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Born Beautiful

By: MagicWand



AUTHOR'S NOTE: sorry it has taken me so long to write. I have been searching for new and unusual plots. I think I came up with a true version of what the tabloids think goes on in Hollywood. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Please let me know if you like it.

*

I was born beautiful, so don't hate me.

Being beautiful was all I have ever known, it is who I am and everything I will be. I know most of you women are jealous of my perfect features, my flawless skin and hate my body which is desired by most of the male population. 

I was born beautiful, which means being hated by women, especially my so called peers. Models and actresses that I work with all hate me because I am born beautiful not fined tuned by surgery. Those women that want to be my friend, desire to be around someone beautiful like me. I guess they think I make them more attractive. 

I know you immediately think I am conceited, a braggart or just "full of herself". What it is, its honesty and I need to tell you my story, the true story of Bridgett "Jet" Tarboe.

When I say I was born beautiful, I mean it literally. After just 20 days old my mother got me my first job, as a new born baby on a TV show. My mother knew I was going to beautiful the day she found out she was pregnant.

Her mother expected her to be beautiful also, they named my mother Estella. They expected her to be a star and have a "stella" career. My mother was good looking, as from the time she was a teenager she entered every pageant or fair that had a beauty contest. She won first place in a county fair when she was 14, but most of the larger beauty pageants she had to settle for second or third place. 

My mom talks about those days a lot while I was growing up. She told me how the other girls would either sabotage her or give sexual favors to the judges to win. She used to tell me that she had learned from mistakes in her own life to make sure my life would be perfect.

Did I mention my hair? Men are mistaken when they say it is blonde. It is such a perfect blonde that Rivlon and Sam Factors, the two largest cosmetic companies both tried to replicate my color calling it Jet Blonde. 

Jet is my nickname.

I have an older brother named Ian. I suspect that my mother was so disappointed that her first born was a son, that as soon as she was able, she tried for a second child, me. My mom devoted my life to me and she made sure my brother did the same. He was taught to care for me, to worship me, to make sure I would develop to be me. He went to regular, public schools while I went to the right private schools. 

As my mother groomed me to be a star, as soon as I was born she groomed Ian to take care of me. In looking back, I can see why he might be resentful of me. Ian was less than a brother and more of an administrator to me. He always played second fiddle to my needs. When we were children, if there was only one scoop of ice cream left, of a flavor that he preferred over me, all I had to do is ask for it and mother would dish it out for me.

She would say something to him like "now Ian, you know your sister can't eat as much ice cream as you, she has to watch her weight; so indulge her."

In times like this he would storm off mad. It might have been then that I realized the power I had over him. I would take one lick of the spoon then dump the dish of ice cream in the sink. To me it was all about the power.

Don't hate me.

I was really more often nice to my brother than mean. I would buy him things and introduce him to girls. Because having power is more than making someone miserable, it's how far you can push someone to a point and then bring them back into acquiescence with minimal effort. With real power people will always do what you want, just to make you happy.

My mother had placed Ian under my thumb but I learned from her how to keep all men that way. She did it with my father. My mother chose him because he was hard working and would do anything for her. Why wouldn't he, she was way out of his league. When they met he was a senior vice president of a construction firm making a decent living. 

After I was born, my mother knew she would need more. She demanded he start his own business and she went out to get backing for him.

I have heard stories about her ways. I look back now and I can honestly say I believe them. She seduced his co-workers, bankers, and even rivals to get his business up and running. I have heard people say that women using sex for gain makes them a whore. 

These people are what I call "outsiders." The "insiders" know differently. The "outsiders" use sex for enjoyment, just as they use money to buy toys with, like driving a Porsche for fun. The "insiders" use sex for power. When an "insider" buys something like a Porsche it's because his partner has a Corvette. If his partner has a Porsche then the "insider" buys a Ferrari. It's always about the power.

My mother used her fine figure and her womanly wiles because sex brought power. My father enjoyed the success of his new construction company. It was much smaller than the corporation he worked for, but it was his own and he made more money. My father, Robert, worked long hours at keeping the company successful. After all, my mother insisted on it. My mother didn't allow him to interfere much with me, to his credit; he knew his place in our family.

Don't think I am cold.

I love my family. They have all given so much to me. But let me continue to my teen years. By the time I was 12 I was worldly. I knew I had power over men and women. I knew my life story as well as if it were already out on DVD. I would collect valentines from school as if they were worn socks; as soon as I got home they were in the trash. Why waste my time on childhood puppy love, when I knew I will be courted by Princes and Kings. I was already modeling and doing small TV spots but to me this was all just baby stuff.

I remember coming home from school one day and the look on my mother's face, gleaming with radiance told me that something special had happened. The world famous designer, Kelvin Cline was considering using me for a new line of clothing. He wanted us to come to New York and do some shots. The famous French photographer Vida Goresson would be the photographer. THE Vida Goresson, at the time he was considered in modeling to be GOD. He could make or break a person just with the click of his shutter.

My mother knew all about Kelvin Cline, she called him a closet pedophile. I didn't know at the time what that meant. I knew he liked little girls like me. In fact, at the age of 12 my breast were quite developed and I even thought I might be too developed for his particular taste. I have seen his other ads in all the magazines. What interested me more was Vida Goresson. If he liked me, I knew he would be my ticket. My mother agreed, Vida was the person to impress. 

It was then I wished I had a boyfriend. If I had one, perhaps I would know how to do this sex thing. I wondered if Vida would be interested in a girl like me. I thought not, he was surrounded by adult models all the time. I had hoped he would find my mother attractive; perhaps she can work the sex thing on him.

Don't hate me. 

I was done with childhood at the age of 7 and now I was dealing with an awkward age in which my body was that of a woman, by my age was of a child. My mind? Well that hasn't really changed at all. Then just as now I always knew what I wanted.

We went to New York. Daddy couldn't come because of work. Mother and I invited Ian along on the adventure. Not that he was going to the studio or be involved, but someone had to carry our bags. This was a big day, I was not going to chance breaking nail or straining myself.

It was a game. I played the naïve young teen with Vida all the while trying to seduce him with my body. Naturally my mother was there, I was a minor after all. He would ask me to step into the dressing room and change into shorts and a blouse. I would come out with the blouse clutched against my naked torso, just covering my nipples but allowing him to see how full and developed my breasts were from the side. 

I would act coy and ask "is this the right shirt?"

I knew when I struck a chord when he would cough and give a nervous glance to my mother. Vida was a man of 34. He was fit and his fame and confidence, made him more attractive than he was. He took hours of pictures of me. I seduced him with my eyes. Vida would tell me many years later that the look I gave him back then were as if I was " the most experienced whore in the world." I think that was the greatest compliment you can give a virgin.

The next day we went back to the studio, Vida and Mr. Cline was there. He shook my hand and offered a peck on the cheek to my mother. 

"Call me Kelvin." He smiled and I could see him glancing about my body. 

When we looked at the photos sprawled on the large glass table, I stood right up against him, reaching across his body for a photograph, making sure my breast was firm against his arm. Occasionally, I would rub against him, squealing in delight when he said something nice about a picture. I could see through the glass table that his penis was stirring. I had a pretty good understanding on what this man liked.

Over the next two days, we all had dinner and discussed the photos. Kelvin would fatherly give me advice, which always seemed to entail a caress or hug. I pretended to not only act unaware, but to enjoy teasing him with my "unintentional" rubbing. To his credit, it never went any further than that. I am sure to this day he still masturbates thinking about how he would have deflowered me. But he was too successful and astute of a businessman to fall into that. Perhaps he just used his imagination or perhaps when he was off in one of those third world countries checking on his factories, he would find himself a young girl and pretend it was me.

Needless to tell you all, I was signed. You've seen my ads from billboards to magazines. They created quite a controversy with that ad, all of the religious uproar made millions in sales. The ad featured a really sexy side shot of me. 

The photo of me stopped just above my ass crack, my arms clutching the blouse against my breast with the slogan "If I can't wear KC, why wear anything?" 

I really don't think the controversy over the picture was that a 12 year old was nearly nude, no. It was my face. My seductive pouting lips and my eyes, the photo said "I want to fuck you and you want to fuck me, but you can't because I am just 12." What that ad was, was a cruel joke to play on men, when they all saw it they wanted me....until they found out how old I was, then they felt ashamed. That was my power.

Vida and I teamed up with Kelvin Cline ads for the next two years. I did many other ads, my mother moved us all to New York, which meant father had to fly back and forth from Manhattan to Chicago all the time. My mother and I did lots of interviews. We played up the fact that I was naïve and pure and had no clue on what my body did to men. When asked about boyfriends we would tell the press that I was to involved in school, acting classes and modeling to have any friends. Oh how the press loved to hear that. People actually felt bad for me. No one hated me then. My mother and I were master manipulators and we knew how to work the power. 

Ian hated to leave his friends behind; he even had a girl friend back in Chicago. I reminded him that he would even have met his girl friend if it weren't for me. I promised to introduce to other girls, more beautiful. Of course he whined, but he really didn't have a choice. We needed him here. Mother told him it was about time he learned the business so that he would be able to take care of things. After all, if you can't trust family, who can you trust? He had to make sure my dietary needs were in order, the staff was paid accurately, and all our appointments were kept. It was a big responsibility for a 16 year old and you think Ian would have appreciated the trust we put on him.

I wanted more than just being "the KC girl." I was 14 now and it was just a matter of time when Kelvin would find younger girl to fill his fantasies. I needed a manager. My mother did a good job, but I had to face it, she brought me along as far as she could. It would take more than her giving a blow job to the director of a commercial to get me that close up shot now. It would take someone entrenched in the business to maneuver my career. I met many such people in the fashion business, but I knew only one could do it well. Vida.

Would Vida give up his status of being top dog in the world of fashion photography to being my manager? Maybe if I offered him something he wanted or needed. Did I have the power to do that? Of course I did. You knew it was a rhetorical question right?

One evening I called Vida and told him I needed to see him, it was very important. His apartment was also his studio. For Manhattan it was luxurious. It was on the 35th floor and 3000 sq ft of studio space with windows on one wall that opened up to the entire city. Adjacent to this large studio space was a kitchen, laundry room, bathroom, closets and guest bedroom. Upstairs was a loft that over looked the studio; this loft contained the only non-white walls. These three walls painted in earth tones of brown, orange and yellow were his master bedroom and bath. I had seen it only from the studio floor. He never allowed anyone to go upstairs, at least as far as I ever witnessed.

Vida and I sat on the couch in the studio with only the lights of the city flooding the room. I told him I wanted him to manage me and my career. At first he shrugged it off like it was some teenager's whim. But as I spoke he knew I was speaking like a professional, no emotion and just business sense.

"Besides leaving my own career aside, what's in it for me?"

"Vida darling, if you still have time after taking care of my career you can still take your pictures of wannabe models. I am offering three things. First is the opportunity for a new ambitious career as my manager. Secondly, to become wealthy doing so, 15% of everything I make. I am talking, movie contracts, product lines, TV rights, the full monty."

Vida no longer had his amused look on his face. It was a serious business look that I have seen lawyer have. There was a short silence as I waited for him to ask the next obvious question.

"And what is the third thing?"

"Why I am surprised you have to ask." 

I stood up from the couch and moved in front of him. With a practiced move I deftly slipped out of my dress and stood before him in my sexiest lace bra and thong. The body lotion glistened on my perfect hard body.

"So, Bridgett, you think I throw away my career to sleep with a teenybopper?"

"No Vida. You move to a new career for the fame and money. I don't want to sleep with you."

"You don't?" He swallowed hard. 

My power was working on him. I studied his pupils as they widened, the small bead of sweat forming just above the hairline near the right ear. I noticed the small hairs on his neck tell me that I have won.

"No Vida, I want you to be my manager and my teacher. How can I act sexy? How can I be expected to be sexy if I don't know anything about sex? I need you to be my teacher, my instructor for as long as it takes. You need to be my master."

I inched closer to him with my head tilted down at my feet. I knew the word "master" would get to him. As if I would let anyone be the master of me. This was my power. To find out what bends your opponent and use it to your advantage.

"Cheri, you are just a..."

"Don't say child. A child trapped in a woman's body. A Child that makes over one million dollars a year. I am so much more that a child or a billboard. You can make me a woman. Teach me all the things in the one mysterious world left to me."

I then sat on his lap; my head nestled into his neck and my right arm around his shoulder. A moment of silence then I turned my face toward him, my lips a breath away from his. He moved in to brush his lips with mine, then the kiss, and the feel of his tongue on the roof of my mouth. What an electrifying feeling, not the kiss, I had power over this 38 year old man. That everything he worked his entire life for was now thrown away for me. 

To his credit, he did not give in and ravish me on the couch. We kissed; he caressed my perfect firm breasts and even stoked my pussy through the thin laced panties. I thought for sure he would strip me down. Was I prepared to do it then? Sure. Why not? Sex is power and that is the only reason for it. I am an "insider" don't forget that. 

You reading this may not believe me, but I never masturbated or had sexual fantasies. I dream what it would be like to win an Oscar, planned the steps to get me there. I bet more actresses and models think like I do than do not.

I was lying on the couch when he abruptly stood. Vida reached out his hand and pulled me up from the couch while picking up my dress. He gently handed it to me and cupped my face in his hands as he spoke in nearly a whisper.

"If I am going to be your manager and your instructor, there will be a proper time. Not a quick throw on the couch and send you home. I want to do it right."

"Then you agree to manage me?"

"Yes. Cheri, you and I will conquer the world. I will have my lawyers send you the papers. Then I will teach you in the ways of love."

"No need Vida, I had my lawyer send your lawyers the papers late this afternoon. See you later my professor." 

I then blew him a kiss and left the studio for home. Ian was waiting in the car down stairs. It was only 20 minutes, I told him it would be a half hour so I really don't know why he was pissed off at me. If anything he owed me 10 minutes but we drove back to our brownstone in silence.

The next few years were very busy for me indeed. Besides acting lessons, Vida hired a voice coach for me and a personal trainer. Since I was blessed with a perfect figure, the trainer had an easy job, just working off the occasional chocolate indulgence. Vida had all the best designers in the world create outfits for me. I was no longer the KC girl. I was Versace, Prada, Gautier and all of them. They all vied to me model for them. Vida was very busy reading movie scripts, dozens of them sent to him and he was so picky. Then there was the big night of my instruction, my 18th birthday.

Vida had planned everything. We were going to Los Angeles to meet with executives at Paramount. Vida insisted that my mother and Ian come along. I told my mother it was best just Vida and I met with the executives. Once something was more firm, her arrival would mean something. Of course it was just a ploy. It didn't need to be an intricate one, my mother understands power and she knew if I wanted something, I had the power.

We had separate suites at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It was really cute the way Vida fussed about trying to make everything so perfect. He had candles, soft music and champagne. Being a model in New York, champagne is like bottled water. No one every says "you're too young", it would be like telling someone they are unsophisticated. When he finally knocked on the joining door I opened it wearing my sexiest shear teddy. We kissed, we mauled each other and then he swept me up in his arms and carried me to the king sized bed. 

It sounds so romantic doesn't it? 

He went out of his way to make it so. I am sure he really thought I had a crush on him or was madly in love with him. He was so gentle so conscious as if walking on cracked ice. But the only ice was my nerves. I was not scared, or in love or trembling in anticipation. I was fulfilling a contract negotiation.

Don't hate me. This is business. 

Vida was my manager and doing a terrific job. I really did need to learn this sex stuff; it might as well be from Vida. If he hurts me, he hurts himself. My image was the sexy but naïve virgin. I couldn't just have sex with a male model, who even if I could find a straight one, would blab it to the first tabloid just to knock me down a notch. Logically, Vida was the only choice. Besides, it was contractual.


Born Beautiful



"Gwen, are you still awake?"

Gwen flipped her book shut as her flatmate and longtime friend strolled into the apartment and closed the door. "Yeah, I'm up. Back so soon?"

Lori nodded. "Pete wasn't actually there to talk about what went wrong with us. He just wanted sex with the ex."

"Ah. Sorry." Gwen was wearing her favorite pair of loose, baggy pajamas with her long brunette hair untied, and had expected to be asleep by the time Lori came back.

Lori shrugged, shaking her short blond hair. "I almost took him up on it, too. I mean, I need it from somewhere, even if it's him. Still, I'm glad I didn't give in."

"You go, girl," Gwen said dryly as Lori plopped down on the couch next to her. She honestly wished she could relate to Lori, but Gwen had never had a boyfriend—or a girlfriend—to begin with. She'd never had sex, either, and for good reason.

Lori laughed. "Thanks, pal. Maybe you're lucky, not knowing what you're missing out on."

Gwen occasionally wished she hadn't mentioned her virginity to Lori. "I masturbate," she said, with a hint of defensiveness.

"Yeah, I just can't imagine how you've never let yourself get down to it with anyone else," Lori smirked. "Seriously, Gwen, everyone else is missing out, too."

"Maybe I just never felt like it," Gwen said flatly.

"All right, fair enough. Still, it's just a shame for me to go to waste too, don't you think? I mean, look at this." Lori said it with a laugh in her voice, standing up from the couch and running her hands over her body. Her short skirt inched closer to her hips as she swayed her round ass back and forth seductively.

Gwen considered, then let herself watch. "It's a terrible waste," she agreed good-naturedly, only then realizing just how true it was. She had to admit, if only to herself, there were times when the fact that they were roommates was all that stopped her from fantasizing about her friend.

Lori's fingers reached for the buttons on her blouse, undoing them one at a time. "I just want to be appreciated," she grinned, turning in slow circles and gracefully moving her body to a rhythm only she could hear. "You appreciate me, don't you?"

"Um, yes." More than she wanted to, Gwen realized. She started blushing. Damn it, Lori was good at this—which was bad for Gwen. "Sit down, Lori."

"It's been a while since I've been with another woman, you know," Lori teased, tossing her blouse on the floor and sliding her skirt up with her hands. "You like women, too, don't you?"

