Herbert's Place Trip
Copyright© 2026 by DiscipleN
Chapter 7
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7 - This is a spin-off tale from White Flight Generations. It tells the grinding tale of what happened to Lila's husband, Herbert, after he was forced to live with other cuckolds in an apartment complex controlled by Grady Fenton. Note that his plot does not represent the majority of blacks. I abhor racism in the real world, but I don't object to using a fetish trope in a sex-fantasy. Note 2: AI was used in this story's creation, but I wrote more than half of it and edited the crap out.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma NonConsensual Rape Restart Cuckold Wimp Husband DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Size AI Generated
In the early hours of Sunday, someone pounding at his door woke him! “Nump! Front and center, you stupid CUCK!”
Herbert shot upright in bed, his heart tried to escape his chest. The book slid off of the bed and landed with a light smack on the floor. He fumbled for the remote on the nightstand, his fingers slick with sweat, and pressed the power button. The screen flared to life, casting a harsh blue-white glow over the small room.
Click. The insistent pounding came again—louder this time, more urgent.
“Coming!” Herbert swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shuffled to the door and opened it.
Drake filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking the hallway light. His face was a mask of anger, his jaw clenched, his eyes slits. Behind him, Raymond stood with his arms crossed and his face smirking as if he’d been expecting this to happen eventually.
“You missed your quota,” Drake growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Two hours a day, every day. That’s the rule. You watched, what? Forty-five minutes yesterday? Maybe an hour?”
Herbert’s throat went dry. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand—6:47 AM. He’d fallen asleep reading, forgotten to turn the TV back on. “I- I was reading,” he stammered.
Drake stepped inside. Raymond followed. The apartment felt suddenly smaller. The walls closed in.
“Reading?” Drake’s voice dripped with contempt. His shadow swallowed Herbert’s small frame. He backhanded Herbert across the cheek! The blow landed with a sharp crack, making his head snap to the side and stars explode behind his eyes.
“Two hours a day,” Drake snarled, his voice a low growl. “No exceptions. No excuses. Read on your own time, not ours.” He meant the time of black men. “You watch the feed.”
The sting in Herbert’s cheek bloomed into a throbbing ache. He looked up at Drake, his eyes watering. “It’s awful. I hate it!”
Drake’s expression hardened. “I’ll give you something to hate.” He slapped Herbert again. “Raymond, find some butter or oil.” The huge black man fumbled with his belt buckle. A black cock nearly as big as Herbert’s forearm quickly appeared. “When I’m done with you, then Raymond can have sloppy seconds, if he wants.”
Drake grabbed Herbert by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs. The plaster scraped against his back. Drake’s massive frame pinned Herbert in place.
“Attention on me, cuck,” Drake growled at Herbert’s ear. “This is what happens when you don’t do what you’re told.”
Herbert’s vision swam, his head still ringing from the slap. He could feel Drake’s hardness pressing against his thigh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants, thick and insistent.
Raymond stepped forward, a stick of butter in his hand. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. “First time, Herbert?” he asked, his voice low and mocking. “Don’t worry. We’ll go easy on you - ha!”
Drake laughed. “Easy? Nah. We’ll go easy when you learn. Till then, you take it like the little bitch you are.”
Herbert tried to pull away, but Drake’s grip was iron. Raymond’s hand slid down to the waistband of his pants. It tugged them down past his hips, then his shorts, until they pooled around his ankles. The cool air hit his bare skin, making him shiver.
“Spread ‘em,” Drake ordered, his voice a snarl.
Herbert hesitated, his legs trembling.
Drake’ swatted his ass. It felt like being struck with a baseball bat! “Now!”
Herbert parted his thighs, his feet scraping against the linoleum as he tried to find balance. His asshole was exposed, tight and puckered, vulnerable to the men eager to teach the lesson.
Raymond unwrapped the stick of butter and reached behind Herbert, his fingers slick and cold as they pressed against his hole, the butter smearing over his rim.
“Relax,” Raymond murmured, his voice falsely gentle. “It’ll go better if you don’t fight.”
Herbert grit his teeth as Raymond’s finger pushed in, slow and deliberate. The intrusion was sharp, burning, making him cry out.
“That’s it,” Raymond whispered, his finger twisting slightly. “Just let it in.”
Herbert’s breath came in ragged pulls. His body tensed as Raymond worked the finger in and out, stretching him slowly. He could feel the drag of the butter. The slickness thickened as Raymond prepared him.
Drake watched with cold satisfaction. “Looks like he’s taking it well,” he muttered. “Almost like he’s been waiting for this.”
Raymond chuckled, adding a second finger. Herbert gasped, his hips jerking as the stretch intensified. The burn grew sharper, a deep, aching pressure that made his eyes water.
“Easy now,” Raymond circled his thumb around Herbert’s rim. “You’re doing good.”
Drake slid his hand down to Herbert’s penis, shrunken from the humiliation, the fear, the sheer intensity of the moment. He flicked the tip with a fingernail, making Herbert gasp! His lump twitched. Blood began to flow into it.
“See?” Drake mocked. “Your body knows what’s up.”
Raymond worked a third finger in, stretching Herbert wider. The burn was now a deep, throbbing ache, a sensation of being opened, of being made ready for something much larger.
“Almost there,” Raymond murmured, his fingers twisting slightly. “Just a little more.”
Herbert’s hands clawed at the wall behind him, his nails scraping the plaster. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. His body trembled with the effort of not fighting, of letting them do this to him.
Raymond pulled his fingers free, leaving Herbert feeling oddly empty, his hole tingling with the aftermath of the stretch. He wiped his hands on a rag, then stepped back, nodding to Drake.
“He’s ready,” Raymond said, his voice tight with anticipation.
Drake shoved Herbert harder against the rough plaster. He hooked one hand under Herbert’s knee, lifting his leg high, opening him up even more.
“Look at him,” Drake purred. “All spread out and ready. Just like a woman.”
Ramon rubbed the stick of butter all over Drake’s cock. Drake reached behind Herbert, his cock slick with the golden fat as he lined up. Herbert braced himself for the inevitable.
Drake pushed in, slow at first. The head breached the loosened ring of muscle. Herbert cried out.
“Here it is,” Drake murmured, his hips rocking slightly. “Did you guess? Is this what you were expecting? Is this why you skipped your obligations?”
Raymond snickered, “Here’s what you get for not watching the feed. This is what you deserve for thinking you’re still a man.”