Post-Nuptial Agreement Ch. 01-02

Content Warning: I classified the story in Non-consent/reluctance and I mean it. This is a very dark story. Most of the characters are not nice people, and almost every incident of sex involves at least one person who isn't on board with what's going on. There is some violence as well. Nothing that goes beyond what happens in BDSM, but again, often the recipient isn't consenting, so that changes things a lot. For readers who follow me, this is a very sharp departure from the kind of thing I usually write. The upside is that while the story's ending may not necessarily be happy, it's not depressingly bleak, at least in my opinion.

I wrote this story a while ago. I'd published the first two chapters but they weren't well received so I took them down and tweaked them a little. I don't know if the story will appeal more than it did the first time but I have the material written so I figured I'd put it out. The whole thing is written so chapters will be larger and published faster. Hopefully some people will still be entertained by this.

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"Yes! Oh fuck yes," Violet cried out as the long, hard cock of Cherise's boyfriend pushed between her pussy lips.

His dark-skinned hands clamped down on her waist and furthered his pounding of her pussy. Violet started up on her arms but the energy Jim used to fuck her was too much and she pitched forward on the bed, the silken top of the comforter rubbing on her face and tits. She curled her hands in the smooth fabric as her pussy was repeatedly split by his tool.

He slowed down just a bit and Violet was going to complain until she felt the bed between her knees sink. She grinned wider and then let out a throaty moan as a tongue began lapping at her clit and the cock splitting her pussy open. It was far from the first time Cherise's tongue had been on Violet's pussy; she and her maid of honor had been locked in a 69 two days ago to take the edge off before the rehearsal dinner. Now Violet's mouth was totally unoccupied, allowing her to moan and call out her pleasure into the bed.

"Yeah, that's it you dirty girl, lick your friend's pussy while I prep it for some old man cock," Jim said with an arrogant tone.

The reminder almost killed Violet's mood but Jim and Cherise's attentions kept her primed while Jim redeemed himself with better talk.

"Tell me you want it, tell me how much you want this dick," he said.

"Oh fuck me Jim," Violet said, "Show me why Cherise keeps coming back to you even though I make her cum like a whore!"

That comment resulted in some quick, painful twists on Violet's nipples from the girl underneath her, but she was far enough along that it only pushed her further toward the edge as the pain morphed with pleasure and seemed to travel right to her cunt. Jim's pace picked up again and his hips slammed into Violet's ass with rapid slaps of sweaty skin. The tongue on her clit was less constant but that was almost better, with the random sudden stimulation like unexpected jumps in her pleasure. The coup de grace was when Jim reached forward and grabbed her blonde hair, pulling her head back. The slight pain and the image in her head of what she must look like bent on the bed with the black stud taking her from behind was enough for her to cum hard.

All her muscles tensed up, including the ones in her pussy wrapped around Jim's cock. That must have been enough for him because she felt the telltale throbbing of his cock even as her own orgasm rolled through her body, knowing he was filling her up with his jizz. He pulled out of her before she was done cumming but she felt hair tickling her ass and guessed Cherise had taken him in her mouth to get the last of his cum. Violet stayed put, reveling in the aftershocks and in anticipation. Sure enough, she didn't have to wait long before she felt more focused oral attention on her pussy again as Cherise's tongue ventured out and around, trying to reclaim all the spunk her boyfriend spent inside her. Cherise knowingly avoided Violet's clit but the teasing and probing was like a pussy massage that gently took Violet down from her orgasm.

"Mmmm, Jim you better stop her or I'm gonna make her get me off again."

"God you're such a greedy slut," Jim said with a chuckle that Cherise echoed after the tongue left her pussy. Violet flipped over.

Cherise could have stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine; she had dark tan skin and wide brown eyes, with subtle but artful curves all up and down her thin five-foot ten-inch frame. Contrary to stereotypes, her dark brown hair stayed straight as an arrow naturally, something that Violet knew required her to maintain an arsenal of heated and chemical hair machines in her bathroom if she wanted any sort of extra life in her hair, like basic curls.

