WMD Ch. 01

Theo would send her some 'contraband' for Mom to place in those containers. Then she'd sneak into the family home and plant/hide the evidence. Then Theo would have some fool in Mexico send her some trinkets - three or four deliveries would do.

Then he'd send a few kilos of cocaine that Theo would ~ acquire ~ and let the DEA swarm in. Mom would also plant evidence to implicate two of Kingston's police officers ~ to tarnish the whole department in the DEA's eyes. That would lead to a Federal investigation because everyone knew the Black community lied to protect their own.

They would be claiming the Black Man couldn't find justice in the White Man's court system. They would blame the 'White Man' and this time they'd be right ... and not even know they were right. They always blamed their problems on the White Man. They did lie and discriminate against White people so often that their knee-jerk reaction would ring hollow to anyone who truly mattered.

Furthermore, this wasn't the Civil Rights Division of the Justice Department who was bending over backwards to undo centuries of judicial failures were Blacks were concerned. It was the DEA and they were a bit more color-blind concerning matters of illegal drugs.

They had the pipeline, previous deliveries, drugs arriving in the mail and drugs stashed in their house. Darius' family had a history of doing this very thing. The DEA wasn't going to believe that 'White folk set us up' spiel. They were going to think that when they busted Darius' brother, they'd only touched the tip of the iceberg.

When I was finally clued into this conspiracy, I thought it was viciously cruel and over-the-top then I looked into my Mother's eyes. There was more to this than she was willing to share at the time ~ some unhealed wound. This was the Samsonov sense of justice married to a long-buried injustice whose moment of resolution had finally come.

The whole community had tried to lie concerning Darius' brother being a drug kingpin and blamed Big Bob Carson for doing his job. They were lying about the Principal right now and those legions of falsehoods thus creating their self-fulfilling prophecy.

Having knowingly and wrongfully blamed others for their own wickedness when the proof of guilt was plain as day, when one of theirs was getting railroaded, no one, not even themselves, would believe their spiel. This town lied to itself and the outside world so often, they could no longer rely on one another for truth.

Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Pope could be saved if the true drug dealers in Kingston and Davis stepped up and testified - they wouldn't. The family could help itself out if they handed over other people in their network - except they had no one to give over for a lighter sentence.

The only thing the Pope family lawyers could trot out was the old 'racist White folks' refrain and a jury in Little Rock would roll their eyes. They would find them guilty on all charges and, during sentencing, they would prove that Black people really did get longer sentences for the same crime than White people did.

Mom didn't care. In her mind, the Pope family was serving time for one crime to pay for the fact they'd committed a crime years ago they'd gotten away with scot-free. She was aiming to squeeze Kingston and keep the pressure on until they cracked, confessed to their crime and their racism. Then, the healing could begin.

(The Secret Weapon ~ Saturday)

Mikhail was being a bit of a bastard. Sheriff Big Bob Carson called us/me to let me know his daughter was coming over to our house to 'hang out' and he wanted her to call him when she got there. Either Brandy hadn't found her phone, or this was his way of making sure she went to the place where she said she was heading - a serious lack of trust.

Mikhail decided I could use the surprise so he neglected to tell me this unwelcome news. He was smart enough to let Mom know. Instead of steeling myself for whatever her game might be, I was practicing long arms (that's archaic weapons for most folk) with Alexander and Mom. Using dulled, steel practice blades and quilted clothing, that was hot, sweaty and somewhat painful work.

That certainly wasn't the way I wanted Brandy to see me. Mikhail had met her at the front door and let her in. She was frightfully late and we all knew why. Mom greeted Brandy with a disgusted snort then stormed past her.

"Good morning, Vlad," Brandy smiled somewhat feebly.

Mikhail was behind her, flashing me a devilish grin. I glared back my displeasure.

"It is nearly noon," I replied. "How's Darius?"

"I...I don't know. We haven't talked since last night," she lied. She was pretty good at it, yet I was already inclined to distrust her ever word and intention.

"Okay," I shrugged, not disguising my disapproval. I tossed my blunted steel sword to Alexander before unbuckling the straps of my armor.

"What is all of this?" Brandy turned to keep up as I went inside.

"We are in the SCA - Society for Creative Anachronism," I said. "The steel blades are Mom's idea ~ for the sake of realism."