"Yes, but, um, we're roommates, and that would just make things awkward between us, and ..." Gwen hurriedly pulled her book over the crotch of her pajamas and tried to take her eyes off of Lori's beautiful curves.

"Gwen, I'm just playing," Lori said warmly, still dancing sexily as she swung her C-cup bra around her head and tossed it across the room. "Come on and dance with me, pretty lady."

Gwen's heart rate rose, for a different reason this time. "No, that's not a good idea," she said desperately. It was true that her good looks were pointed out to her by strangers on what felt like a regular basis, and even she couldn't deny that she had a gorgeous figure, but the last thing Gwen wanted to do right now was stand up and flaunt anything she had to her flatmate. "Please, Lori, just go change your clothes and let me get to my room. I don't feel good." Despite her near-panic, her last sentence was a lie; her breasts were tingling with growing desire, her underwear was dampening, and her --

"Come on!" Lori laughed, grabbing Gwen's hands and pulling her off the couch. "Have some fun once in a --" She suddenly looked down as Gwen's book fell to the floor, and her eyes went wide. "Holy ..."

"I asked you not to do this!" Gwen screamed, turning as fast as she could and putting both hands over her crotch. "Jesus, why can't you listen?"

Lori just blinked in shock. "I never knew. You have a ... Are you a tr-"

"No!" Gwen shouted, then dropped her voice to a hushed almost-sob. "I'm a hermaphrodite, okay? That's why I've never been with anyone. My parents were doing volunteer work in a third-world country when I was born so they had to leave everything on and when we got back to America they decided --"

"Can I touch it?"

Gwen stopped, and slowly looked over her shoulder. "What?"

Lori peeked over Gwen's shoulder, staring at Gwen's hands in utter fascination. "Can I touch it? Please?"

Gwen turned and stared at Lori's awed expression. "No! What do you want to touch it for? It's horrible."

"No. No, it's not." Lori looked up to Gwen's face, her playfulness gone. "It's not. It's beautiful. It's unique." She put her hands on Gwen's shoulders, trying to comfort her. "Gwen, it's special. It's part of you. It's not horrible at all."

Gwen shook her head. "My parents told me the same thing. Damn hippie bullshit ..."

"It's true. Gwen, it's true. You—all of you—is beautiful." She smiled, and Gwen started to smile back, in spite of herself.

"... and it's sexy," Lori finished.

Gwen's eyebrows pulled together in disbelief. "What?" She realized her eyes were on Lori's bare breasts again. Her round, pert breasts, with dark pink nipples that stood out in a way that was just ... She turned away from Lori again.

The blonde gently reached around from behind and slowly slid a hand down Gwen's front; finding no resistance from Gwen, she touched the growing erection through her pajamas. "I want to make love to you, Gwen."

It didn't make sense—but it sure felt good. "What? Why?" Despite herself, Gwen hoped that Lori would come up with a damn good reason; she was still hard, and wet, and Lori's breasts felt so soft and firm and warm, pressing up against her back ...

"Because you're beautiful," Lori said softly. Then she grinned, and kissed the back of Gwen's neck. "Besides, it'd be the best of both worlds, all on someone I like."

Gwen reluctantly pushed Lori's hand away. "You don't know what you're saying."

Lori swaggered in front of Gwen, and put her hands on her friend's shoulders; her grin became sultry, seductive. "I'm saying I wanna blow you right now, and it's gonna be fuckin' hot." She looked into Gwen's eyes, dead serious. "May I?"

"I ... I ..." As she felt her resolve melt away, Gwen's dumbfounded opposition gave way to relief, which gave way to excitement. "... yes."

Lori smiled, then leaned in and kissed her, long and slow and thoroughly. Gwen hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her back, unable to believe that someone had found her secret and not been disgusted. The emotional relief almost made her want to cry, and she poured herself into the kiss, holding her friend against herself as hard as she dared. Then Lori kissed her neck, then her collarbone, and then slowly pushed Gwen down onto the couch.

"Oh, God," Gwen whispered, watching Lori's full breasts and grinning face as her friend eased the pajamas and underwear off her long, shapely legs, pulling her butt to the edge of the couch. Her heart pounded with the terrible fear that Lori would change her mind when she saw the throbbing erection between her legs, and the wet, hot lips beneath it.

Instead, Lori's face lit up even more as she knelt down. "Oh my God," she murmured, her eyes wide with delight and desire as she stared at Gwen's erect cock. "It's amazing. It's beautiful. Nice size, too." She tore her eyes away to look at Gwen's scared face, and gave her a loving smile. "You are beautiful, my friend."

One of her hands drifted downward and gently stroked Gwen's turgid shaft and balls as Gwen inched her ass closer to the edge of the couch. Lori hadn't realized that Gwen would have testicles, too, but she was very glad that she did. She lowered her head and softly kissed Gwen's scrotum, then the pussy lips beneath it, and then ran the tip of her tongue over them both. Then she deeply licked Gwen's balls, feeling them roll over her tongue, and all the way up Gwen's cock.

Gwen whimpered in her pleasure and vulnerability as Lori kissed her penis and licked it again. Then a delicious warmth and wetness engulfed her senses as Lori took the head into her mouth. Gwen gasped as Lori ran her tongue back and forth along the underside of her cock while sucking deeper with a slowly, steadily growing pressure. Lori put one firm, gentle hand around the base of Gwen's shaft as she sucked, and slipped her other hand beneath Gwen's increasingly wet cunt.

Gwen held on to Lori's shoulders, hoping the mounting pleasure didn't make her squeeze too hard. With Lori passionately sucking her off and teasing her pussy at the same time, Gwen thought it couldn't get any better—until Lori slid her fingers deep into Gwen's cunt and deep-throated her cock at the same time. The long gasps of pleasure broke into a wail of sudden ecstasy, and then a cry of growing orgasm. Lori's fingers danced inside her as her tight throat massaged Gwen's cock on all sides; Gwen was helpless to stop the screaming, explosive orgasm that built up, stronger and stronger, and then erupted inside of her. Her pussy drenched Lori's hand at the same time that her cock released a huge spume of cum straight down Lori's inviting throat. Lori leaned back a little and caught the next spurt in her mouth, grinning as Gwen's dick slipped out from between her lips. Trembling convulsively, Gwen ejaculated her third and fourth streams all over Lori's beautiful breasts, before Lori swallowed and put Gwen's cock in her mouth again to catch the finishing spurts.

Gwen gasped uncontrollably on the couch, her mind still reeling with pleasure she hadn't known existed. Lori grinned again and sat next to her, putting her wet hand in Gwen's. Gwen took her hand and pulled her close, suddenly kissing her with all the passion of her first mind-blowing sex.

When she finally took her mouth from Lori's, Gwen had tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for this. I had no idea that sex could be ... something good for someone like me."

Lori kissed her again. "I told you you're beautiful," she said with a smile.

Gwen smiled back and kissed her neck, then started licking her own cum off of Lori's breasts. Lori moaned as Gwen traced her tongue over the perfect pink nipples and started sucking. "Oh God, that feels good," she whimpered.

Gwen smiled to herself, happy she could give her friend some of the pleasure she herself had felt, and—not surprisingly—loved giving it. The thick, pearly taste of her own jizz and the feel of Lori's smooth, round breasts were heavenly. She fondled the right breast with her hand as she sucked Lori's left nipple, feeling it harden and lengthen in her mouth. She pinched Lori's right nipple, then turned her mouth to it and sucked it as well, teasing its length with her tongue and digging her teeth into it, oh sogently.

Lori moaned and bit her lip; damn it, Gwen was good. She put one gentle hand on the back of Gwen's neck, begging her to stay and continue what she was doing. Her panties were getting drenched, and she could feel Gwen's beautiful cock resting on her thigh, getting harder as Gwen made love to her breasts. Oh, God, would Gwen ...?

Gwen slowly eased her mouth away from Lori's breasts. Before her roommate could whimper in protest, she said, "Lori, I want to go down on you. Like you did for me."

Lori opened her eyes and smiled. "That would be a dream come true."

Gwen took Lori's hand and led her into her bedroom. Without turning the lights on, she unbuttoned her pajamas shirt, freeing her perfectly-shaped breasts while Lori watched with approval in the dim light. Completely naked, Gwen gently pushed her flatmate down onto the bed and unzipped her skirt for her, then slid it off. She could see and feel the huge wet spot in Lori's sweet-smelling panties as she peeled them away, and she couldn't stop herself from tasting them before dropping them on the floor.

In the scant light, Gwen took a moment to admire Lori's aroused pussy. The blooming folds of skin, the rosy pink inside, the clitoris peeking out already—but with no penis. It was what Gwen had always wished she'd had. But Lori was helping her discover a new love for herself the way that she was, and she couldn't wait any longer to share that love with her.

She took one last moment to savor the wonderful smell alone, then kissed Lori's wet, hot lips. Lori moaned in pleasure and expectation, gently entwining her fingers in Gwen's hair and holding her closer. Gwen had never done this before, but thanks to quality nonfiction literature, she had a good idea of what she was doing. Her kiss became deeper, stronger, and her mouth began roaming over Lori's vulva, kissing where her leg met her hip, just above her clitoris, right between her lips. As Lori groaned in pleasure, Gwen snaked her tongue inside, making Lori gasp.

Gwen laughed to herself, still not quite able to believe that she was finally doing this, and swirled her tongue in slow circles in Lori's depth. Her roommate tasted every bit as delicious as she smelled, and Gwen couldn't get enough of her. The kisses and deep inner licking became faster; Lori writhed on the bed, whimpering louder and louder, until Gwen's tongue slid upward to her clit, drawing a loud gasp of ecstasy.

Gwen replaced her tongue with a finger inside Lori's vagina and focused her mouth over Lori's sensitive bud, sucking and licking while her finger stroked inside, driving Lori wilder by the minute. Grabbing the sheets with one hand, Lori pushed down on Gwen's head with the other, thrusting her hips into Gwen's welcoming face as hard as she could while Gwen's exploring fingers—two now—found and tickled her engorged G-spot. As Lori cried out with rising, burning orgasm, Gwen's own arousal steadily grew, her pussy growing damp again and her cock lengthening and hardening the longer she licked.

At last Lori could stand it no longer; her entire body stiffened and shuddered, and she gave a long, drawn-out cry of joy; her breath came in fits and gasps as pleasure ravaged her every nerve, leaving her writhing under Gwen's beautiful, beautiful mouth. Through it all, Gwen never stopped licking or massaging Lori's inner self, and never stopped smiling, or thinking about what she desperately wanted next.

Lori's body finally relaxed, and she sank breathlessly into the bed. Gwen gradually slowed her attentions, then slipped her fingers out, kissed her way back up Lori's body, and put her mouth firmly on Lori's. Lori grabbed her shoulders and kissed back, twisting her tongue around Gwen's, loving her with her mouth. She traced one hand down Gwen's naked body, softly fondling her breast before stroking Gwen's throbbing erection once again.

"That feels so good," Gwen whispered. She hesitated, then made herself ask: "Can- Can I fuck you?"

Lori felt her nipples tingle and harden at the very thought. "Oh, Jesus, please do."

Slowly, she spread her legs wide as Gwen climbed on top of her. Both hard and wet, Gwen felt her own pussy juices drenching her balls as she mounted her blond friend. Reaching down and taking hold of Gwen's thick, hard penis, Lori teased her own cunt lips with it while Gwen fondled her breasts, squeezing her nipples and panting in anticipation. Finally, Lori indulged them both, guiding Gwen's cock into herself as Gwen gently pushed. A halting gasp of pleasure escaped them both as Lori's hot wetness invited Gwen's stiff cock inside.

"Oh, God, it's so warm," Gwen whispered, in awe of what she felt. "You feel so good."

"I love it," Lori whispered back. She cupped Gwen's breasts in her hands, squeezing them as both women got used to the feeling of Gwen's cock being inside Lori's tight, wet pussy. One of the most sensitive parts of Gwen's body—what had been her shame for so long, now part of her newest joy—was embraced by Lori's loving body more completely than she had ever felt, in all of its hot, wet, luscious glory. She actually felt sorry for Lori for not being able to feel the same thing.

Gradually, Gwen settled her body on top of Lori and slowly began moving her hips back and forth, easing a little more of her penis out and back in with each thrust. With Lori's ever-growing wetness, it wasn't long before Gwen was slowly pumping her full length into Lori's cunt, while Lori moaned with pleasure. Squeezing Gwen's smooth, round ass, Lori marveled at the glorious feeling of having a warm cock inside her and breasts rubbing against hers at the same time; being fucked with a strap-on or an ordinary dick couldn't compare to this.

The wet, soft walls of Lori's pussy massaged Gwen's rigid cock with every stroke, and Gwen steadily plunged into her with growing vigor; Lori matched the growing force of each thrust, driving Gwen deeper and deeper inside her until the bed was lurching beneath them with each motion. A sheen of sweat stood out on Gwen's forehead as she pumped in and out of Lori's cunt, swaying her hips to vary the angles of her thrusts as Lori sighed joyfully beneath her.

A low growl of pleasure and exertion rose in Gwen's throat as her cock began the familiar tingling of oncoming orgasm, and she drove herself into Lori with total abandon; Lori wrapped her arms and legs around Gwen's body, holding her close and hanging on for dear life as she met Gwen's every thrust with a louder grunt of pleasure.

Gwen gave a halting half-scream, half-groan as her climax surged inside of her, her body breaking free of her control as she drove in for one deep, final thrust.

"Yes! Come inside me!" Lori gasped. "Please, I want it inside me!" She buried her head into Gwen's neck, gasping with ecstasy as Gwen released stream after stream of hot, sticky jizz. Lori cried out in joy as Gwen's cum surged deep into her cunt, coating her insides while Gwen writhed on top of her, grinding their sensitive breasts together and gasping with pleasure until the last of Gwen's orgasms finally shuddered out of her exhausted body.

"Oh ... dear God," Gwen whispered as she sank on top of Lori. "Oh my God. I had no idea." With effort, she raised her head enough to look lovingly at Lori's grinning face. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Smiling took what little energy Lori still had, but she couldn't stop herself. "You are very, very welcome, my friend."

Gwen kissed her, slowly, tenderly, sincerely. "I love you."

"I love you, too." As Gwen slowly eased her cock out and collapsed on the bed beside her, Lori found the strength to smile again, and took Gwen's hand in hers. "See? I told you you're beautiful."



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #01



Please note that just as all sexual acts are reluctantly consensual, all characters in this story are over 18-years-old. With Olga, 35-years-old, her son, Karl, 20-years-old, and her daughter, Rachel, 18-years-old, there are no underage characters in this story. 

*

A Woman Without Rights Living in a Man's World in 1860 Germany.

"No! Stop! Don't! Please, I beg you," cried Olga while pulling against her ties.

Frozen in fear and unable to move from her bed, Rachel hugged her pillow in resigned horror while listening to her mother beg for mercy in the barn. Being sensitive to such things anyway, perhaps sensing something by picking up on her father's foul mood and her brother's horniness, Rachel just had this very conversation with her mother last night. With them drunk again, with her father angry at everything and everybody again, and with Karl horny again, she had a feeling that this would happen again. Before she climbed in bed, she pushed her chest of drawers against her bedroom door.

It had been a while since her father and brother took her mother out to the barn for discipline and here she was being disciplined again. Only discipline had nothing to do with the unspeakable things they did to her mother. Feeling guilty as the one responsible for bringing home that women's right's flyer and, no doubt, her father's justified reason to discipline her mother, as if her father needed a reason to beat his wife and allow his son to sexually abuse his mother, she only hoped they wouldn't take her next.

"Why Mama does Papa take you out to the barn to beat you and allow Karl to sexually molest you before whipping you? After all you do for them, I don't understand why they so abuse you," she looked at her mother with confusion and continued when her mother didn't respond. "Is this the life that I can expect to have when I marry a man?"

"These are troubled times for Germany Rachel. Your father has a lot on his mind. Not all men are as angry as your father is and your brother just does what his father tells him to do. Although you will never forget, I hope that when you give your heart to a young man, love will be enough to carry you the distance to forgive him for hurting you, beating you, and allowing his son to rape you, as I have done with my husband and my son."

It was obvious by her mother's words that the man Rachel married would undoubtedly hurt her, beat her, and allow her son to rape her, that is, if she was fortunate enough to have a son. That was how men treated women back then and, more than one-hundred-fifty-years later, that violent abuse against women still continues today in some households. Using a broad, black brushstroke, her mother had just painted a bleak picture of the horror that her daughter could expect in her near future. Bad enough she was forced to listen to the horror of her mother being so abused but to think that this may soon be her reality too, Rachel wanted no part of any of that.

"I don't understand Mama how you could love such a mean man," said Rachel about her father. "In the conceived, reincarnated monster of Papa, your son is no better," she said about her brother. "Why do they do this to you? Why must you suffer because of them? Why can't you make them stop?" She paused to look at her mother while waiting for her reply and watched her drop her head in silent shame before speaking.

"I have no control over what they do or don't do," said Olga nearly in a whisper.

"With a roof over our heads and plenty of food to eat, unlike so many others around us who have nothing and no one, we should have a problem. We should be a happier family instead of being such an abused and abusive one. I don't understand why Papa takes his anger and frustration out on you."

Olga looked up at her daughter to smile her love before touching Rachel's cheek. She brushed back her long, chestnut hair that fell in front of her green eyes, the same color hair and eyes as her mother.

"Because they can. As a woman, we have no rights. All we have is the hope that our love is enough for a man to respect us and not beat us."

"Love? What is love? Other than the love that I have for you, Papa, and Karl, I know nothing about love. I should know about such things Mama. I'm old enough now to know," said Rachel.

"Love just happens and you'll know when it does. Even in an arranged marriage when we don't chose our partners, love does. Thinking that our lives will be better than our mothers' lives and thinking that a man is the answer to all of our problems, we're blinded by love. Unable to think clearly, and with other women our worst enemies in filling our heads with their foolish delusions of love and handed-down expectations of how women must act when in love, women surrender who they are and all they could be for the sake of the men they love."

