(All characters in this story are 18 or older. Those characters mentioned to be in high school are seniors, and also 18.)
The Gash had always been the worst part of town, the worst of the worst. A black and grey scab festering with violent crime and disease ridden prostitutes, it was an urban labyrinth filled with monsters and ghosts that the rest of Climax City simply ignored. The gleaming glass towers of the wealthier part of town peaked over the dirty smoke-stained roofs of the Gash's industrial skyline, always condescending to it like Heaven itself to a pile of shit.
But things had started to change. A new drug was getting passed around, a new drug called Ero that got your heart racing, your blood moving, your mind expanding, your pussy wet, and your dick hard. Ero did everything you wanted it to and it did it right.
There was only one supplier of Ero in the city, and indeed the world, so needless to say that this man was becoming very, very rich, and he was using his invention to turn the Gash into his own little kingdom, building nightclubs and high-end stores, renovating apartment buildings and funding beatification projects. The Gash was going to become this man's personal paradise.
But to make a paradise out of a shithole, you had to get rid of all the shit.
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Inside a hot, humid strip-joint on the Gash called Santa Puta, a man simply called Sancho was grinding up some white powder with a razor blade. Sancho was the proprietor of Santa Puta, and a drug-dealer besides. For much of his adult life money, drugs, and easy pussy rolled through his hands like water from a tap, but that tap was starting to run dry, and Sancho was a thirsty man. He was not dealing with the drought well.
The door to his dirty office swung open and in walked one of his bottom bitches, a tall chica with smooth tan skin, long black hair, puffy cock-sucking lips, and giant fake tits. The only thing she was wearing was a microscopic red thong, transparent plastic high-heels, and a sparkling layer of body-glitter. Her nipples were dark and erect from sexual frustration. She hadn't gotten fucked properly in a week, which for a woman like her was a very, very fucking long time. Sancho had been having trouble getting it up lately, and there hadn't been many customers in Santa Puta looking for expensive pussy.
"Shouldn't you be working the pole, Malinche?" Sancho growled. His eyes were red. He hadn't slept in days.
Malinche sneered. "Damn, Sancho. There ain't be a single paying customer all day. What the fuck? I use to pull a grand a night in this place, and now these cheap drunks won't even slip me a single."
Sancho growled. "It's that fucking white boy. Eric Lacroix. Muthafucker's been buying up every venue in The Gash and getting all the talent. Faggot's trying to . . . uh . . . 'gentrify' us out of business. It's all because of that fucking drug of his. Faggot use to be some kind of chemistry wiz in college before he dropped out. Heard he was a real nerd or something. Speaking of which, try this, bitch."
Sancho held up a knife with the white powder on it.
Malinche sneered. "What is it? That don't look like blow."
"Just snort it, bitch. Damn."
The big-titted whore did as she was told, leaning over until her massive breasts rested on the cold surface of his table, her nipples hardening from the cold. She ran her nose over the blade and snorted the drug. Instantly she felt like sneezing, throwing up, and coughing at the same time.
"What . . . what the fuck is this shit?" she whined, sneezing.
Sancho looked downcast. "It's . . .it's something I've been working on. Something that'll get your pussy wet."
Malinche was sticking out her long, talented tongue as she tried to clear her sinuses of the disgusting powder. "It's fucking gross, papi. Ain't you got any Ero?"
"Ero? Ero? ERO!!" Sancho seethed with rage as he banged his fist against the table. "Ero's the whole fucking reason we're being ruined! Ero is what that faggot Eric Lacroix's been making all his money with! You fucking slut! Have you been snorting Ero? Fucking whore!"
Sancho reached into his desk and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at Malinche's face. She wailed and tripped over her own long legs, falling onto the closest sex-stained couch, her limps flailing and her breasts bouncing.
"No! Papi, please! I only just did it a couple times, and I didn't even pay for it! Please, daddy, I didn't-"
But her hysterical, pathetic begging was cut off as the door to the office swung open once again, and this time entered two more beautiful women, but these two were very different from a dirty cock-sucker like Malinche. For one thing, they were fully dressed . . . mostly.
The first was a tall, slightly tanned Hispanic woman with stylish curly brown hair that bounced above her shoulders. She wore a very tight white suit, the pants being so tight that they looked painted on her slender legs and athletic ass. She wore a small white blazer over her firm, perky breasts, but that was it. Her open jacket revealed nothing underneath, nothing by a couple gold chains that hung tantalizingly down her soft cleavage. She had a cocky, arrogant smirk on her face, and her large eyes sparkled behind a pair of $5,000 dollar sunglasses.
