This chapter contains: strong language, racial slurs, sexual innuendos, pissing, references to child abuse, references to an act of child molestation, whipping, Domination/Submission sex, and a man being anally raped.

If you cannot stomach any of this, do not read further. You've been warned.

Chapter 7: Made in Heaven

Sweet's POV:

Escorted by a lean white prison guard, Sweet shuffled his way from the prison infirmary to his cellblock. 'Two motherfuckin' weeks in the prison infirmary…Those chulo assholes knocked out three teeth, fractured my ribs, gave me a concussion, and broke my nose…When I catch the motherfuckers who did tried to rape me, I'ma send 'em to the morgue.'

Prison doctors had spent the past two weeks monitoring Sweet's head injuries to make sure they didn't lead to anything worse than a concussion. He hadn't been allowed to sleep for the first 72 hours, and was prescribed some heavy pain pills. They also had to bandage his fractured ribs and treat his broken nose. Neither injury had healed fully yet, but the progress Sweet had made while in the infirmary amazed the doctors.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know that?" Sweet grunted in response to the guard. "If it'd been me on duty, I don't know if your boyfriend would've been able to save you!" He chuckled crudely, and the Grove Street don felt the guard's eyes rake his rear end. "One of the perks of this job is seeing you coons take a nice sized cock up your asses!"

Sweet turned and lunged, despite his painful ribs. The guard's reflexes were faster. Before the gangsta's fists reached his face, the guard held up his standard issue gun to Sweet's forehead. "Yeah, come on. Give me a reason to blast a hole into your sorry ass excuse for a brain, monkey."

'Don't, you still got Carl and Kendl to look after.' The Black slumped his shoulders and remained passive when the guard snatched his arm. "That's what I thought. Prison makes pussies outta all you hardcore gangsta motherfuckers. It hasn't broken you yet, boy, but it will." The guard opened Sweet's cell. "Got a surprise for you. Someone decided to keep your cell warm for you."

When the guard opened Sweet's cell, a man rose from the lower bunk. He had deep brown skin and a body packed with more solid muscle than Sweet's, even though the man was more than a foot shorter. His nose lay flat on a face defined only by three claw marks along the left side of his bald head. "You the one who busted into the shower."

"Yeah, homie. I saved your life."

"Bullshit. I had it under control."

The guard chuckled. "You were about three seconds from having mucho Latino cock under control, from what I heard when this nigger saved your ass." He shoved Sweet into the cell and slammed the door shut. "Now you boys play nice, or Daddy's gonna give you both a spanking."

The other man watched the guard leave and lock the cell door. "He's right. You at least owe me a thank you."

"I don't owe you shit." Sweet tried to climb to the top of the bunk. Vertigo kicked in, and his head throbbed from the change in altitude. He leaned against the wall behind him and struggled against the sudden dizziness.

The other man was on his feet instantly. "Something wrong, homie?"

"Nah, I just don't wanna be on top."

"That's cool. I'd rather be on top anyway." The shorter Black winked at Sweet.

"Shit, you some kinda prison pussy?"

"Not exactly. Name's King, King Augustus Nicolas." He held out a beefy right hand that Sweet refused to shake.

"Sweet."

"That's what they call you? Sweet?" The Grove Street don nodded.

"Lights out!" a guard called from the end of the cellblock. The cellblock immediately plunged into darkness.

"Oh, it's going to be a long night for you, Sweet."

CJ's POV:

"Catalina! Open up, baby, it's me!" The husky Black pounded on the flimsy front door of the Latina spitfire's hideout. 'Hate these fuckin' mosquitoes! It's almost fall, and they STILL won't fuckin' die.' "Ay, Catalina! Where you at? Catalina!"

Carl walked off the stoop, but before he could mount the stolen Freeway he had parked in the yard, the front door swung open and the Latina spitfire stormed out, a woman possessed with rage. "Carl! You stinkin' negro puto!"

"Hey! For the last time, woman, don't you ever call me no bitch."

"Oh? You go off for three weeks with not even a phone call and grow a pair of cujones, is that it?"

"Nah, it's the same pair from before. The one you liked so much the last time I was up here."