"I have a lot to learn about love, men, and marriage," said Rachel. "Instead of it being a silly game, it all sounds so complicated."

"Don't fret. Now that I know all the mistakes I made, I will teach you how not to make the same mistakes," said Olga. "Yet because of you and your brother, it wasn't a mistake to marry your father. My mistake was that I was so young. With your father so much older than me when we married, I allowed your father to control me in the way that a father controls his daughter instead of in the way that a husband loves his wife. Conforming to his wishes, catering to his whims, and sacrificing myself for him by spoiling him, I did too much to accommodate him."

"Thank you Mama for telling me this."

"Men on the other hand are the ones who don't change. Even though many women believe that they can change their man, men are incapable of changing their ways and correcting their bad habits. By hitching her wagon to his, a woman makes the mistake of setting her lovesick heart on a man and allowing him to fill that blank place that she was unable to fill herself and that has taken hold of her soul throughout her wretched life," said Olga. "Something that sometimes is so very elusive, hope is our only cure. Only abandoning us when we need hope the most that medicine always escapes us to leave us with despair."

"I hate living here Mama," said Rachel with her brow wrinkled with perplexity. "I don't do anything but work and I don't go anywhere but this farm. It's as if I'm a prisoner held here against my will. Why am I not allowed to go to town and have some fun? Maybe I'd meet a handsome stranger, fall in love, and marry."

"Especially now with all the violent unrest, it's dangerous for a woman to travel alone and your father and brother would never take you to town with them," said Olga. "With a woman looking like you in a town of angry, drunken men, there'd be a riot over the right to claim you. Even as violently angry as your father is and even as big and strong as your brother is, they'd be unable to protect you against a mass of men who'd want to do unspeakable things to your naked, virginal body."

Longing to have intimate carnal knowledge, Rachel suddenly imagined herself being stripped naked and taken behind a building for a few men to have their wicked way with her shapely body. Even though she was pure and had never experienced a man in the Biblical sense, she still had impurely wicked thoughts that fueled her sexual fantasies whenever she masturbated herself when alone at night in her room. She's dreamt what it would feel like to have a man want her, kiss her, touch her, and feel her. She's dreamt what it would feel like to have a man on top of her and inside of her while making love to her before fucking her.

During those times of the month when she's feeling so uncontrollably horny, she's even dreamt about what it would feel like to take a man in her mouth and suck him. Even though she'd be horrified with the reality of strange men taking her from the safety of her father and brother, that still didn't stop her from imagining dozens of hands touching her in places where she only touches herself. The thoughts of being so wanted and so desired by so many men hardened her nipples before she felt a familiar warm sensation between her legs.

"Already an old maid, you were married at 14-years-old and I'll be 19-years-old soon," said Rachel. "You had Karl by the time you were 15-years-old and me when you were 17-years-old," she said looking at her mother with hopefulness. "Not that I even have anyone in mind but when will I be allowed to marry Mama?"

"Times were different when I married your father in 1839 than they are during these modern and troubled times of 1860. Before the German revolution and all of this talk about the unification of German states, the advent of the second industrial revolution taking over where the first industrial revolution left off, and now with women's rights protests and equal rights demonstrations, life was simpler then and people were happier."

"You sound just like Papa, Mama when he rants and raves about the social issues, the economy, the church, the state, and the King," said Rachel with a laugh. "Still unable to let go of the past, the way that Germany used to be is all that he talks about, especially when he's drinking."

"It's hard not to side with a man when sleeping in the same bed while watching him toss and turn with all of the injustices inflicted upon him in the course of his day," said Olga. "He used to sleep like a baby after working so hard on the farm. Now he worries about things that he can't control."

Rachel looked at her mother with consternation. Now that they were alone while her father and brother were on the front porch drinking, this was her opportunity to protest and tell her mother how she felt. Hoping that her mother would champion her cause and what she said now would reach her father's ear later, she'd never dare tell her father how she felt for fear that he'd slap her and beat her in the way he abuses his wife.

"Not even allowed to attend at dance Mama, all my time is spent here doing chores on the farm. How will I marry if I've yet to be introduced to a young man and chaperoned on a date?"

"When the time is right Rachel, your father will arrange for you to meet someone and marry," said Olga with reticence. "Karl will chaperone your dates to make sure you're safe."

"Karl? I don't want Papa picking my future husband and I certainly don't want Karl scaring away whoever I chose," said Rachel with a face full of horror. "I see the look on the faces of men when they see Karl for the first time and see how much bigger he is than them."

"Unfortunately for you, Rachel, born beautiful, your beauty is your high price to pay. Being that you weren't born a boy and are unable to help your father around the farm in the way that your brother does, your life has taken a different path. By aligning you with a suitable suitor from a wealthy family, your father only wants the best for you."

"You mean he wants the best for himself," she said looking at her mother with frustration. "When Papa looks at me, when he's not staring at my body, undressing me with his eyes, and trying to fondle me through my clothes, he sees gold, he sees silver, and he sees more land and livestock. I'm just future income to him."

"Yes, your father has high hopes for your future that will benefit our family too. Unlike me, falling in love with your father, a hardworking farmer, when I was so young, so naive, and so innocent and before I knew the beautiful woman I'd become and that would have allowed me to have any man, you'll marry a rich man. You'll marry a man of importance and a man who can give you every luxury, satisfy your every materialistic whim, and afford you every opportunity for happiness."

"Our life would have been so different had you married a rich man Mama," said Rachel while imagining herself dressed in gowns and jewels.

Had her mother not been so physically, emotionally, and sexual abused, had her mother slept more and not been worked nearly to death, Rachel imagined them looking more like sisters than they do mother and daughter. Once full of life, energy, and positivity, her mother was so beautiful. With the uncertainty of the times, these past ten years have taken a toll on every German.

"Your husband will give you all the things that I never had living on a working farm," said Olga smiling at her daughter. "Don't worry. Your married life will be so much better than mine. Even though I still love your father and my son, you're my real joy. I promise you that, so long as I'm alive, no harm will ever come to you."

"Thank you Mama." Rachel gave her mother a hug.

"I love you Rachel." Olga returned her daughter's hug. "Soon you're father will find you a suitable man to marry."

"Having not even had a boyfriend, I'm so very inexperienced. Other than the slobbering of Papa and Karl, I've never even been properly kissed by a man. Other than the desperate groping that I must endure from my deranged, drunken father and my perverted, drunken brother, I've never been touched, fondled, and caressed. Other than Papa and Karl forcing me to touch their pricks and flashing me their penises when they're drunk, I've never felt and/or seen a man's cock and I'm curious to know what they look and feel like when they grow big and hard."

"Even though these are modern times Rachel and for the sake of your reputation, those are things saved for your wedding night and your wedding bed. For a virginal woman to marry in a good family, she shouldn't have any sexual experience and/or erotic thoughts," said Olga looking at her daughter with exasperation before addressing her daughter's next concern.

"Yes Mama," said Rachel suddenly feeling embarrassed that she shared too many of her sexual thoughts and secret desires with her mother.

"They are good men Rachel when they're not drinking. Best you keep yourself locked in your room with your chest of drawers pushed against your door when they're drunk. Besides, with too much free time on their hands now, gone all day, they'll be busy working the fields again soon. Now that the weather is changing and they are nearly out of alcohol to drink, their brief respite won't last much longer," said Olga.

"Living here is an abomination Mama. Our lives here are hopeless, yours more than mine," said Rachel holding her mother's hand. "You've already made your bed and I'm still waiting to make mine. I'm still young. I can still flee to America and start life anew. Come with me Mama. Runaway with me."

"I can't leave my beloved Germany. This life is the only life I know. Even though their drunken abuse may be the death of me, I'd never leave your father and my son," said Olga.

"I want to go to America one day but I'm afraid to go alone. Safer that I remain above deck then to go below, I'm afraid to be aboard a ship with so many men," said Rachel. "Notwithstanding my valid worries, my catalyst that will cement my indecision may be if Papa chooses the wrong man for me to marry."

"I pray that you'll give your father's prospective marriage selection in picking a man for you a fair chance. If you were to runaway he'll never forgive you."

"I can't imagine the abuse you'd suffer if I ran away and denied Papa from receiving his bounty for marrying me off to a wealthy family."

"Just remember my sweet daughter not to judge me but to learn from my mistakes and to live your life not for me or for your father but for the happiness of yourself. Without women's rights I have no control and no say in what my husband can do and does to me or to you, his daughter. Perhaps you'll have women's rights in your lifetime and will be free from forced slavery, indentured servitude, and being at the mercy of a man. Nearing the end of my life, I'm so tired and downtrodden. Pity and the love that I have for my children are the last emotions that I have left." 

"Oh, Mama. Don't say that. You're still young. You have plenty of years yet to live," said Rachel.

"My quantity of life may have been diminished by the quality of life already lived," said Olga with sadness. "When the man I love turns his heavy hand of convoluted judgment against me and replaces my pride with humiliation, I'm done. He wounds my love with violence and replaces my happiness with suffering by dragging me from the comfort of my bed and down a flight of stairs by my hair. He orders his son to carry me out to the barn to be beaten as if I'm an animal. Then, he takes pleasure in watching his son strip me naked and have sex with me while he watches and masturbates. Willing to sacrifice my body to save yours, my hope and my dreams are for you. My salvation is in you dear Rachel."

"Mama," said Rachel crying as if her mother was on her deathbed and dying.

"I now know that I'll only have peace when the last roof I have over my head is a coffin lid," said her mother before retiring for bed. "I'll help you with money stolen from your father's and brother's pockets for you go to America Rachel," said her mother with a sad but determined smile. "They're always too drunk to know any better."

* * * * *

It was raining and well past midnight when Rachel was awakened by a scream. Hugo, Rachel's father, was in the barn again with his wife, Olga, her mother, and his son, Karl, her brother. With booming thunder as if Thor's hammer was being banged against her bedroom roof and flashes of brilliant lightning that lit up her room brighter than her candles and lit up the summer's night sky against a full moon, it was a powerfully loud and scary storm. As if God was angry with this family and, no doubt, he was, the thick fog that covered the landscape prevented her from seeing the horror that took place within the barn.

The lull before the storm, just a few hours ago, so peacefully yet unnervingly quiet, there wasn't a bird, a reptile, an animal, or an insect about. They all knew enough to hide. Only with nowhere to go, other than to jump out her bedroom window and run, Rachel had nowhere to hide. Moreover with her next door neighbor miles away and with men everywhere abusing their womenfolk in the same incestuous way as her father and brother abused her mother and, no doubt, hope to soon abuse her, she had no place to run. Trapped helplessly in her bedroom, she was so tragically vulnerable.

Dark, bleak, and cold, it was a night for a fire but there wasn't one burning in the fireplace. Snuggling herself beneath the covers, Rachel shivered from the cold and from the thoughts of what was happening to her mother in the barn. Yet, once the storm was over, the bright, summer sun that brings light, life, and hope will temporarily make her forget what had happened here this night, that is, until it happens again.

With nothing now that she could do, she needed to sleep. Only, she feared sleep. She feared they'd come for her too and she wanted to be ready and not be pulled from her bed, dragged down the stairs, carried out to the barn, tied to the horse stall, and stripped naked as they routinely do to her mother. If she was to be taken anywhere against her will, she wanted to walk out on her own accord with her head held high and not be dragged or carried to her whipping post. 

"How dare they!"

Unable to sleep but too tired to get up to begin her chores, she was in that dazed place between being fully awake and being sound asleep. With her mind ready to start the day, she was unable to overcome that tired feeling that held her body prisoner. Her mind burdened by the sense of things about her was free to percolate her thoughts with worry. With a consciousness of all that was happening around her and an inability to control her thoughts from thinking the worst, her sleep was nothing more than a bad dream. Confined by an overpowering heaviness with words spoken or sounds heard real and/or imagined to give her dreams visions and her imagination wings until both were woven into one, terrible nightmare that was too horrible to verbalize, she tossed and turned in her bed with sleeplessness.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #01



Normally her farm a cornucopia of sights, a cacophony of sounds, and possessing a myriad of mysterious movements that moved stealthily in the tall grass, everything was so unearthly and stilly quiet before and frighteningly loud now. With the rain pelting down with a loud hiss, as if the Devil's evil serpent commandeered her farm, the only sounds that could be heard over the rain were the screams of her mother that emanated from the barn. As if the cries were an eerie siren that warned her to stay away, the screams could be heard from the 300 meter distance between Rachel's bedroom window and the barn door. 

"No! Let me go! Please, I beg you. Let me go! Please Let me go. I'm sorry. I won't do whatever it was I did again. I promise. Untie me. Please untie me."

The suspense, that fearful fright of standing idly by while the life of the one she loves so dearly trembles in the balance was debilitating. Yet there was nothing that she could do to change the fate of her mother. Unable to see but only to hear, the imagined thoughts of what was really happening in that damn barn took hold of her mind, labored her breathing, raced her pulse, and made her heart beat rapidly. With the violent images of her mother tied to the horse stall and stripped naked, Rachel was having a panic attack. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Desperate for a breath of air she would have opened her bedroom window but she didn't want to hear her mother's screams any louder than what they already were.

Having happened so often before and with many of her emotions severed and detached from the abusive horror her father and brother exposed her to, Rachel listened to her mother's screams and pleas for mercy with sadness while hoping that she wasn't next. Other than to volunteer herself and take her mother's place, and other than to shoot her father and brother dead, there was nothing she could do to help her mother but to listen helplessly to her screams. Sparing her mother the pain, she wished the lantern would fall, the barn would catch fire, and they'd all perish in the flames.

Better off without them, she'd get a good price for the farmhouse and the land, enough to get her reestablished in America. Only, no one would buy from a woman. She'd have to find a man to help her sell her own farm and to take charge of the money for her. Yet, with no one in mind, she didn't trust any man to negotiate on her before and take control of her money. 

If only she was free. Never looking back, she'd like to know what it would be like to be alone and on her own in a new country. After all the pain and suffering her father and brother have given her, she'd like to live her life without them. Certainly, her life couldn't be any worse without them than it was now with them touching her, feeling her, groping her, and forcing her hand to touch them.

"How dare they!"

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #02



Baravian Alps and beer, life in Munich, Germany, change is in the air and everywhere

'Twas a dark and troubled time in Munich, Germany in the summer of 1860. With Richard Wagner composing his music as background to the times as if men were marching to keep beat to the change, the low thump, thump, thumping sound of his tuba mimicked man against machine with machine winning. Even the music that reflected the times was dark, turbulent, and angry. With the city air filled with coal dust, with the stench of people who didn't regularly bathe, and with drunks sleeping it off on every corner, a time of ominous foreboding, of doom, and uncertainty, 'twas a time of anger, rage, and violence fueled by beer, beer, and more beer. If Charles Dickens was born German instead of English, he would have written the ominous backdrop to this story.

"Please, sir, I want some more," said Dickens' character, Oliver Twist in Oliver Twist. Only, Rachel has had quite enough; she didn't want or need any more of her father's and brother's sexual abuse.

Back then with all the violence and bloodshed, the Oktoberfest could have been called the German blood fest. With gay King Ludwig II in control and his insane brother, Otto, running interference, 'twas a time just after the German revolution. Except for the wealthy factory owners, no one but the rich aristocracy was happy. After more than one hundred and fifty years later, some things remain the same. Some things never change and the middle class, even today, is still downtrodden, poor, and angry.

"Long live the King!"

* * * * *

"Please, stop Hugo. I beg you! Why are you punishing me? Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I don't deserve to be so abused," said Olga. "I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve your punishment. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Please forgive me. I won't do it again. I promise," she said looking up at her husband with sincerity and remorse. "Please untie me. I can't even stand I'm so very tired. I'm sore and I hurt. I just want to go back to my bed. Please, I beg you to stop this and untie me."

* * * * *

German men wanted a constitution. German men wanted to have rights. German men, no matter ranking or standing, wanted to be equals in the eyes of the law. As France and the United States had their Bill of Rights, German men wanted a Declaration of the Rights of German People too. Oddly, with women not part of the bill of rights equation and with women having no rights at all, not even to vote, even after the Declaration of the Rights of German People was passed, it was oxymoronic that men inserted the word people instead of just naming men.

In the way they treated their women back then, they should have named their bill of rights the Declaration of the Rights of German Men. After the German Revolution created even more change with even more uncertainty, the age of unification unified Germany's patchwork of states. With everything changing and nothing remaining the same, these were modern times after all. The last thing that men needed was trouble from the one constant they could count on not to change, their women. Afraid, obedient, respectful, submissive, and disinterested about all things social, economic, and political, they liked their women kept in the dark. They liked their women just the way they were. Whether woman or man, God forbid the person who tried to change their women. Secluded on his farm miles from the main road, not even allowed to accompany him to town, God forbid the person who even talked to this farmer's wife and/or daughter.

"Women! Women! Women! Leave our women alone."

Only, tired of living in a man's world without having any rights, women were the ones who wanted change. Women were tired of being silent, obedient, respectful, submissive, and disinterested in all things social, economic, and political. No longer did they want to be kept in the dark. No longer did they want to be silent and/or silenced. They wanted to be heard. They wanted to vote. With having no rights at all, women were the ones with the most to gain. Knowing that they'd soon have their own little revolution too, women were the ones who instigated their men to revolt. As if caged animals waiting to be let loose, pushing their personal agendas along behind the rage of their drunken and abusive husbands but for different reasons, behind every bad, drunken, and abusive man was a conniving, deceitful, and treacherous woman. With the tempest in a teapot steaming before boiling emotions to overflow, these were troubled times indeed.

"Women, women, women, watch out for the women."

Steadfast and strong, women were always there in the background to help their men, support their men, and love their men. Unbeknownst to men nor would they ever even admit to the importance of women for fear they'd be perceived as being weak if giving women the credit they deserved, men were nothing without their women cooking their food, cleaning their houses, caring for them and their children, and relinquishing their bodies to them. Unfortunately, adding to the trouble of the times, a slow burn that suddenly erupted into a volcanic inferno and the one, last piece of unrest that sent everything else in panicked commotion and disruptive chaos were women.

