Pit Of Hell: Lady claims late Prince Abubakar Audu's son raped her

While the people of Kogi State and indeed Nigerians mourned the demise of Prince Abubakar Audu, the former state governor who was contesting for the 2015 gubernatorial elections on Saturday, November 21, one lady who goes by the nameEmpress Sugarbelly on her Twitter account, was jumping up in joy.



Innocent looking Empress Sugarbelly

Her joy, according to her, came because the late Audu's sons,Mustapha, Kabir, Bashir and their cousin, Jibrin, and his friends, regularly raped her repeatedly.

This is how she started her series of tweets:

"The Prince Audu I knew was a monster, and I am glad he is dead, and I spit and I dance on his grave."
She followed up with this:

"The only thing better than Prince Abubakar Audu dying today would be if all his sons could hurry up and die too."And this:
"I'm so happy he's dead, God please hurry up and take Mustapha, Kabir, and Bashir too, and that their animal of a c ousin called Jibrin."
Recalling how Mustapha and his friends raped her repeatedly, she wrote:
"He will choke me while f***ing me. I cried and begged him but he will get angry and say I was ruining his flow.
Whenever I did not do what he or his friends wanted, he would hit me and drag me by my hair. So I learnt to be obedient.
He used to bring new friends every time. He did other unpleasant things like burn me and hold my head under water while his friends f***ed me, but that was only once or twice. I was in love with him and inside, I kept hoping he didn’t mean it and if I was obedient enough, he would go back to being the sweet guy i met."
Since her first tweet, she has been heating up with more revelations and when many people tweeted insults at her for what she has been putting up, she took her time to give an extensive narration of what she went through in the hands of the man.

Read what she wrote:
"Every time I see a white Nissan Altima, my palms go sweaty, and my knees get weak. It’s an involuntary reaction born of so many nights being driven around Asokoro pinned to the floor of Tunji’s white Nissan Altima, barely able to breathe, the stench of weed stinging my eyes while I choked on the penis of whomever it pleased Mustapha to force me to pleasure that day.

I can’t have music playing while driving around in a car either. Or just sitting around at home. I can’t have music playing period. Especially not Maroon5. If I get into your car, please drive in fucking silence or you will make it hard for me to breathe.
Right now, there are thousands of people running wild with their “opinions”, talking authoritatively about what Mustapha, Abdul, Tunji, and their band of friends and brothers did to me, as if they were there. As if they hovered around us unseen like evil spirits, listening to everything that was said, seeing everything that happened, as if they know.