Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

“Chill the fuck out, muthafucka, or I’ll kill you right here!” God scolded him at gunpoint.

They disarmed him and told him to take them to the apartment and open the door. Mateo became defiant—no way. He refused to put Chanel in harm’s way.

If he could speak, he would have shouted, “Kill me right here, muthafuckas!” But with the duct tape over his mouth, his insults and voice were incoherent. He wanted to curse and rant, but he could only mumble angrily. His heart was pumping a mile a minute. So many thoughts darted around inside his head. How did they get inside his building? How did they know the code? And how did they know where he lived? He was going to die. He knew it.

God struck Mateo in the head with the butt of the gun again, leaving a gash across his forehead. “Don’t fuck wit’ us, nigga! We can make this go easy on you and your bitch,” God growled.

Mateo’s mind was on his innocent and beautiful Chanel. He refused to tell them the apartment. He feared what they would do to her. Mateo huffed and puffed and cringed for the worst. He said a prayer to himself and hoped they killed him quickly.

“You wanna be a tough guy, nigga?” Fingers said. “We already fuckin’ know the apartment. So let’s do this shit the hard way.”

Fingers snatched Mateo’s keys from him, and they hurriedly forced him down the hallway toward his apartment. Mateo wanted to struggle, but his mind and vision were still blurry from the attack. He could barely stand now.

Fingers used the key to open the door. They pushed Mateo inside the apartment with an unsuspecting Chanel. She was in the living room, lying on the couch watching TV, until the sudden disturbance. When she saw the masked gunmen and Mateo being violently pushed onto the floor, her eyes swelled wide with fear and she couldn’t move. She was frozen.

At once, both of them were subdued with duct tape around their mouths, wrists, and ankles, and thrown to the floor in the corner, their fate unknown. They looked at each other in fear. Mateo felt that they’d caught him slipping; now they both were going to pay the price. He didn’t care what they did to him, as long as they left Chanel alone and let her go.

God and Fingers started to rummage through the entire apartment looking for valuables. They took their time. They went room to room, finding money, jewelry, coats, and a kilo of high grade marijuana.

“Shit! This nigga is definitely a fuckin’ payday!” Fingers hollered.

They stripped Mateo of his Rolex, diamond earrings, and the cash out of his pockets—at least $1,500.

For nearly an hour, God and Fingers went through the apartment like they were in a shopping mall, stuffing everything that wasn’t nailed down into black garbage bags.

The couple could only speak through their eyes as they sat there helpless and vulnerable. Chanel’s tears were streaming from her eyes. She didn’t want to die. She was supposed to be happy and be getting married on her birthday.

The couple watched as one gunman whispered to another. Something else was brewing between them. Mateo knew it wasn’t anything good. He feared the worst. The two men towered over them with two garbage bags full of their things, and one of them had this perverted gleam in his eyes toward Chanel that made them both uncomfortable.

All of a sudden, one of the men grabbed Chanel and roughly pulled her off the floor and started to drag her away from Mateo. Mateo knew what time it was, and his worst nightmare was coming true. Chanel panicked and screamed under the duct tape, but her pleas for help were muffled. Mateo frantically squirmed against the floor with a look of anguish and horror written on his face as he desperately wanted to try and stop what was about to take place. He started to cry.

God forced Chanel into the master bedroom and pushed her against the bed, having her fall on her side. She was in full-blown fear. She wanted to fight and resist him, but her hands and feet were tied. The only thing she could see was his eyes behind the ski mask, and they were devious and malicious with a strong hunger for her.

Chanel, knowing what was coming, pleaded with her eyes for him not to do this—not to take away something that she was saving to give Mateo on their wedding day. But God didn’t care. He saw what he liked and he wanted to take it.

He turned her over and positioned her face-down on the bed. Chanel tried to resist, but he was strong and willing to take it from her by force. God cut away the duct tape from around her ankles and tore away her pajama bottoms, leaving her exposed. She tried to kick him fiercely, but a swift punch to the back of her head made her become docile and dazed.

He undid his jeans and slid the condom back onto his growing erection. He was hard, and he knew this was going to be fun. For a while

now, he had desired Chanel, knowing that she was a virgin. He’d never fucked a virgin before.

He pinned Chanel against the bed and forced her legs open from behind. He wanted to penetrate her from the back. She continued to fight to keep her virginity, but she could feel God heavily against her. His hand was firmly wrapped around the back of her neck, keeping her in place against the bed, and his sour breath was in her ear. He was going to rape her, no matter what. Chanel was helpless to stop it. Her hands were tied, the duct tape muted her cries, and her body was his to take.

Abruptly, God thrust himself inside of her—a strong jerk that pierced inside Chanel like a knife through her heart. She felt his big, hard dick fully inside of her, and it was a feeling she’d never felt before. It was excruciating to feel him moving in and out of her brusquely. She cried and cried, and the tears flooded her eyes to the point where they clouded her vision. She felt herself being ripped apart below and the blood oozing from the rough penetration. She felt everything like her body was super sensitive. If it wasn’t for the duct tape around her mouth, her cries and her anguish would have been banshee like—echoing through the room and probably shattering glass.

God could feel that he was taking her virginity. He took his sweet time in the pussy. When it got really good, he pulled out and quickly flipped her over onto her back and untied her wrists. He wanted to feel her perky tits against his chest. He wanted to see her face as he was fucking her. He wanted this rape to be more romantic in his sick and twisted mind. Falling between her legs, God thrust himself into her again, and pounded and pounded inside of her as he stared directly at Chanel’s anguish. He panted and huffed and fell closer to her petite frame and felt waves of exhilaration from taking her virginity with brute force. He could feel Chanel’s fingernails digging deep into his back from the pain he executed. It turned him on, and he fucked her deeper and deeper.

What lasted about ten minutes felt like a lifetime for Chanel. God huffed and puffed, and then came inside the condom, and inside of her, and quivered on top of her. He was finally done. He removed himself from her flesh and looked completely relieved. But Chanel was sobbing. She was torn apart and in pain. She couldn’t move from the bed. Between her legs felt like a bloody mess and she was sore. He didn’t care. God stood there looking absolutely aloof from the violent incident.

He tucked his dick back into his pants and zipped up, but not before removing his condom and stuffing it in his pocket. His DNA was leaving with him. When he left the bedroom, Fingers was eager to go inside and get a taste too. But God pushed him back.

“Nah,” God said.

“Fuck outta here, nigga. I wanna fuck her too,” Fingers exclaimed.

“I said no.”

Fingers became furious and shouted, “So you get to fuck that virgin and not me?”