Chapter 4
CONTENT WARNINGThis story contains scenes of extreme violence, crime, domination, and morally questionable situations. Not recommended for sensitive readers. If this kind of narrative isn’t for you, I suggest finding another read.
The silence hung heavy like lead. The darkness around us seemed to hold its breath along with the men present. My gaze fixed on the bastard kneeling in front of me.
“You mean you like harassing pregnant women?” I asked, taking my time, letting the question hang in the air like a threat.
“No, ma’am! It wasn’t me!” His voice came out choked, desperate.
Ah… gotta have patience with these people. They screw up all the time, get confused, lose themselves in their own shit. But I needed to be sure. It was dark, and to me they all looked the same. Brown-skinned, poor, dressed in the same misery. But no, no mistake. The uniform from the delivery company gave him away. It was him.
“Didn’t you say earlier you wanted to suck?”
“No, ma’am, I swear to God…”
BANG!
The shot sliced through the silence like a hot blade cutting flesh. The impact threw the miserable fuck to the ground. He clutched his leg, screaming, his voice cracking with pain.
“Pastor, where’d it hit?”
The Pastor stepped forward, watched the worm writhing, and smiled faintly.
“In the shin, Boss. Must be hurting like hell.”
“Holy shit, I aimed for the foot.”
“Shooting at that angle is tricky, Boss. .45 has a hell of a kick. But that was a nice shot. Congrats, God’s on your side.”
“Thanks, Pastor.”
Some of the men laughed, others looked uncomfortable. That idiot Menor 3Dicker, who thought he was hot shit, let out a nervous chuckle.
“Yo, over there!”
Pathetic.
I crouched down a bit, forcing the little shit to look at me. He was whimpering, sweating, writhing in pain.
“I don’t like people who lie. And I like even less people who mess with pregnant women. Got it?”
“Sorry, ma’am… Ow, it hurts so bad…”
The Pastor, always watchful, commented like it was casual advice:
“He’s gonna lose the foot, Boss.”
I looked at the miserable fuck, feeling the adrenaline pulse.
“You like to suck or not?”
The hesitation was almost tangible. He could have said no. Could have accepted the end right there. But the dumbass thought answering what I wanted to hear was a valid option.
“Yes, ma’am… I said it, but I beg her forgiveness… Please, don’t kill me…”
I loved this moment. The sound of someone’s voice begging for their life was almost addictive.
“So, if you like to suck… you’re gonna suck.”
My eyes went straight to the favela’s manager.
“Come here, honey. Stand in front of him and drop your pants. You can put away your rifle. The weapon you’re using now is a different one.”
The thug looked around, searching for some reaction, someone to intervene. But no one there was gonna help him. He laughed awkwardly, swallowed hard, and, accepting his fate, handed the rifle to one of the guys next to him.
The silence that followed was brutal. The heavy breathing of the men around mixed with the hot wind blowing trash and dust across the packed dirt ground. The hill manager stood there, shoulders tense, while the man still agonized on the ground, holding his bloodied leg.
I stepped a little closer, eyes locked on the manager.
“You’re the manager, right?”
He swallowed hard.
“Yeah, ma’am.”
“A pregnant woman complained that this idiot messed with her? Even better… has any woman complained about him to you? I know several have” — I lied, letting the doubt eat at him from the inside.
He hesitated. Holy shit, it was obvious he was gonna take the bait.
“Yeah, ma’am.”
“And what did you do?”
”…Nothing.”
My expression stayed neutral.
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
“He’s my brother, ma’am.”
Ah… now the pieces fit.
“Got it. So your brother can do whatever he wants in the favela?”
“No, ma’am…”
“Good.”
I stepped back and looked at the bastard on the ground. He was sobbing quietly, maybe trying to figure out what was gonna happen next.
“The sucker” — I called, looking at him like he was a piece of meat thrown on the ground. — “One of you walks out of here alive. I don’t know which one yet.”
The manager stood frozen, blinking, trying to process.
“You’re gonna suck your brother” — I continued, my voice unhurried, no hesitation. — “Until I see that white milk spurting out, and you’re gonna drink every drop so the baby comes out well-fed, you hear?”
