, James snuck up on the bitch.
"Don't make a sound, or you're dead, bitch," James said as he grabbed the woman from behind. Mistress Maleeka Browne gasped as the big and tall black man grabbed her from behind. She felt his gun press against her temple. Nodding, she wisely remained silent. James smirked. He would use the bitch as a hostage if the cops came near, and use her place in order to hide until nightfall. Once night fell, James would make a run for the Canadian border. He'd been to Windsor, Ontario, plenty of times. He would be fine there.
"Please don't hurt me," Mistress Maleeka Browne said, and that's when the intruder suddenly gasped. James felt that he was choking, and suddenly realized why. The tall black woman had pistachios in her hands and mouth, and he was deathly allergic. As James passed out, he cursed his damn luck. Mistress Maleeka Browne watched as the intruder, a big and tall black man, collapsed. She rendered first aid to him, and then grabbed her cellphone. Time to call the police to come pick up this bad brother, right?
