Joanne's downfall 19: The ultimate humiliation

Joanne receives an unwelcome visit, and the truth is finally revealed.

While the farm buzzed with wedding preparations—flowers being arranged in the field, tables set under the white tent, guests arriving in elegant suits and dresses—Ana plotted alone in her room. Her eyes gleamed with pure hatred for Joanne, who in her sick mind was the whore who had dragged everyone into this chaos. 'It's time for the final humiliation before the altar, you slut. You're getting married? No way.' She picked up her cell phone from the previous day and dialed the saved number: Jurandir, the smelly handyman at Joanne's parents' house, one of the first guys to fuck Joanne's pussy when it all began. 'Hello, Jurandir? Ana here, Joanne's friend. She asked me to call you about some repairs at the groom's parents' farm. But it's a secret: she said she wants to fuck you one last time before getting married. She's dying to suck your dick again.' Jurandir grunted on the other end of the line, his voice hoarse with desire: 'Seriously?' "Did Joanne tell you that?" "I'm coming, damn it!" Ana laughed: "Of course, we're friends, we always tell each other everything. Come quickly, put on your dirty uniform, she loves it. She'll be wearing a veil and everything, dying to receive your sperm in her pussy." She hung up, sending the exact address.

Ana left discreetly, meeting the other bridesmaids, Sofia, Lila, and Marta, in the hallway, with impeccable makeup and pastel pink dresses. "Girls, the wedding planner asked us to come now to help with the last details of the ceremony. Let the bride get ready alone, she needs some time to prepare for Harold." Sofia hesitated: "But what if she needs help?" Ana winked: "She'll be fine." "Come on, the car's ready." They left, laughing and chatting, leaving Joanne alone in the spacious room, a huge mirror reflecting her flowing white dress, light veil, and flawless makeup. Her body still felt the sex with Charles the night before, her vagina sensitive, but she smiled at her reflection: "Finally... I'm going to marry Harold." The door opened slowly. Ana entered, the lock turned. Joanne turned, her smile fading: "Ana? Have the girls already left?" Ana approached, the scent of expensive perfume mixed with malice: "Yes, they have, you little slut. I brought a little present: your 'ex-lover,' Jurandir. Want to say goodbye before the wedding? You're going to please him properly, suck his cock, spread your legs. Otherwise, I'll send videos of your mouth swallowing garbage man's sperm to the guests." Joanne paled, her veil trembling: 'No! Not today, Ana! It's my wedding! Please, I beg you... Harold is outside!' Ana grabbed her chin: 'Obey, you whore bride. Or everyone will see the slut sucking dirty dicks. He's coming, he spent all morning working to get dirty, sweaty and smelly, just the way you deserve.' She left laughing, the door locked from the outside.

Joanne paced back and forth in circles, her heart racing, her dress rustling: "It can't be... dressed like this, hours before the altar..." The door creaked open. Jurandir entered, old, thin, in a dirty dark blue uniform, muddy boots, sweat dripping from his dark forehead, a sparse beard smelling of sweat, cleaning products, and old urine, probably from cleaning the house's bathrooms. His eyes widened at the sight: Joanne dressed as a bride, her breasts firm in the bodice, her skirt voluminous. "Damn! I got your message. I'm also eager to fuck that pussy again before the cuckold receives you at the altar." His cock hardened in his baggy pants, a thick bulge clearly visible. Joanne recoiled against the wall, her veil falling over her face: "Jurandir... You're too late, we can't do this now! Please, go away! My wedding is soon!" He laughed, locking the door: "Too late? Don't worry. You invited me here to suck my cock and get fucked. And I'll fulfill your last wish before you marry that cuckold."

