Chapter 0 - Pro Bono (Carol Dallon)

Chapter Warnings: Use of slurs (the N-word), watersports, barely-not-cuckoldry, hints of incestuous threesomes. Then again, if you're here, you're probably into that. All standard disclaimers apply implicitly. 

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Brian swilled the champagne in his glass, and allowed himself to grin. It had been a long case - a hard case - but that just made the victory all the sweeter. Aisha was in his custody, and the woman who called herself their mother was out of their lives - permanently. And it was all thanks to one woman. Well, two - but as grateful as he was and would always be to Lisa for getting the case to blow up in the papers, he knew very well that Brandish taking up his case had been what sealed the deal. That it had been pro bono was just overkill. 

And if the papers whispered about exactly what about him was exceptional enough to have Carol holed up with him for nights on end, burning the midnight oil on a druggie mother, well... Words were words.

Until the divorce papers had been finalised that morning, at least.

There was a knock on the door - furtive, quiet, shy almost - and Brian chuckled in that low, rolling way he knew she liked. "Come in."

Carol, in Brian's opinion, was living proof that the old line about capes never looking average was right on the money. The blonde had not so much aged as matured, filling out with the years to attain a perfect hourglass figure even as her body remained free of even a single sag of wrinkle. Even out of costume and covered in a heavy duty trench-coat, Brian had an excellent view of the plump swells of her perky, pale breasts - and the flush of embarrassed pleasure on her cheeks as she noticed him appreciating that view.

"It's done."

"I know... Miss Sartin." He let his tone acquire a teasing edge, and smiled approvingly at the shiver of guilty pleasure that went down his lawyer's spine. "Congratulations. How did he take it?"

For a moment - just a moment - a wicked little smirk found its way onto Carol's face.

"I showed him the tattoo after he signed. I thought he'd cream his pants then and there."

Brian couldn't help a chuckle. Really, he had nothing against Mark Dallon as a man - Flashbang had done wonders to curb the Empire in his heyday, and he wasn't lacking for bravery or skill - but over the course of his relationship with Carol, the man's shortcomings as a father and husband had become glaringly obvious. The issue, as Carol had whispered after a particularly long day at court and at home, wasn't competence, size, or any of the rest of it. Mark was good at playing the house husband, only three inches shorter than Brian himself and, when he put his mind to it, an attentive family man. But that was the issue. When he put his mind to it. They'd tried all kinds of things - alarms, timetables, routines - but Mark kept slipping, and while Carol could just about live with that when it had just been them, Victoria having to learn to cook for herself and Amy during a particularly busy week had been the kiss of death for their marriage. And, well... Brian had very excellent reasons to have strong feelings about poor quality parenting. He cupped her cheek, and smiled as she almost unconsciously took his thumb into her mouth, sucking softly as she pumped her head back and forth.

"So, Miss... What are you going to do now?"

When Carol realised what she was doing, she flushed with embarrassment, but still licked at the pad of his thumb before she popped off the digit.

"W-well, I thought I could... Explore my options." Her fingers fiddled for a moment, and a button came loose. 

"Any ideas?" A teasing lilt entered his voice, and she shivered. He leaned forward, and helped her with the next button.

"I..." Her confidence faltered, and she barely bit back a moan as his fingers gently grazed a nipple through the coat's fabric as they worked.

"You seem a fan of the classics. Your daughter's got a knight in shining armour..."

A short, breathless giggle.

"For now."

Another button. 

"For now. What's your type, Miss?"

Then another. Then another.

The blonde bit her lip, eyes running up and down Brian's body. At his cornrows, his smirk, the set of his shoulders, the cut of his suit... She leaned in, and whispered softly in his ear.

"Chocolate always was my favourite flavour."

