NOTE: This story contains themes not everyone will enjoy or appreciate such as interracial love, reparations, and dubious consent. If this is something you find objectionable, there are many other fine stories on Literotica to tickle your fantasy. I would also like to thank the real Hank Shaw for his insight which was especially helpful in crafting this installment.
All characters are 18+.
SYNOPSIS: In an alternate reality, reparations have been passed in the US. On his way to meet with the man with whom he's seeking reparations from has a chance encounter with Tiffany, the man's daughter. The encounter leaves an impression on both and Hank makes a deal with her father that he'll hold off on filing his claim if she dates him for six months and the courtship results in marriage.
In part two, we see their first date which ends in the local motel. Tiffany loses her virginity, but when she wakes up Hank is nowhere to be seen and she couldn't reach him. When he returns it's revealed he went to buy breakfast and new dress to replace the one that was torn the night before. However, the trip took longer than expected and he returns with a black eye...
8
"Hank! Your eye! What happened?" I took the bags from him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the bed. Maddie leapt to her feet and headed for the ice bucket. He sat down and I joined him, looking at the black eye.
"It was nothing, don't worry about it."
"Tiffany, you're out of ice. I'll go grab some." I nodded as she headed out the door. It shut behind her, but she had a keycard to let herself back in.
"It doesn't look like nothing." I looked closer. "Looks like someone punched you good."
"You're not going to let this go?" He looked at me and I shook my head no. "What if I told you I didn't want to talk about it and pushing would not go in the wife material column."
"I would ask: what kind of wife worth her salt wouldn't push or be concerned when her husband comes home with a black eye?"
He sighed and looked at me, studying me. "It was a sock actually. Full of coins. And there were a group of them. I'm not going to tell you everything they said, but they let me know I wasn't wanted." He chuckled. "They pointed out they didn't care about my skin color—just about the reparations. Then how I treated you." His eyes narrowed as a cloud of rage crossed his face and then faded. I wondered how often that cloud had passed across his face, and how often he repressed things. "It's not about me being Black." He scoffed. "My ass."
The door lock clicked with an electronic buzz and Maddie entered with the bucket full of ice. She wrapped a handful of ice in a hand towel and brought it to me. "Listen, I'm going to get back to work. I'll tell my parents something happened, I'm sure they'll be cool with a late check-out."
"Thanks, Maddie." I said as she backed out the door, before turning my attention back to Mr. Shaw. "Did you see them? A license plate number?"
He chuckled. "Slow down, Sherlock. I was more concerned about just getting out of the situation alive. I had already been to Walmart to pick you up some clothes and was walking out of McDonald's when they jumped me."
"Did they say anything?" I lightly pressed the ice pack against his bruised eye. He flinched then relaxed.
"Thanks, they told me to get the fuck out of town in the least polite way possible. Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have come to this piece of shit town."
I looked away in shame.
I felt his finger on my chin as he forced me to look at him. "Hey, look it's not all bad. I got to meet you." I wanted to believe his smile wasn't forced.
"No. You're right, I thought we were more progressive than that. Did you call the police?"
He laughed, a deep laugh that started in his belly. "You've got a lot to learn, white girl." He leaned over and kissed me. "Your innocence is endearing. Now why don't you get a pair of thigh highs out of the bag and let me watch you put them on."
"Okay, you bought me more?"
"I also got you a dress. But don't put it on."
I looked through the Walmart bags. The dress was a burgundy minidress with a beige floral pattern black mesh over it. It was cute, and I thought he had good taste. There were also three pairs of black thigh highs and matching low-rise combat boots. "What about panties?"
"Oh, lil' girl you don't need panties."
I sat on the bed opposite the one he sat on, I bent over and started putting on the first nylon stocking.
"No, no, no! Didn't your mom ever show you the right way to put them on?"
I looked at him in confusion. "Did your mom teach you?"
"No, porn did, now put them on like a porn star. First, keep your knees together and lift one foot off the floor." I did as he instructed. "Good, good. Now point your toes towards me and lean over. Now slip the stocking over them." I obeyed his instruction, and his bulge let me know he approved of my effort. He told me to slow down. "I want to enjoy the show. The little peek at your pussy when you have to slightly spread your legs to pull them in place on your thighs."
I savored him lusting after me—I hoped I was taking his mind off the attack. I felt like a porn star, something I never thought I would enjoy. I repeated the sensual steps with my other leg. As I slipped the other stocking into place, I spread my legs a little wider to give him a lingering glance of my smooth, young pussy. I looked up and smiled at him, I noticed his expression was pained. I didn't know it then, later I would realize his better angels were doing battle with his demons. "Hank—Daddy—what's wrong?"
He moved like lightning. I didn't have time to flinch or tense as he raised his right hand back and delivered a stinging backhand across my face. My head twisted from the force. Had I not been completely surprised, and my neck relaxed, I might've been seriously hurt. Instead I fell back on the bed, my hands going to my face, touching the hot spot where his hand hit me. I started to cry.
"Why the fuck do you hate me?" He asked, his voice low. His anger unleashed yet constrained. "Why the fuck do you people feel it's okay to attack someone with brown skin?" He raged as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me to the edge of the bed.
My head spun in confusion as he towered over me. "I'm sorry—I'm not like that!" I sobbed.