'Twas a time that the equality of women and women's rights took center stage by giving faces and names to the suffragettes. 'Twas a time of marches, demonstrations, and protests. 'Twas a time that freedom and equality pitted men against women. No longer willing to suffer alone behind closed doors, protesting, angry women filled the city streets with their signs, placards, and hatred for how men mistreated them, disrespected them, and physically, sexually, and emotionally abused them.

Unlike those pussy whipped Brits and Americans, German men would never tolerate their woman embarrassing them and/or allow them to bring them shame with all of this equal rights nonsense. Instead of equality, what they needed was discipline. Instead of women's rights, what they needed was a good beating. Instead of using their mouths to voice their opinions and shout their equal rights slogans, the only time that men wanted to see women's mouths open was to eat their food and suck their cocks.

"Men! Men! Men!"

With their public demonstrations and protests, with their placards and signs, and with their heated words, mottos, and slogans adding to men's frustrations, women wanted things to change too. With both men and women beaten down and with both men and women wanting the same thing, equality, men weren't ready to submit to the demands of women, especially after having been forced to submit to everything and everyone else. Besides, why should men relent to women when no one, not the king, not the church, not the state, and not their employers, were relenting to their demands of them not wanting change? 

"How dare they!"

Heard over the thumping sound of Wagner's tuba, heard even over the final crescendo of the entire German Symphony orchestra, and heard even over the unmuffled booming beat of machines, the annoying, high pitched, and insufferably demanding voices of women made men unable to think while enjoying their beer. 'Twas a time that women not only confounded men but also made them angry. As if suddenly women were a horse that wouldn't listen or a dog that wouldn't obey, 'twas a troubling time indeed for men.

"Indeed, how dare they!"

"Oh no! No way! Equality my ass. Women's rights will never happen. Not in my lifetime and not in my motherland," said one man to the other man while drinking copious amounts of beer.

Finally done drinking while riling against the system and helpless to make a change, they fell out in the street drunk and singing military songs of the revolution on their way home to beat and abuse their women.

"Women! Women! Women!"

* * * * *

"Please untie me Hugo! I beg you. I'm sorry for whatever it was I did. My wrists are bleeding, my back hurts, and I can't stand anymore," said 35-year-old Olga looking up at her 45-year-old husband with fear. "I'll be good. I'll give you the respect that you deserve. I'll obey always and forever without question and without complaint. I promise I will, only untie me please." She looked to her 20-year-old son, Karl, for help. "Help Mommy Karl. Please untie me. Don't allow Daddy to hurt Mommy anymore," she said crying. "Please Karl, I beg you."

* * * * *

Beginning in the late 1840's when everything else was changing and seemingly all at the same time, knowing the time was right and seizing the opportunity, women wanted change too. Having already suffered enough abuse and disrespect, women didn't want things to remain the same. Men were unable to have any peace from being under the thumb of their king. They didn't have any input from the changes happening at work. With factory owners displacing men in favor of machines, men were made to feel unappreciated, unimportant, and powerless. Ironically, with all the changes taking place that emasculated and belittled them, men were made to feel much like the women they used, abused, and disrespected.

Continuing from the workplace to their place of worship, they were even made to feel guilty in church for not conforming to the modern day changes when the church never easily conformed to changes either. When what was happening to German men were major changes in their lives and to their lifestyles, it took a meeting of Cardinals in Vatican City and endless masses with nonstop praying from priests, nuns, and worshippers, along with a Papal degree for the church to change their position on even the smallest of things. With the men of the times feeling beaten down and broken, especially now when not even able to control their own women, what else were they to do other than to drink more beer and beat their women into submission? God help them as these were troubled times indeed.

* * * * *

"Karl, talk some sense in your father. Untie Mommy." Olga looked to her son for help. "Please help me. I beg you. I'm so tired. I'm so dizzy. I can't even stand."

"How dare you look at your son instead of looking at me," said Hugo in a rage.

He slapped his wife hard across her face and left the imprint of his meaty hand and fat fingers on her cheek as if she was cattle and had just been branded by him.

* * * * *

Women held back and refused to give men what they wanted, sex, sex, and more sex, until and unless they relented to their demands of equality. Risking more abuse and willing to take the chance of being beaten again, this time for the sake of equality and freedom, women whispered their demands in their husbands' and boyfriends' ears at night. They wanted something that men were born to have and something that men weren't ready to give. The God given right to have, they wanted what men had, what only men could have, and what only men could give them.

They wanted equal rights. They wanted power. They wanted influence. They wanted freedom. Ready to give up beer before submitting to the demands of their beloved and abused women, as if that would ever happen, and before giving women equal rights, power, influence, and/or freedom, their one last bastion of control, men weren't ready to relinquish the power they held over their women.

"How dare they!"

In the way that many women died trying to protect themselves from the men who supposedly loved them, many men died trying to protect themselves and their jobs from something they couldn't protect themselves and stop from happening anyway. Trying to protect themselves from change, men wanted everything to remain the same. Even if they braced their bodies against the factory doors to keep them from opening wide enough to admit a machine, they couldn't block change. Even if they stopped one machine from being moved in and assembled by sabotaging it, they couldn't stop change. Even if they burned the factories down to the ground, the factory owners would rebuild them bigger, better, and with even more changes. No matter what they did and how much they riled against the system, they couldn't protect their jobs and their little lives from changing.

"Change! Change! Change! We don't want change! We want things to remain the same!"

As if trying to stop evolution with a revolution and as if trying to halt history with violence and bloodshed, change was inevitable. No matter what they did and what they said, they couldn't stop the machines from replacing them. No matter how much they raged against their king, they couldn't stop change. No matter how much they protested against the rich, powerful, and influential factory owners, they couldn't stop change. No matter how much they complained about the confining constrictions of the church, against the unfairness of their state, and against their demanding and unhappy women, change was here to stay. No matter how much they talked about social, economic, and political changes, and no matter how much beer they drank, change was still unavoidable. In the scheme of things with progress so much bigger than any army of angry, drunken, German men, and with machines faster, more efficient, and more profitable, no longer as needed, men were just an unnecessary afterthought that were used to complement, maintain, and repair their hated nemesis, the dreaded, noisy, smelly machine.

"Men! Men! Men! Leave us alone. We don't want machines. We don't want anything to change. We demand that everything remain the same."

The backbone, the voice, and the strength of Germany, their precious motherland, how could a mere machine replace a mighty man? How dare their king, their government, their church, the owners of their factories, and now their women dare change everything they've known all of their lives? How dare they! How could they! Why would they! Why should they submit to change?

Truly, there was a lot going on in such a short period of time. 'Twas a time just after the German Revolution, 'twas the time of the first Industrial Revolution merging with the advent of the second Industrial Revolution, and 'twas a time when women not only wanted to be heard but also wanted to be treated as equals. No uninformed, illiterate, drunken man was equipped to deal with any of that, never mind with all of that, happening at the same time. Overwhelmed, the only solace they found was drinking beer, beating their wives, and sexually assaulting their daughters. Especially when they found peace in their homes, comfort in their barns, and contentment while on their land, what else were they supposed to do? Some things never change but if it was left to the women to take control, they'd make sweeping changes right now and forever.

"How dare they change anything! How dare they change everything! Women! Women! Women! Women will always be dependent upon and submissive to the will and the whimsy of men. Men! Men! Men! Men will always be better than a machine and women will never be the equal of men." 

Even with women demanding changes too, the one thing that remained the same and the one thing that men could count on not changing was their beer. Thank God their beer never changed. God forbid the man or machine that tampered with their Bocks, their Doppel Bocks, their Pilsners, their Helles, their Maibocks, their Kolsches, their Alts, their lagers, or their beers. In an era of change, beer was the last familiar thing that men had left. 

"Beer! Beer! Beer! Gott sei Dank!" Thank God they said in German that no one tampered with and changed their beer.

Their beers remained the same. Why not? Why wouldn't they? Their fathers, their grandfathers, and their great grandfathers, having perfected the formula over centuries, brewed it right the first time and brewed it right there in Germany by hand and without the need of a stupid machine. Looking the same, smelling the same, and tasting the same, if they could count on one thing that stayed loyal to them, it was their German beers. 

"Gott sei Dank! Prost! Prost! Prost!"

Indeed, the 1860's were hard times that would grow more difficult as the world quickly evolved from the dependency of men to the reliability of machines. A new sport of contests with drunken men pitted against newly invented machines sprouted up across the country at beer fests. Men were eager to show their strength and endurance while inventors wanted to demonstrate the technological superiority of their new mechanical inventions. With men, big men, strong men, and powerful men always losing to machines and with factory owners taking more notice of the machine than of the men and/or of the contest, etched in the stone cornerstones of new and more modern factories, the writing was on the wall. Change was here to stay.

'Twas a labor intensive time when most everything was made and assembled by hand instead of by machine. When large factories employed masses of bodies to do the work of one machine, citizens all over the world were reluctant to embrace anything new, especially modern, mechanical technology that would eventually put them out of work and out of a job. When one factory owner installed a machine, in their attempts to remain competitive, all the other factory owners scurried to install a machine too. The race for the latest technology and greatest machine soon followed and never stopped. Men were doomed and so were their women.

Fortunately or unfortunately, with not all factories able to afford a machine, with machines not yet totally reliable, with machines routinely breaking down, and with parts not readily available, there were still plenty of bugs in the system to allow men to temporarily return to the times of how things used to be. With some technology ahead of its time, it was difficult to find someone living in a small town possessing enough technical ability and mechanical sophistication to even service and maintain the machines. Only, out of their control and powerless to stop progress, those who lived then had no choice but to submit and go along with and adjust to whatever were the inevitable changes, just as we who live now must do the same.

"How dare they! They dared indeed to force change upon us!"

It was inevitable after all and there was nothing that any one man or a thousand men could do to stop it. With modern day social telecommunications not yet invented, mass medias that were necessary for people of one country or even one city to stay in touch with one another, most Germans were out of touch with what was happening with one another and what other changes were taking place in the world. Unless they came to town to buy supplies, those who lived on a farm were secluded, isolated, and aloof. They didn't like or trust those transients who lived in the city, people who rented a room and didn't have roots enough to own land and/or even have a family. Filled with rumor and hearsay instead of with factual information, without having CNN telling them what to think and what to believe, it was an uninformed time of suspicion, supposition, and speculation.

In the way that Christopher Columbus saw the world as flat, Germans, as did everyone else of that period, only saw what they could see in front of them. What they saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and touched was their reality. With the peasants unable to imagine anything out of their scope, most were unable to see the big picture. Germans weren't alone in their limited myopic viewpoints. Germans were no different in resisting the technological, social, political, religious, and economic global changes that were happening simultaneously around the world than were any other citizen of any other country.

* * * * *

"No! Please stop! I beg you to untie me! Dear God in Heaven, no! Please don't do this to me again, not after all that I've done for you. How dare you! How could you? No, not again. No! I can't take this anymore. Just kill me. Kill me. Kill me now. I'd rather be dead than to live another day with you," said Olga looking to her husband with begging eyes before looking to her son with sexual lust.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #02



* * * * *

"What was that? I thought I heard a scream," said Rachel awakened from her sound sleep at an ungodly hour of the early morning. "What time is it?"

She didn't know. Even the rooster hadn't yet crowed. Sensing something was wrong, she lifted her head from her pillow to listen before sitting up in bed with anxious foreboding.

"Was I dreaming it or did I really hear a scream? Was that an animal or a human?"

She peered out her bedroom window looking for ghosts, goblins, and ghouls, but unable to see through the darkness and through the fog, there was nothing to see and nothing to hear but the whistling wind, the pouring rain, and those ever present, scary shadows that made her imagination run wild with fright.

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #03



Chapter 3

Olga relearns how to respect and obey her husband while sexually satisfying her son

"Why are you doing this to me?" Olga looked from her husband to her son and back to her husband again. "What have I done now to deserve such abuse? I can't take the beatings and the whippings anymore Hugo," she said not protesting to her husband about having to sexually pleasure her son after her husband beats her and before he whips her for enjoying having sex with her son a bit too much.

* * * * *

Germans were resistant to the change of a machine doing a man's job, the same job that their fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers did before them. A scenario all too familiar and that still happens today, German men were angry that machines forced them out of work and forced those still working to work harder and faster for increased production and for less wages. Removed from their little routines, German men were angry that dumb, noisy, and smelly machines forced them to think and to rethink everything they manually did in the past to the new, modern way of now doing things by machine. They were angry that machines forced them to retrain and remaster new skills before they could work on the factory floor again and earn money enough to feed and clothe their families. Out of a job to support their families and out of money to buy beer, they were forced to comply, respect, and obey. Having to give the same compliance, respect, and obedience to their employers that they demanded from their wives and daughters but, with the women's rights movement interfering, disrupting, and confusing their women, respect and obedience was more difficult to get. 

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," said workers in German. "We don't want stupid machines. We don't need smelly machines. A man can think and feel, a noisy machine can't. A man is better than a machine." 

Alas, begging to differ with them, factory owners preferred buying and installing one machine than having to pay ten or a one hundred men wages. Once the machines went in, the protesting workers walked out. They assembled in the dirty, city streets and collected at the beer gardens to voice their outrage of man pitted against machine, especially with machine winning over man every time. Instead of being listened to and instead of given a voice, they were beaten by the police and forced back to work, that is, those who still could work and those who were still needed to feed the production line and run the machines.

With the outrage of workers barely, duly noted, their discontent was drowned out by the thumping sound of factory machines, the golden coin sound of progress for factory owners, and the sound of protestations and demonstrations of workers not wanting things to change. Always eager to climb aboard, the alcoholic laced voyage that beer took men on to temporarily make them feel better that night, never failed to make them feel worse the next morning. Proud and angry, there was nothing that these pitiful, hardworking, German workers could do other than to submit, respect, obey, return to work, drink more beer after work, beat their wives to act out and lessen their frustration, and have sex with their daughters so soothe their tortured souls.

* * * * *

"No! Please! I beg you Hugo. Please untie me. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Whatever I did, I won't do it again. I promised," she said looking at him with fear before looking at him with rage.

"You don't even know what you did, do you?" He looked at her with a face of confusion and frustration. "How could you not know what you did to so disrespect and shame me?"

"I don't know what I did but I'm sorry for whatever it is I did. I have rights as your wife," she shouted. "I have rights as the mother of your--"

"Rights? Rights! You have no rights," said Hugo slapping his wife hard across her face again.

* * * * *

Suspecting the worst, Rachel now knew what she heard wasn't a dream but a scream. It was her mother screaming. She remembered that her father and brother were drunk again last night and she went to bed early before they tried to kiss her, touch her, feel her, grope her, and force her hand down to touch their bulging cocks through their pants as they'd done so very many times before. They're both such vile, disgusting, and perverted pigs and worse when they're drunk. Bad enough that a son has sex with his mother with the blessing of his father but how dare a father feel his daughter and a brother lust over his sister! Is there no end to their incestuous lust? Is there no boundary that cannot be breached? Is there no modicum of decency that cannot be violated. How dare they!

Obviously sometime during the night while she was sleeping, they had taken her mother out to the barn again to beat her, strip her naked, sexually assault her, and whip her. Living in a small, five room farmhouse, being that they were never quiet, especially when they were drunk, normally she'd awaken with their noise, loud talking, and singing. Normally she'd hear them, but she was so very tired from doing all of her chores and helping her mother to do her chores too that they could have barged in her room and surprised her. Overpowering her in the way they did with her mother, dragging her down the stairs and carrying her out to the barn, they could have taken her instead of her mother.

Every time her father and brother drank and every time they were drunk, their physical, emotional, and sexual abuse worsened from just talking, to touching, to groping, to fondling, to striping, and to raping. It was only a matter of time before they tired of sexually abusing her mother and turned their incestuous eyes to her. Her high value as a virgin married off to a wealthy family was the only thing that stopped them and saved her from the same fate that her mother suffered and must endure. 

Nonetheless, they were still free with their hands and it was only a matter of time before they forced her to her knees and filled her mouth with their incestuous lust for her. Her virginity needn't be ruined to stroke their cocks before sucking their cocks and she wondered why they hadn't thought of that and forced her to suck them before now. Before they thought to do that and before they forced her to blow her own father and suck her own brother, she needed to flee from this crazy place now but how and where would she go? The entire country was filled with incestuous lust with fathers having their wicked way with their daughters, sons forcing themselves upon their mothers, and brothers impregnating their sisters. Is there no end to this mad debauchery? 

"How dare they!"

She wished they'd just leave her alone. She wished her mother would just stop screaming. She wished she was born an ugly man instead of a beautiful woman. She wished she could go back to sleep but she couldn't. Too tired to get up and too early to start her sixteen hour, long day to do her chores, helpless to do anything to save her mother from the abuse of her father and brother and not wanting to hear the screams of her mother, she put her pillow over her head, her fingers in her ears, and cried herself to sleep.

* * * * *

A time of upheaval, an age of uncertainly, and an era of dramatic changes, the only thing that men could control was their families in their own homes and the happenings on their own land, that is, most times but not all times. Their safe havens to do just that, men in their own homes acted out their economic, political, religious, and social frustrations with drunkenness and/or with violence. Unless they were rich and/or had the ear of the king, in the way that Richard Wagner, the king's favorite composer had, they were powerless everywhere else in society to voice their justified opinions and/or to demonstrate their free wills.

Penniless but for the meager wages they earned on the factory floor or from their farms, they needed to take back control over some part of their miserable lives. Yet, but for the brand of beer they drank and the women they married, the daughters, cousins, sisters and/or girlfriends they sexually abused, every part of them and their lives was suddenly controlled by someone or something else. With only women and farm animals, not necessarily in that order, deemed lower in status than poor German men, there was always something or someone more powerful controlling them.

"God help them!"

Defiant against any woman infringing upon their God given right of men's superiority, the last straw was the Women's Rights Movement demanding that women be deemed equal. Yet, with men acting out in frustration, it was women who were beaten for the bad news of current events. It was women who suffered for men's disgruntlement with the king, the church, and the state. It was woman who paid the ultimate price of their folly with pain, suffering, and/or death for causing men's degradation and emasculation by their wanting to have equal rights and equality. It was women who paid the pitiful penalty with their humiliation by men forcing them to have incestuous sex with their fathers, their sons, and their brothers. 