A horrified silence fell over everyone.
“Got it?”
The manager’s eyes widened, his chest heaving fast.
“Ma’am, please…”
I raised the gun, aiming right at his head.
“I don’t have all damn night. Go on. Start.”
He looked around, trying to find some support, some divine intervention to get him out of this. But no one there was gonna do a thing.
The choice was his. Either he humiliated himself… or he died.
As if the whole favela was holding its breath, the silence kept coming back. The man on the ground groaned, dragging himself in the dust, his face twisted in pain and fear. Every movement of the man crawling closer was a reminder of what happens to those who open their mouths at the wrong time. His foot was hanging on by just skin and nerves.
The hill manager stayed put, tense, like a cornered animal. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for some way out, but he knew there wasn’t one.
“Gonna go limp?” — my voice cut through the air, cold, sharp. — “The manager here got a limp dick?”
The men around started laughing, first low, then louder. The mockery filled the space, sinking the manager deeper into his own shame.
“Uh-oh, the boss man’s shaking!” — one of them yelled, doubling over with laughter.
“Stick his ass on the rifle and he’d turn into a total pussy, ma’am!” — another jeered, the laughs growing.
The humiliation poured off him like sweat, his shoulders trembling with shame, eyes fixed on the ground. I watched every detail, tasting the power, the absolute control I had over these men. The adrenaline ran hot through my body. Dominating them lit me up in a way that was hard to explain.
My gaze drifted down slowly, taking in every reaction, every drop of desperation. The fear, the tension, the humiliation mixed with submission… it all made me throb inside. My body responded, a heat crawling under my skin, slipping down to where I felt it most.
I stepped closer, letting my presence weigh on him like a suffocating shadow.
“I don’t have the whole fucking night” — I snapped, impatient. — “Get on with it.”
The man on the ground moved slowly, breath ragged, body hesitant, but no choice. Every move he made was loaded with shame and pain, and that just made me feel even more in control. The manager was rigid, eyes wide, muscles tense like he was waiting for someone to pull him out of this. But no one was.
He pulled his pants down, revealing the flaccid, useless flesh. I looked at it with some boredom, then met his eyes again, faking concern.
“How small!” — my voice came out soft, almost mocking. — “A manager should have a bigger dick, right?”
The laughter exploded around us. A storm of taunts, venomous comments, a humiliation that crushed him inch by inch.
“Damn, shorty, what a shame, huh!” — someone provoked.
“Yo, the boss lady called you a little wiener!” — another guffawed.
I saw the terror in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell too fast. The humiliation was an impossible weight to carry. And I was there, feeling it all, letting the power over them spread through my body like a slow, addictive fire. My own heat crept between my thighs, wet, throbbing, the kind of sensation I never ignored.
The kneeling man hesitated for a second, but soon got that there was no choice. He got closer, opening his mouth slowly, pressing his lips to the warm skin of his brother, who shook visibly.
The first touch was awkward, uncertain. A timid tongue that barely dared to move. The manager held his breath, fists clenched at his sides.
“Gonna take all night?” — I asked, crossing my arms, impatient.
The encouragement came quick.
“Come on, shorty, do it right!” — one of them shouted.
“Let’s go, do the job, you’re already fucked anyway!” — another mocked.
The pressure of the moment started to work. Slowly, the previously limp member began to react, hardening under the wet mouth working on it. The manager squeezed his eyes shut tight, breath caught between his teeth.
I watched it all, every detail. The tremor in his muscles, the wet, embarrassing sounds, the raw energy of the moment. My heart pounded hard, the heat between my legs growing, throbbing. My pussy responded to the show in front of me. I felt the wetness trickle slowly, soaking into my panties.
No matter who’s in control — a blowjob always carries that raw tension, a power play that goes beyond the act itself. The heat, the heavy breathing, the wet sensation of the mouth moving, exploring, sucking.
The mouth started to move, slow at first, lips closing firmly around the flesh that got harder as the tongue swirled, massaging, teasing. He swallowed, sucked, leaving a hot, wet trail along the whole length.
