Joanne's downfall 3: The dinner

Joanne has a quiet day and believes she'll have a pleasant dinner with her fiancé and in-laws, but the mysterious blackmailer decides to spice up her evening.

Joanne spent the following day in a tense calm, without messages from the blackmailer, which relieved her for a moment. She carefully dressed for dinner with Harold and his family at a chic downtown restaurant, a place with tables covered in impeccably white tablecloths, soft lighting, and expensive dishes. She wore an elegant black dress that accentuated her slender figure, her wavy brown hair loose, and her makeup subtle to hide the dark circles of exhaustion. Harold greeted her with a loving kiss, his in-laws – a well-dressed and polite middle-aged couple – complimenting her appearance. “You look radiant, Joanne. The wedding will be perfect,” said her mother-in-law as they sat down.

The conversation flowed about honeymoon travel plans and ceremony details, but Joanne could barely concentrate, her stomach tightening with memories of the previous days. Eddie, Jurandir – the smells, the dirty touches still seemed to cling to her. Then, her cell phone vibrated discreetly in her lap. She grabbed him from under the table, her heart racing. "Goodnight, bitch. You have until the end of the night to fuck a man in this restaurant. Anyone will do, but record everything. Otherwise, the photos go to Harold right now." Terror washed over her like an icy wave. Here? With his family next door? How did the blackmailer know where she was? She looked up, forcing a smile as Harold told a lame joke about work.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom," she murmured minutes later, getting up with trembling legs. The bathroom was in the back hallway, elegant like the rest of the place, with white tiles and large mirrors. She went into the women's first, washing her face, trying to calm her breathing. She needed a man willing to have quick, discreet sex. She left and peeked into the men's, seeing only rich men leaving – executives in suits, laughing couples. None seemed approachable. Then her gaze fell on the Black janitor mopping the floor, his worn blue overalls clinging to his muscular body, his dark skin glistening with sweat, his face marked by years of hard work. He was tall, appearing to be about 40, with strong arms and a distant smell of disinfectant mixed with sweat.

Joanne swallowed her disgust – another lower-class man, dirty, undignified. But he was the only one available. She approached, her voice low: 'Hi... do you work here?' He looked up, surprised by the elegant white woman in the men's restroom. 'Yes, ma'am. Jevon. Something wrong?' She blushed, unsure what to say, moving closer, letting her perfume contrast with his. 'I... found you attractive. Do you want... to be alone with me? Here?' Jevon winked, a mischievous smile appearing on his thick lips. He understood immediately, his eyes traveling down her body. 'A rich woman like you wanting a janitor's dick? Come back in ten minutes. I'm going to close the restroom for cleaning.' "No one will come in." She nodded, horrified, and returned to the table, sitting down with sweaty hands.

The ten minutes felt like an eternity. Harold held her hand: "Are you alright, love?" "Yes, just a little nauseous," she lied, laughing falsely while her mother-in-law talked about flowers for the bouquet. The clock ticked, and she stood up again. "I'll be right back," she told Harold and her in-laws. The bathroom was locked, a "Cleaning" sign on the door. She knocked lightly, and Jevon opened it, pulling her inside and locking it. The air smelled of chemicals and urine. He unbuttoned his overalls, revealing his broad, hairy chest, his already semi-hard penis hanging thick and dark between his legs. "You're crazy, bitch. But I love it. Suck it first." Joanne hid her cell phone behind a toilet paper dispenser while he wasn't looking, activating the recording, and knelt on the cold floor, taking his penis in her hand. It was hot, veins throbbing, a strong smell of the day's sweat.

She licked his head, sucking slowly, her mouth filling as he groaned, his hands in her hair. 'That's it, swallow a poor black man's cock. I bet your rich boyfriend doesn't give you this.' He pulled her up, turning her against the sink, lifting her dress and pulling down her panties. 'Get ready, you slut who likes janitors.' He thrust his cock into her cunt all at once, stretching the still-sensitive walls, fucking hard, his hips slamming. 'You're a whore who begs for the penises of lower-class black men, right? Look in the mirror, your white cunt swallowing my dirty cock.' Joanne bit her lip, tears streaming down despite her effort to feign excitement, her body swaying with each thrust, but she pretended to moan to get it over with quickly. He sped up, grunting: 'Take it, you fucking bitch!' Hot jets filled her, his cock throbbing inside, semen running down her thighs.

Relief mixed with humiliation – at least it was quick. But the door creaked, and two men entered: a fat black man, about 50 years old, with a huge belly stretching his overalls, and a thin Thai man, dark-skinned, with a wrinkled face and narrow eyes. They stopped, seeing Jevon with his penis out, Joanne in a crumpled dress with semen dripping. 'Hey, Jevon, did you pick up a rich whore?' laughed the fat man, his penis already hardening. The Thai man nodded, licking his lips. Jevon laughed, wiping his penis on his overalls. 'This is Joanne, a slut who loves being fucked by working-class men. She came to ask for dick in the bathroom.' Joanne stammered: 'No, that wasn't the deal! It was just you!' But Jevon shrugged: 'If she can handle one dick, she can handle three. Go into the large stall, for the disabled. Everyone fits in there.'