"How dare they! How dare they! How dare they!" 

* * * * *

When seeing it from the distance off the main road, looking so much better than when seeing it up close, the wooden building was nothing more than an innocuous barn set back on a working farm. With the land all around it manicured with neatly plowed fields when not filled with row upon row and acres of crops, there was nothing different from this farm to distinguish it from any other farm in the area. Hardworking farmers, the Germans were known for their farming skills and for their farms. Farming was a big business in this part of Germany of lush land filled with rich topsoil and there were lots of farms competing with one another. Looking much like all the other farms in the area, no one passing by this farm would ever suspect there was anything amiss and suspect the horror that happened in that horrible hangar.

"I'm glad I own this farm and this land," said Hugo puffing out his chest, "instead of having to live in the city and be dependent upon factory owners to give me a job." After pontificating his points and his riles against the system, he always ended his diatribes with the same words, glad to own a farm and farmland. "I'd have even less control of my life than I do now in trying to sell my crops to price fixed markets."

Alas, Hugo felt the pinch then that farmers feel now. Even though everything was changing, some things remain the same and never change.

Yet, his farm, especially his barn, was as much of a place of torture as it was a place to house his animals. Set behind and a distance away from the main farmhouse, in a dilapidated hangar of horror, seething with evil and filled with incestuous lust, the broken down, weathered barn loomed larger when walking closer than the main house did up close. Ironically, looking at it from a distance, especially when seeing it for the first time, the barn looked as if it could have once been a house of worship instead of a hangar of horror. Only with these two barbarians, Hugo and his supersized son Karl, looming inside and prowling their land in the way of demonic, diabolical wolfs, there was no God present in this barebones building and on this God forsaken land. 

God help the women who set foot in this barn. Unfortunately, helpless against their drunken whimsy, there were no Angels of mercy inside this barn to save anyone, especially Olga, from the physical and emotional abusiveness of her husband and the sexual abusiveness and depravity of her son. This was where the Devil and his son did their diabolical duty with deranged depravity and delirious delight. With only God able to save her, Lord help her, only God was nowhere to be found on this farm and in this barn. Seemingly, undoubtedly, and assuredly, God had abandoned her just as her husband had turned against her.

"God help her. God save her. For the sake of her beautiful daughter, may God strike down her husband and her son."

This German family's secrets weren't out in the open nor were they open for discussion over a room temperature beer served at the bar. Passed down over the generations for more than two hundred years of fathers leaving this farm to their sons, left to him by his father, this was Hugo's farm and his land now. One day, all of this would go to his dimwitted, albeit hardworking son Karl. Whatever happened here on his land, in his farmhouse, and especially in his barn wasn't anyone's business but that of his family.

Privately discreet, but for the late night screaming and early morning horror show, with their next door neighbor miles away, there was no one to hear them and no one to tell their secrets. With nothing to illuminate their incestuous freak show but the full moon, the shining stars overhead, and the one, dim, flickering lantern suspended on a hook, their secrets weren't acted out in the main farmhouse but were hidden back behind the house in the privacy of the barn. Appropriately or inappropriately, the barn was where Hugo housed all his animals. Being that he and his son acted as if they were animals too when drunk, what better place to bring his wife to be physically, emotionally, and sexually abused than to the barn? The barn was a place where no one was welcome and no one went but the farmer, his wife, his son, and his daughter. Unless they were willing to risk a farmer's wrath and an ass full of buckshot, the barn was off limits to everyone else.

Nearly too drunk to see and definitely too drunk to reason with, Hugo awakened his wife in the middle of the night with a shake, a shout, and a slap. Whatever he could grab of his wife in his drunkenness and in the darkness of night, he pulled. He dragged and pulled Olga kicking and screaming from her bed by her long, lush, chestnut brown hair, her firm arms, her shapely legs, and her short, thin nightgown. Pulling her and dragging her to push her down the stairs, step by every painful step, in a ball of arms and legs, she fell in a rush and bounced off every wooden step below as if bouncing off every hard rock while plunging from a waterfall. Then he dragged his wife of 21-years by her hair through the house and deposited her on the stone kitchen floor to the sexual delight of his horny son.

With her nightgown in total disarray, the hem of it settled just below her bellybutton. With her bare, big breasts spilling out of her low cut top, the erectness of her nipples confessed her sexual excitement of being so violently abused by her husband and so nakedly exposed to her son. With her long shapely legs spread wide enough to expose her bushy, dark brown pussy, her hidden, naked secrets were revealed to her son for him to see all of the hidden sexual charms of his mother. When other more Christian sons would avert their eyes and look away from the nakedness of their mothers, Karl lustfully stared at his mother's uncovered breasts and naked pussy with incestuous depravity.

In defense of Karl and in deference to her husband, other mothers and wives would quickly cover their nakedness with their nightgown and their hands. Other mothers and wives would normally be embarrassed, mortified, and humiliated that their adult age son saw so very much of their naked body for such a prolonged amount of time in view of their husband. Instead, Olga discreetly smiled her incestuous lust for her son while making no attempt to cover herself. When her husband wasn't looking, knowing that she'd soon be taking her son's cock in her mouth and sucking him while he fondled her breasts and fingered her nipples, she slowly ran her tongue across her lips while staring at the big bulge that Karl's erection made in his pants. A sexy game and forbidden scenario they all played, instead of shame, humiliation, and embarrassment, obviously by her actions and sexual arousal, Hugo's violence added fuel to the illicit, incestuous and erotic excitement that this mother enjoyed with her son.

Taking over where his father left off, with one big hand and one strong arm, Karl lifted his mother up in his right arm and, as if lifting a bale of hay, he moved her high up on his chest. Heading out the door behind his father, he held the swaying lantern in his left hand. Trailing behind his father as if he were one of the dogs on the hunt for rats and rodents of the four legged kind instead of the two legged sexual predators that these two were, he carried his mother out of the house and to the barn for her to relearn her lessons of discipline. Too drunk to be mindful of the snakes that may be lurking there in the tall grass and the grasshoppers, beetles, and spiders that would surely hitch a ride on their pant legs, Hugo marched out in front of them through the field as if his high steps kept beat to an imagined music of a German band.

With his back turned to them and with his son's lantern lighting his way but leaving Karl and Olga in total darkness behind him, Olga took the opportunity to reward her son for his gentleness. She wrapped her arm around her son's thick neck and French kissed him. Clothe only in her worn, thin nightgown, fortunately for her, 'twas a warm, summer night instead of a cold, winter night. Once inside the barn, having done this more than a dozen times before and with each family member knowing the part they needed to play and what they needed to do, Olga went into her usual act of playing the forced victim of incestuous seduction.

"No! Stop! Please! I beg you, You mustn't do this to me," cried Olga a seemingly sometimes forced, sometimes reluctant, and sometimes willing victim. "Let me go! Let me go! Let go of me!" Her struggling, her screaming, and her drama, whether acted or real, much in the way that she faked her orgasms, whenever her fat husband was on top of her grunting, sweating, and farting, obviously added to Hugo's sexual excitement.

Blocking his father's view with his big body from seeing what he was doing with his wife, Karl gently lowered his mother down in front of the horse stall and tied her wrists to the top rail. Once tied there, once unable to move, and once unable to struggle to resist, commencing with his sexual appetizer of his personal version of foreplay in readiness for his incestuous love affair with his mother, Karl felt and touched his willing mother where no son should ever feel and touch his mother. Touching, feeling, fondling, caressing, and cupping her big breast through her nightgown while fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples, he reached his hand behind her to cup her firm, round ass in his big, strong hand. Then, moving his hand to the front of her, he reached a hand beneath her nightgown to cup her abundant soft and curly, dark brown fur before fingering her already wet pussy. Probing his mother in the way that he should be probing his wife or his girlfriend, he gently and slowly plunged a long, stiff, wiggling finger inside of her. Instead of being met with a shake and a shudder, instead of being met with her resistance, and instead of receiving her scream of rejection, he was met with a loving smile, a sexy look, and a gasp of pleasure.

As if he was her lover and he was, as if he was her husband instead of her son, gently rubbing her clit while still fingering her nipples, he gave his mother a taste of what more was to come later. With a fine line between pain and pleasure, if only her husband knew how much his physical abuse excited his wife in readiness to pleasure her son, he'd be shocked. Not knowing what goes though his troubled, drunken mind, maybe Hugo knew how his violent actions sexually aroused his wife. Maybe Hugo knew that Olga's sexual awakening would make her lust for her son in the way she once lusted for him. Maybe this was his plan all along and if it was how dare he!




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #03



To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #04



Man against machine, machine wins, and, tied to the horse stall beaten by her husband and sexually abused by her son, Olga loses her struggle in the barn. 

Submitting her will to him for the sake of the masculinity and pride of her husband, Olga sacrificed herself to be physically and emotionally abused. For her husband to feel that he exerted some modicum of control over some portion of his miserable life, she allowed him to beat and whip her naked body nearly to death. Undoubtedly, in the hopes that he didn't kill her and do the same to her daughter next, and in the hopes that he'd get what he needed from beating and whipping her, she allowed her son to sexually abuse her so that the both of them would leave her daughter alone. A kind and loving mother and what any mother would do, she sacrificed herself to protect her daughter.

For the sake and safety of her daughter, Rachel, Olga volunteered to take her place to be sexually molested in the barn. Her unspoken agreement to be chosen to be so battered and so abused was her motherly decision to save her daughter from the same fate. Olga was an unwilling victim in her husband's game of pain, debauchery, and torture. Yet, when there was sexual pleasure given to her by her son, instead of the physical violence delivered her by her husband, she was more than a willing volunteer.

Albeit aroused by the beatings and not as much by the whippings that came after Karl pleasured her and she pleasured him, not that she had any choice in her decision being that she was tied to the horse stall, she needed the beating to get her in the amorous mood to have incestuous sex with her son. For lack of a better word, not as normal for a mother to sexually want her son in the way that a son wanted his mother, the pain she suffered from her husband was what she needed to freely cross that incestuous line. Just as she disliked the violence and the physical abuse given to her by the hand of her husband, in anticipation of getting herself ready to be intimate with her son, she tolerated the pain and the suffering for the sake of the sexual pleasure. She needed the beating to excite her sexually more and to make her feel guilty less. Wicked in her justification of what she needed to make her feel where she needed to be to survive this crazy father and son team, she learned to not only look forward to but also to love the sexual attention given her by the hand, the mouth, and the cock of her son.

Screaming and kicking, allowing him to think that he was in control, if only in control of her, her son, and her daughter, she vehemently begged her husband to stop beating and whipping her. Cooing and fawning, she not so vehemently begged her son to stop stripping her, touching her, feeling her, caressing her, and sexually assaulting her. Even though everything was changing, some things remained the same, especially all of those things that occurred within the barn between this horrible husband, his perverted son, and his wicked wife. The reason why she was in the barn again was because her husband was drunk again, Olga didn't obey again, and her son was horny again. Especially when the incestuous mood heated up in the house between father and daughter and between brother and sister, perhaps if only for the sake of wanting to have sex with her son again and to save Rachel from the same fate, one may wonder if Olga instigated this visit to the barn.

Even during these troubled times of uncertainty and frustration, with women not always readily available for Karl to date when living out on a farm miles from his next neighbor and living even further from the city, some things never do change. Conveniently available to satisfy his every sexual whim were his shapely mother and his sexy sister. Being that he received his father's approval to have sex with his wife, Karl was happy to be the obedient son by obliging not only his father's perversion but also his mother's libido. While his father sat and watched while masturbating himself, Karl pleasured his mother. 

"You must be punished Olga," said her red faced husband spitting out his anger as he yelled. "You must learn to respect and obey me."

"Let me go! Please let me go! Don't do this to me, not again," cried Olga. "I beg you. Please stop. Please don't. No! I can't take this anymore. Please stop."

"You must learn to obey your husband," he said again repeating himself in his drunkenness. "Having forgotten all of your lessons, you must relearn them now again. You must learn to respect me," said Hugo.

"Why should I respect you when you don't respect me?" Flooded with tears, she looked up at him with a face of fear while struggling against her ties.

"You're a woman Olga. You don't deserve respect. You don't get respect; you give it," said Hugo with a sneer and a slap.

"Why should I obey you when you're so cruel to me even when I'm obeying and respecting you?"

"What you call obedience, I call disobedience and what you call respect, I call disrespect. I see the looks that you give me. I hear you whispering behind my back to my son and to my daughter," he said pointing a finger of contempt at her. "You don't respect me, you disrespect me."

When once she looked at him with love, she now looked at him with fear. When once he looked at her with love, he now looked at her with hatred. 

"Dear God in Heaven, haven't I suffered enough?" As if God was there ready to swoop down to save her, Olga looked up to the rafters of the barn before refocusing her attention to her husband. "How can I respect the man that beats and whips his wife? I can't take this anymore Hugo." Olga stopped her screaming to start crying while trying to plead some sense to her husband. "As a weak woman, as your loving wife, and as the caring mother of your children, I have some rights to--"

"Rights! Rights? What rights? Do you mean women's rights? Your insistent delusion of women's rights is why you're here in the barn again Olga," he said looking at her as if she had lost her mind. "Women have no rights," yelled Hugo in German as if she was a captured prisoner of the German revolution instead of his wife and the mother of his children. "Unlike me, a man, the owner of this house and this land, you're a nobody and a no one. Unable to even vote, even in the eyes of Germany, you don't even exist." 

"Surely, Hugo, as the woman you love, I have the right to--"

"You have no rights," he said again, this time louder. As if his finger was a gun and he was about to shoot her dead, he made his lambasting more personal by pointing his index finger at her face and only inches away from her nose. "My animals are not only more valuable to me than you are but also have more rights than you do," he said with a laugh. "They have the right to go to market to fetch me a fair price and they have the right to be slaughtered and to be eaten to feed me. If you have any rights at all, you have the right to respect me and obey me."

But for her ties holding her in place, her binds stopped her from moving not much more than a few inches in either direction, side to side or up and down. Appearing woozy after being violently awakened from her sleep and dragged down a flight of stairs from her bed, she was dizzy against the onslaught of his physical, emotional, and verbal abuse. No doubt exhausted from being so brutally beaten after working all day to maintain her house and serve her husband and her son, as if she was a dying swan in the last scene of a ballet, she crumbled against the weight of herself and the unsteadiness of her legs. She would have collapsed to the ground were it not for her binds that tightened against her wrists and held her in place to prevent her from falling further. Weak kneed from being beaten and exhausted from lack of sleep, the weight of her slim, shapely body that pulled against the leather straps hurt her wrists enough to make them bleed.

"Karl," she said to her son looking at him with love. "Help Mommy. Untie me. Please, I beg you. My wrists hurt and are bleeding. You're big and you're strong, you can stop this abuse. Don't let your father do this to me."

Obviously torn by his blind dogged allegiance to his father and his incestuous lustful love for his mother, Karl looked from his mother to his father and back to his mother again with eyes that begged her forgiveness for not untying her and for not stopping the physical abuse. Intent on arousing his sexual lust for his mother by touching her and feeling her in the way that his father was determined to soothe his rage by beating, whipping, and controlling his wife, no doubt wanting this incest to continue, Karl didn't intercede on his mother's behalf. Undoubtedly, if his father's abuse of his mother worsened, he'd step in with a heavy hand to stop his father from really hurting and/or killing his mother. Instead of untying her, instead of setting her free, and instead of protecting her from further harm from his demonic father, on the pretense of helping her to stand and to take the pressure off of the leather straps rubbing against her skin, he took pleasure in touching, feeling, and caressing his mother everywhere through her nightgown.

What son would touch, feel, and caress his mother's body in such an incestuous, sexual way? Albeit being that she was tied to the horse stall and was unable to stop the sexual abuse, what mother would allow her son to touch, feel, and caress her body in such an incestuous, sexual way? Nothing new to this family, this incestuous sideshow had been happening since Karl's 18th birthday, a son having his perverted way with his mother and his mother obviously enjoying the sexual attention that her husband was unwilling and/or unable to give her. Only and unfortunately, the incest escalated since Rachel had turned 18-years-old.

Undoubtedly the sexual frustration of a father controlling his urge to touch his virginal daughter and a brother kept from having his incestuous, sexual way with his innocent sister, played out more with a husband abusing his wife and a son having his way with his mother. Either Rachel would marry soon or she'd find herself serving the violent whims of her father and the sexual lusts of her brother. Either she'd earn her keep by rewarding her father with more land and livestock with a mutually beneficial marital union or she'd be taking her place in the barn too. Other than to abuse her and other than to make her family money by marrying her to a wealthy family, Hugo had no use for another useless and helpless woman to be so dependent upon his generosity in feeding her and sheltering her.

With his big, broad back blocking his father's view, Karl felt and caressed his mother's big breasts and fingered her instantly hardening nipples before reaching around her to take a big handful of her firm, round ass through her nightgown. With Olga looking up at her giant son with lustful love, he felt his mother with all the incestuous lust of a son given permission to have sex with his mother by his father. Lifting her helpless body to a standing position with one, big hand, he removed the pressure off of her wrists while feeling more handfuls of her firm, big breasts and her round, shapely ass with his other hand through her nightgown again. Once his father was done beating, lecturing, and lambasting her, as he has always done in the past, he'd give his son permission to pleasure his mother while he watched and masturbated over the sexy sight of the two of them together before whipping her for enjoying her son too much.

With Hugo no longer able to sexually satisfy his wife and with Hugo no longer able to maintain an erection while inside of her because of his excessive drinking, in the way that he'd one day give his son the farm, he prematurely gave his son his wife. Relinquishing his sexual control over Olga in favor of watching his son pleasure his mother and watching his wife pleasuring his son, he left his husbandly, sexual duties to Karl. Bad enough that a son had sex with his mother and bad enough that a mother enjoyed having sex with her son, it was even worse when a father agreed to the incestuous union between a mother and her son. Even worse than a son having sex with his mother and a father agreeing to their incestuous behavior was when a father watched his son pleasuring his wife while masturbating his lust over their incestuous, sexual display.