“That’s it, suck it all…” — I said slowly, unable to hide my pleasure anymore.
The standing man’s body reacted to every new stimulus. His fingers clenched involuntarily, his breathing sped up. A low sound escaped his throat when the other picked up the pace, taking him deeper, exploring deeper. The jaw worked, the tongue pressed the right spots, between sobs and tears, sliding slobbery, swallowing to the base and coming back up, building the tension every second.
“You better focus real good and cum in your brother’s mouth!” — I sang out, reminding him I had places to be.
The moans got heavier, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing turned to a mess of irregular gasps. He lost control, but the pleasure came in waves, more intense each time, until his whole body stiffened. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, seeking more, wanting more. And then, at the last moment, a violent shudder ran through his spine and he groaned loud, coming hard, muscles clenched, fingers digging into his own skin.
The cum was received by his half-dead brother on the ground, who kept that liquid in his mouth, showing it to me as proof he’d followed my orders.
“Now, swallow, baby.”
He swallowed, choking, gagging, coughing hard as he nearly spit it all out. His body shook, breathing erratic, eyes red from humiliation and fear.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson.” — My voice came out cold, cutting. — “You don’t mess with other people’s women here, especially not pregnant ones. Right?”
He sobbed, voice breaking through the tears.
“Yes, ma’am…”
“Good. You two, take him to Central Hospital. Say the cops shot the resident. This shit probably even has a work ID and he’s uniformed. And if that shitty governor gets fucked over this, I’ll be real happy.”
Two men slung their rifles over their backs before bending down and hauling the bastard off the ground, each grabbing an arm. He was dragged, moaning in pain, feet kicking up dust as they carried him out of there.
My gaze turned back to the manager. He was still standing there, tense, face pale under the dim light.
“You.” — My tone was dry, merciless. — “You’re the manager here. Responsible for keeping order, protecting people. And what did you do? Covered for a piece of shit like this just ‘cause he was your brother.”
He lowered his head, lips trembling.
“Yes, ma’am… I get it… Won’t happen again.”
“No. It sure as hell won’t. Know why?”
That’s when his eyes filled with tears. His body stiffened, muscles tense like they wanted to fight the inevitable. But there was no way out. He knew. They all knew.
I smiled faintly, the taste of power dripping sweet in my pussy.
“You’re fired.”
The silence lasted a second. Then, the snap of the order being carried out.
“Put him in the tires.”
The men moved fast. The manager tried to back away, but it was too late. Strong hands grabbed him, pulling his body like he weighed nothing. He struggled, tried to resist, but there was no escape. His fate was sealed.
I didn’t need to watch the setup. I walked back to the car while they got the gasoline ready. The smell of burning rubber and flesh, the screams of desperation were already thick in the air.
The Pastor, always lurking, didn’t miss the chance to preach.
“Congrats on doing God’s work, ma’am.”
I rolled my eyes, lighting a cigarette.
“What? You crazy?”
“Homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of the Lord, and that man… got sucked by his own brother and spilled his seed. That’s a huge sin!”
I exhaled the smoke slowly, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice.
“But the other one walked out alive, Pastor. Did I fail at God’s work?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“No, ma’am. That man was already dead inside. And God… God gave him a second chance. Believe me, tomorrow he’ll be in church, on his knees, praying like a new man, blessed.”
I let out a low laugh.
“So glory to God, huh, Pastor?”
“Amen, ma’am.”
I looked around one last time and said,
“Go in the other car. I’ll drive.”
I got into the cool AC next to Timothy, who kept his eyes down, avoiding the scene. He never had the stomach for this kind of thing.
Calmly, I unbuttoned my pants and pushed them down, trapping them at my thighs. Without taking my eyes off the burning man, I gave my last order.
“Finger me, Timothy.”
He hesitated for a split second, but soon his nimble fingers slid between my legs, precise as always.
“Damn… you’re soaking” — he murmured, almost surprised.
I smiled, letting my head fall back, eyes half-closed in pure delight from the absolute power.
“Yeah… Let’s go. When we get home, you’re gonna fuck me, okay?”
“You bet!”