They dragged her into the spacious stall, where the cell phone could barely film. The fat man pulled down his overalls, his short, thick cock springing out, and pushed her against the wall. 'Open your mouth, you white slut.' He shoved it down her throat, fucking her mouth hard, his balls slapping against her chin, while the Thai man lifted her dress from behind, his thin, curved cock entering her semen-slicked pussy. 'Nice wet pussy. You like dirty Asian cock?' he grunted in a heavy accent, thrusting quickly. Joanne gagged, saliva and precum dripping, her body trapped between the two, pussy and mouth filled. Jevon, outside, scrubbed the floor, wiping away semen stains and muffling the sounds with the clatter of the broom.

The fat man came first, salty cum filling her mouth: 'Swallow it all, whore!' She coughed, swallowing the thick semen, while the Thai man sped up, nails digging into her ass, and ejaculated into her vagina: 'Take Thai milk in your rich cunt!' Mixed semen dripped, her legs trembling. They laughed, grabbing damp cleaning cloths to wipe her body – rubbing her vagina, wiping her chin. 'Here, a mint for the cock breath,' joked the fat man, stuffing one into her mouth. She touched up her makeup and sprayed perfume on her body, disguising the smell of semen under her dress, her torn panties taken by the fat man as a "souvenir."

Joanne staggered out, her face flushed, and returned to the table. 'Sorry, I'm not feeling well. I think I need to go.' Harold frowned: 'You took so long! Do you want me to take you?' 'No, I have a car. Go ahead.' They left, worried, and she followed, but stopped in the parking lot. 'Shit, I forgot my phone!' She ran back to the bathroom, now open and clean, but the phone was gone. Panic: she searched behind the dispenser, nothing. She thought about calling an attendant, but bumped into Jevon in the hallway. He was holding the phone, smiling. 'Looking for this? Why were you recording, bitch? Are you making porn?'

Joanne improvised, her voice trembling: 'It's... a fetish of mine. I record encounters with random men. Give it back, please.' Jevon laughed, putting it in his pocket. 'A fetish, huh? I'll help. I saw you have a car. Let's go to my neighborhood, I'll find more dicks for your videos.' She pleaded: 'No, please, let me go!' But he grabbed her arm, dragging her to the parking lot, shoving her into the car and taking the keys. They drove to the outskirts, a poor neighborhood with potholed streets, dilapidated houses, and graffiti on the walls. Jevon's house was a cramped building, dimly lit, and inside were five young black men, around 20 years old, tattooed, with hard stares – delinquents, some with scars from fights, smelling of marijuana and beer.

'Guys, this is the rich whore who loves black dick. I charge $50 each to fuck her. Record everything for her fetish videos,' Jevon announced, activating his cell phone. Joanne cried: 'Let me go, not this!' But they surrounded her, pulling off her dress, exposing her breasts and her pussy stained with semen. A tall, thin man threw her onto the worn sofa, his long cock shoving into her mouth: 'Suck it, white girl. Swallow it all the way down your throat.' Another, muscular, spread her legs and fucked her pussy hard: 'What a wet hole. You're our prostitute now.' They rotated for two hours, cocks going in and out – one in her mouth while another fucked her pussy, hands squeezing her breasts, insults flying: 'Take a gangster's cock, bitch. Does your rich boyfriend know you're a whore?' (Jevon had mentioned that she was having dinner with her boyfriend and in-laws at the fancy restaurant where he works.)

She sucked one after the other, her pussy burning from the friction, semen spurting onto her face, breasts, inside her. One turned her over on all fours, fucking her ass for the first time, excruciating pain as she screamed, muffled by another cock in her mouth. Jevon filmed everything, laughing. When they finished, exhausted and satisfied, Joanne lay on the floor, her body covered in cum, while they left laughing and thanking Jevon. 'That was $250, whore. Treatment that sluts like you deserve,' Jevon said, throwing his cell phone to her. 'Get out of here.' She dressed quickly, driving home in her dirty dress, which someone had deliberately ejaculated on, semen drying on her skin, a strong smell in the car.

At home, she took a scalding hot shower, scrubbing until her skin burned, and sent the videos to the blackmailer – the one in the bathroom and the whole orgy, fearing punishment if she omitted what happened. 'I did it. More than you asked.' She lay on the bed, her body aching, her soul crushed, silent tears streaming down her face. Far away, Charles opened the files on his laptop, his eyes wide. The bathroom was good enough, but the orgy? Young delinquents fucking her mercilessly? For a moment, guilt overwhelmed him – he only wanted to humiliate, not destroy so much. But soon he laughed, his cock hardening again. 'An orgy now and then doesn't hurt. Now Harold is going to marry a slut who's already been fucked by half a dozen guys. Perfect.' He came while watching, planning his next move, the wedding getting closer and closer to chaos.