The second was a voluptuous black woman with a short, style pixie-cut and the most sexual swagger Sancho had ever seen in a bitch. Her clothing was a tight, formfitting dark blue business-suit, so formfitting that it was almost pornographic. Her breasts were captivating to look at and her ass swayed like a wrecking ball, and even Sancho finally felt his dick getting hard for the first time in weeks just looking at her. The cleavage of her suit was open very wide, revealing a ridiculous amount of smooth, shiny cleavage. On her left tit above her heart she had a tattoo, a black fleur-de-lis.
Sancho recognized the symbol immediately, and he knew who these two bitches belonged to.
"You're Lacroix's girls," Sancho said, breathing so hard he spat a little. "You're his . . . what does he call you . . . his Queens?"
The two women looked at one another friendly enough, smiling softly, but a feral tension was sparking between them. These two were rivals, lionesses fighting for the same position in the pride.
"Alessandra Martinez, the White Queen," the women in the open jacket said, snarling slightly as if it disgusted her to say her name to someone like Sancho, someone she obviously thought was a piece of shit.
"Tanya Washington, the Black Queen . . . obviously" the black goddess said, her name rolling off her tongue like she was eating melted chocolate. "Officer Tanya Washington."
The black woman dropped something heavy onto the desk. It was a police badge.
"What the fuck?" Sancho asked. A large vein was pulsing in his forehead. "What the fuck is this? Lacroix had cops working for him? Fucking cops?"
"We've been sent here today to tell you that Mr. Lacroix is very interested in buying your establishment," Tanya said, affecting an obviously insincere voice. "He's already purchased most of the businesses in the area and you seem to be one of the last holdouts."
Sancho was grating his teeth and sweating profusely. His hand was getting so slippery that he felt his grip on the gun becoming uneven. The bitches didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that he was armed, like they thought they were immortal or something. That really pissed Sancho off. People use to fear him, respect him, and now cops were coming into his office and telling him about his business. The implications of what Tanya said were obvious. Lacroix wanted him to sell. Lacroix wanted to turn Santa Puta into another one of his flashy clubs. Well Sancho wasn't going to let that happen. The Gash had been a hellhole and a terrible place to live, but it was his home. Santa Puta was his home. He wasn't going to let some white boy wannabe-gangster with a chemistry degree ruin that for him.
"I ain't selling-"
"Good," Alessandra cut him off. She quickly withdrew a small gun with a very large silencer from her jacket at aimed it directly at his face, shooting him twice in the skull. The gun made a small thumping sound, like a book falling on the ground, thanks to the silencer's noise-suppression. The entry wounds in his forehead and face were so small that they were almost invisible, but the back of his head exploded like a watermelon, splashing the entire wall with chunks of red and grey.
"Your place will sell for a lot less at police auction," Alessandra smiled.
Malinche screamed. "AAAHHH! Holy fuck! Holy shit! You murdered him! Papi!"
"Damn," Alessandra hissed. "I forgot that bitch was there."
Malinche grabbed a bong from off the table and attacked the Alessandra with it, but the slender beauty was too fast for the big-tittied whore. Alessandra spun, and launched a perfectly executed kick across Malinche's face, cutting her cheekbone open as the sharp heel of Alessandra's shoe hit her.
Malinche crashed across Sancho's desk, her big fake tits landing with two loud PLOPS, and her juicy ass waving up behind her, offering a very tempting target.
Malinche felt her tiny thong being pushed down, and then something cold, metallic and hard pushed against her swollen lips. She was so horny (even after witnessing her pimp's death) that the metal shaft entered her pussy like a hot knife cutting into butter, and she was instantly dripping down it and onto Alessandra's hand.
"Like that bitch?" Alessandra asked, whispering into Malinche's ear as she held the whore down. Alessandra started moving the metal cylinder in and out, slowly fucking the whore with a steady rythm. "Do you like getting fucked by the gun that just killed your papi?"
Malinche's eyes went wide as she gasped. She craned her head to see in the dirty mirror on the wall that Alessandra wasn't kidding. The White Queen was fucking her up her pussy with the silencer of her gun, and her finger was still on the trigger.
"Oh . . . oh please," Malinche begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't . . . please don't-"
"Well you better cum then," Alessandra said in a hot, husky voice. "You better cum your fucking brains out, otherwise I'm going to feel bad about myself."