"No matter! I know how you are! You men, you all the same: Fuck this, fuck that, that's all you care about."

CJ flashed her a winning smile and opened his brawny arms wide. "Nah baby, I care about you, too. I just been hauling freight, making some serious money." Carl wasn't going to tell her about his other money making scheme. For the last six weeks CJ had robbed shipments of cocaine and money travelling between Los Santos and San Fierro. He didn't know yet why Ryder and Smoke were getting yay from San Fierro, but their loss was his gain. "You know I'm 'bout that money."

Catalina walked into his embrace. "You know why I act this way, Carl. A woman's heart is a dangerous place to be without a man to keep her quiet and still."

"Let's talk about that after we discuss this heist you were telling me about on the phone. I even brought some Cluckin' Bell for a romantic dinner."

Anger flitted across Catalina's face like a shadow. "Eh? Follow me, Mr. Johnson. We have much to discuss."

Carl followed her into the ramshackled, dimly lit cabin and stumbled on a loose floorboard. Before he fell, he felt a pair of strong hands turn him around and shove him against Catalina's metal rack. "What the fuck?"

Catalina slammed the door shut and pulled on an overhead light switch made of a fine metal chain. "I'm tired of your games, Carl!"

"And I told you we ain't fuckin' on the damn rack no more!" The husky Black attempted to push himself upright. Catalina drew out a butcher knife as long as her arm and sharper than Carl's own favorite blade. "O-ok, maybe just one more time?"

Catalina strapped Carl's wrists onto the rack. "Now you want to talk, eh?" She locked his wrists and neck into place with a key that dangled from a leather strap on her right wrist. "Now you want to fuck, eh?" She cut away the gangsta's white tank top. "No time for talking now." She cut off his tight green jeans and pulled off his white Eris sneakers. "Now it is time you learned a lesson!

"You think because you have a beautiful body, you can go fuck every whore you see?" With a forceful yank, Catalina freed Carl's heavily hung member from his black boxers. She ghosted the flat of the blade over the inseam of his thighs. "Now you learn differently. Now you will know how it feels when a woman's heart breaks."

Big Smoke's POV:

Strip clubs always cast an aura around them, since the first one in the days of Sodom and Gommorrah. Whether it was the increased testosterone oozing out the doors, windows, and cracks in the walls, or the surreptitious knowledge that the four walls contained a place of fantasies fulfilled, Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris was aroused when he entered the Pig Pen.

He stared at his fat length rising against his blue sweatpants. "Look here, you got a lotta pretty ladies waiting in there to see you. But we got some business to handle first. So just stay calm until then, a'ight?" His shaft quickly lost altitude. The guards at the door didn't bother to check for weapons because the overweight gangsta slipped into their hands a wad of twenties. A waitress in a cowboy hat and no-crotch leather chaps sashayed toward Big Smoke and handed him a business card in her right hand. As she walked off, the fat gangsta stared at her shapely booty. 'Right, business before pleasure,' he reminded himself.

The card simply had a gold-embossed 4 on it. Big Smoke went to the private rooms at the back of the club and showed a beefy security guard the card. The guard nodded and opened the door for Big Smoke.

"Melvin!" Officer Tenpenny greeted enthusiastically. Beside him, Officers Pulaski and Hernandez grinned drunkenly. Big Smoke shut the door behind him. "Come, enjoy some vintage we just bought. Primo stuff!"

Big Smoke sat next to Officer Hernandez, opposite Tenpenny and Pulaski. "Good evening, officers. What's the occasion?"

"Let's skip the bullshit," Pulaski stated, but Tenpenny held up his hand.

"Chill, Pulaski. No need to rush things along." Tenpenny poured Big Smoke a glass and a glass for himself. "Now I'm sure you and your friends in the Loco Syndicate have been in communication about the missing shipments, right?"

"They might have mentioned something about not getting their money's worth."

"Don't fuck with us, fat boy," Pulaski snapped. Big Smoke noticed his hand hovered uncomfortably close to his police-issued pistol. "The Locos came to us with questions, and that's the last thing you want, lard ass!"