Jim, on the other hand, looked like an NBA player, or he would if he were about a foot taller. He matched Cherise in height, something that didn't bother either one of them. He had enough muscles to impress; the six pack and pelvic "V" were around to grab women's eyes when his shirt was off and pants were sagging, and he had enough bulk to lift either girl up for some standing sex, something each girl had put to the test on several occasions. His hair was buzzed short but he kept a sizeable beard since he looked like a teenager when he went smooth.

"Too bad you couldn't have worn the white stockings," Jim said.

"Yeah, well despite the colors involved, dried cum does show up on stockings even if they are white. Since your brains are only barely functional when you're fucking and even less reliable when you cum, I didn't want to take the chance. Now shoo, I need that hot piece of ass on your arm to help me get ready."

"Shit it's six hours until the ceremony and it takes me thirty minutes to get ready, what the fuck am I supposed to do until then?" Jim complained.

"There's an open tab at the bar, go mingle," Violet said.

"Yeah, okay, with all them Colonel Sanders and Miss Daisys? I'll be lucky if they don't try to hand me a glass and ask for an appetizer plate."

"We're in Atlanta, baby," Cherise said, "Just ask around, I bet you can find somewhere to chill until we're good."

"Yeah, sure," Jim griped as he quickly put on his clothes, "Probably end up chilling in the kitchen with the help. Hell might as well stay there until tomorrow. Maybe end up with a job."

Cherise let out a concerned sigh as he left the room.

"Kind of grumpy for a guy who just spent the morning fucking two hot women," Violet snarked.

"For fuck's sake Violet, he lost his job two months ago. The gig economy's great when it's working for you but the dry spells suck. And people still don't believe a black man who actually goes to the gym can write code. They want the pasty white boys in their parents' basements."

"You're still doing okay, right?" Violet asked, actual concern creeping into her voice.

"Yeah, the nice thing about HR is that you're usually not the first on the list when they're looking to fire people, even if you don't have a degree. And it's close enough to being a secretary that people don't kick up a fuss if a sistah's working that desk."

"It can't really be that bad, can it?" Violet said.

Cherise shook her head, "Girl we've been friends since middle school and I really don't know how you're so clueless. Well, actually I do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Violet snapped.

"Never mind. Now cover that fine ass up, we've got a three hour date with some fine ladies to torture us with wax, irons, and scissors."

* * * * *

"You sure about that color?" Cherise asked.

Violet shrugged with a smug smile on her face, "Darren likes it. How did he put it? Oh yeah, it's 'unique enough to come off as edgy without being offensively obnoxious.' Besides I've had a purple streak since I was ten, I'm not stopping now, not even for my fiancee."

"You are the luckiest bitch on the planet, I swear," Violet said.

They were both sitting in the heat chairs in the salon, mostly alone with each other as the stylists bustled about tending to other customers. The salon they chose catered to a younger, more diverse crowd so they were relaxing in the knowledge they wouldn't have to perform for the guests at the wedding. Despite that, Violet noticed a few women, clearly out of their element and at least a dozen years over the average age, timidly asking about treatments. She rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cherise asked.

Violet nodded toward the women. "Poseurs. They probably paid the concierge off to find out where I was getting my hair done. I bet half of them have never seen an eyebrow ring, much less the septum piercing the front desk lady's sporting."

"Think I should walk over and try to sell them on the vagazzle options?" Cherise teased.

"They're not worth your time," Violet said, "They think coming to the same salon as me somehow wins them points in some imaginary game they all play against each other. When I first hooked up with Darren a few of them offered to 'show me how things are done.' Yeah fuck that noise. The only reason they're at this wedding is because Darren invited their husbands."

"You sure you want to play it that way?" Cherise asked, "I don't know if you noticed but Jim and I are the only people you have on the guest list. Those rich bitches have you well outnumbered."

"Who else would I invite?" Violet scoffed, "The cheer team bitches from high school? Half of them would be playing the same game as those cunts at the front, and the rest of them would be begging me for tips on how to score someone like Darren. Actually maybe I should have invited those ones. I could've asked Darren who the really sick and twisted fucks are and told the girls to go after them."

"Some of them aren't bad, Vi," Cherise said, sounding annoyed, "They did basically run the campaign that got you prom queen, remember?"

"Yeah, I know, but you could tell a lot of them were just jealous," Violet replied, "I know Vivian, Kelsey, and Heather just wanted a piece of Ethan. A very specific piece of Ethan."