"That is a group that relives medieval practices and weaponry," I filled in her obvious ignorance. "We've been doing it half our lives. Mom likes these kinds of things."

"It looks seriously weird," Brandy stated.

"I didn't ask for your opinion in the same way I didn't ask you to come over," I replied.

"I came over to make up for the stuff I've put you through for the past week," she offered. "Maybe we could go out and get some lunch...catch a movie?"

"I think I'll pass," I started putting my armor onto its mannequin in our weapons room.

"Oh..." her next argument trailed off into nothing.

She so annoyed me it wasn't until I turned around, wearing only my boxers, did I realize she was staring at my body. At the same time I finally had cooled down enough to truly appreciate her apparel. Black butt shorts, White halter top thin enough to give a strong indication of the racy, lacy purple bra she wore underneath. I was sure this highly provocative garb wasn't what Big Bob saw her wearing when she left home.

Blood was rushing to my penis despite my best mental efforts. Brandy gave a slight snicker. She was celebrating her sexual success. With the way her nipples were sprouting against her bra and shirt, I was having some success of my own. The difference was I could care less. I brushed past her and headed upstairs. Brandy tagged along.

"We could hang around here," she suggested.

"Did you find your phone?" I inquired. A phone guaranteed a Darius lurking behind the scenes. It was a simple back-up stratagem - have sex with me and take pictures. Then he/she could use the pictures for leverage for my 'good' behavior - that slippery slope of compliance.

"Yes. You didn't throw it very far," she grinned.

"You couldn't have snuck behind your Daddy's back to touch base with Darius if I tossed it into the woods," I replied. She didn't know what to make of that. We made the third floor before she spoke.

"Why do you assume I've talked to Darius?" she mused as she looked around. "Nice house."

"Darius - you exhibit perpetually poor decision making when your pussy is concerned, that's why. About the house - thanks. It is still growing on me," I said as I went into my shared bathroom.

Brandy traipsed in after me. "I am going to take a shower."

"That's okay. I've seen plenty of naked guys," she leered.

"That's for sure," I mumbled. I exhibited a lack of body consciousness by tossing my boxers in the clothes hamper.

"You have a nice body," Brandy observed.

"Yes he does," Mom snarled as she stormed in. "It is time for you to leave."

"Wha...what have I done wrong?" Brandy squalled.

"You are a whore and you are trying to sleep with my boy with some other chump's cum in your cunt - Whore," Mom snapped.

Brandy started to sniffle up. She looked my way for support. Brandy was confusing sexual arousal for affection which I figured was common for her. I looked disinterested. It wasn't true - her stunning sexuality was making me think stupid stuff...like fucking her.

"Vlad?" Brandy pleaded. My blood was rushing to the wrong head, but my brain was still functioning. Darius wasn't used to being out-smarted, made to look foolish, or made to pay for his hubris. Mom had covered her tracks well. Her part of our offensive would still take time.

Besides, he was completely distracted by his lack of success last night. I was sure Brandy had already brought up my recording of the night's festivities. He had idiotically passed on that anger to Brandy so she was making irrational, hate-clouded decisions as well.

"Mom, Brandy and I were just talking," I faux-intervened. Brandy looked to me, thankful for her salvation. Mom shot me a look past her that projected her pride in my deceptiveness. Play the players.

"Brandy, you screwed Darius before coming here, didn't you?" I asked. I knew she would deny it so I upped the ante.

"I know you did. Lie to me and don't let the door hit you in your ass on the way out." Now she was trapped. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn't.

"Yes...but...I was worried about him...he wanted to talk to you last night and..." she stammered.

"You were afraid of his anger, not worried about him, and we both know he didn't want to talk to me last night," I corrected her.

"No. He was upset and I wanted to calm him down. Then I came straight here," she kept stumbling through her lies. She didn't really admit to having sex.

She certainly lied about what Darius wanted. He wanted to hurt me and my family. Darius had started out yesterday night convinced he was closing in for the kill yet now he found himself forced to play catch-up. The normally bright guy was letting his BBC and bull-sized ball sack do his thinking for him.

It gave me a chill to realize as devious as my Mom was, she swore Uncle Theo was more convoluted in his thinking.