He moved forward, his calloused hands gripping the veil, pulling her to the floor. "Kneel down, you slutty bride. Suck my stinky cock, the way you like it." He slowly unbuttoned his pants, revealing torn underwear, and his thick cock emerged: 18 cm, veins throbbing, glans purple, a strong smell of dirty balls invading her nose. Joanne sobbed, her knees buckling on the white carpet, but her mouth opened, her lips covered in pink lipstick touching the glans. "Lick it, whore." "Clean my lollipop before the wedding." She licked slowly, her tongue scraping away the salty grime, a sour taste filling her mouth. Jurandir groaned, his hand pressing down on the back of her neck: "That's right, swallow deep. The rich bride sucking the handyman's cock. Your fiancé must think you're a virgin, right?" His penis slid down her throat, his hairy testicles brushing against her chin, saliva dripping down her veil. She gagged, her eyes watering, her makeup smudging: the humiliation burning – dressed as a bride, kneeling, sucking a disgusting penis, hours before the "I do."

She sucked for a few minutes, the head moving up and down, wet suction, the glans hitting her uvula. "Good blowjob." "Your fiancé will taste my cock in your kiss." He held her head and lifted it: "Now on the bed, open your legs for my cock." He threw her back onto the soft mattress, the skirt of her dress riding up her smooth thighs. Thick hands lifted the white fabric, the petticoat tearing slightly, her white panties exposed. "Look at that wide vagina! Naughty bride." He tore her panties, sticking his finger inside her vagina: "All sensitive for the handyman. I already imagined you'd slept with other men since our last encounter, but there's no point in being so wide." Joanne moaned: "Be careful... you'll get... my dress dirty!" He spat in his hand, lubricated his penis, and thrust it into her vagina, stretching her sensitive walls even further: "Aaaah! Take this cock, you veiled whore!" He thrust deep inside her, his testicles slapping against her buttocks, her dress crumpling under his weight. 'You're going to marry me with my sperm dripping out, you cuckold will lick it all up tonight.'

Joanne felt each thrust like a stab to the soul: the stinking penis filling her vagina, the smell of sweat permeating her perfume, his uniform soiling her white bodice, his boots muddying the sheets. She felt humiliated... dressed as a bride and being fucked by a handyman... Harold still in the house... Tears wet her veil, but her treacherous hips rose, her clitoris rubbing against his penis. Jurandir grunted obscenely: 'Your cunt is squeezing my cock, bitch. Remember when I fucked you at your parents' house? Now, as a bride. While the cuckold plans the honeymoon, I'm going to fill your cunt.' Hands squeezed her breasts over her dress. She bit her lip, an orgasm approaching involuntarily, her body convulsing.

As Jurandir's cock penetrated Joanne's cunt, the wet sound echoed. Ana was in her room. He assembled an anonymous email with attached files: a video of Joanne at her house, on all fours sucking a garbage collector's penis, pretending to enjoy it to please the garbage collector. The second video showed the restaurant bathroom where Haroldo had taken her, with three cleaners taking turns on her mouth and vagina, semen on her face; the third video showed the pizza delivery man at her front door, fucking her throat; the fourth video was an old video of Jurandir in his small room at her parents' house, her moaning and pretending to enjoy it. Subject: "Your fiancée is a working-class whore. Confirm in her room NOW – she's cheating on you with a handyman." Ana sent it to Haroldo.

Haroldo, in his room a little distance from Joanne's, impeccably dressed in a black suit, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror, his cell phone beeped. He opened it, his face pale: "What...?" Videos began, low but clear: Joanne's moans as she was being fucked by filthy men, behaving like a slut. "It's a setup... impossible... my Joanne wouldn't do that..." But the email warned: "Go to her room." His heart pounding, he walked to her room, his steps heavy. At the door, he heard muffled moans from her: "Take that, you slutty fiancée! Your cuckold must be waiting for you!" His hand trembled on the doorknob, he slowly opened the door – and saw: Joanne in her wedding dress on the bed, skirt lifted, Jurandir, the handyman from her parents' house on top of her, his thick penis penetrating her vagina, sweat dripping down his face.