"You never gave me a straight answer on why you broke up with him, anyway. Star quarterback, good looking, nice white boy from a decent family. He's holding his grades at his college now too, from what I hear."

Violet rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, but did you notice he's off the team? Didn't even try out sophomore year which means goodbye football scholarship, and now he's got loans. He said he's getting really into his business classes, and claims one of his professors likes his ideas, but you and I both know how that story ends; he graduates with a business degree, forty pounds overweight and 80k or something in debt, and his grand business idea ends up being a used car dealership on the edge of the slums reselling junkers to high schoolers and druggies. Meanwhile whatever stupid whore he marries is probably stocking shelves or ringing groceries after popping out two kids for him that guarantee they never get out of a money hole. I'm too good for that."

"At least a degree is a fallback plan," Cherise said.

"Don't start with me on that again," Violet said.

"Shit, sorry," Cherise said, not sounding all that contrite.

Violet ranted on regardless, "Sure I could get 'financial aid' because my mom can't hold a job any longer than she can hold onto a boyfriend but that would get me what? Two classes at a community college? Get a degree in ten years so I can beg to be an entry level employee at thirty? Yay. All the while I'm either scraping by at a McJob or jilling off in front of a laptop begging lonely perverts to send me money or buy my shit from an online wishlist. And look I know your sister did that for a bit, I'm not knocking it or saying it's wrong or immoral or any of that shit but look at me! This is a 34DD, 23, 34 body I'm rocking here. That opens a lot of things besides bedroom doors, yours included I'll remind you, and I'm not afraid to walk through those doors."

"Even if you're doing it on your knees?" Cherise said, her voice now kind of flat.

"Look I'm not stupid," Violet insisted, "I know this body won't last, so I've got to use it while it does. Yeah I could have made bank on a cam site, or maybe even doing that sugar daddy thing, but that's not security. If I do that, my income drops when my tits do, and really after you're taking it in all three holes for the camera you're done even sooner unless you want to start drinking piss or letting yourself get smacked around. I knew what I wanted and I went for it. Sure Darren's almost 40 years older. So what? That's practically a tradition. If an old rich guy isn't walking around with a twenty-year old on his arm people think it's weird."

"That's just the same trap," Cherise said, "When your tits drop, he drops you, and you're still sitting around with nothing."

Violet smiled and in a child voice said, "Nuh uhhh! The only thing I'm signing today is that marriage license."

"Wait, he didn't make you sign a prenup?" Cherise asked, now flabbergasted.

"Nope. It's true love baby. He doesn't have any reason not to trust me. So if he drops my ass after the quarters don't bounce anymore, I get half. I think I can probably scrape by with 400 million," Violet said.

"Well...congratulations I guess," Cherise said.

"Don't you get jealous too," Violet said, "I am through apologizing for looking hot and working the system smarter than everyone else."

"Fuck, I'm not jealous, Vi, calm down," Cherise insisted, "It's just...I mean you were fucking me and Jim on and off the whole time you were seeing him. And I know there were at least two other guys. If you're so smart about this why not wait until the wedding? I mean could you really not keep your pants on for six months?"

"I didn't know it would only be six months. And Pfizer may be able to keep his dick hard but it can't keep his muscles from cramping or just plain giving out. And I mean the fact that I'm hot enough to get him off in two minutes is a nice ego boost but it does nothing for my soaked pussy after he falls asleep. If I didn't find myself some strange I would have been so distracted I wouldn't have been able to wrap him up so nicely around this," Violet said, waggling her finger with the diamond-encrusted platinum ring on it, "Add to that he had this fucked-up suggestion that after we were engaged we should stop fucking until the wedding. 'Make it like a second first time' or some bullshit like that. I would have lost my mind. I mean, he's hardly ever around because he's doing so much business shit."

"He didn't take you with him?" Cherise asked.

"No, I mean he's not traveling he's just missing like, every day. Gone by six am, back at eight pm or later. All my friends are working or in class all day, and I already told you about the other rich cunts and how much fun they are to hang out with. What was I supposed to do with myself?"

Cherise decided to assume the question was rhetorical despite several answers that popped into her head that Violet probably wouldn't appreciate. "Is all this sneaking around really worth it?"