Before Big Smoke knew it, Tenpenny had socked him in the jaw, and his bulk sprawled on the floor. "You stupid fat fuck, is this some kinda game to you? We're talking about supply and demand: When they supply cocaine, they demand money. If their couriers start showing up dead all around the countryside, they still demand money!"

"My bad," Big Smoke coughed. "I'll do better next time."

"Who said your fat ass gets a next time?" Tenpenny drove his steel-toed boot into Big Smoke's crotch, and Pulaski rose with his pistol aimed at Big Smoke's head. He turned off the safety. The fat gangsta locked eyes with Officer Hernandez then closed his eyes in preparation for the last sound he would hear. "Hold on, Pulaski."

Big Smoke opened his eyes to meet Tenpenny's glare. "Look here: I would easily let Pulaski air your fat ass out and toss you into the dumpster out back myself. I could stomp the life out of you, but I prefer to have clean shoes. That's how low you are: You are shit to us. You are shit to the Loco Syndicate."

Tenpenny stood upright. "You have already created a mess, and it's your job to clean it up."

"Like a toilet?" Pulaski sniggered.

"Yeah, like a toilet. In fact…." Tenpenny reached down and pulled Big Smoke into a kneeling position by seizing the fat man's throat. Big Smoke struggled against the officer's grip on his windpipe, but Tenpenny was too strong. "I need to take a leak right now."

Big Smoke thought Tenpenny was about to leave the room and let Pulaski or Hernandez torture him, but the officer unzipped his pants and pulled out a thick, flaccid member. With his hand still gripping the fat gangsta's throat, Tenpenny unleashed a torrent of alcohol-scented urine on Big Smoke's face. Tenpenny released Big Smoke's throat only when the urine began to trickle past the fat man's closed lips. "Hey Frank, I gotta take a leak too."

Pulaski took his turn with relish. Big Smoke tried to turn from the slender, bright red manhood and its patch of red pubic hair so thick it was visible through the zipper of his uniform, but Pulaski grabbed the back of his head. He was unfortunate enough to open his mouth at the moment that the foul-smelling urine hit his face and retched the liquid onto the floor. "Oops, forgot to mention I had asparagus for dinner at the station."

As Pulaski wrapped up, Tenpenny slapped Hernandez on the Hispanic officer's back. "How about you serve this fat piece of shit some bean-scented piss too, boy?"

"Uh, I already hit the head before coming to the club tonight, sir. Dry as the desert."

"Hmm." Tenpenny turned to Big Smoke, who was hunched over the carpet trying to force out all of Pulaski's urine. "Don't ever forget your place again, Smoke. And get things in order, before we make it worse next time."

CJ's POV:

CJ had bloody slash marks crisscrossing his chiseled torso and dangled from his restraints in exhaustion and pain. Catalina had improved her whips to draw out more blood with each lashing. He hurt so badly he wanted to cry out, but focused on escaping the Latina's torture. "Look, I know this freaky shit turns you on, but…"

"Silence!" She squatted down, and Carl felt the cold clamps of metal cuffs secure his legs in a spread-eagle position, rather than the skillful fellatio he desired. "You do not know a woman's pain yet!"

He felt an unfamiliarly wet, warm, and slightly wonderful sensation between his legs, in the most private part of his body. CJ immediately bucked against Catalina's ministrations. "Bitch get the fuck away from my ass!" Her fingers coated his hole with lubricant, and as it stroked pleasure from his hole, Carl's member stiffened.

"You fuck me up! Now, I return the favor. You already wet just like us women get when a man has his way with our pulvo. Now, I feed that pulvo a nice hard carajo!"

Carl spotted the thick white rubber dildo in her hand. Although it was less than eight inches long, including the sculpted rubber scrotum, his booty was virgin and the husky Black preferred to keep it that way. "No, Catalina, no, please don't, please don't!" The head of the dildo pushed against his entrance. Carl bit his lip and clenched every muscle in his body as Catalina pushed diligently.

"Please stop, Catalina, please stop, please don't, don't, no please don't, Catalina don't please NOOOOOO!" The Black's body betrayed him and welcomed the invasion. The pain was more intense than anything he had felt before in his life. Carl's virgin hole burned and his dignity collapsed at his helpless state. But he would not let Catalina see or hear him cry.