Harold's heart shattered like glass: instant tears. Jurandir, with his penis still inside her, oblivious to Harold's presence, continued thrusting: 'The cuckold will receive you at the altar full of my sperm and with the taste of my cock in his mouth!' He squeezed her buttocks, ejaculating hot jets: 'Take the milk, bitch! For the cuckold to lick tonight!' Thick sperm overflowed, running down her white thighs. Joanne, having an orgasm, her body arched involuntarily and then she saw Harold: 'No! Harold!' The orgasm betrayed her, her vagina tightening around his penis, the fluids mixing with the sperm. The horror in her eyes: her fiancé watching her have an orgasm while being fucked by another man.

Jurandir left laughing, his penis still dripping: 'Your cuckold probably doesn't even imagine how naughty you are!' Joanne pushed him away: 'Get out! Get out!' He saw Harold lunging furiously, punching him in the nose before he could react: crack! Blood gushed out. The second punch to the stomach, Jurandir doubled over: "Son of a bitch!" As Harold looked at Joanne, Jurandir ran to the door, pants down. The room fell silent, only sobs.

Harold cried, his face red: "Why, Joanne? If you didn't love me, you could have just broken up with me! I would have understood!" She sat on the bed, her dress crumpled, semen dripping: "Harold... it's not what it looks like! I... I love you!" Nervously, she stammered, her makeup smeared. He shouted: "You love me? You scream with lust for the janitor's dick, the garbage collector's dick, you suck the delivery guy's dick! And now, dressed as a bride, with your family's smelly handyman! You who talked about virginity, about status... you spread your legs for anyone while I plan our life! While the stupid cuckold plans our life!" Joanne stood up to embrace him, but her leg trembled, Jurandir's semen trickled from her vagina, a thick stream falling to the floor and splashing onto Haroldo's polished shoe. Haroldo recoiled in disgust: 'How disgusting! You treacherous whore, you say you love me while another man's sperm drips from your cunt!' She grabbed him, her veil falling: 'Haroldo, won't leave me alone? I love you so much! Forgive me... please!' Haroldo sobbed in the embrace: 'I love you... but I can't forgive this. Not one betrayal, but several! And the last one just hours before the altar!' He gently pushed her away: 'I won't expose you. I would never have the courage to hurt you. Make up an excuse for the guests, illness, I don't know. But the wedding is canceled.' He left through the door, shoulders slumped, leaving her to fall to her knees, tears streaming down her face: 'Haroldo! No! My love...' her dress stained with semen and dirt. She collapsed in tears, falling to the ground.

Outside, Ana listened to everything, with a sadistic smile: "It's over, bitch. The cuckold dumped you." She saw Jurandir run away, his car disappearing in the dust. "Perfect." She ran to find Mark in the shed, believing she had destroyed Joanne.

Ana drove to the abandoned warehouse, a sadistic smile on her lips. 'Joanne destroyed, the cuckold left, wedding canceled. Now let's finish off Charles.' The rusty door creaked as she pushed. Inside the warehouse, a smell of mold and old oil filled the air. A sweaty Mark tied Charles to the thick iron beam, ropes tightening around his wrists. Charles groaned softly, still groggy from the blow to the head.

'Finish it up, love. I want him awake to know why he died.' Mark grunted, tying the final knot. Charles blinked slowly, his eyes focused on them: 'What the hell...? Mark? Ana? Let me go, you sons of bitches!' He struggled, ropes creaking. Ana laughed, bringing her face closer: 'We know everything, you worm. You're the anonymous blackmailer. You sold Rachel to the brothel like a cheap whore. That bitch was my best friend. Time to pay.' Mark spat on the ground: 'Fucking failure.' "He only managed to sleep with Joanne in secret, he doesn't even have the guts to show his face." Charles said: "You were going to do the same thing to Joanne. You used blackmail to sleep with her and humiliate her." Mark replied: "We just took the opportunity to get revenge on my slutty cousin. As for you: no slut would sleep with you unless you were blackmailed."