"Did you not hear the part about 400 million?" Violet asked incredulously, "Besides in all honesty I could do worse from a sex point of view. Darren's not Brad Pitt but for fifty-eight he doesn't look bad. A bit of a dad bod but he's not that hairy and there's, like, hints of muscle under there. I'm guessing he worked out for a while and then just let himself go. Probably does it every week or so. We'll see if that keeps up now that he's snagged me. I mean, obviously he's got nothing to prove once the ring's on my finger."

"Well I just...I hope you're happy," Cherise said with a resigned tone, "Clearly you put in a lot of effort."

"Damn straight," Violet said.

* * * * *

The wedding ceremony went pretty much like Violet expected it to. Cherise was her maid of honor and only member of her wedding party, while Darren had some business associate Violet barely remembered the name of as his best man. Neither of them had any family they wanted to invite; Violet because she was sure her mother would immediately try to insinuate herself as a mooch and Darren because he had none living. She was sure most of the guests thought Darren was sacrificing so no one would have to deal with her inviting a bunch of white trash to fill out her side of the aisle.

Contrary to what wedding planners and internet advice columnists insisted, this day was not about Violet at all. This was Darren's announcement to his peers about his status and the presentation of his bride. In the receiving line it was a common pattern; the younger men would greet her with lecherous charm, subtly promising that they could have had her if Darren hadn't got there first. The older men never even acknowledged her, mostly just staring at the cleavage her Christian Dior dress displayed for them while they waited for their turn to talk with Darren. Violet subtly flaunted herself to tease the young men and openly flirted with the old ones, making quiet hints and promises she'd never back up. The women universally glared at her and smiled fake, toothy smiles with their insincere congratulations. Violet returned their greetings with equally sincere platitudes, but also an attitude that clearly said she didn't care what they thought; she was still on Darren's arm, and she knew if she really wanted to she could have dragged any of their dates or husbands in to a closet and had them worshipping her body in a heartbeat. A few of the women were closer to her age and tried to catch her attention with some sort of "game recognizing game" camaraderie but she ignored them.

Cherise and Jim waited exactly as long as propriety required and then vanished; there were other minorities at the ceremony but her friends had as much in common with them as they did with the old money whites. The group was too uptight for anything like cake smashing or garter tosses, merely a seemingly endless parade of well-wishers giving speeches that sounded like business presentations. Violet got through the ceremony mostly with the help of Pinot Grigio and Riesling, though she did pace herself and made sure she didn't get wasted. While she refused to play the game of one-upmanship with the other bitchy rich, she recognized that a lot of Darren's associates would be paying attention to her. A little of what they called "youthful exuberance" on her part would be charmingly amusing; her hammered and dancing on tables would not. She didn't honestly feel much either way about Darren's reputation, but she knew you didn't bite the hand that fed you, at least not in the open.

Finally sometime around eleven (the ceremony started at five) Darren made a polite exit with Violet only slightly leaning on his arm. A few elaborate entendres were thrown their way from some of the older men who'd made liberal use of the open bar, but otherwise no one commented on the impending wedding night. As the elevator rose, Violet thought that was the other reason for her maintaining a constant buzz. Darren's reservation was too good for even the honeymoon suite; he got what the hotel called its King Suite: two floors on one side of the top of the hotel featuring, among other things, a master bedroom that alone was double the size of two standard rooms. Violet had begged for access to it early, telling Darren she was going to "prepare a few things" for today and tomorrow. She'd used that access to arrange for the tryst with Jim and Cherise, on the very master bed she and Darren were supposed to christen in probably a few minutes time.

Heart pounding for none of the usual reasons a new bride had, they entered the dimly lit suite. Violet took a moment in her buzz to wander forward to the wingback couch and gaze out on the balcony at the city skyline stretching to the horizon. For some reason, at that moment, it sunk in for her that it was real. She looked down at the simple gold band on her finger, the bond that ensured she was tied to Darren, and his assets, legally forever. She felt tears sting her eyes and a grin split her face as she realized her work was over. Sure she had to be careful with where and who she fucked, but she'd managed okay so far, and really what did Darren expect? He was marrying a 20-year old cheerleader who never went to college.