Prison Throne Read Online Free Page A

amazement.
    “Do he even know that bitch?” Chance questioned in a high-pitched voice.
    “It don’t look like it to me,” Rasim responded as his eyes blinked as if he were seeing things.
    “Man, this nigga ‘bout to get us locked up,” Brooklyn predicted.
    Odd to some, but this was what happened with Donald sometimes and it spooked Rasim out. If he fucked with you, he fucked with you hard and for repayment you would be forced to endure his unpredictable behavior.
    The back door flew open and the girl was stuffed inside by way of a shove to the back of her head. She plopped in the seat and her titties smooshed against Brooklyn’s lap and her face nestled in the center of Chance’s crotch.
    As she attempted to get herself together, Donald slammed the door, missing her ankles by mere inches. When she finally repositioned herself in her own seat, she was on Brooklyn’s left, next to the window. Without the benefit of an explanation, Donald slid back into the pilot position and eased the car into traffic.
    Rasim’s heart rate increased as he looked back at the pretty girl with the light brown hair, rosy cheeks and glassy eyes.
    Since Donald proceeded as if all was right with the world, although fearful, Rasim could no longer hold his tongue. He wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and asked, “Who dat, man?”
    “My personal bitch,” he responded flatly, as he eased onto the highway.
    Rasim looked back at the girl to check her mental temperature once more. He wasn’t sure but something told him that the girl was anything but in a relationship with his friend the lunatic. Maybe it was the rainstorm that rolled down her face or the fact that she was trembling so hard Brooklyn’s leg was shaking that gave it away. At any rate, something was off.
    “I don’t think she want to be here,” Rasim said softly. “Maybe you should let her go.”
    Donald’s neck popped in Rasim’s direction although his foot was still firmly on the gas pedal and he was pushing sixty miles per hour. “She’ll go when I want her to. Now chill out before I lose my patience in this bitch.”
     
    ****
     
    Rasim was sitting on the side of the bed looking over at Donald and the girl he practically kidnapped, who he now knew as Sheila. Her entire nature changed. She was giggling like a newborn having its feet tickled, courtesy of the cheap Strawberry MD 20/20 she was quaffing down her throat.
    Rasim eyed the entire situation with confusion. What the fuck was going on?
    One minute she was terrified and the next she couldn’t keep her palms off of Donald’s dick.
    Later, Rasim learned that Donald booked her last week in front of the Shrimp Boat off Benning Road in Southeast Washington, DC. Despite a kiss on his cheek and a promise to stay in contact since he bought her basket of fried shrimp with a large Coke, she failed. So out of revenge, Donald felt warranted in taking her into a semi hostage situation.
    Chance and Brooklyn were at the store getting food and would be coming back later. So at the moment Rasim was alone with them.
    Suddenly Donald swallowed the rest of the liquor, stood up, gripped Sheila by the forearm and shepherded her toward the bathroom.
    When the door was closed Rasim could hear some bumping around before a slight scream rang out on Sheila’s part. But the sound was quickly muffled before growing louder again.
    Rasim hopped off of the bed and rushed toward the door. He ran his hand from the front to the back of his head as he considered how to approach the matter.
    In Rasim’s humble opinion, it sounded like the girl was getting raped but he couldn’t be sure. He knew his boy could be rough but never heard rape being associated with his brand.
    Rasim felt that if he said something wrong, Donald would come thundering out of the bathroom with Rasim in his sights. But, and this was more important, the man in him could not allow what was happening to occur. Not on his watch.
    So he not only knocked on the door but he