“I’ll kill your fuckin ass!” G dragged me all over that room, wiping up the floor with me. My arms and back were on fire, but G also wanted my soft parts. He wanted some stomach. He swung his foot and kicked me in the ribs, then buried his heel in my gut so hard I threw up vomit that tasted like blood.

G beat me until he got tired; huffing and puffing and plain worn-out. By then I had crawled underneath the dining table, cringing and crying, my lips busted, my nose bleeding, my whole body in shock. I watched him from between the chair legs as he walked back over to the living room area and sat back down on the sofa, then pulled off his one sock and lay back on the couch in the same position he was in before I had come in and jumped bad in his face.

G fell back asleep, and I would have stayed under that table the whole night, scared to move, if he hadn’t woke up about an hour later and threatened to turn that bitch over and drag me out from under it if I didn’t come over to him.

“Go comb your hair, Juicy,” he said real quiet-like. “And wash all that dried snot off your face. When you come back out here I want you in some red panties and a see-through top.”

What this nigger got planned? I asked myself, because I sure as hell didn’t know. But I did like he said. I hobbled into the bathroom and stood over the sink, all the while dying to fill that big old tub up with hot water and sink my aching bones down into it. I started crying again as soon as I looked in the mirror. G had fucked me up. My right eye was getting black and both my cheeks were red and swollen. I washed my face and put my hair back in a ponytail, then went into the bedroom and dug in my bag until I found some silky red drawers. I couldn’t find a shirt that was see-through, but I had this sheer black throw that I’d bought to wear over a bikini, so I threw that on.

G made me stand there in front of him for about ten minutes. I was scared to move, and scared to speak. Finally he nodded and said, “Drag that table over to the wall.”

I bent over and pulled that heavy-ass table across the room without opening my mouth.

“Now climb up there on it.”

I climbed up on the table and stood there feeling stupid.

“Now dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yeah. Dance. Pretend like you hear some music, and dance.”

Slowly, I moved my feet from side to side, clapping my hands a bit and popping my fingers. G started shaking his head.

“Uh-uh, Juicy. You can do better than that.” He stood up and came over to me, and even though I was standing on that coffee table he was still taller than me.

Something in G’s eyes told me he wanted me to fuck up, even just a little bit, so he could kick my ass again. “Gone, girl. Dance like you one of them hoes at the Spot. Dance like you danced with that motherfuckin faggot in your class. Matter fact, Juicy, dance for Daddy until my dick gets hard.”

So I danced. Sore and scared as I was, I danced my ass off, rubbing my hands over my titties, shaking my ass in his face, grinding my hips into the air. G didn’t look the least bit turned on. In fact, it looked like he got madder and madder the more I moved, but each time I tried to slow down or stop, he would wave me on and tell me More ass, girl! Shake more ass!

The ultimate humiliation came when he called Gino’s room and woke him up and told him to come over. I couldn’t even look in Gino’s face as G made him take a seat next to him and watch the Juicy-Mo Show.

I stood up on that table feeling worse than naked. I felt like a big ho, a cheap-ass slut, and a no-good bitch, which were all the things G was calling me as he pointed my good features out to his son, who had already explored them firsthand. “This one fine bitch, ain’t she? Look at them titties,” he said. “You ever see any that pretty before? Round as coconuts with them thick-ass nipples. And that ass. Lord have mercy. You could sit a cup on it that booty it’s so damn round!”

I danced and I cried. G told me to take off my panties right there in front of Gino, and to slip two fingers into my pussy. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have? I knew he would’ve beat me half to death, and maybe Gino, too, if I didn’t obey him, so I pulled those panties off and put my hand between my legs.

“Damn, G.” Gino stood up and started walking away. “Chill, dawg. How you treating your lady? This your woman, man.”

G just laughed at his back. “You damn right. This my woman.”

Gino slammed the door behind him and I was left standing on that table with my thong in my hand. I knew the drill, so I wasn’t surprised at all by what G told me to do. Minutes later I was on my knees, kneeling on that cold marble table with my ass up in the air. G had wrapped my panties around my head and rammed his dick up my ass. “Pillow-biting bitch! Take this dick up your dookey chute, slut! Give Daddy some of that chocolate pudding!” He rode me from behind and choked me with those panties until I thought I would pass out, but never once did I cry out or scream for help. Gino had already seen me violated worse than a dog, and there was no way I wanted him to see me being dicked down like this.

Later that night, I crawled into that tub and soaked myself in water so hot I should have got first-degree burns. G had brutalized me in the past, but never had he showed me out in public, and I realized that if G could let another man, even his son, see my naked ass in his presence, then his feelings for me had taken a serious turn. There was no telling what he had planned for me next, but between Jimmy working the cut room and selling drugs, and me sexing Gino on the regular, either I was gonna take G out, or he was definitely gonna kill me.

I was so scared of my thoughts that I wanted to put my head under the soapy bathwater and just stay like that forever. As bad as G had hurt me, he was my comfort zone and he took care of me and Jimmy. I’d never been on my own before, and I was scared of us ending up on the streets.

A few minutes later I heard G on the phone. He was going back and forth about times and connecting flights, so I knew he talking to someone at the airline.

I grabbed a washcloth and acted like I was soaping myself when he bammed on the door and stuck his head inside. “Get the fuck out, Juicy,” he told me. “So I can wash my dick. We leaving here tonight at nine, so pack your shit and get ready to roll.”

Our vacation was over.

The trip home from Hawaii took much longer than the one going there had taken. G wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me, and Gino got so mad when he saw the bruises on my face and the marks my panties had made around my neck, I thought he was gonna mess around and get us found out.

“Naw, Juicy,” he said when G was at the counter settling our hotel bill. It was all I could do not to throw myself all over him, to hold his hands and press myself into his strong chest, but I knew better. “That punk motherfucker did my mother the same way.”

“Sshhhh.” I put my finger to my lip, knowing G was probably listening with one ear. “I’m all right,” I whispered, hoping to calm his ass down even though he could see the welts on my face, arms, and legs, and my back felt like a horse had stomped me.

I could see the rage in Gino’s eyes, and for the first time I felt bad about stepping between a father and his son. Yeah, G wasn’t shit when it came to handling his business with a woman, but that didn’t mean I had the right to bring drama between him and his son.

We were quiet all the way to the airport. G had called for a limo to pick us up at the hotel and we rode in that shit like we were going to a funeral. I tried not to look at Gino too often because every time I did, it looked like he was grilling G. He had already got funky and called himself messing with G’s head when he climbed in the back of the whip.