A wicked woman in 1860, even as a married woman and an obedient wife, Olga wasn't supposed to enjoy having sex with her husband and/or with anyone else, especially with her son. Something she never enjoyed even when they were first married, she hated, actually dreaded, having sex with her husband. Slam bam and without even a thank you ma'am, she didn't enjoy having sex with Hugo when he was always so angry and always so mean. Fat, disgusting, and with too much hair on his shoulders, chest, arms, legs, and back, when he didn't smell of beer and cigars, he smelled of dried sweat. Having sex with her husband wasn't as nearly as pleasurable, a gross understatement, as it was having sex with her son.

Yet, when having sex with her handsome son, she was eager to do whatever she could to please him in reciprocation of him pleasuring her. Taking more than the two minutes of penetration without foreplay, Hugo never kissed her, touched her, felt her, and adored her body in the way her son did. Karl took his time with his mother. Kissing her, touching her, feeling her, caressing her, and complimenting her, Karl made her feel like a sexy woman before inserting his big, hard, hairy cock in her wide open and willing mouth. In the way she looked up at him with his cock buried in her mouth and in the way that she willingly accepted his erect prick in her mouth, she obviously enjoyed sucking her son's cock. Obviously wishing she was his wife instead of his mother, no doubt, she wished he'd give her an orgasm with his fingers and with his tongue before mounting her and making love to her before fucking her.

"Please Hugo, I beg you to stop," she said looking from her son to her husband. "I'm sorry for whatever it was I did." She looked back from her husband to her son. "Karl, please talk some sense to your father. Untie Mommy. Please help me."

"Sorry mother but I can't," he said in a quiet whisper and in a defeated voice.

It was unlike her son to be so submissively timid, seemingly weak, and almost apologetic. Always so kind and gentle around his mother, he only acted out of character when drunk and when around his drunken father. So much bigger than his father, Karl was a big brute that was a throwback to his maternal grandfather, Bruno, a strong man in the circus in the 1830's. In the immense physical size and strength of him, he was a gentle giant. He had a kind nature and a good heart, otherwise, only when provoked and riled, did he become a big, scary monster. Because he was dimwitted, acting as if a caged grizzly bear suddenly set free, he was the butt of jokes until those who made fun of him quickly learned not to provoke him and not to anger him. 

"Please don't allow him do this to me," she said playing both their games while whispering and looking up at her son with her big, green eyes and watching him fondle her firm, shapely breasts. "Not again, please not again. Don't allow your father to do this again to me. He's drunk and I'm so very tired. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's angry over everything else and over things that he can't control," she said looking down and pausing in her pleading to watch him caress her big breasts while fingering her hard nipples through the thin, worn material of her nightgown. "That feels good Karl. Mommy likes it when you touch and finger her nipples like that," she said standing on her toes to whisper in his ear as he leaned down to receive her message. 

"I love your big tits Mommy. I love your big nipples. I love you Mommy," he said returning her whispers. "I wish you were my woman. I wish you were my wife," he said. "I'd have sex with you every day."

"I am your woman," she said. "Maybe one day, after your father leaves this Earth and you inherit the farm, I can be your wife."

"Why is Papa so angry with you?"

"He's not angry with me Karl. He can control me. He can count on me to obey and to respect him. I'm not his problem," she said as her son lifted the back of her nightgown to feel more of her bare ass before moving his big hand to the front of her to cup her bushy, dark brown pussy. She gasped when he touched her and gently parted her lips to feel her wetness.

"I love feeling your ass mother as much as I like fingering your pussy. It makes me so hot to touch you and to feel your naked body beneath your nightgown," said her son.

"Oh Karl, my big, beautiful boy, fuck my pussy with your long fingers and rub my clit in the way I taught you to do," she whispered in his ear. "Suck Mommy's nipples through my nightgown. Suck them, Karl, suck them. I like it when you suck my nipples." 

"I love sucking your nipples mother," said Karl sucking one nipple through her nightgown while fingering the other nipple and before switching from one to the other and back again.

"I wish you could make love to Mommy. I wish you could stick your big, hard cock in Mommy's pussy. I wish you could fuck Mommy," she said breathlessly in his ear when he continued sucking and fingering her nipples.

Seemingly the more she referred to herself as Mommy, the more sexually excited her son became. Then when he inserted his index finger and wiggled it deeper inside of her while rubbing her clit with his middle finger, she started softly moaning.

"What's all that whispering? What are you two plotting behind my back? I can't even trust my own family," said Hugo in a drunken daze with a disgruntled wave of his hand before taking another long drink from his bottle.

"Nothing Hugo. Karl was just helping me to stand. My wrists are bleeding and my legs are so weak. Untie me please dear husband. I'll be good. I promise. I'll obey you. I'll respect you. I will. I promise. You don't need to discipline me anymore. Having relearned my lessons, I will always respect and obey you."

"Respect me? Ha! The only time you respect me is when I take you to the barn to teach you respect. The only time you obey me is when I'm beating you and whipping you. I'm starting to believe that you enjoy being beaten and whipped so that you can have sex with your son," said Hugo with a sneer while looking from her to look at his son before returning his focus to his wife. "Is that it Olga? Do you enjoy having sex with Karl? Is the reason why you disrespect me so that I'll take you to the barn? Is the reason why you disobey me so that your son can pleasure you in the way that I no longer can. Is that it?" He stared at her waiting for her to reply.

"No, I don't enjoy my son touching me. As part of your respectful obedience, you force me to pleasure my son. Being tied to the horse stall, what choice do I have, dear husband, but to allow my son to touch me where no son should ever feel his mother? You make it sound as if I want to be beaten and whipped," she said giving him her best look of feigned pitiful sorrow. "You make it sound that I enjoy having sex with my son," she said obviously hiding her look of anticipated sexual excited.

"I've known you too long for you to lie to me. You can't lie to me. Just by seeing your face and just be seeing the impressions your erect nipples make in your nightgown, I know you enjoy Karl touching you, feeling you, and caressing you while fingering and sucking your nipples. Tell me. Do you enjoy your son's fingers inside of your pussy?" He gave her a hard stare. "I bet you love sucking his cock, don't you. I bet you love him cumming in your mouth," said Hugo obviously getting sexually excited enough to finger his cock through his pants. "I bet you'd love to fuck your son. You're no better than a German whore in a whorehouse," he said waving his hand at her. "You're worse than a German whore in a whorehouse, a mother enjoying having sex with her son."




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #04



"You're not mad at me Hugo. You angry over all the other things that you can't control. You can control me. You don't know what you're doing in--"

"I know what I'm doing Olga," he said while watching his son manhandle his wife. "I'm disciplining you for disobeying and disrespecting me," he said staring at her wide eyed as if he was crazy and he was. 

"You treat me as if I'm the enemy, a trespasser, and/or a poacher caught on your property instead of your loving wife," she looked at him with sadness before looking at him with insight. "You're not angry at me Hugo. You're angry with everyone else and everything not in your control," she said.

"You have crazy ideas Olga that a woman is as good as a man," said Hugo pushing his son back and away from his wife to allow him the room to pontificate his point while pacing back and forth in front of her as if he was a teacher lecturing and lambasting his only student. "How could you think that?" He shook his head. "I'll never understand why you think that."

"I'm human too Hugo. I deserve to be--"

"You're a woman. You deserve nothing. You deserve only what I give you," he said waving his finger in her face before slapping her again.

"I'm your wife and the mother of your children. Are you too drunk to know who I am? Your treatment of me is wrong. I deserve better than this."

"Deserve? You deserve nothing. You're entitled to nothing. It doesn't matter that you're my wife and the mother of my children. You're a lowly woman. Men are born to be God's soldiers. Men are the chosen ones, not women," he said pointing to the roof of the barn as if he was pointing to God sitting there in the rafters looking down at him with approval. "Men are smarter, stronger, and better than women," he said pounding his fist in the palm of his hand with the declaration of each adjective as if he was in church and pounding the bully pulpit. "Do you hear me? Do you understand?"

"Yes Hugo, my dear husband, I hear you and I understand you. I'm nothing and no one without you telling me when to eat, when to breathe," said Olga putting her head down in shame while mumbling the last part of her submission under her breath, " and when to shit."

"Women are only here to give men what we need, sons, food, and sex," said Hugo continuing his drunken sermon. "Women are only here to give men pleasure not pain, happiness not sadness, and obedience not disobedience. Worthless without me, you're not my equal. What I am is your superior, your protector, your provider, your teacher, and your disciplinarian," he said standing in place to puff out his chest and blow out his too proud nonsense. "The king of my castle, I'm the boss of you," he said pounding his chest before pointing at her.

"Yes, your majesty," she said under her breath too softly for him to hear but loud enough to make her son to smile.

"Don't forget that. Never forget that," said her husband slapping her hard across her face to get her attention when she looked away from him to look helplessly at her son. "How dare you not look at me when I'm talking to you!" He pointed his fat, stubby finger at her face. "Respect and obedience Olga, respect and obedience is all that I ask of you. Once you learn to respect and obey me, I won't have to discipline you again."

"Hugo, have mercy. I respect you and I obey you. I do. I really do. I've always been a good wife ever since I married you when I was only fourteen-years-old and you were twenty-four-years-old. You're my man, the only man in my life. Other than my son forcing himself on me with your blessing," she said looking at her son with an apologetic look before focusing her attention back to her husband, "I've always been faithful to you. Having intimately known you since I was a virgin on our Honeymoon bed, I've never been intimate with another man. Haven't I always given you the respect that you deserve for providing for me and our family."

"You respected me then. You obeyed me then but not so much now," said Hugo looking at her with disdain. "Now you say one thing and do another."

"I've always obeyed your every verbal command, your every unspoken look, and your every sexual whim? Proud to be your wife and the mother of your children, I've always treated you with the respect and obedience you deserve as you my husband and me your lowly wife. Please have compassion for me," she said begging him with her eyes and continuing asking for his mercy when he didn't answer her. "How can you do this to me after all we've been through together and after all that I do for you?" 

Obviously feeling shame in being so helplessly humiliated in front of her son, not looking up at her husband, Olga stared at the ground in utter misery while sobbing.

"Just as I own this farm and these animals," he said looking around the barn before looking back at her, "I own you. How dare you bring that Women's Rights pamphlet in my house! How dare you have crazy thoughts of equality! How dare you think you're the equal of me! You must be punished for disobeying me and for disrespecting me," he said pointing his finger at her again as if personally blaming her for all of his political, economic, and social frustrations.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #05



Chapter 5

Hugo punishes Olga before Karl has his wicked way with his mother

*

"Please forgive me, dear husband. Please have mercy on me," she cried. "I'm sorry for reading that women's rights flyer. I'll never read anything ever again. I promise. I'll obey you. I'll respect you. I'll be your loving wife."

"You must be punished for believing that you're the equal of me," he said. "Rachel is the one I'd love to punish for teaching you how to read," he said mumbling under his breath and too low for her to hear, otherwise Olga would have strongly reacted to her husband wanting to discipline his daughter in the way that he was disciplining his wife.

"Help! Please someone help me! May God strike you dead for the pain and suffering you have given me," cried Olga to the deaf ear of her husband while struggling against her ties.

In his drunken rage to her screaming, he stepped forward to tug hard at her nightgown. Pulling her to him by the front of her nightgown, he jerked the weight of her against her ties that held her wrists. With her buttons flying everywhere, he ripped open her nightgown to expose most of her naked breasts to the horny and happy eyes of her son. In just one, hard pull most of her tits were right there in plain view. In just one quick yank of her nightgown, rewarded with the view of much of her breasts, both father and son were sexually excited but for different reasons. Obviously, Hugo's sexual excitement was driven by watching his son having sex with his wife while Karl's sexually excitement was seeing his nearly naked mother helplessly tied to the horse stall. No doubt, being that they've done this many times before, both knew they were going to get their perverse wishes.

Hugo looked at his wife with a face full of sexual excitement before looking at his son staring at his mother's exposed cleavage. He looked back at his wife who looked from her husband to her son with her facial expressions going from fear to sexual arousal. An anxious moment of pain that was about to turn to pleasure, being that television wasn't even yet invented, what these three did in the barn was better than any porn movie on HDTV.

With her full cleavage and the front, rounded sides of her big breasts bulging out of her nightgown, she looked as would a 16th century wench would look when leaning forward to serve beer at a beer fest while wearing a revealing peasant blouse that showed most of her abundant, hidden assets. Looking from the image of his nearly topless wife, Hugo looked at his son again staring at his mother as if she was a big juicy steak and he was a starving man. Obviously, just as she was sexually exciting her son by being so exposed, Olga sexually excited her husband by all that she was showing his son.

"Please untie me, Hugo, please," she said looking from her husband to her son again as soon as her husband finished talking.

With her every sudden movement revealing a bit more of her tits and with her areolas now in plain view, seemingly having a mind of their own, her breasts moved as if they were trying to jump out of her nightgown. No doubt enjoying being the center of their manly attention and their sexual lust, with her look of sexual depravity that matched their looks of incest, obviously wanting to see what they were seeing of her for herself, she looked down to where her husband and son were staring. By the sexy look on her face, evidentally pleased that her breasts were so exposed and that she was so wanted and desired, instead of feeling embarrassed, instead of feeling humiliated, and instead of feeling shame, she gave them both a sexy look.

Apparently, by the amorous expression on her face, she was just as sexually excited as they were. Apparently, she wanted her husband to watch his son sexually abuse her as much as he wanted to watch her being so abused. Apparently, she wanted her son as much as he wanted his mother.

With her breasts practically spilling out of her nightgown, Karl stared at her big, hard nipples pushing against the thin cotton material of her dressing gown. His built-in sexual barometer, with Karl's big, bulging cock pushing against his pants over the sight of his mother's breasts, the incestuous, sexual lust between the two was obvious. Olga stared as much at her son's hardening prick that tented his pants as much as he stared at her tits that threatened to fall out of her nightgown.

"Help Mommy Karl. Untie Mommy, please," she said feigningly pulling against her ties while purposely jiggling her breasts as if hoping they'd fall out of her nightgown.

When her husband turned away from her to concentrate more on drinking from his bottle, she looked down at her exposed breasts again before looking up at her horny son to give him a sexy look. Karl looked away from his mother to watch his father before returning his focused stare to his mother's breasts. No longer interested in the sexual antics of his wife and son, Hugo walked back to his position by the support beam to nurse his bottle. Having not yet received his father's permission to have his wicked way with his mother, obviously by his focus stares of his mother's breasts, Karl was eager to begin his incestuous, sexual molestation of his mother. With his father leaning against the support beam of the barn and more interested in drinking his bottle than in watching his wife, Karl stepped closer to his mother to block his father's view from seeing what he was about to do to his mother.

In anticipation of having his wicked way with his mother, he felt, fondled, and caressed his mother's big breasts through her nightgown. Because of the narrow cut of her waist and the well-formed flow of her 36" back and chest, her C cup breasts appeared bigger on her shapely frame, especially when they were so exposed as they were now. Genetically blessed, high up but not as high up as Rachel's big tits, still Olga's big tits didn't sag all that much. Especially being that they looked so much alike, no doubt Karl imagined touching and feeling his sister's shapely breasts while feeling his mother's big tits.

Obviously sexually excited by his mother's immorally immodest display of her nearly naked body, he ran a slow palm over her nipples before fingering them, pulling them, turning them, and twisting them through her nightgown. Olga gasped with erotic delight to the incestuous attention received from her son. Evidentially already sexually aroused by the size of her nipples, she closed her eyes in enjoyment of sexual sensations that her son was giving her by feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples. No doubt, if they were alone, she'd be more vocal in telling her son what she wanted.

In all the years they were married, taking her shapely body for granted when so many other farmers' wives were pleasingly plump, her husband never appreciated her in the way her son worshiped her. Her husband never felt her in way her son did. Her husband never looked at her with the lust in the way her son did. Her husband never gave her the sexual pleasure that she was obviously feeling now that her son did.

Before leaning down to suck his mother's nipples through her nightgown, Karl looked over his shoulder at his father. Hugo was still leaning against the support beam in a drunken stupor and incoherently mumbling to himself. Taking one hard impression of her nipple in his mouth before taking the other, Karl sucked his mother's nipples through the thin cotton material. As if she had two big bull's eyes on her nightgown where he sucked her nipples to their full erectness, he left two, big, wet spots on the front of her nightgown. 

Olga peered down at her son's mouth to watch him suck and nibble on her nipples. She angled her sexy body to him when he sucked on one nipple and angled her body the other way when he sucked on her other nipple. Then when he reached his horny hand inside her nightgown and pulled out one breast before pulling out her other breasts, she brazenly stood there topless while lustily eyeing her son as he eyed his father before turning back to eye her. Pleased with what he had done and at what his mother was so unabashedly showing, Karl took a step back to stare at his mother's exposed tits.

"You have beautiful breasts mother," he said stepping forward to whisper his compliment in her ear. "I just love you big tits."

The perfect incestuous storm, a son sexually lusting over his mother was nothing new but a mother lusting over her son was something out of the ordinary. Why not? Only fifteen years older than her son, married as a virgin to a man nearly twice her age, she never had the pleasurable sexual experience from her husband that her son was giving her now. Having had two children before her 18th birthday, sex was never enjoyable with her husband then as it was with her son now.

The sight of Olga standing there so helplessly tied to the horse stall while her son had his wicked way with her body was as erotically exciting as it was incestuously outrageous. Especially back then when women were covered from their necks to ankles and even now, a woman so exposed, so helplessly tied, and so vulnerable was most men's sexual fantasy but for that man to be her son was something else all together. It takes two to have an incestuous love affair and this mother was just as incestuous wicked as was her son. No doubt, just as Olga wanted to save her daughter from the same fate, perhaps Olga was jealous that once they had their wicked way with Rachel, they wouldn't want to take her to the barn anymore.

