This continues the story of Maurice and Gina, begun in Broken In By Black Cock.
Warning: This story contains Non-Consent, Interracial Sex, and Forced Cheating/Cuckolding. If any of that isn't for you, please read no further.
***
Gina woke with memories of Maurice marching through her mind. His dark, cold eyes. The high clean-shaven cheekbones the color of walnut. The long, strong muscles rippling beneath the skin. The rumble to his deep voice as he told her to do unimaginable things.
She shifted uncomfortably on the bed as she thought of how much she hated him, how he had defiled her, but also - more shamefully - how she had responded. He had made her suck his cock, forcing that huge black member between her lips, and in return she had touched herself. Called herself his whore, his slut. He had bent her over a dirty utility-room sink and fucked her, and she had cum for him. And when he had spilled his seed inside her, she had licked it out of her own panties. He would never know that last part - that was her own shame.
She felt a spurt of dampness against the inside of her thigh.
Oh god, what was wrong with her?
Was she really getting turned on at the thought? She slid a hand down across her flat stomach, under the waistband of her silk pajamas, and felt the wetness she knew would be between her legs. Jesus Christ, she was sodden. She'd never woken up this wet before. Her forefinger brushed accidentally against her swollen clit, sending a thrill through her body.
Maybe she just needed a release.
She opened her legs slightly, conscious that her boyfriend, Ben, was asleep in the bed next to her. Her fingers found her clit again and rolled soft, slick circles around it. She bit her lip to hold back a moan of pleasure.
She rolled her hips against her hand, rubbing harder now. The waves of pleasure building. She thought of Maurice behind her, filling her, stretching her. The waves built up like a mountain, towards a peak, a crescendo.
Ben grunted and rolled over. Gina pulled her hand from out of her pajamas quickly, feeling guilty and frustrated.
All that weekend, she existed in an agonizing perpetual stake of semi-arousal. Worse, she could not do anything about it. Ben hung irritatingly close to her: asking her what was wrong, if she was okay. She couldn't tell him, of course, she never would. So she told him everything was fine, that he was imagining things. In the absence of a truthful response he seemed to pout and shrink into himself - it was everything Gina could do not to snap at him. She knew it wasn't his fault. But her mind would not stop replaying scenes of Maurice, and she could not find the time alone to give her body the release it needed.
She even thought about jumping Ben's bones, using him for the pleasure she so desired. But she didn't trust herself not to think of Maurice during the act, and doing that to Ben seemed completely obscene to her.
Finally, on Sunday night, Gina thought she might get time to herself. Ben usually went to his 5-aside soccer game, and Gina was tense with anticipation for him to leave. Instead, at 6pm, he called her over. "Baby, get dressed, we're going out for dinner!"
"What? But what about soccer?" Gina tried to hide her dismay but couldn't help a trickle of frustration making its way into her voice.
Ben furrowed his brow. "Soccer isn't important. I want to take you to dinner, I can tell you haven't been yourself this weekend. That new Italian place has just opened on West Street. I thought you'd be excited?"
Gina exhaled.
He's trying to do something nice for you.
She forced enthusiasm into her voice. "Of course I'm excited baby! That sounds amazing. Let me get changed."
She wore her favourite black minidress. It showed just a hint of her slight cleavage, and clung tight to the curves of her waist and hips, ending just beneath her round, pert butt - high up on her thighs, pulling them in together so that she had to take small steps. She paired it with some dainty heels so her gait really was short and tottering. Underneath she wore pink silk panties and no bra. A more voluptuous woman wouldn't get away with this outfit, she knew. They would spill out of it in ways polite company wouldn't allow. But on her petite frame it accented her toned, slender asian figure. She curled her long brown hair into ringlets and admired herself in the bathroom mirror. She knew she looked good, especially the way the tanned golden-brown skin of her shoulders and collarbone emerged from the tight fabric.
They arrived at the restaurant and Ben held out her chair for her as they were shown to their table. The perfect gentlemen. She shuffled her pinned-together thighs onto the seat and picked up her menu, pleased to be able to spend some quality time with Ben and trying her best to put the other night with Maurice out of her mind.
