Brutally Fucked! - Lady Devreux - ebook

Ellen is the definition of kindness- as a special education teacher, her life revolves around helping others. Her secret? She wants to be taken, brutally fucked, and not by her soft spoken husband. When an online stranger orders her to a motel room, she accepts- but she soon discovers that he is not some stranger at all, but her son! Excerpt The turning point for me was when he showed me that shirtless picture of himself- and then he told me what to do. Whether sex happened or not, which I expected it would, it was the second part of the conversation that had spurred me to abandon any restraint and go through with this. I had only seen his chest, and I had no idea what his cock looked like, but that really did not matter. What mattered was that he had naturally taken control, and that was what I was looking for- someone to put me in my place. Like the dirty girl you know you are- and dirty girls cheat on their husbands! Yes, they do. I got out of the car, my thin legs shaking in my black heels- I was not used to walking on them, but since I was meeting what was going to be the only affair of my life, I may as well dress specially for the occasion. The black shoes made my five foot frame a whole five foot four inches tall, and as I made my way across the pitted asphalt of the old motel parking lot, I noticed that the room looked completely empty. There was no light on behind the door. Is this whole thing a set up- you know, you can still turn back, Ellen. I was at the door now- the room sounded quiet, and as I turned the metal handle, I was surprised that the door was unlocked. Inside, I found the standard run down room I was expecting- a single full size bed with mismatched black and white blankets and two pillows, a cheaply made nightstand and lamp with cigarette burns in the “wood”, and a television that was bolted into the wall. The place had a stench of lingering sex almost- a mixture of the sweat of the many people who had come through these doors at one time or another, spiked with the added aroma of old cigarettes and general decay. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not an empty room. Maybe this whole thing was a ruse, maybe the cleaning people here had left this room open by mistake? Yeah, right, with all the junkies and homeless people around here. Then I noticed a note on the television screen- it was handwritten, in block script, the letters vaguely familiar though I could not place where I had seen this person’s writing before. Ever since they stopped teaching people cursive, all writing seemed to look the same, so maybe I was just reading into it too much. Make yourself at home. I had to go to the store- when I get back, I want you on the bed, fingering your pussy, and ready to do what I say! Direct and to the point- this man knew that I was going to come here, or at least he had a good idea that I was going to show up, so it did not surprise me that he was still directing the show from afar. Turning on the dim light, I then took off my high heels. Climbing onto the bed, my fingers reached underneath the fabric of my black dress, and I slid them underneath the cotton fabric of my panties. I wonder what is taking him so long- I wonder how big his cock is? I bet he is going to come in here and fuck me like I have never been fucked before. Two of my fingers were now inside of me, as I imagined what was about to happen. The anticipation was killing me- now that I had decided to do this, I wanted him now, and I did not want to wait any longer! The door suddenly opened, just as I was starting to get wet. I saw that the strange man who I was waiting on was no other than my son, Harry! “Mom, what the fuck?” Harry said.

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Liczba stron: 70


CHAPTER ONE Brutally Kind

CHAPTER TWO Discreet Twins

CHAPTER THREE Dull vs. Harry

CHAPTER FOUR Eventuality


CHAPTER SIX Getting It Brutally



Brutally Kind

Chapter One: Brutally Kind

I love to be kind to people.

I have done my best to live a life of kindness- even at an early age, I was known as a quiet girl who was always trying to be the peacemaker.

Maybe I was not the prettiest girl in my class- back then the girls with the big breasts and the long blonde hair outdid me, and now as I am nearly forty, their daughters outdo me, too. I have never been called ugly at least- at least not by anyone who really meant it- and I like to think that while I am not a model, I still hold up well in the mirror.

But, looks are not the most important thing to me, and never have been, whether it comes to people or animals. I like to see past the facade, past the glitter and the makeup and the sparkle, and look at a person for the good that is in them. Yes, even the worst seeming people have at least one good quality- a man who killed people in a gang incident goes to prison and writes children's books now, for example- and I do believe that anyone who woke up this morning has the ability to choose to become a better person.

No, I am not some holier than thou lady- I don’t go to church, and I can’t say whether or not I even believe there is a God or not. I think it is more important to treat others how we want to be treated, then it is to preach from some book or to go out and attack people because they are different than us. Maybe if more people thought this way, the world would be a better place. I don’t know, but I do know that I can do my part to show kindness and mercy to others.