And with a single shrug of her smooth, perfectly formed shoulders, her coat fluttered to the ground as she melted into her bull's touch. Carol gasped softly into Brian's mouth as one trained hand slipped under the bright red lingerie she'd bought for him to caress her soft, apple-round ass, while another stroked her cheek as she eagerly let him tongue-fuck her painted mouth. God, not even a day after she'd divorced her husband and she'd rushed to his office at the first invitation, dressed like the finest whore money could buy. But she couldn't help it. Brian... It wasn't just that he was muscular, or that he smelled like home, or that his dick was bigger and blacker than Mark's could ever be. It was that he helped out around the house. That he picked up Amy after marathon shifts at the hospital. That he made sure Aisha didn't get into trouble. That he provided. When Vicky called him daddy - on accident or not - nobody had disagreed. 

He was a real man, radiating power and dominance, and he was there. And Carol... God help her, but it felt good to have someone she could rely on. Someone who could take control without abusing it. Someone she could trust. She'd been wet since she'd signed the papers, but the second that scent hit her nose - that mix of old books, pine and salt that meant Brian - she'd almost been in heat. So here she was, kneeling on the desk she'd spent so much time working on like a stripper, and she couldn't bring herself to regret it. When his thumbs unhooked her bra, she didn't fight it - she shimmied the scrap of red silk and lace off, and moaned whorishly as his hands cupped her soft, plump, and oh-so-sensitive breasts. When his thumbs swiped across her nipples, she whimpered.

"B-brian..."

A sharp, warm sting as he spanked her - like a disobedient pet, like a bad girl - and her chest heaved and the stain on her panties grew as she fixed her mistake. "Sir! Sorry, sir!"

"That's right," he cooed softly. "Say that again for me, pretty thing."

Carol flushed, and a part of her was screaming that she was a mother, that this was inappropriate, that she had to be in control... But she trusted him. After all the hours they'd spent working together, she couldn't not trust him, and the warmth - as lustful, and harsh, and dominant as the gleam was - in those deep brown eyes made something in her chest go pitter-patter like a lovesick schoolgirl.

"I'm sorry, sir..."

He caressed her cheek, and she couldn't help leaning in. It just felt too simple, too right to do anything else.

"There's my good girl." He crooned. "My little snowbunny..." 

"Please, sir..." the MILF purred softly.

"Please what?" 

"I'm thirsty, sir. And urinals are white~" 

She glanced down briefly, and licked her lips long and slow, heated blue eyes looking back up at him with racially charged desire. When it hit Brian, he chuckled low and deep and dark - the kind of dominant, degrading chuckle that sent her pussy dripping as she knelt under the desk. When he pulled his slacks and boxers down in one, fluid motion, it was all she could do not to whimper as his pitch-black bitchbreaker slapped lewdly against her pretty little head. Even half-hard, Brian's cock was thicker than any other she'd handled in her life, so that she needed both hands to jerk the whole circumference. It was uncut, and darker than the rest of his body - pure cacao to the dark chocolate of his skin - and as Carol's delicate nose eagerly inhaled the thick, heavy pheromones at the base of his shaft, the blonde shivering with pleasure as a single drop of precum christened her head, she could feel every detail of her folds through the soaked cameltoe of her panties as she rubbed her clit. 

Still, as much as the repressed lawyer loved huffing her owner's superior pheromones, she had been offered a taste of her favourite vintage of African champagne - so, slowly, she stopped lapping at her master's churning black balls, and opened her mouth, eager for her treat. It took a moment for the piss to work its way through - the ministrations of her plump lips and devoted tongue had not gone unnoticed - but when, at long last, the nectar she so craved sprung forth in a tight, hot jet to wash her smiling face, Carol eagerly angled her face to receive her master's gift, mouth opening to swallow as many mouthfuls as she could get, but when it ruined her perfect hair and made her makeup run, she couldn't stop herself from rubbing her cunt feverishly as she gulped down the delicious nectar. There was a primal, chthonic thrill here, one that made her heart beat almost as hard as her pussy was throbbing, one that even beat out that wonderful moment where the girl behind the checkout counter had winked at her Queen of Spades earrings and briefly flashed her own tattoo before giving her a discount. It was right that the strong should dominate the weak, that real men should take what insufficient specimens couldn't protect, that Carol, for all her prim and proper respectability, should be just another racist white slut broken by black supremacy. The taste didn't matter, though it was far from disagreeable to her seasoned palate - what was important was the act. That, and her Sir's approval. 

