The Abattoir #1 by David Zuzelo Draft 1
Prologue: Slyck n' the Slaughterhouse Slyck loved watching this little white bitch lick his knob. They called him Slyck and that was how he liked his skull fucking—slobbering sloppy and extra wet. This little girl must have thought it would be fun playing hooker in his stable, but she had to take her lessons first. Slyck's customers expected quality, and he made sure all his girls knew how to suck dick like they were draining the last bit of oxygen on earth out of them balls. And at the bottom of it, he liked giving them the lessons. Why the fuck not? He was a man of leisure and leisure could be spelled H-E-A-D for all he cared. This girl was young and eager as hell to please... and she needed Slyck's special treats as well. She'd get a ride on her favorite white horse after eating all that ballsauce he had been building up since he banged that fat ho that called herself Sanura down on 41st Street this morning. He didn't get a good nut off that hog so this little lesson was as welcome as rain on a Sunday night on the deuce for a stretched out pussy. “Suck that shit down baby... Ol' Slyck got the good shit down there, some nice deep Kongo jizz for your pretty white tummy to enjoy...yeah...” His tone sugar coated the words to his stable of high priced whores every day, and it worked on this new bitch like a charm. “Fuck yeah....you show me how much you are worth girl...you show me! Damn! How old are you again? You feel like you been eating this big dick for twenty years...” The girl looked up into Slyck's eyes and kept the tip of his rod in her mouth and muttered softly to him “I'd suck your dick for days if you've got the treats you know this little pussy kitten needs daddy. I swear you are the first cock this big though...damn daddy....never seen one like this on a white boy.” Slyck liked what he heard and it brought him right up to the edge of shooting a load down her throat—or better yet, smack dab between her bloodshot blue eyes right on that pretty little nose. Yeah, she would produce some fine finders fees for sure. She's too damn young to burn out slurping sloppy on a Thursday night down on the strip. He knew a better place to trick her stupid ass out too... but not until she finished a whole lot more of Slyck's Big Dick Educational Probation for Reprobation Without Masturbation. Shit, she was well on her way to getting a degree in ball swallowing one o' one, but he knew damn well that the drug shit was going to kill her. Looking at the calender on the wall of his office at a wide pussy posed girl the pimp decided that Ms. July 1974 on this Players Picnic Calender had it all and he had to find out who had her on the stroll... time for some more dickdown lessons from Mr. Slyck. The calender always made him smile, it was a one of his little pet projects and gave his workers depot slash office a touch of class and ass that everyone who came by would remember. This crib wasn't exactly plush-o-licious because it was the downtown office and space is tight in Manhattan these days... but it would do. It was the third of
the month by the X-ed off days on the calender and the big town was coming right up on that hot ass happy holiday--and his girls would be jumping or they would be getting jumped on by his special motivational tactical squad. Slyck wanted to focus on what he had right here. He would work this girl through her paces, maybe pop that ass cherry and call up the slanty eyed muthafucker Fujita and sell her off to the stupid Caucasian starved Japs as fast as he could. Oh, but he wasn't going to let her go without tasting all the goods first. All the goods. All that business thinking had to wait now since he was just about to let go of his spunk in a real nice way. Glancing down to watch the big event he noticed that the little trick didn't even seem to be paying attention, she was checking out his desktop with the works all splashed out for her reward. “Fuckin' little junkie bitch, you better get ready to suck on this before you get your fix today... and tomorrow and tomorrow and... Ha shit...yeah.....” He moaned out one last sound of “ahhhhhhh” as his full testicles tensed and got ready to fire off the caustic seed, but it turned quickly to a sound of panic as the door to the office made a sound. A loud fucking sound that reminded him of a baseball bat striking a car windshield. “Fuck me!” was Slyck's way of telling the girl to get off his dipstick and out of his way because someone was running up on his business right now. He needed to get to the guns he was so proud of but didn't think he would ever need. Nobody fucked with Slyck down on 40th Street...before today. The door made one last cracking sound and shattered beneath the force of a heavy blow. Naked, and sporting his nine inch hard on, Slyck realized he wasn't going to make it to his weapons anytime soon he started to turn around to see exactly who was causing all the noise. He still imagined that nobody would dare give him static and this was a big fucking joke. He heard the visitor's voice before he saw him, and it didn't sound like a joke at all... “Sarah...come with me.” Sarah? The pimp never bothered to get the girls name because, taking her as a reference from Adamson was good enough. He knew that whoever this cat was to come in like the calvary storming his studio was not going to be happy seeing this girl glazed up like a donut. The cold didn't make his dick shrink down... it was fear. Pushing that aside Slyck tried to be cool and take it all in. White dude. Big. Far beyond anger he came off more like a deadly eyed Buddha being all calm and ready to take no shit. The guy must have been 6 feet and a few extra inches and was dressed in some kind of black jumpsuit... like a military man. But the national guard probably didn't want any part of his cheap pimping action. Eyes like steel locked with the flesh peddler's widened gaze. Slyck knew that this crazy looking cracker who broke up a nice skulling was here on business... Business of the worst type. Killing business. And while that killing business was about to get underway he busted the worst, and maybe last, nut of his life right on the girls face...fuck...her name was Sarah it looked like, and it looked like this dude wouldn't be pleased with Slyck's business up on her pretty little lips like that. What Slyck didn't know was that this girl was the daughter of the very angered man who smashed down his door a few seconds ago. He didn't know that this man had just come home from a war he had taken few positive lessons from... a man who sat in a P.O.W. Camp up to his balls in floating shit and hungry rats in a Duc Lap and wandered through Free Fire Zones as a reward for escape for over a year. He couldn't
know that all he wanted was to see his wife and daughter. His wife was dead...and his daughter was here. Sucking Slyck's dick for one fix. This was going to be a day that would start a whole new chapter for Slyck the pimp who thought he was the baddest on the deuce until about 20 seconds ago. Slyck couldn't realize that he would be the first bite into the rotted flesh of the bottom feeders in his city. New York would be meeting annihilation in the form of a man... a merciless machine fueled on anger and given to fits of violent rage balanced only by his own personal sense of justice. Unknowing and only a half a minute out from busting a nut, the pimp stood at the gates of a walking slaughterhouse who had been known as Alex Cooke. He would be called The Abattoir to his enemies...