Becoming Reparations Pt. 03

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.

9

Between the shower, time, and fresh make-up Mr. Shaw's handprint became invisible. I slipped into the dress he bought me. The hem falling to a few inches above my knees. I wore a fresh pair of black thigh highs and the combat boots. I looked at myself in the mirror, realizing just how much I looked like mom in pictures from the '90s when she was my age.

Not a word passed between us since he bathed me. The warm water felt so wonderful on my body. Afterwards we dressed in silence, not even speaking when he went to the front office to check out while I put finishing touch-ups on my hair and make-up. I was terrified that everything had fallen apart. That he would return to Chicago and never speak to me again. If so, would he push forward with his claim or forget about us like a bad dream? Also, what if I were pregnant?

I wondered what my lover was thinking. I wondered if he was still my lover, and the thought that he may not be broke my heart a little.

10

We left once his SUV was loaded. As we turned onto the road from the parking lot his hand found my knee as he broke the silence. "You impressed me back there."

"How?"

He took a deep breath. "How you took my rage. How you let me use you to vent that anger."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand what happened." I said softly as his hand ran up and down my thigh. "I just went with what felt was right."

"You've got a good head on your shoulders. You might fit in in Bucksnort."

"Bucksnort?"

"Yeah. It's where I live, me and a few other Black businessmen bought up some land in rural Illinois outside of Chicago. A buddy named it after a tourist trap town in this hillbilly state. Now it's a majority black suburb where we live some semblance of the dream in safety."

"It sounds wonderful. I hope to see it soon."

"You do?"

I nodded. "Yes. I didn't think back there, like I said I just reacted. I was worried about you. When I woke-up alone I was terrified. Then as it got later and later and no word from you, I began freaking out. Then I saw your eye." I took a deep breath. "When you got angry it was like a switch flipped. I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. I could just feel, and it seemed like you needed some release. So, I rolled with it. I don't consider what happened rape. I don't know what to call it but, not that."

He put his hand on my knee.

"Does that mean I'm still your lil' girl, Daddy?"

The mood of the SUV lifted as he smiled. "Of course, lil' one."

11

Mr. Shaw stopped just out of sight from my parent's house and leaned over to kiss me. He also removed the collar from my neck. He sighed. "Yesterday, I lost my head a little. I got too cocky. Let my guard down and got knocked back on my ass. I was an idiot and wasn't careful."

"I don't follow." I said.

"No. No you don't. But that's okay, you only know what you know." He put the collar in his glove box, a look of disappoint crossed my face. "Wait, did you want to hold onto it?"

"Well. Yeah. Sort of." I shrugged my shoulders. "What was it my parents called it in the '90s? We're going steady? And I don't see you wearing a class ring for me to wear as a necklace or wind yarn around to make it stay on my finger."

"Do kids still do that?" He asked, surprised.

"I haven't seen it. But I've seen dad's ring with the yarn mom spun around it in '94."

"Okay, lil' girl if my collar means that much to you." I took it and couldn't help but beam as I leaned over to kiss him. "But be careful. I need to start making a good impression on your dad if I'm going to become family."

I slouched in my seat as the weight of the situation pressed down on me. "This is complicated. Isn't it?"

"It sure is. I came here not giving a fuck about you people. I was going to get mine and leave you to whatever fate. Now. Now I don't know. I thought maybe I could set-up a Bucksnort here in Missouri. Attract fam from STL. We got lucky in Illinois. Don't think we'd get that lucky here." He put a hand on my knee and slid it up my thigh and cupped my pussy. "But finding a trophy wife is a nice consolation prize."

I let out a soft moan. I was thankful to be going home because I didn't want another round of fucking. My pussy and ass ached from his repeated use of one and deflowering of the other. However, he knew just how to touch me. Soon my legs were spread, and I was gripping the arm rests. Then he stopped, put the SUV in gear and drove the last little ways.

"Rude." I pouted.

We pulled into the drive and my parents hurried out to meet us. "You're walking funny." Mom whispered as she hugged me, bringing a blush to my face. Of the two, she was the most open about sex—but it was still a topic she would avoid if able. So, I was a little shocked.

"Mr. Shaw." Hank said to my father, extending a hand.

"Mr. Shaw." Dad said, taking it. "What happened to your eye?"

"I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. Just know, your daughter was nowhere near the situation."

Hank and Dad had a staring contest while me and mom watched from the sidelines. It was tense for a moment until Dad spoke. "Okay. A man's business is his. As long as it doesn't hurt my daughter, it's none of mine. Are you heading back to Chicago now?"

"Yep."

"Will you be coming back?"

"That's complicated. If you're asking if I'll be coming back in person—not if I can help it. If you're asking if I plan on keep dating your daughter, that's the plan."

Dad looked away, his expression unreadable. "Steph and I were talking last night. I'll be honest, I don't like the situation. Tiffany?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Do you like this man? Do you want to keep seeing him?"

"I do, Dad."

"You're not just saying this, are you?" Dad turned and looked at me. "After some soul searching, I'd rather lose the business than you do something you'll regret and hate us for. I don't want to lose my daughter." I saw a tear slide down his cheek.

I stepped away from mom to stand next to the two men. I took their hands in mine. "Last night and this morning have been incredible. I do like Hank." It was the first time I said his first name that it sounded natural coming from my mouth. "Yes, I would like to keep seeing him."

Dad nodded. "Well, Mr. Shaw. Before you hit the long road back to Chicago would you like to stay and have an early homecooked meal? I've got some steaks thawed."

"That would be fantastic." Hank squeezed my hand. "If we're breaking bread, please call me Hank."

12

While dad and Hank started grilling, mom walked me upstairs to my bedroom. "I like the dress. If you want some truly vintage stuff, I've got some of my stuff boxed up in the basement."

"Mom." I blushed as we stepped into my bedroom and took a seat on my bed.

"Well, I'm assuming he picked this out for you because the one you left in got torn?"

"He did." I knew where she was going, that if he liked the retro look, I had a free wardrobe. "And I guess looking through to see what fits me wouldn't be that bad either. For a little while at least."

"I take it he didn't use a condom?"

I must've been redder than a fire truck by this point. "No."

She smiled softly. "On one hand it feels so much better for both of you. On the other hand..."