"Shut the fuck-up, cracker bitch!" His voice, no louder than a whisper, more terrifying than any shout. "You're willing to be reparations? This is reparations, cunt!" He growled as he sat down on the bed. I sat up and leaned my head on his right shoulder.
"Yes, I'm willing." I said in my softest voice.
He grabbed me by the neck and pushed me across his lap and pulled the shirt up revealing my bare bottom. With his left hand he held my face into the bed and then started barehanded spanking me. Each spank echoed through the room. I tried to be still and take it, but his hands were large and unconstrained like the spankings I got as a kid. "An eye for an eye they say. I can't do that to a white woman. Even if she belongs to me. At least not in an inbred hick town like here."
His hand came down on my bare ass. "I can't blacken your eye the same way your people blackened mine." Another savage spank. "But I can bruise your skinny white ass. Make you squirm every time you sit for the next week." I couldn't help but squirm and even tremble as he rained punishment upon me.
I apologized. But my voice was silenced by the bed as he held my face pinned to the mattress. It was getting hard to breathe. I started seeing stars and while I heard everything happening in the room, I felt very far away from it too. My body started going limp across his knee. And just as I was about to slip under, the pressure on my head was released and I gulped for air.
His hands entwined in my hair and he pulled me onto my back. Grabbing my ankles, he spread my legs and climbed between them. "As long as you're a quiet bitch, I'll let you breathe." He said as he pushed his cock against my slit.
I nodded as he thrust into me. I closed my eyes as he violated me. This wasn't lovemaking. He was desecrating me, this was more than fucking. He penetrated me, reminding me that I was now his. In that moment he had complicated me as he forced himself on me—I had consented the moment I started teasing him with putting on the stockings. I expected more of the previous night, maybe even some lovemaking.
Instead he fucked me like an enraged animal. The moment was primal. He had been hurt, and not just a single incident but a lifetime of incidents bursting through a flawed dam. Here behind closed doors he could break. He could take his rage out on me. I felt his hand on my neck, I tilted my chin up submitting as he began to squeeze.
"This is part of being my wife. Letting me hate-fuck you." He growled as he whispered in my ear. "Your people isolated mine and this breeds anger. I have no faith in the system. If you want my everything—this is part of it." He bit my breast to emphasize the point, bringing a choked squeal to my lips.
"I said be quiet. I don't want our hillbilly, meth-head neighbor thinking I'm raping you and calling the cops. I'm not going home in a coffin." He reached over and grabbed a pillow and began smothering me. "This is called breath play. Normally it's fun, but right now it's gonna keep your dumbass quiet."
With his cock completely sheathed inside me, holding a pillow over my face with his left hand, he began slapping my breasts with his other hand. "Maybe I'll bruise these titties too. Leave my mark on you." He began slapping my breasts and twisting my nipples causing me to squirm beneath him.
Soon he grew bored with my tits and started wildly fucking me. I wrapped my stocking clad legs around his waist and weakly pulled him into me. I could still breathe, but barely. I could hear it coming out in rasps as I became light-headed. My vision began to go black. My ears began to ring, but I could hear every grunt and ball slap as he had his way with my body. My limbs felt like they were far away as my world went black and I was aware of nothing.
I came to a moment later, my vision fuzzy as it came back. The sounds of the room seemed like I was underwater. Anytime I tried to move reminded me of the one time I had been drunk. He was still pounding into me, his hands groping my aching breasts. "Welcome back, cunt. You passed out for a minute or two. I like the quiet."
He pulled out of me. "On all fours." He commanded and on quivering legs and arms, think he wanted doggie. I felt him push between my ass cheeks and against my butthole. "Wrong hole!" I said, trying to keep my voice at a panicked whisper.
"Fuck you, wrong hole. My ass" He laughed and started pushing into my ass. "You want to belong to me. You want to save the family business and farm. You want to make up for my black-eye and everything your family did to mine—all three of your holes belong to me!" He didn't even spit, the only lube as he pushed into me was from my pussy and what cum remained from the 24 hours prior.
His fingers dug into my waist as he began to pound me. I buried my face in the bed as he took me. His balls slapping against my pussy. It hurt as he destroyed my virgin ass, stretching it without care to my comfort or enjoyment. Mr. Shaw literally took his anger out on my ass.
He let go of my right side and smacked my bruised ass cheek. He began spanking me again. I felt my skin grow hot from the abuse. It hurt, but something inside me was starting to awaken. Crave the punishment. As an athlete I was used to pain, savoring it because it made me stronger. Now it was being twisted and woven within sexual desire and pleasure.
I felt him grow inside me, stretching me more than I thought possible. His thrusting slowed and became more purposeful. Then one final thrust he held in place and I felt his warm cum explode inside me. My body shuddered as I experienced an intense orgasm. I collapsed on the bed, but just for a moment. As he rolled off me with no desire for intimacy. I felt an intense pressure that forced me to run into the bathroom, I heard Mr. Shaw laughing behind me.
After I finished in the bathroom I stepped into the room and sat down on the bed. "Do you want to talk about anything?"
"No." He said and rose to his feet to go to the bathroom. He shut the door and I heard the click of the lock followed by the shower turning on. I curled into a ball on the bed and started to sob, processing what had just happened. After what seemed an eternity, I heard the bathroom door open. Moments later I was lifted off the floor and carried to the bathroom where Mr. Shaw washed me.