"Fine, Vladimir, but she comes with me while you shower. I don't trust this slimy, scum-skank," Mom was now playing bad cop to my good cop.

I didn't know what she had planned. I was okay with that. When Darius referred to Brandy as his 'fuck-slave', he wasn't exaggerating. Brandy's wasn't his paramour. She was his owned piece of flesh and a dispirited bitch that was controlled by her lusts and fears - fear of Darius being key to her way of thinking. It was not only the fear that he would hurt her - he had.

There was the fear he'd stop stuffing her with BBC's; keeping her a slave to her lusts. Those glaring character flaws allowed Mom to heap on the humiliations to Brandy while I showered. She was subjected to multiple mouthwash sessions, douching and an enema. Sure enough, she'd already been fucked in her pussy and her ass before coming here.

Participating in orgies wasn't my problem. Tricking me into partaking of the debris afterwards was. By the time she showed up at my bedroom door, I had finished dressing. I found Brandy rather revolting by this time in our relationship. She was pretty shaken up by the ordeal Mom had put her through, but I had no sympathy to spare.

Brandy was what I described her as - a lying Skank. Had Mom not 'strongly suggested' I needed to fuck her, I would have called Big Bob and asked him to take his daughter home. Honestly, the girl I was thinking about was Kaelyne. She was nice to me, daring within her limits and cute in her own way. Brandy? A Playboy Playmate covered in other men's slime - no thanks.

"Hey," she said feebly. She was debased in the extreme. Any pretense to being her own woman had been stripped bare - she was Darius' sperm landfill and my whole family knew it.

"Let's go for a ride," I offered. She thought that over.

"Let me call Daddy first," she smiled. "Where are we going?"

That attempt at deception was pathetically transparent ... couldn't she see which way this was going? The best she could deliver to Darius was a draw and she could only do that by walking away.

"Out ... I'll figure it out on the way," I told her. She nodded then turned around and went to the hall to make that call. I heard her mumbled curses.

"Problem?" I asked. She smacked the phone into her palm a few times.

"It is broken," she whined. I extended my hand so she gave it over for my examination. I knew that vacant electronic look. Mom had tossed her phone into our electromagnet box. The computer portion of her smart phone was wiped clean. I handed it back.

"Yep, it seems to be broken," I nodded. "I'll call your Dad." She blanched slightly then nodded. She meant to call Darius except the Samsonovs had decapitated that part of her plot. I called Brandy's Dad, told him we were going motocross over the back acreage. He was happy to hear we were bonding. We had to keep Sheriff Carson in the dark for a while longer.

It was the 'better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission' creed in effect. Brandy was truly distressed as we drove away from the house and headed into the broken country we owned. The property had economic value as passable timber land. It was either tree-covered mountains, rocky hills, creeks, or marshy bogs. What it was good for was hunting - deer, black bear, duck in season, and all assorted ground critters.

That was important because my destination wasn't random. There was a two thousand square foot hunting lodge a few miles up into the hills Mom's family used once upon a time and the Cobb's, our wardens, had cleaned and updated. Mikhail and Mom had taken care of the electrical wiring and cable hook-ups.

I let Brandy walk around the place as I stalked her. Her mind was dialing up her choices and was coming to the 'ugly' conclusion that the best she could hope for was to fuck me then get out of here - mission somewhat accomplished to her delusional reasoning. I doubted Darius would agree with her. After all, I'd be fucking 'his woman' even if he treated her like a dog in Michael Vick's kennel.

With his macho blinders on, this would be yet another point for me to mock him. He'd probably fuck the shit out of Brandy over this just to remind her who had the BBC she craved. When we came to the master bedroom, Brandy caved in. The king-sized bed was low to the ground on a solid wooden box frame. Brandy flopped her butt down on the mattress and gave me her best erotic effort.

Her lips were pouty, her cleavage was hypnotic and her legs were spread enough to be suggestive. Her eyes...her eyes were the windows to her soul and her soul was projecting 'let's get this over with so I can get back to a real man'. Bitch.

"Hey," she purred then patted the mattress next to her. "Sit down."

My ass had barely bounced once on the comforter when Brandy rolled on top of me and began kissing me. Her mouthwash had been Cherry-flavored. Yeah, wham-bam thank you Ma'am was her exit plan. She was working her shirt off while grinding her crotch onto my belt buckle. Going along with Mom's strategy was my second best option.