"Feels good, doesn't it? You like this big plastic carajo up your sweet ass , don't you, lover?" Carl ignored her, so Catalina aggressively shoved the dildo deeper. The gangsta let out a whimper of pain. Something inside him had ripped or broken or torn. "Oh, you're bleeding my love. Perhaps you need to relax, hmm? When you are still a virgin, you do not know about these things. You think this is pain, don't you Carl?"

Catalina built up an agonizing rhythm: Out, and Carl wished with all his might that the experience were over; in, and Catalina's dildo stroked sensitively at a spot that kept his erection growing to full hardness. Out and the blood trickled down his thighs; in, and he felt the sticky slickness of internal bleeding. "Yes," he croaked.

"This is not pain. Pain is your stepfather pinning you to the mattress the morning of your quincenera, stripping off your little pink panties, pounding away your virginity, taking the very thing you were supposed to give your future husband, while his fat daughter devours cookies and cakes in the other room because she is the good one, the lovely one, the ugly fat one everyone lies to."

Catalina's punishing pace within him was punctuated with a deeper jab after each phrase, leaving CJ close to weeping and his traitorous erection dripping drops of pre-ejaculate to the floor. "That is pain. But I can also give you pleasure."

Catalina shoved the dildo into him, stepped back, and slowly began to undress. CJ barely held up his head from the aching of his battered entrance. "You men are lucky," she mocked, dropping her pants, "you are equipped to take pain and still find pleasure. We women can give pleasure, but we also find so much pain, Carl! Pain from you men!"

"I'm sorry, Catalina."

She backhanded him. "No! You take pleasure from us, just like all other men! You give us babies and we birth them alone on the cold basement floor with no one there but us. You tell us we are hermosa when you truly find us disgusting. You are liars, every one of you!"

Catalina placed her bare feet on either side of Carl's knees and grasped the rack behind his head. "Now you take my pleasure." She grabbed his hardness and shoved it into her wetness.

"Ay papi!"

'This isn't love….'

"Dios mio!"

'This ain't sex, either….'

"Su carajo is so big!"

'This bitch is truly crazy…'

"Mas! Mas! Harder!"

Carl's hips bucked half-heartedly. 'This is some sick, fucked up, twisted shit.'

"Mas! Deeper! DEEPER! MAS!"

They climaxed within seconds of each other. Catalina's orgasmic moans were filled with pleasure and fulfillment, but Carl's grunt was filled with pain. His ejaculation made his groin throb around the girth of the dildo still inside him, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. When he opened them, Catalina had removed the dildo, dressed, and unlocked his handcuffs. He was on all fours on the floor. "So, how did you enjoy the pleasure I just give to you, lover?"

Carl pushed himself from the floor and slammed his naked body into Catalina's clothed one. Her back hit the wall of the cabin with a sickening thud. Before she could recover, Carl rained punches on her face, until the Latina was motionless.

The husky Black dragged her body to the rack and placed one of her wrists in the space his had occupied only moments earlier. 'If you get out those cuffs Catalina, I'll bet you learn a real lesson about pain.' Carl placed the key to the cuffs on the floor, just outside the reach of Catalina's foot. 'Crazy bitch.'

He picked up the remains of his clothes. As much as he enjoyed freeswinging, Carl needed to dress in case people on the road weren't partial to a naked Black man. 'Can't wear this shirt or these pants no more. The draws ain't worth shit neither, but at least they keep me from riding around like a buck naked fool.' Carl pulled on the black boxers, stole the keys to Catalina's Buffalo from a hook on the door, and crept out the door.

Then his phone rang.

Catalina stirred. Carl rifled through his pants on the floor of the cabin, extricated his phone, and swiftly made his way to the car parked beside the house. "Speak on it," he said, resting in the driver's seat.

"Carl, it's the Truth. I got that munga munga you wanted. Swing by my farm….WHOA! I don't know you! Prank caller, prank caller!" Then the line went dead.

'Damn spaced out idiot freak.'

Author's Note: This will be my last update on this story for a couple of weeks. I have more surprises coming from Cesar, Ryder, and Sweet in the next three or four chapters. Please leave comments about what you would like to see happen next. I really appreciate them.-Jay "Kidd" Grayson