But as Ben began to discuss the menu, she saw something that chilled her to her very bones. Directly opposite her, over Ben's shoulder, three men had just been shown to the table nearest them. Three black men, two of them with beards and one, the tallest, was clean-shaven. With high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and an almost panther-like grace.
No, it couldn't be.
As Maurice sat down, his eyes fluttered in her direction. They met her own. He gave a take of recognition, and the tiniest, cruel smile.
Gina recoiled backwards, at the same time as her pussy gave a pulse inside her panties. She shoved her chair backwards, squeaking the legs loudly across the floor, which caused several other tables to look over at her. Ben had been mid sentence but she didn't care, couldn't worry about being rude. She had to get out of there. Away from
him
.
"Sorry... bathroom," she muttered absent-mindedly as she got up and fled as quickly as her tight dress would allow her.
The women's bathroom was mercifully empty. She clung onto the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She was hyperventilating at the sight of her abuser. Was she having a panic attack, she wondered? But something else was going on too, she felt it down below, down between her legs. Looking to either side to be sure she was alone, she reached down and slid a hand up under her dress. Her fingers came away wet. She had leaked almost completely through her panties, she could feel it at the tops of her thighs.
In her mind she heard his deep, gravelly voice, ""Reach back and open your lips for me whore."
And then a response, an echo in her own voice, ""Please master. Please fuck me. Please."
She blinked and shook her head, trying to empty her mind of the voices.
What was happening to her?
She was not a whore, not this man's plaything.
Then, to her horror, she heard a voice that was not in her head. The deep, low French accent that she knew without a doubt belonged to her rapist. "Hello, is anyone in there?"
He had followed her to the bathroom! She took a sharp breath then held it, trying not to move. This was the women's bathroom. He wouldn't come in here, would he? Wouldn't risk...
The bathroom door began to push open.
Oh god, no, no
. She ran towards it but too late, it opened wide and in the doorway stood the tall frame of Maurice.
He stepped forward and let the door swing closed behind him. He gave a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I thought it was you. My little slut."
The word
slut
stung like a slap. "Don't come any closer! I... I'll scream!" But even Gina herself heard the words come out too quietly from her lips, without conviction.
"No, I don't think you will." He stepped closer, so that he was towering over her now, handsome and ominous. "You see, I know you enjoyed our time the other night. I saw it in you."
"No, I... I..."
"You
did
." He insisted. "You may hate yourself for it, but your body responded. I made you feel things you have never felt before. It's not unusual."
"I... I..." Gina's mind has stalled. She couldn't get any words out. His scent filled her nostrils, the very presence of him seemed to shut her down.
He reached out and took a ringlet of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this," he said distractedly. "Tell me, what did you do with my present on Friday night?"
"I... I don't know what..."
"My cum, dear girl. In your beautiful little pussy. I put a lot inside you. It must have gone somewhere."
"I... I..."
Lie!
Her mind screamed at her.
Tell him you flushed it!
"I ate it." Her voice was the smallest whisper. She couldn't look him in the eye. "It was all in my panties, there was such a mess... leaking out of me. I took them off and I... I licked it. Licked your cum, out of my panties, and swallowed it."
She couldn't believe she was telling him this.
"You ate my cum out of your panties?" She winced, his voice was shockingly loud. He grinned at her. "You are a good little whore. Have you been thinking of me since?"
"Y-yes." Somehow she couldn't bring herself to lie, even as she cringed at her own words. "I can't stop." She felt a fresh spurt of wetness between her legs.
"Would you like another look?"
She opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. He took a handful of her hair and pulled her gently forwards.
"Down on your knees." And she complied, dropping slowly to one knee and then the second in front of him.
His free hand unbuckled his belt, and then unzipped his trousers, freeing his enormous manhood so it flopped out at Gina's eye level. In spite of herself, she gasped. She knew how big he was, but somehow it was still a surprise in the flesh.
"Take a good look," he said, and she did. He was fully erect, nearly the size of her forearm, his skin like black satin. At the end of his bulbous head a bead of precum glistened in the light. The sight of it transfixed her. Unconsciously, she licked her glossed lips, tasting raspberry.
"You can suck it, if you like. Or you can go back outside to eat with your boyfriend. I won't force you." As if to demonstrate the truth of his words, he let go of her hair.
