Someone in Knights’ colors was seen tagging a building on the corner of Willmont Avenue and north Thirtieth Street– nearly in the middle of North Thirty territory. Whoever it was ran very fast, but not fast enough for their face not to be seen briefly by several North Thirties. Besides wearing the Knights’ colors, the tagger had the characteristic lightning bolt tattooed on their left cheek. He was definitely a Knight. The truce had been broken.
Somehow, after tagging the building, the tagger was able to run back to Knights’ territory. At one point, the six Thirties chasing him almost caught up with him, but when they turned the corner, there was no one there except some sweet young thing carrying groceries home from the store. If they hadn’t been otherwise engaged, they might have stopped for some action, but their minds were too set on catching this Knight who dared to tag an area in the heart of North Thirty territory. When they explained what had happened to their leader, he yelled that their minds were always on pussy and if they had just ignored the girl they might have caught the tagger.
If it had been a murder or something like that, bloodshed would have followed bloodshed that night, but Emmanuel said that they would demand the tagger be turned over to them or they would invoke the guarantee and demand Carlo’s little sister for punishment. He gave Carlo twenty-four hours to deliver the tagger… or his little sister… at the corner of North Thirtieth and Rail Street, the border between the Knights’ and North Thirty’s territories.
To say that Carlo was angry is a great understatement. He was beyond furious. He demanded that whoever had been so stupid so as to break the truce in this fashion step forward. But no one did. The trucebreaker, whoever he was, remained silent.
Felicia, however, spoke out. “You have to turn me over,” she said firmly. “It is the only way to keep the truce.”
“No!” her brother screamed. “Don’t you know what they will do to you?! You’re a woman and they are men. They will hurt you and use you and then send you back in the most disgraceful way possible.”
He didn’t add that he knew this because that was exactly what he and his friends would do to another gang’s guarantor if they had broken the truce.
“You knew this could happen when you made the truce,” she said. “You have been keeping me locked up on a shelf. I’m still practically a virgin because everyone is afraid to touch me. But I am a grown woman now. I know what I have to do. Tomorrow, I will walk across Rail Street and give myself to the North Thirties. I am strong. I will survive this. It must be done.”
Carlo looked at her in silence. There was nothing he could say. Everything that she had said was the truth. Finally, he said angrily, “So be it. But if… no when… I catch this trucebreaker, he will be punished ten times as severely as you will be.”
Felicia replied, “So be it.”
Chapter One: Felicia’s Story, Ready to be Punished
It’s too late now to back out. It was too late as soon as I sprayed the Diamond Knight on the side of that building in the middle of North Thirty territory. I wonder what they would have done to me had they caught me then? They almost did. I was barely ahead of them when I ran around the corner.
I intentionally wore slightly over-sized jeans so I could rapidly slip them off. I was wearing my dress like a shirt, tucked into the jeans… and no panties. The dress was part of my disguise. The no panties was… just because. As soon as I ran around the corner, I slipped off the jeans and tucked them into the two grocery store bags along with the hat and can of spray paint. I quickly rubbed the eye liner lightning bolt off my cheek with a makeup remover wipe and put it in the bag. When the North Thirties came running past, I gave them a nervous smile and looked down like I was afraid of being caught by so many men while I was alone on the sidewalk, which I actually was.
My smile became much wider when they ran past yelling things like, “Later, Chica. We’ll be back.” I forced myself to walk slowly for two more blocks before jogging quickly back into Knights’ territory. Then all I had to do was wait.
This is what I was waiting for. This is what I had been fantasizing about for weeks– no, for months. Momma never understood why I had become such a disobedient young woman. “You were always such a well-behaved little girl,” she told me so many times in the past year. She would scold me and then say, “What has gotten into you since you turned eighteen?”
She would then take me downstairs to the laundry room in the basement of our apartment. “Do you think you are too old for me to spank?” she would say as she pulled me through the door. “It is almost as if you want me to punish you,” she would add angrily.
If the laundry room was empty when we got there– which it always was– she would push me over the big laundry sink and pull down my jeans and panties. I always kept my body held close to the sink when she did that, not because that was what she wanted, but because I didn’t want her to see how wet I was. Also, I wanted the edge of the sink to rub against my clit while she punished me. Once I was bent over with my hands grabbing the top of the washing machine on the other side of the sink, she would start spanking me with that wooden spatula that she never used on food, only on my ass.
“I am going to keep going until you say you are sorry and won’t ever do it again,” she would grunt at me as she was slamming that spatula into my ass. She never counted. She kept going until you broke.
I would hold out until I couldn’t bear it anymore. But it wasn’t the pain I couldn’t bear. I would hold out until it got to the point where I couldn’t hold back my orgasm any longer. Then I would scream, “No more, Momma, no more. I promise I will be good. I promise I will never do it again.”
She would always give me one more, really hard, smack after that. Then she would pull the timer out of her apron and set it on one of the washing machines. “You stay there bent over that tub until the timer goes off,” she would say. “Then you can come back up to the apartment.”
“But somebody might see me,” I would always whine, and she would answer, “Good! Then they will see what a bad daughter you are.”
As she left, she would lock the door on her way out. She cleaned the hallways and public areas in the apartment building for a portion of our rent, so she had keys to places like the laundry room. I secretly wished she would leave the door unlocked so someone could come in. As I lay across the top of the sink with my hands full out over my head, I would imagine all of the tenants standing in the doorway. I could see them watching as I backed up enough so that I could lay my shoulders on the edge of the sink and then bring my hands down so that I could rub myself to a wonderful orgasm.
Chapter Two: Felicia’s Story, Punished by the Men of North Thirty
Carlo was very upset. He was almost crying and kept saying he was sorry as we walked to the corner. I was wearing a bright yellow sundress. Momma hated that dress because I always wore it without a bra and because you could see my well-developed ass through it as I walked. She would have hated it even more if she knew that I normally wore it without panties. Today I was wearing panties beneath the dress. They were a light yellow so they wouldn’t show through the thin fabric. They weren’t a thong, but they weren’t granny panties either. I think the official name for them is high cut. There was a thin strip of fabric between the front triangle and the back. The back was smaller than my smallest bikini, and the front was only big enough to cover my carefully trimmed bush… but it wasn’t a thong.