Charles turned red with rage, veins bulging in his neck: "Let me go, you bastards! I'll finish you off! Rachel deserved it, that stuck-up whore who thought she was in charge, now she'll spend the rest of her life being fucked by filthy men!" But fury gave Charles strength, the loose amateur ropes loosened. His arms were freed with a tug, and a violent punch landed on Mark's chin. Mark fell backward, head hitting the concrete floor, blood in his mouth. Charles got up quickly and shoved Ana with his shoulder, she tripped on some old tin and fell: "Go fuck yourselves!" He ran to the rickety stairs of the shed.

Mark rolled over, hand on the cold gun at his waist – a stolen .38 revolver. 'You bastard!' He fired! The bullet hit the wall, splinters flying. Charles climbed the creaking stairs two at a time, the dark second floor. 'Get him!' Mark yelled, head spinning but climbing behind him, Ana behind. Charles dropped a toolbox in front of them, hammers clinking.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Harold dragged his suitcase across the room, his suit crumpled, his eyes swollen and red. "She...with a smelly garbage man, was fucked dressed as a bride, in my house. Her lover's semen dripped onto my shoe." Hot tears streamed down his face, but the hatred grew, and he began to think: "Who sent the email? How did they know the exact moment she was cheating on me..." He remembered Charles, his hacker friend. "He hacks anything, he can find out who sent the email." He ran to the guest room: empty, the laptop open on the bed, black screen suspended.

A touch on the keyboard lit up the screen. Harold froze: "Joanne_Whore" folder open. Photos first: Joanne tied to her bed, ropes binding her wrists, a red ball in her mouth drooling, a black man shoving his penis into her vagina, sperm running down her thighs; Another video, four in her house, a tattooed construction worker penetrating her anally while yelling "Take it up the ass, rich whore!", with semen dripping on the floor; a group of garbage collectors in a room, her being passed from hand to hand, mouth and holes full of dirty penises, face covered in sperm. "It's not possible... wait... Charles hired those workers..."

Worse videos: clicks opened the players. First, Mark – Joanne's cousin! – holding Joanne's hair, with his thick penis in her throat: "Swallow, you slutty cousin! Your cuckold fiancé thinks you're a virgin, doesn't he?" She choked, drool running down her breasts. Another: Ana and Rachel laughing, while forcing Joanne to stick her tongue in their vaginas: "Lick our pussy, you lesbian whore!" Joanne screamed "Stop, please!". In one of the worst: Stinky beggars fucking her in a group. She begged, "Please, that's enough, I can't take it anymore!" Old, dirty men fucking her cunt, ass, and mouth, sperm spurting on her face: "Shut up, you whore! Your holes are ours." Harold vomited in the corner, his stomach churning: "My Joanne... tortured like this... like I never realized."

He found Charles' anonymous emails to Joanne: "Obey or I'll send Harold videos of your mouth swallowing janitor's sperm." "Seduce the garbage man." "Sleep with Jurandir." Harold roared: "Charles! Son of a bitch!" He grabbed his laptop and ran to her room. Joanne was on the floor, her white dress stained with dried sperm and dirt, her veil torn, sobbing.

Harold approached and knelt, hugging her tightly: 'Joanne! I found out everything. On Charles's laptop... photos, videos, blackmail emails. He forced you to do all this. I'm sorry, love! I never realized, I didn't protect you... I should have noticed your sad eyes.' She lifted her face, her makeup smeared, her eyes wide: 'Charles? Your weird friend? Where is he?' Harold squeezed her: 'I don't know, but I'll find him. Mark, Ana, Rachel... they'll all pay for what they did. I'll protect you now. I'll make it up to you for being there for you before.' Joanne collapsed in his arms, crying: 'I love you... I was so afraid of losing you... forgive me.' He kissed her forehead: 'It wasn't your fault, you were forced. It's over. I'll take care of you.'