So, I became a special education teacher, and I work in a facility that is dedicated to attempting to save the “worst” children in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania. I teach on the boys side, and I teach everyone as best I know how- from thirteen year olds that are already locked up for the majority of their life, to twenty year olds who have the minds of children and are about to be released in a few months. Even if someone is never getting out of here, he should still be able to learn to read and write and do something with himself other than think constantly about his fate in life. Maybe some conservatives believe in locking away and throwing away the key, but a human being is still a human being.

Some people say I am crazy for working here.

This facility has been around for a few decades now, and over that time, it has seen it’s share of all of the problems that an adult prison sees. Children who attack and hurt other children, who hurt themselves, or who attempt to take out their frustrations on the world by assaulting a staff member. In the early days, some killings did occur, and this place was worse than sections of the infamous Attica prison an hour north of here. Just because someone is young, doesn’t mean that they aren’t already vicious- and the stream of these young men only increases from the ruined families of the Keystone State.

Luckily, things have calmed down somewhat- partially due to simply putting these children on prescriptions (a practice that I think is way over done), and partially because I like to think that these teenagers respect me. I have now been working here for a full thirteen years, and it isn’t for the money- which is a lot less than I would make in any private school. No, it is for the thought that maybe I have reached a few of these young men, and maybe some of them will be better people, no matter their individual circumstances.

Not everyone who works here feels like I do- yes, there are some who echo my opinions, but I have seen many of them get burned out within a few weeks of starting here. This is not an easy place to work- I have been cursed at, spit on, and called every name that you can think of by some of these youths that I am trying to help. I would say most people who work here are here much for the same reason that our charges are here- they simply happened to get transferred here by the state, and my coworkers too are putting in time until the day they can retire with a nice union secured pension.

All of us do our own time, in our own way.

Marriage is another way, in which some people are imprisoned, but just as I have been lucky not to ever get actually attacked within these gray walls, I have also been lucky enough to be married to the same man since I was nineteen years old. We are one of those rare examples of a steady marriage in this modern world- though both of us are not religious, we both have careers, and we both tend to veer hard to the left on politics.

I met my husband in college, and I can’t say it was love or even lust at first sight.

Frank has never been that attractive of a man, at least physically. Even then, at twenty years of age, he was chunky, and his hair was starting to fade into that bald eagle like circle around his head. He has thick glasses, he is short (only five inches taller than my five foot frame), and when he talks, sometimes he gets so excited that he runs out of breath. Yes, Frank has always been a “nerd”, a man that looks more at home playing the latest role playing game than he would be doing anything else.

Frank may wheeze when he talks too fast, and maybe his fashion sense is terrible, but that didn’t matter to me then, and now it still doesn’t.

The important thing is that Frank is a good man- he loves me, he loves our children, and he loves people like I do.\

Frank doesn’t put in hours getting yelled at by rowdy young criminals, instead he works as an attorney for those who are wrongfully convicted. While the death row in our state is more of a technicality than a reality- I think the last time someone was actually executed here was in 1999, and the last time it was done against someone’s will was in the early sixties- nonetheless, it does still exist. It may surprise some people that our usually presidentially blue state has the death penalty, but most of our state is red once you get away from the two titans of Pittsburgh and Philly.

My marriage to Frank hasn’t been without it’s issues- no two people can live in the same house together and always get along- but essentially, we are a good match. Maybe I think he can be downright annoying at times, such as when he laughs at childish jokes, but I am sure that he feels the same way about me. The reason our relationship works is that we have the same basic views on the important subjects, from people to politics, and so we are able to avoid the type of fights that are most serious in nature.

I say essentially, because nothing is perfect.

Part of my annual retraining at the facility was learning to perform a NAPPI restraint- basically, a way to keep someone from hurting themselves or others, that does not require you to be larger than them or stronger.

At five feet tall and barely one hundred pounds, I thought before I entered the training that it was pointless. I don’t like to use physical violence- I think it is a bit ridiculous that most of my “students” are here for using their bodies to inflict damage, and yet we are being taught to do the same- and I think that almost everything can be solved with words. Only once have I had to call in the “goon squad”- that is, the four men who respond when a student gets really nasty. Most of the time, I simply soothe them by words.