I'd had sex once before in my young life and that was a weeklong session with a professional Mom procured. That was something else I could never talk to my Dad about. I was still leery of putting my cock into her from the standpoint of memories I'd rather avoid. Brandy's shirt and bra came off then she worked down my underwear and pants.

Brandy playfully licked my cock as she worked off my boots and socks. With practiced ease, she shed her sneakers and butt shorts, revealing her baby smooth bald pussy. I was actually starting to look forward to a blowjob. That was not to be. When I took off my shirt, she crept up on me, rolled us over so I was on top then planted some pretend-passionate kisses.

Soon enough, her legs were spread wide and I was slipping into her vagina.

"Oh God," she moaned sensually. How fake could she be? I felt like I was pumping a slimy, wet, cavernous cavity. I could barely feel her vaginal muscle action, she was so loose. All I could think was this experience was so devoid of penile stimulation it would take a while. "Oh baby, that feels good," Brandy cooed.

Since I could barely feel her, I suspected she wasn't getting that much from my actions either. I settled for teasing her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger while I kept my body above hers with my left arm. Brandy gifted me with a few more platitudes I didn't believe. Her body reactions were equally basically a well-rehearsed routine. She'd pivot her hips in an effort to get me off sooner than later.

Around my tenth thrust, I began to feel her vagina conforming to my cock. Brandy's porno queen remix died down until she was utterly quiet. I kept going - this was still a somewhat noxious experience I wanted to get through before my interest dimmed to the point my cock lost its enthusiasm. About two more minutes into the ordeal, Brandy started making noises again.

I was so used to her disingenuous nature it took me a moment to figure out her gasps and moans were genuine and she was struggling and failing to keep them in check. By this time her pussy was mysteriously beginning to feel pretty snug. The texture of my cock was rubbing all over her vaginal folds. In a last desperate effort, Brandy closed her eyes, rolled her head to the side and bit her lower lip.

I was even more annoyed by this latest ploy.

"Play with your nipples - twist them," I commanded. Brandy's eyes looked into mine. Her look of confusion and disbelief was unsettling. She did as I demanded allowing me to hook her left leg up and shift it to the side. Now I was pounding down on her well-worn clit.

Her tears were really unwelcome. I was damned if I was going to have an ounce of sympathy for this tramp. Then she started yelping. Her yelps turned to a long guttural growl which led to an ear-shattering scream. What the fuck? She'd climaxed. I was pretty sure of that. The way she regarded me after that scream was rather scary on an emotional level.

Her mind was trying to cope with what her body had just experienced.

"Can...please...give me...give me a second, please?" she pleaded. I slowed my pussy pounding down to a slow gentle massage. She appeared to like that so I kept to that pace. "Do you want to keep going?" she murmured. It took me a second to realize that was a request.

I kissed her on the lips. This time I didn't mind and she didn't look like she was forcing herself to appear as if she was having a good time. I gave her a minute or two before upping the power and rapidity of my thrusts. Instead of objecting, Brandy let a sensual smile grace her lips as her hips pushed up to meet my penetrations.

I'm in good shape - iron man, I am not. When I started showing my fatigue, Brandy forcefully rolled us over so she was on top. That provided me an excellent view and extra incentive to shoot off. Brandy was working my cock like the seasoned slut she was. She decided to dangle her boobs within reach of my lips. I went to suckling like I was born to it...so true.

She was well on her way to her second orgasm when I could feel my time had come. I started to push her off.

"What are you doing?" she panted.

"I'm about to cum and I don't want to risk a pregnancy," I ground out.

"I have a Norplant birth control implant," she snickered. She shimmied her hips, grinding her vulva down on my crotch. A few seconds of that, and I was ejaculating. As my body stiffened, arched up and I uttered a fierce growl, Brandy began rubbing her re-energized clit with some fingers of her left hand while massaging her left breast with her right hand.

After my control returned, I joined her fingers gently strumming her clitoris. She had been looking up at the ceiling fan. Her eyes fell down and gave another bizarre look. Her vagina was feeling practically racing-glove tight as she cascaded into her second orgasm. I interwove my right fingers with those on her left hand.