"Hey! You whore! What are you doing over there with your tits hanging out like that," said her husband slurring his words. 

"You ripped open my nightgown. You did this to me," she said. "Don't you remember Hugo? You exposed my breasts to our son. How dare you!"

"Ah," he said waving a disinterested hand at her. "Well cover yourself. Your son is staring at your breasts," he said with a sick laugh. "Knowing you as I do, you're enjoying the attention."

"How can I cover myself with my wrists tied to the horse stall? Untie me dear husband and I'll gladly cover myself," said Olga looking from her husband to look down at her breasts before looking at her son.

A prelude of what was to come, as soon as Hugo turned away again and fell silent, Karl was all over his mother's tits, feeling them, fondling them, caressing them, and sucking them.

* * * * *

A time of manufacturing progress with machine over man and machine being better, faster, and cheaper than man, those in power thought that the second industrial revolution would be a Godsend. But for a few squirts of oil and with regular maintenance, machines didn't need a bathroom break, a lunch break, a sick day, a holiday, and/or vacation time. With no laws in place to govern their safety, pollution, and noise, machines could work around the clock without complaint and without having to be compensated with weekly wages and/or overtime. Even though overtime and healthcare benefits weren't offered back then, machines didn't need any additional entitlements to entice them to work.

'Twas the same, sad, old story then that it is now, albeit with new workers. Thinking that the new technology was a second coming at a time of government discontent, employee dissatisfaction, and worker disenfranchisement, in the way that America needs to be competitive against China now, Germany needed the new technology then to remain competitive with Great Britain and France. Just as it is today with imports and exports driving the economy and pushing and pulling the economic climate in the way of the moon setting the times of the tides, it was no different back then. A vicious and never ending cycle, workers needed more money and better jobs to keep up with inflation and factory owners needed more production with less costs to return the capital investment they put out to buy the costly machines. A time when everyone had very little rights, just as German women and all women throughout the world wanted equal rights, German men wanted a Bill of Rights too.

Only, with the advent of the second industrial revolution, especially with all the confusion in the beginning, politicians promised more jobs because of the new, modern, mechanical technology. With one machine doing the job of ten, twenty, and even more men, there were even less jobs. 'Twas a strikingly familiar scenario then with machines as it is now with computers. Just as politicians and business owners lied to Germans then about the advent of modern machinery creating more jobs, politicians lied to us now and telling us that there'd be more, higher paying jobs with the advent of computers. In fact, with ATM machines replacing bank tellers, self-checkout, credit card kiosks replacing store clerks, and self-pumps replacing gas station attendants that would clean your windshield, check your oil, and fill your tires, there were less jobs. The only jobs that computers created in the beginning were low paying data processing jobs.

Even though all things must change, some things never change, and some things remain the same. If anything there were more low paying jobs with computerization. Many of the higher paying computer related jobs were outsourced overseas because of cheaper labor rates and nonexistent employee labor benefits. As it was then and as it is now, whenever there was more of anything for the select few minority, there was less of everything for the vast majority. Just as it was then, it is now. There were more unemployed and idle workers with nothing, no job, no money, and no hope.

The massive changes instigated workers to unite and enraged citizens to revolt. The emergence of the second and more encompassing industrial revolution, deemed the Technological Revolution, along with all the major changes that emerged with it, wasn't welcome by all. Rejected and/or resisted by many and accepted by few, the only ones to embrace the Technological Revolution were the factory owners. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, with factory workers not the only ones feeling the pinch, farmers were at the mercy of merchants fixing prices.

"How dare they! Only what else is new?"

Accustomed to and comfortable with the way things were, most workers didn't want things to change. Most workers wanted everything to remain the same and to be done in the same way that their fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers did before them. How dare they change everything they've known! With handcrafted skills passed down from generation to generation, their hands and experienced fingers could do things and feel things that no machine could. Instead, for the sake of quantity over quality and for the sake of progress increasing production while cutting production costs, factory owners embraced the new machines while rejecting the quality of experienced journeymen producing handcrafted, albeit more labor intensive and expensive goods.

* * * * *

The lord of his house and the master of his farm, Hugo was the landlord of his land. Yet, even being so far from the city and so removed from the riots and demonstrations, as if the air was thick with the misery and the sorrow of the masses, even he felt the unrest and the anger of the times on his secluded farm. To fill his imagination with unfounded rumors, speculations, superstitions, anger induced heresy, and suspicions, all he had to do was to talk to passing farmers or go to town to listen to and get caught up in the angry men complaining about the rich versus the poor. The conversations they had then are the same conversations that we're having now between Republicans and Democrats. With everything out of his control, what little that Hugo could control was his family by dishing out his violent discipline to his wife in his barn.

"You're no better than an unruly dog that bites the hand of the one who feeds him," said Hugo to his wife. "When undisciplined, much in the way of a vicious dog not being taught to obey and to walk with his master, women act out in frustration and confusion when left alone to make their own decisions. Women don't have the mental capacity to ponder, to analyze, and to plan things in their minds in the way that men do. Men must protect women from the folly of themselves by doing all the thinking for them. Women need to know who's the boss and who's their pack leader by treating them like the dirty, ungrateful dogs that they are."

"Please Hugo, have mercy on me and my aching body. I don't know what I did to deserve your punishment but I'm sorry for whatever I did. I don't remember what I did to deserve your violent abuse but I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve such terrible punishment," she said. "I'm just tired and want to go to bed."

"You don't know what you did?" He turned from his wife to his son. "Watch Papa, Karl, to learn how a man treats and disciplines his woman for respect and for obedience. You'll thank me later when you have a woman of your own."

"Yes Papa," said Karl watching his father put his bottle down and approach his wife.

"I'm sorry Hugo. Truly I am. If I disrespected you in any way, I'm sorry. If you thought that I didn't obey you, I'm sorry. I just don't know what I did."

"You know what you did," he said with vileness while pointing a finger of retribution.

"I'm sorry," she said while seemingly and suddenly remembering what it was she had done. She pled her case for mercy again. "I'm sorry for reading that women's rights literature. Yes, is that it? I'm sorry. As soon as you untie me, I'll run to the house and burn it in the fireplace. Okay?"

"Yes and what else?" Hugo looked at his wife as if looking at a disobedient child before looking at his son with pride for the humiliation of his mother.

"What else? I'm sorry for thinking that I'm a human being and not a dog. I'm sorry for thinking that I'm your equal. How dare I! I'm not equal to you. I'm weak. I'm a nothing and a no one without you telling me what to do and when to do it. I'm sorry for everything. Please forgive me master," she said looking up at him with a face full of remorse and shame.

"Yes, that's good," he said staring looking at his son with prideful smile of victory.

He stared at his wife's exposed breasts before looking at his son staring at his mother's exposed breasts. Seemingly enamored with his mother's tits, Karl stared at his mother's breasts in the way that her husband should but didn't. Just as Karl had already taken over much of the responsibility of the farm, the new, albeit not yet crowned king of the castle and man of the house, a son taking over the sexual responsibility of pleasuring his mother when a father couldn't was a recipe for violence and a formula for disaster.

There were times when, while watching his wife suck his son, Hugo looked inconsolably jealous and insanely angry. Drinking seemed to be the only elixir that temporarily took away his pain to only replace it with more anger later. He looked as if he wanted to do harm to his son for doing all that he was sexually doing to his mother that he was unable to do with his wife. Yet, most times, Hugo looked at his son with pride while watching him touch and feel his mother and he looked at his wife with sexual excitement while watching her suck her son.

"Untie me please dear husband. My arms hurt. My back is sore. My wrists are bleeding and I can't stand any longer. I've learned my lesson. I did. I'm tired, Hugo. I'm so very tired. I just want to go back to bed. I only have a few hours of sleep left before I have to get up to do all of my chores."

"That's better, much better. Do you see Karl, how men must treat women for them to submit and to obey? Men must treat their women with an iron fist," said Hugo pounding his fist in the palm of his hand again.

No doubt, if he thought by peeing on her to mark her as his and for her to submit to his will, he would. Fortunately for Olga, Hugo wasn't into water sports. His thing was watching his son having his wicked, incestuous way with his wife while he masturbated.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #05



When he turned his back on her to gloat to his son and walked away to drink more from his bottle without untying her, lashing out at him, she grew strong instead of meek and angry instead of apologetic. If the advocates for women's rights along with the rest of the suffragettes were there in the barn with them, they would have beaten Hugo to death with their placards. The opposite in what her husband was trying to accomplish in showing his son how to control a woman, obviously fortified instead of beaten down by the extent, length, and brutality of his abuse, it was obvious from her sudden, disobedient outburst that she'd rather die than to be so controlled by him.

"I'm sorry for meeting you," she yelled. "I'm sorry for marrying you. I'm sorry for having your children, especially your son who strips me naked while you watch and touches and feels me where no son should ever touch and feel his mother. I'm sorry that your son forces me to suck his cock and cum in my mouth with your blessings."

"Shut up!" Hugo advanced menacingly towards her.

"Instead of respecting me, your wife and the mother of your children, you disrespect me by allowing your son to inappropriately touch me, fondle me, and feel me while you masturbate. You vile, filthy pig, you're a horrible man to watch your son fondle my breasts, finger my nipples, and suck my tits. You watch him force me to blow him and watch him cum in my mouth me while you masturbate your soft, little prick," said Olga repeating herself and no longer begging her husband to stop.

"That's enough out of you Olga," said Hugo slapping her hard across the face again. "This is why you're here in the barn again Olga. You're an unappreciative woman. I give you a roof over your head and food to eat and what do I get in return? I get your disrespectful and disobedience."

"I'm sorry for living my life as a woman. I'm sorry for having been born a woman. I wish I was born a man and you were born a woman so that I could discipline you for all that you've done to me," she said bursting in tears.

With a red face full of rage, Hugo turned to confront his wife, the once love of his life.

"Because of your stubbornness, obstinance, and disobedience, and for bringing shame on me, I could kill you Olga. I'd be within my legal rights as a German man and my God given rights as a Christian man to end your life for the disrespect and disobedience you've given me," said Hugo stepping closer to her and close enough that, when he spit out his words, his spit fell on her face. 

"Just let me go back to bed. Untie me. I beg you."

"Don't you understand how you disrespect and disobey me? Why can't you understand that?" As if trying to knock some convoluted sense in her by knocking her head sideways, as if she was the crazy one and he wasn't, Hugo paused in his verbal assault of her to push at her head with his hand.

"You're no Christian. You're no man. What I do understand is that I'd rather be dead than to continue living with you and being your wife," she said giving him a foul look as if he were a big bug found in her kitchen that she needed to evict from her house.

"You'd rather be dead? You don't want to be my wife? Is that it? I can arrange that for you, if that's what you want. I can bury you in the back of my land where no one will ever find you," he said staring at her before speaking. He remained quiet until a menacing smile took hold of his face.

"Do it then. Kill me. I don't care," she said looking at him with defiance and hate. "Better I should be dead than to live another minute with you."

Hugo gave her a long, hard look before speaking. As if suddenly becoming lucid with insight, he replaced his anger with a slow, sinister smile.

"If you'd rather I not discipline you to respect me," he said pausing. "If you'd rather I not force you to submit your will to obey me," he said pausing again to give her a toothless smile. "Perhaps I should drag Rachel from her bed, pull her down the stairs by her hair, and have Karl carry her out to the barn, tie her to the horse stall, and strip her naked."

"No! Please don't," cried Olga.

"If you refuse to respect and obey me, Rachel can take your place in the barn. Maybe I should discipline her instead of you. Maybe my daughter would be less resistant to respecting and obeying me than her mother is," said Hugo with a vindictively victorious smile.

"No!" Olga withered at the mere mention of her daughter's name. "Don't you dare touch her! You leave my daughter alone!"

"Maybe I can show you how to obey me by disciplining her. Maybe by watching my daughter submit to her father, you'll see how a wife must conform to her husband. Maybe by watching your son having sex with his sexy, shapely sister--"

"No, please don't touch my Rachel. I beg you," cried Olga. "Leave her alone Hugo. Please leave her alone."

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #06



Trading her for her mother, Hugo threatens to take Rachel to the barn for discipline

"No, please don't touch my Rachel. I beg you," cried Olga. "I'll do anything you want just leave Rachel alone."

With the safety of her daughter at stake, Olga looked at her husband with fear while he looked at her with hatred. 

"She's the one who gave you the Women's Rights flyer after all. She's the reason why you're here in the barn now," he said pacing back and forth in front of her while waving his arms. "My rage against your lack of respect and your total disobedience is more her fault than it is yours. I should be disciplining my daughter instead of her mother."

"No! Please don't touch my Rachel," cried Olga.

"It's not your fault," ranting and raving as if talking to himself before pointing his finger at his helpless wife. "You're just too stupid to know any better. Like mother like daughter, she's the one who takes after you in her disrespect and disobedience of me. Perhaps she's the one who should be tied to the horse stall, stripped naked, and beaten, and not you," he said red faced and wide eyed.

"Please don't Hugo. I beg you," said Olga through her tears. "Leave Rachel alone."

"Yes, perhaps she's the one who should be beaten, stripped naked, and whipped and not you," he said again, this time laughing a dirty laugh with the mere mention of tying his daughter to the horse stall and stripping her naked. "Exchanging her young, beautiful body for your old, wrinkled body, I can arrange that switch for you if you prefer," he said waiting for her response. When she didn't answer him right away, he looked to his son to instruct him. "Karl, untie your mother and go fetch your sister."

"Yes father," said Karl immediately obeying and ready to untie his mother until she kicked at him for him not to come any closer.

"No! Don't you dare touch my daughter," she said looking from her son to her husband. "I'll be good. I'll respect you. I'll obey you. I'll do anything and everything you want. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"It's too late Olga. I'm tired of having to drag out of your bed, pulling you down the stairs by your hair, and commanding Karl to carry you out to the barn to play these silly games of bondage and discipline with you. Instead of disciplining you, I should be disciplining your disrespectful and disobedient daughter."

"No! Please don't. I beg you," said Olga sobbing.

"Once I discipline Rachel, you'll follow her lead," he said. "Once I beat her, once I have Karl strip her naked, and once Karl forces his sister's hand and mouth to do unspeakable things to a brother's body maybe you'll--"

"No Hugo. You mustn't touch Rachel. Please," she said looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I beg you to leave our daughter alone."

"Karl?"

"Yes father," said Karl ready and eager to do his father's bidding so long as it meant he was to fetch his sister, tie her to the horse stall, and strip her naked before having his wicked, incestuous sexual way with her naked body.

"I swear to God that I'll kill you if you touch my Rachel," she said staring at her husband with hate. "I swear, I'll kill you in your drunken sleep if you touch her. I'll take my butcher's knife and I'll stab you in your black heart," she said spitting out her words as if her mouth was a knife.

"Kill me? Ha! You'll do no such thing Olga, because if you don't kill me, if I survive, you'll fear what I'll do to you and to your precious daughter. Even if you kill me, you'll fear what Karl will do to Rachel without me here to control him and protect her," he said with a sick laugh. "Do us both a favor Karl. I'm tired of listening to her. Untie your mother."

"If you harm my baby girl, I swear, before I kill you, I'll cut off your little cock and feed it to the pigs. Take me instead," said Olga pulling against her ties and staring up defiantly at her husband. "I'm ready to be punished. I'm willing to obey. Do with whatever you want with me but leave my daughter alone. She's the only thing good that I have left."

"Wait Karl," said Hugo when his son stepped forward to free his mother. Hugo stepped closer to his wife to broadcast his message in her face. "As the owner of this farm, as king of my castle, and as lord of my land, will you give me the respect that I deserve Olga?"

He offered her his hand to her lips for her kiss it as if he was the King of Germany.

"Yes, yes, I will my Lord," she said kissing his hand before blankly looking down at the ground.

"Will you submit your will to me and obey me?" He stood before her staring at her while waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, yes, I will my dear husband," she said nodding her head up in down as if she was one of the horses in the barn and as if she needed the motion of nodding her head to reinforce her words. "Whatever you want me to say, I'll respect your wishes. Whatever you want me to do, I'll obey your every command," she said in a soft and defeated voice. "I promise."

"That's better. That's much better," he said looking from his wife to his son with smugness. "Do you see Karl how men must treat their women for respect and obedience?"

"Do whatever you want to me, punish me and I'll do whatever you want me to do," she said puffing out her naked chest. "I'll respect you. I will. I'll obey you. I will. Only punish me and not Rachel. Leave my Rachel alone. Have Karl strip me naked and rape me and not her," she said looking to her son and puffing out her exposed and abundant breasts with bravery and self-sacrifice again before returning her focus to her husband.

"I see that we're finally making some progress in you relearning your lessons of discipline and obedience," said Hugo with smugness.

"Please discipline me and not her. Spare her by taking me. Don't spoil your daughter because of my disrespect and my disobedience," said Olga pleading her husband for mercy while reinforcing her self-sacrifice for her daughter's sake. "She's innocent. Please, I beg you Hugo. Don't hurt my Rachel."

Obviously feeling that Rachel was temporarily safe from harm again, Olga relaxed and stopped her pleading. No doubt feeling that she won this war but lost the battle by sacrificing her body for her daughter's, she braced herself for the beating that would surely come from her husband's hand followed by her having to pleasure her son with her mouth. Unbeknownst to the men thinking that they were in control of their women, a mere woman controlling her man by having him believe that he was controlling her, she flashed a self-satisfied smile of contentment. No doubt thinking that she had deceived her husband yet again. Already having poisoned his son with his anger for everything and hatred for everyone, just when she obviously thought her daughter was safe from the despicable actions of her husband and the incestuous perversions of her brother, Hugo turned to Karl to infect him with more of his sick depravity and his twisted sense of incest.

"Untie your mother Karl."

"No! Discipline me and not my daughter," cried Olga. "Please beat me. I beg you. Please whip me. I beg you. Please command your son to have his wicked way with my naked body. I'm willing to do whatever I must do to save my innocent daughter from the perversity of you and from the horniness of my son."