In the warehouse, Mark and Ana cautiously went up to the second floor. Charles was cornered by the broken window, sweat dripping: 'You'll pay for this!' They can't kill me and get away with it!' He tried to run to the side stairs, but Mark shot him, the bullet hit his back, tearing flesh: 'Aaaargh!' He lost his balance, tripping over the edge and falling 4 meters to the concrete floor below, his body hitting with a loud noise, a pool of blood forming. Mark saw the scene, and believed he was dead, and ran with Ana to the car.

In the car, Mark sped off: 'Let's go back to the farm, attend the wedding. So as not to raise suspicions.' Ana laughed: 'There won't be a wedding. I sent an email to Haroldo: videos of her with garbage collectors, cleaners, delivery men, Jurandir fucking her. He saw everything.' Mark braked sharply: 'You're crazy! You couldn't have done that! What if they find out we're involved?' Ana shrugged: 'There were only videos of her with strangers, nothing of ours, and she won't want to risk telling and us exposing the videos to everyone.' Mark replied: "Damn it. Now we'll just talk to some relatives to get an alibi, grab our things, and leave." Ana nodded: "Yes. It's over."

At the ranch, Harold had already acted: he called his loyal henchmen on his cell phone – strong ranch hands like Carl, Mike, and five others. (Joanne didn't tell them she'd been fucked by them, and they didn't know it was her either). Harold told them: "If Charles, Mark, Ana, and Rachem come back, grab them and take them to the barn, tie them up until I get there." Their car stopped at the gate. Mark and Ana got out, but shadows emerged from the bushes: thick arms grabbed Mark: "What the hell?!" Punches rained down, noses breaking, ribs cracking. Ana screamed, her nails digging into a farmhand's arm, but a farmhand threatened her: 'Shut up, whore! Or it'll be worse for your boyfriend!' They dragged the two of them to the dark barn, the hay stinking, tied to the beams.

Haroldo entered, eyes cold: 'Do you know why you're here?' Mark, spitting blood, laughed: 'You found out everything, you cuckold?... are you going to kill us?' Haroldo kicked him in the balls: 'You fucked my fiancée! Blackmail, orgies, beggars. How could you have the nerve, she's your cousin, you sicko!' Haroldo said, while punching Mark some more. 'Where's Charles?' Mark groaned: 'In the abandoned shed... I shot that bastard. He's already dead.' Haroldo nodded to his henchmen: 'Go check.' They went to the shed and found Charles agonizing, but alive, bleeding, and called an ambulance.

Harold looked at Ana: 'You're going to jail for attempted murder. I'm not going to tell you what you did to Joanne just so I don't expose her. But if you open your mouths... I'll kill you personally.' Ana whimpered: 'Please... it was supposed to be just a silly revenge, it was Charles and Mark who let it go this far...' Mark said brokenly: 'You whore, how dare you blame me, you're the one who invited me to this.' Sirens blared in the distance. The police arrived and handcuffed them, taking them to the patrol car: 'They tried to kill one of the guests in the shed near the farm, he's already been taken to the hospital.' Harold said. He also used this excuse to postpone the wedding, knowing that Joanne was not in a condition to get married. All the guests were horrified to learn of the attempted murder against Charles.

Joanne was in the room, changing clothes after a long bath. Harold returned and hugged her: 'They're in jail and Charles is in the hospital. Nobody found out what they did to you. But don't worry, I'll make sure they get the maximum sentence possible and use my contacts to ensure their life in prison is much worse than normal.' Joanne collapsed into his arms, and they both lay down on Harold's bed, and for the first time in weeks Joanne slept peacefully, knowing that her fiancé would protect her and that her tormentors were about to get what they deserved.

Note: Since the story ended up being longer than I expected, I'm going to write two more long chapters. One focusing on describing the punishment of Joanne's tormentors. And the other focused on Joanne and Harold getting back on their feet and having their definitive ending.