My Girlfriend Bianca White

WARNING: This story is dark. It explores themes of extreme humiliation, cuckolding, and psychological torment. It's meant to be uncomfortable. Please read the tags carefully before proceeding, as they are there for a reason.

This is the prelude, the first crack in the foundation. I have full-length chapters already mapped out. If you want to see more, your feedback will decide if this story continues.

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Chapter 1: The Dream Come True

I thought dating Bianca White would be a dream come true. I was her biggest fan. I thought I could handle it. I was wrong.

What you see in the videos is a carefully curated fraction of the freak she really is. The cameras don't capture the moments between takes, the moments that have hollowed me out into a shell. Like last Tuesday, when Jamal, a man built like a refrigerator, was struggling to get his thick, 18-inch cock all the way down her throat. She was gagging and drooling while tears streamed down her face, ruining her makeup. She looked at me, her eyes pleading not for rescue, but for an accomplice. To help her get more cock in her.

"Sweetie," she rasped, "come help." I walked over, my hands shaking, and gathered her sweat-soaked hair in my hands, holding it back from her face so she could focus on deepthroating without any obstacles. "That's it, sweetie," she said, turning to kiss my lips a brief, salty tang of another man's pre-cum before looking up at the hung man. "He's gonna help me take it all."

And I did. God, the smell of her saliva and his musk made my stomach turn. I held her hair while she choked on him until her nose was buried in his stomach.

"They don't film the clean-up. After one particular gangbang, she was a mess, a human canvas painted in cum. It was so messy it was hard to tell what was her pale white skin and what was their pearly release. She lay on the bed, panting, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face. "I'm all sticky, babe, do you mind?" she purred. "When Anton's on set, you know he's a heavy cummer. And you know Rico is next and how much he prefers me cleaned... by you, that is. He respects your attention to detail."

She gestured to the bathroom with a smirk. Inside, Rico, a man whose muscles had muscles, was already stroking his freakishly long cock shaft. It always terrifies me when they have sex; that massive cock of his can split her, yet she takes it like she has no cervix in the way.

"Darling, be a dear and help Mommy out."

I fetched a few warm cloths and began to gently wipe the thick, musky streams of other men's jizz from her thighs and stomach. I had to be thorough. Any trace of Anton, and Rico might beat me up, and my girlfriend Bianca would suck his balls while he did so."

"Sometimes I'm just a servant, no, I'm always a servant when she has a guy over. Last night, she had two of her co-stars over. They were in our living room, on our expensive new sofa. She was riding one while the other stood before her, feeding his huge dick down her throat. I could see the bulge of him run down her neck and into her stomach. The other guy's cock head was literally making her stomach bulge with every deep thrust.

She looked over at me with half-lidded eyes, snot or cum streaming from her nose. I was made to wait nearby, holding her hand for support as my heart ached and I struggled to keep a calm smile on my twisted face. She lightly smacked my cheek. Her hand was unfortunately wet with unknown fluids, a stench I wish I could forget. She pointed at the kitchen, then gestured three fingers for three drinks.

I stood up, my body moving on autopilot, and went to the bar. As I turned back with the tray of drinks, Rico, the man she was riding, decided to put on a show. With a powerful thrust, he lifted her off his lap for a moment, his massive, glistening cock standing straight up like a monument. He looked directly at me, a cruel smirk on his face.

"Hey, lover boy," he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come compare notes for us. Tell us, who's doing a better job?"

The other man, the one who had been in her throat, laughed. "Don't embarrass him, man. Look at the little guy."

I froze, my blood turning to ice. I knew what was coming. My trousers felt suddenly, suffocatingly tight. I tried to keep walking, to serve the drinks, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

Rico wasn't done. "No, I'm curious. I want to know what she's supposed to be comparing this to." He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, and pulled me closer. "Let's see it."

My eyes darted to Bianca. She was looking at me, no, not at me, but at my crotch, a lazy, knowing smirk on her face. There was no help there. There was only amusement.

"Show them, sweetie," she purred, her voice laced with condescending sweetness. "Don't be shy."

My hands trembled as I fumbled with my zipper. I couldn't breathe. I felt their eyes on me, burning with anticipation. I pulled it out. It was pathetic, a shriveled three inches, soft and small in my trembling hand.

The silence lasted for a single, agonizing second. Then, it happened. A roar of laughter. Loud, brutal, and utterly humiliating. Rico threw his head back and howled. The other man slapped his knee, tears welling in his eyes. Even Bianca let out a delicate, musical giggle that hurt more than all the rest.

"Gawd damn!," the other man gasped, wiping his eyes. "It's like a chicken nugget."

Rico was still laughing when he impaled Bianca back onto his cock, his eyes never leaving mine. "Now we know why she always puts you in time-out," he grunted, each word a fresh humiliation as he thrust into her. With a final, powerful lunge, he emptied himself inside her, then deliberately pulled out, making a mess on the floor. He looked down at the growing puddle of semen and her fluids, then back at me, a silent, expectant command.

I served the drinks, my hand steady, while my world crumbled. They laughed as I whimpered. I was just the sweet boyfriend, cleaning the large puddles of semen and her fluids off the floor. Because that's all that I am now: serving the woman I love while she's ravaged by monstrous men, my pathetic manhood the punchline to a joke I never agreed to tell.

"But the degradation of my body was nothing compared to the destruction of my soul. The real nightmare wasn't what they did to me, but what she did to me one night."

"The worst part, the part that makes me want to vomit, is the genuine joy. I watched her, off-camera, rim a man's ass with an enthusiasm and pure delight that made my stomach twist. She wasn't performing. She was savoring it. She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling, and mouthed the words, "I'm so fucking horny, babe." In that moment, I knew she wasn't my Bianca. She belonged to them, to the camera, to the act. I was just the roommate who paid for nothing.

No. I paid with my soul when I didn't run away from her after. When she kissed me on the lips, and I wouldn't kiss her back due to the shock, she pulled out the paddle as a warning. I didn't run. I kissed her like a lover, a woman who had her lips on another man's rim, her tongue in his anus. I paid with my soul. There's nothing left in me."

Why don't I leave? It's simple. I'm financially dependent on her. She is the man in this relationship. Her income pays for our penthouse, our cars, my clothes, my food. Everything I have is because of her. If I leave her, I'm ruined. I have no place to go, no skills to fall back on, no family to take me in. I am trapped. I am a prisoner in a gilded cage, a cuckold by circumstance, a spectator in my own miserable life, forever holding the hand of the woman I love while she takes 3 long thick cocks.

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Author Notes: That was intense to write, and I can only imagine what it was like to read. This story comes from a dark place, and I want to know if it resonated.

Your thoughts and feedback in the comments are everything right now. Should I dive deeper into this story?