As the stream finally died down, she made a show of licking first her lips, then the black foreskin she adored so much. "Thank you, sir. It was delicious."

"What was?" He smiled down at her - handsome, coy, superior. Her heart went pitter-patter in her chest, but Carol made sure to give him a nice slutty smirk. 

"Your nigger piss, sir~"

She smiled as she watched his cock harden visibly.

"Do you like that, sir? Knowing that your little white toilet loves her owner's nasty nigger piss?" 

Carol giggled as his cock hardened even further, eagerly swiping her little pink tongue along his piss slit, savouring the unique flavour. "I'll do it every day, if you want. Be your little live-in snowbunny urinal. Then again..." She licked her lips. "Vicky might get jealous~"

"You little slut," Brian breathed... But his cock was hard as iron, and Carol nuzzled it eagerly as it pressed against her forehead again. "Your slut, sir. Your urinal. Your cumdump. Your slave. Your little snowbunny MILF slut. For as long as you want." She kissed his drooling cockhead, and gave a lovesick smile as a hardlight collar formed around her neck, offering the leash to Brian. "Sartin's nice... But slave's better. Wouldn't you agree?"

He pulled her up so easily, perfectly judging the leash's give in a second, and bent her over his desk. He spanked her - again, then again, then again, and she moaned, low and sultry - before flipping her over, peeling her racy red panties off. The platinum blonde moaned as he stuffed them into her mouth, her honey already pooling on the desk's surface, and Brian smirked as hardlight handcuffs left her spread-eagled and defenceless before the villain. 

"Good girl. Ready?"

Buzzer in hand, Carol nodded - and absolute, smothering darkness engulfed the office. Black. Everything was black. Not a speck of light.

Just like in the Basement.

It was different this time. She had a way out. She wanted to be here. It felt good. God, it felt so good. Not a speck of control. Not an ounce of agency. Every shred of power relinquished. Just a pretty pale cumdump for fat-

Thwack.

Black-

Thwack.

Cock~

Thwack.

The impacts of Brian's heavy, throbbing balls against her plump little peach of an ass sounded distant - muffled, like they were underwater. There was no distraction from the sensation, no release from her bliss. Just the rhythic, meditative smack of his smooth, perfect sack and the mind-melting pleasure of his thick, pitch-black bitchbreaker of a cock reshaping her little pink pussy to perfectly fit what he wanted from her, making her a good girl-

Thwack.

She came. Again and again. Time dissolved after a certain point - all there was was the feeling of warmth and power and utter conquest breaking her pussy and reshaping Carol one orgasm at a time into his perfect little toy. No thoughts left. No power. No responsibilities, other than to be a good slave and drink his piss and take his cock and bear his superior children and-

And-

And-

Her pussy tightened, and reality would've gone pink if it weren't so obviously black. He filled her perfectly. Her tight MILF pussy had broken for him, just like she had, and it felt so obvious, so natural, so right-

And again-

She licked her lips, thinking of lapping her Master's seed from her daughter's pussy-

And again-

The veins were swelling, the heat was surging, he was holding her close like a good girl and yes, yes, yes! Her cunt fluttered and drooled, he was fucking her so hard, so fast, she could barely think, and, and, and-

"Good girl," snarled the first voice to speak in hours, and Carol screamed into her panties as orgasm after orgasm wrecked her mind and thick, hot, delicious semen seeped past her cervix and-

She squirted.

When she came back to herself, Brian was holding her, cock still throbbing in her cunt, and Carol whimpered weakly at the strength of the muscled arms encircling her. 

"So... Was it good for you?" 

A deep, lilting voice she had come to love, at once wry and serious. So Carol grinned breathlessly, like a teenager, at her owner.

"Up for round two?"

