NOTE: All characters in this story are 18 or over. It also contains themes of dubious consent and interracial relationships set in a reality just a little different than ours. It will also include themes of breeding, DD/lg roleplay, and female submission to a Male Dominant. Some readers may find aspects the story offensive. If this applies, please feel free to stop reading. The real Mr. Hank Shaw has reviewed the events and character depictions that follow.
This first installment is a slow burn meant to introduce the characters and plot. I promise more erotic thrills in future installments.
1
Gravel crunched beneath my feet in time to "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor playing in my ear buds. I could feel my brunette hair, pulled into a pony tail, brushing against the back of my neck and the part of my back not covered by my sports bra as I pushed to beat the toughest hill on my training route. Today, even as each breath became more difficult and my thighs burned from not enough oxygen, I was determined to beat this bitch of a hill. My cross-country coach told me the hill's grade was over 25% while other's guestimated it to be over 30%.
I tried to focus on the true end of the hill which crested about 100 yards after the next curve. However, the next curve is a sharp 90-degree bend that deceptively looks to be the end of the road.
This is why my cross-country coach wants me running this route. To train my mind not to focus on the finish line but past it. "Tiffany, you'll set the state record next year if you just learn to run past the finish line." That is my problem, when I see the end I slow, prematurely celebrating the end of the race and my victory. That's when I'm usually passed by whatever girl is running second.
My chest heaved as I drew closer to the bend. My mind willing my body to keep running. To not slow, much less stop like it normally did at the bend. I closed my eyes as I turned the familiar corner, pleased with myself that my pace didn't change. I opened my eyes and saw the crest of the hill a football field's length away and my body gave up out of sheer exhaustion and I slowed to a walk. Disgusted with myself, I pulled the ear buds not wanting to hear Dave Bickler croon about about the last survivor knowing that she was not me.
That's when I heard the crunch of rubber on gravel road. I turned and saw a black SUV approaching with plates from the neighboring states. As it drew closer, I saw a black man behind the wheel. He slowed to a stop as he reached me, his window smoothly rolling down. "Excuse me, Miss is this King Road? My GPS doesn't have maps for these backroads." His voice is so deep, yet smooth in a mesmerizing way. Dark aviator sunglasses concealed his eyes.
"Yes...yes, Sir. But you're about at the end of it. Once you reach the crest of this hill the last quarter of mile is essentially my driveway."
He smiled, lips pulling back in a warm grin revealing incredibly white teeth. "Last house I passed was about a mile back, so wouldn't this also be your driveway?"
I felt myself aroused by the sound of his voice and his flirtations, but I doubted myself. The boys at school often preyed upon us with flirtations that felt more like they were making fun of us instead of trying to get with us. I knew what this man was doing, I just couldn't believe it. It was so confident and subtle, unlike the jocular and over-the-top delivery of my classmates. That and he looked to be in his thirties.
I was about to respond with witty teen banter when my right calf started to spasm. I bit my lip and put my hands on his car door and stretched it out.
"Are you okay, Miss?" His tone took a concerned tone yet remained calm and smooth. I imagined he would be good in an emergency.
"No, I'm fine. You pulled up just as I finished my run."
"Must've been some run."
"Ten miles, my cross-country coach has me training for a half-marathon. He says I have a real shot at being first in state. As long as I don't take my eyes off the prize."
He was silent for a moment before giving me a grin. I realized then that by leaning against his vehicle, I had given him an unobstructed view down my sports bra. "Smart man, one should never take her, or his, eyes off the prize."
I stood up, irritated at the obvious sexual overture. "I may be 18, but I'm still in high school which means you're being..."
He took off his sunglasses and I was greeted with a pair of the deepest, most amazing blue eyes I had ever seen. The dark chocolate of his skin only making them more beautiful. As my calf's insistent tightening pushed me to lean against his car door once more, I no longer cared wherever he looked.
"Hello...Miss are you there?" His voice breaking his spell over me.
"Um, what?" I said, not moving from my leaning rest and not caring each time his gaze moved towards my breasts.
"I was apologizing for being so forward. I did not mean to offend Mr. Shaw's daughter. You must be Tiffany." He smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Hank Shaw."
In a moment I felt small, as if I were the cause of offense in all the world. I had forgotten that this was the day this stranger was visiting. I shook his hand. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Shaw. I've heard my parents talking about your visit." I looked away, no longer able to meet his gaze with good conscious.
"All good things I hope."
"Yes." I lied, we didn't know this man for good or bad. Just that there was a lot of anxiety about meeting someone who shared our name because of a dark history in our family's history.
"Do you need a ride the west of the way home? You look a little hurt, and it's so hot—your perspiring."
"No, I'm fine Mr. Shaw." I allowed myself to smile at his graciousness. "It's just that I stopped moving after a long run, what I need to do is cool down and stretch." I once more met his eyes, as I looked up, I noticed his gaze did not move from my cleavage. "Besides, I'm an athlete—Barbie girls perspire, athletes sweat."
"You know when to be sweet and when to be feisty." He laughed in a booming voice that did not fail to elicit a physical reaction from me. "I look forward to seeing more of you." After taking another lingering glance at my breasts he unceremoniously rolled up his window causing me to stand up straight before he pulled away towards my house.
I took a moment to stretch before walking the rest of the way. This man while charming had been a cause of worry between my parents since his registered letter arrived. He was a Shaw not by bloodline, but by the dark stain of our nation's history. I shuddered thinking about how someone in my family once owned someone in his. When we found out that my dad's distant great-great-great-great-grandfather had owned a slave it sickened us. I spent a weekend crying that I had that blood in me.
Reparations had passed allowing for descendants to lay claim to inherited wealth that directly came from the labor of slaves. I looked around at the woods surrounding me. This land had been purchased from that distant relative in the mid-1800s and kept in the family. While my father ran a successful electrical contracting business, and we were well-off in Podunk, Missouri I heard a relative say the Shaws are land rich, but money poor.
Mr. Shaw looked like a successful man by his SUV and dress. I, like my parents, wondered what he was after. What would he do with land in the middle of nowhere? My father wondered if he wanted a stake, or complete control, of his business. This sounded like the most likely possibility.
As I neared the house my anxiety and tension became too much. Looking at his SUV parked in our actual driveway I realized that the tension was not just about the perilous situation my family found itself in. Mr. Shaw had aroused me. Knowing that my parents were too busy to come out, and being an only child, I could safely find relief just off the road a little way in the woods.
I slipped my leggings down, my moisture wicking panties going with them. I noticed the dark wet spot in them and giggled at the sight as my fingers slid down my flat belly towards my mound. My slit was already open, my lips barely poking out from them. I imagined Mr. Shaw's cock, in my mind it was thick and veiny. While a virgin, I had seen a cock or two—not ready to give it up I found a hand or blow job often took the edge of dates and made sure my previous boyfriends didn't go home with blue balls.
My fingers slid across my smooth, hairless mound in search of my hooded clit. Gently I teased it from it's hiding spot. Rubbing myself in circles, finding all the right spots, I pushed my sports bra up and teased my perky nipples. As a runner I had a lean, flat body. My breasts while not flat, were not voluptuous although the boyfriends I let grope them seemed to not mind. Especially as my nipples, surrounded by quarter sized areolas, where highly responsive to touch.
