over to the workbench, retrieve the Luna Caustic nitrate stick - one of my favourite tools. While I roll up my sleeves and wet the stick’s tip, I think about what a real shame it is that my captive won’t be conscious to feel the burn. I hear it is quite a unique sensation. My dick is throbbing like a stubbed toe below my zipper as I approach my captive and squat by his side. I begin to cauterise his slit wrist. The blood makes it rather difficult, however, not impossible, and I’ve had plenty of practise. “So young Dustin,” I call over my shoulder, my eyes unwavering as I work. "We will pay Mr Le Feir a visit tomorrow, make a deal. We don’t want any product besides ours hitting these streets. This is now our quartier, our District. Why is this?”
“Control the streets, control the city,” he replies, his nerves stammering through his voice. A chuckle escapes me. I think I may have scared my new partner; how quaint. It appears Dustin Nerrock doesn’t get his hands dirty; he must be a proficient delegator. But as my father once told me, ‘It is the dirt that makes the man appreciate the sparkle’.
“More importantly than Mr Fier,” I say, "is organising a meeting with the man my Capo spoke about. . .You know him. Where will we find him?”
I hear Dustin release an exaggerated breath. "He doesn't go by Paul Lucchese anymore. His name is Luca Butcher and he lives in Connolly."
