Freedom's Game Trilogy by Cyrus Miles

Author:Cyrus Miles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mia black, wahida clark, sister souljah, coldest winter ever
Publisher: Felony Books
Published: 2018-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Between a bad man and a snake, the snake is better; a snake only bites at times, but a bad man with every step.—Sufi Master Ali

FREEDOM WAS DRIVING through the Horseshoe and on his way home when he got the call from Bullet. He could tell from the old pimp’s voice that he was nervous about the whole operation, but he had done what he was told. Energized by the call for action, he quickly pulled into the nearest parking lot and checked his phone to see the recorded footage. The inbox for each hidden camera was loaded with video clips. He scrolled through hours of footage of Genteel and Trish doing subhuman acts with all types of men. They ranged everywhere from a huge, sweaty Samoan to a sharply dressed black dwarf and the girls “took” them all on with the same blank, detached expression.

He scrolled all the way to the bottom until he saw his first shot of Criswell and Genteel. The slim, middle-aged cop sat naked on the bed while Genteel pulsated and stomped around the room doing her best striptease. He fast-forwarded a few minutes until he saw Criswell crawling on the floor in front of the large woman. He kissed and rubbed her wide, ashy feet before lying down so that she could walk all over him. The sight of the two-hundred plus hooker stepping on Criswell’s groin made Freedom’s stomach hurt, but he still needed more leverage.

He switched to the bathroom camera footage and saw Criswell smoking a rock out of a glass tube.

“Yeah, got your crooked ass,” he said to himself as he watched Criswell lie down in the grimy bathtub.

Genteel stepped in and squatted over the naked cop and Freedom quickly stopped the playback. He had seen enough already, too much for his own peace of mind, but he couldn’t help himself. He pushed play and immediately regretted it as he saw Genteel release a torrent of urine all over the depraved cop.

“Fuck, that dude is nasty,” he said and looked away from the phone as he pawed the off button.

He copied a small snippet of the last video and emailed it to Kev. “Here you go, you freaky motherfucker. That should cheer your ass up,” he said and laughed to himself as he sent it.

He sped off toward the Redux Inn, trying to make sure he got there before Criswell left. Screeching to a halt in the back of the motel, he hopped out and jogged to room 69. He pulled out his phone to double check that Criswell was still there and checked the live footage. The crooked cop was handcuffed to the bed, with Genteel on top of him, bouncing up and down. Her huge, lumpy ass writhed and undulated as if it wasn’t attached to her body.

He stuck the phone in his pocket and pulled his M11 out of his waist band. He gently tested the knob to see if it was locked. It was, so he checked to make sure the parking lot was clear.

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