"Having tried unsuccessfully to discipline you before Olga, somehow I don't believe you now. I don't expect you to learn your lessons by you just telling me that you'll respect me and you'll obey me," said Hugo. "You must think me as dumb as you are and as dimwitted as my unfortunate son is."

"No that's not true dear husband. I think you're as smart as you think you are," she said with a sly grin when he looked away.

"You're only telling me what I want to hear for the sake of our daughter. I'm not a fool Olga. Maybe after I take Rachel to the barn and punish her for thinking that she's my equal, you'll finally learn that women have no rights."

"I have learned my lesson dear husband. I will respect you and I will obey you," she said with submissiveness. "I've learned my lesson, I have. Never again will I embarrass or shame you. The king of this castle, you are my lord of this land, and the master of my body. I am nothing. It is because of you that I have food and shelter. I thank you for your kind generosity."

"Nonetheless your fawning and being that you've said all of this many times before, especially whenever I mention Rachel's name, perhaps I should call your bluff," he said. "Being that the reason why you're here is mostly her fault, perhaps I need to finally get Rachel involved in your discipline," he said looking to his son and ignoring his wife. "Wouldn't you like to strip your sister naked Karl, while touching her and feeling her everywhere?"

"Oh, yes father, I would," said Karl.

"No," said Olga. "Please don't. I beg you to leave Rachel alone."

"Wouldn't you like to have your sister touch and feel you everywhere with her hands and pleasure you with her mouth while on her knees in front of you as you touch, feel, fondle, and caress her big breasts and finger her hard nipples?"

"Oh, yes, father, I would," said Karl. "I'd love for Rachel to touch and feel me everywhere with her hands before pleasuring me with her mouth while on her knees before me as I touch, feel, fondle, and caress her big breasts and finger her hard nipples." 

"No, please don't," said Olga. "God Almighty, don't ruin our innocent daughter Hugo. You mustn't touch your sister Karl."

"Wouldn't you rather have your shapely, sexy sister give you incestuous, sexual pleasure instead of your mean, miserable mother giving you her lip before surrendering you her mouth and tongue?"

"Yes Papa. I'd love for Rachel to give me incestuous, sexual pleasure instead of Mama giving me backtalk."

"Please, I beg you. Leave Rachel alone."

"Wouldn't you rather have sex with your stunningly beautiful sister, instead of having sex with your disrespectful and disobedient mother? I know that I would," said Hugo with a sick laugh while continuing to tease his son by dangling the thought of his naked sister tied to the horse stall in the barn.

"Yes father. Yes father, I would," said Karl with sexual excitement.

"I'd love to fuck Rachel into submission too," said Hugo rocking his hips back and forth in the air. "I'd love to bend my daughter over like the dog that she is and bury my cock and cum in her sweet ass," said Hugo with lust.

"Yes father, I'd much rather have sex with my sexy sister than with my old mother. I'd love to fuck Rachel up the ass, too, Papa."

"No Karl, you mustn't deflower your innocent sister," begged Olga looking from her husband to her son. "Please don't. Please leave her alone," she said looking from her son to her husband. "You mustn't do that to her."

"I'd love to have sex with Rachel too Karl. A father fucking his daughter is just as exciting as a brother fucking his sister," said Hugo with another sick laugh. "Born so beautiful, I'd much rather have sex with my gorgeous daughter than with my ugly wife. I bet her mother would respect and obey me then if I ruined her precious daughter."

"Respect you? Obey you? I'd kill you," said Olga spitting at her husband and missing him when Hugo stepped back and laughed. "If you dare ruin my daughter, I'd kill you."

"Oh, yes Papa," said Karl ignoring his mother. "With your permission, allow me to go and fetch Rachel. I'd love to strip my sister naked while touching and feeling her everywhere. I'd love for my sister to touch and feel me everywhere with her hands before sucking me with her mouth. I'd love to cum in my sister's mouth and watch her swallow all the lust that I had to give her. Of course, Papa, being the respectful and obedient son that I am, I'd love to watch you have sex with Rachel first before offering my sister to me. Sloppy seconds wouldn't bother me at all, so long as I could have sex with my beautiful sister."

"Take me you dirty bastards and not her. Do what you must to me and not to her. You mustn't ruin your sister Karl. You mustn't ruin your daughter Hugo. She's our future. She's the only good thing this family has," she pleaded.

"Just imagine what your sister looks like naked Karl. Just imagine how soft and supple her firm young body feels. I bet you'd love to strip your sexy sister naked while touching her everywhere," said Hugo to his son with a sinister, drunken laugh. "I bet you'd love to have sex with your sexy sister instead of with your bitchy mother. No doubt, you would, just as I would too. I'd love for Rachel to suck my cock."

"Rachel's been bad, very bad father for showing mother that women's rights flyer and I'd love to discipline her instead of Mama. Yes, absolutely I would. Imagine women thinking that they are equal to men. It's crazy," said Karl with a big laugh while raising his arm to make a huge muscle.

"Even my dimwitted son makes sense Olga," said Hugo laughing in his wife's face.

"Hugo, you mustn't harm Rachel," said Olga.

"It's all Rachel's fault Papa. She's the one who disobeyed you and disrespected you and not Mama," she Karl giving his mother a wink. "I'd much rather have sex with my beautiful, sexy sister instead of my disrespectful and disobedient mother," said Karl giving his mother another wink while looking apologetically at her as his father busied himself drinking from his bottle. "With your permission father, may I go and drag Rachel from her bed, pull her down the stairs by her hair, and carry her to the barn?"

"See? I'm not the only man who wants to discipline Rachel," said Hugo wiping liquor from his lips with his dirty sleeve before laughing out loud. "Karl would love to have sex with her too," he said with a dirty laugh. "Like father like son, we both have the same taste in women. Like mother and then daughter, we truly love our women," he said laughing.

"Please stop this Hugo before it gets out of hand," said Olga trying to reason with a drunken man.

"I love Rachel, Papa," said Karl. "I do. I really do."

"I know you do," said Hugo. "I do too. She's our family's secret, hidden treasure. Having managed to keep her away from men to maintain her virginity, few outside this farm even know she exists. Maybe it's time that we unwrap her and see what's beneath all of her clothes," said Hugo with lunacy.

"No, you mustn't Hugo," said Olga looking from her husband to her son. "Karl, don't you dare touch your sister. I'll kill you if you do. I swear to God and I swear on the graves of my mother and father that I'll kill you both in your drunken sleep if you harm my daughter," said Olga.

"I'd love to fuck Rachel, Papa," said Karl ignoring his mother. "I would. Really, I would. I'd love to have Rachel kneeling before me and sucking my cock. I'd love to have Rachel looking up at me with her big, beautiful, green eyes as I bury my big, hard, hairy cock in her sweet, small mouth before putting my big hand to the back of her chestnut hair," said Karl. "I'd love to hump my sister's mouth and fuck my sister's face until I explode my lust for her in her willing mouth."

"And I would too Karl. I'd love for my daughter to blow me too. I'd love to cum in my daughter's mouth while fondling her breasts and fingering her nipples. She reminds me so much of my wife so very long ago," said Hugo looking to the rafters as if reminiscing of old times. "And now look at her. She's old, disrespectful, and disobedient."

"I love Rachel. I do. I really love Rachel Papa," said Karl looking at his father eager anticipation. "Should I go fetch Rachel now? Why don't I just go get her and carry her out to the barn. I'll just untie mother before I go fetch Rachel," said Karl walking towards his mother.

"Calm down Karl. You're getting way ahead of yourself and getting overly excited," said Hugo with a laugh. "You see, my dear wife, even your son would rather have sex his sexy, sensuous sister than to suffer through having sex with his mean, miserable mother again." He looked at her and laughed. "I'm doing you a favor by allowing my son to pleasure you. I'm doing you a favor by allowing you to suck my son's cock while he fondles your saggy breasts and fingers your nipples."

As big as two men and stronger than four, Karl was as dimwitted and simple minded as his father was angry and bitter. What God giveth God taketh away and God chose to give Karl brawn over brains. Not understanding most of what his father ranted about in regards to the government, the politicians, the economy, the social issues of the times, and the king, he listened to his father in the way of an obedient and loyal dog listening to and being mindful of his master. Unless his father's words related to the work that he must do to maintain the farm, he was the perfect son for such a deranged, demented, and demanding father. Already having proven his loyalty by having sex with his mother upon his father's behest, as if that was a real hardship for him, he was a respectfully, obedient son. Without question, suggestion, or complaint, he'd go along with anything and do everything his father asked of him, especially if it meant that he could tie his sister to the horse stall, strip her naked, and have sex with her in the way he's already had sex with his mother so very many times before.

"No! Rachel's a virgin. Just as I was a virgin when I married you and just as it was important that I be a virgin then, you mustn't deflower your daughter now," cried Olga. "You mustn't touch her in that sacred way. You mustn't ruin her for someone else," said Olga pausing in her protest to talk some sense to her husband. "Abuse me and not her."

"Karl?" Hugo looked from his wife to his son.

"Yes, father?" Eagerly awaiting the go ahead instructions to fetch his sister to the barn, Karl was obviously ready to free his mother. In the way his father did to his mother, Karl was obviously eager to drag his sister from her bed, pull her down the stairs by her hair, carry her to the barn, tie her to the horse stall, and strip her naked as he did with his mother.

"You stupid, drunken fools. Worth her weight in gold because she's so beautiful and so desirable, she's worth more to you pure than deflowered," she Olga penetrating the alcoholic fog in Hugo's head with the promise of money and prosperity. "You'll get more land, more animals, more prestige, and more respect by marrying her to some wealthy family with her virginity still intact than having your son take her virginity from her," she said staring at her husband. "You're as dimwitted as your son is if you ruin your daughter and spoil the chances of this family to have financially security."

Reasoning with her husband with money, the only thing that mattered to him more than the love of his wife, the respect of his son, and the sexuality of his daughter, this was her last chance to save her daughter. 

"I know you're right Olga, but there is only so much disrespect and disobedience a man can tolerate from his women," he said obviously weakening in his steadfast position not to involve his daughter in the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

"Please don't touch my sweet Rachel. I beg you. My disobedience is not her fault. It's my fault and I'm sorry," she pleaded. "I'll be a good wife. I promise. I'll respect you. I'll obey. Now let me go. I've learned my lesson. I'm sorry."

"Maybe if you respected me, I wouldn't have to beat you before allowing Karl to control you by having his wicked way with your naked body and whip you later for enjoying sex with our son a little too much. Maybe if you obeyed me, I wouldn't have to have Karl drag Rachel from her bed, pull her down the stairs, and carry her out to the barn to be disciplined too. Like mother like daughter, maybe had you given me another son instead of a worthless daughter, we wouldn't be having this discussion now," he said raising his voice.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #06



"Worthless daughter? You're beautiful, virgin daughter is worth more to you than ten sons," said Olga.

"Maybe if you gave me the respect and the obedience that I deserve," he said pausing to look at his wife. "Maybe if you didn't negatively influence your daughter with your bad attitude in the way that I've motivated my son with my fatherly lessons," he said pausing to take another drink from his bottle. "I wouldn't have to teach you the same lessons over and again before having to take the time to instruct Rachel too," said Hugo sitting down in a heap.

"No! Please! Don't. Better you should beat me, rape me, and whip me than to touch my daughter, my sweet, innocent Rachel," she said looking up at her husband's stern face with sorrow. "I'm begging you Hugo, not to ruin Rachel."

"Karl?" Hugo staggered to stand.

"Yes, father," said Karl at the ready to run from the barn to the house to fetch his sister.

"Better you should pry out my eyes so that I can't see and pierce my eardrums so that I can't hear than for me to see and hear you physically and emotionally use and sexually abuse my daughter in the way you've used and abused me," she yelled. "If you're intent on having your wicked way with our daughter, better you should kill me now than for me to know the lengths of your degeneracy. Better you should kill me now than for me to suffer living another minute with you because, mark my words, I will kill you if you harm my daughter," said Olga sobbing.

"Help your mother get ready Karl," said Hugo sitting down against a support beam while watching his son stripping and molesting his mother. 

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #07



Karl controls his mother by stripping her naked and having sex with her.

*

With Hugo having dragged her out of bed, Olga was naked but for the thin material of her well, worn, homemade nightgown. Right on cue, after already given the go ahead nod from his father to prepare his mother, Hugo seemed content to drink his bottle while Karl eagerly felt and fondled his mother's exposed breasts and felt her ass through her nightgown.

"Touch me Karl. Feel Mommy's tits," said Olga in a low whisper.

Touching his mother where no son should, he felt her abundance breasts and fingered her erect nipples, while reaching around her to feel her round, shapely ass. He leaned his tall, muscular body down to her and parted her lips with his tongue. A son kissing his mother in the way that a man kisses his wife or his girlfriend was frowned upon in public but, so long as no one knew what families did behind closed doors, Karl French kissing his mother was acceptable behavior in the privacy of their barn.

"I want you so bad mother," whispered her son.

Not taking the time to untie her, in an act of incestuous, sexual lust, having already removed her breasts from her nightgown and even though her husband had torn open most of the front of her nightgown, Karl cut the straps off her nightgown with his knife. She's already sown her straps so many times before that it didn't matter if she took a needle and thread to them again. As if claiming her for him and in a act of taking sexual control of his mother, he pulled the rest of the material of her nightgown down to her waist. 

"Oh, Karl," she gasped when he stripped her to her waist before correcting herself for the benefit of her husband. "No Karl!"

"You have a beautiful body mother," he whispered with adoration.

No doubt, with both of them feeling it, there was something so intoxicatingly sexual and heatedly arousing about a man taking what he wants and when he wants it from a woman. Moreover, especially when that man was her son and that woman was his mother, Olga was not so genetically different from being incestuously aroused in the way that Karl was.

"I love it when you force me to do the things that I want to do to your body," she whispered.

Living in a man's world, although not much has changed, it was more of a man's world then than it is now. Yet, unbeknownst to most men, even more so back then, women were always willing to comply with the sexual advances of a man, especially if the woman knows that the man will show her a good time. Olga's son, Karl, was a not only a loving son but also a good and unselfish lover. Where his father was always in a rush to satisfy himself, Karl enjoyed taking his time to satisfy his mother first. He was so much better than his father ever was.

"I love your body mother," he returned her whisper as if they were talking in church.

Even if it meant that she had to endure a beating from her husband, she was looking forward to something her husband never gave her in all he years they were married, an orgasm. Even if she had to endure a whipping from Hugo later after having sex with Karl, she was looking forward to the sexual satisfaction that her son always gave her. The pleasure that her son gave her was worth whatever pain her husband gave her.

"Thank you, my sweet son," she said whispering while watching to make sure that her husband was still more interested in his bottle than in what they were doing.

Topless, still tied to the horse stall, and at the mercy of her powerful son, willing to do whatever he wanted her to do to sexually please him, Olga was so vulnerably exposed. With her large breasts immorally and immodestly exposed to him, Karl stepped back to stare at his mother's naked chest before reaching out his horny hands to touch them, feel them, fondle them, and caress them.

"I love your tits mother. You have such big, beautiful breasts. I can't get enough of them," he said returning her whispers.

Showing him as much incestuous lust in her eyes for him as he showed for her, she watched him stare at her nakedness. Giving him a sexual look without any sense of embarrassment for being topless before her son, obviously by the sexy look on her face and the perverse look on her son's face, she enjoyed exposing her breasts to her son as much as he, no doubt, enjoyed seeing his mother's tits.

"Thank you Karl. It makes Mommy very happy that you love her big breasts," she whispered with a smile for his compliment.

Only, her erected nipples were her excited undoing and her telltale sign of being sexually aroused. Seeing Hugo watching her reaction to her son staring at her tits, fondling her breasts, and fingering her nipples, she recoiled with feigned shame before looking down at her hardening nipples.

"No Karl! You mustn't touch Mommy in that way," she said as if she was an actress on stage playing the role of an embarrassed mother instead of a grateful lover.

No doubt, if her hands were free to make her part of feigned embarrassment more believable, all part of her incestuous game of shame, as part of her unwilling victim role, she would have tried to fight off her son, slapped his face, and covered her nakedness with her hands. Only helplessly and defensively tied to the horse stall and limited in her show of outrage and humiliation by her vocal indignation and her facial expressions, she wasn't free to do any of that. Then, when Hugo looked away and busied himself drinking, welcoming the amorous touches of her son, she stuck out her chest with pride. She looked up at her son to give him a sexy smile of sexual arousal instead of a feigned look of shame as he stared down at and felt her breasts while fingering her nipples.

"I love you mother," he whispered turning to make sure his father wasn't looking first.

Karl cupped her entire breast in his big hand while leaning his big body down to French kiss his mother. While exploring her open and welcoming mouth with his tongue, something her husband seldom did, he teased and coaxed her nipples to erect more. Then he slowly ran the palm of his hand across her nipples before fingering them, pulling them, turning them, and twisting them.

"That feels so good. I love it when you play with my nipples," she whispered.

Filled with incestuous lust and unbridled passion, there was something more erotically sexual about a son having sex with his mother when his mother welcomed his sexual advances. Sexually forbidden, it was the wickedness of incest that made their union so much more erotically exciting. One could only imagine their passion if Hugo wasn't present in the barn. Perhaps more and perhaps less, no one would ever know but one could only imagine their passion if they weren't mother and son.

"You have such big nipples mother. I love your big nipples," he whispered in her ear as if telling her a secret.

Olga looked down to watch her son finger, pull, turn, and twist her nipples with his right hand while feeling, fondling, and caressing her other breast with his left hand. Teasing him with her eyes, she looked up at him with sexual desire when he excited her. No doubt, if her hand was free and Hugo wasn't there with them, she would have been feeling and stroking her son's cock in the way that he was feeling her breast and fingering her nipples.

"Kiss me Karl while fingering my nipples," she said in a low whisper.

With Karl's big back blocking his father's view, he leaned down to French kiss his mother again. This time Olga returned her son's passion with her own by kissing him harder and deeper once he excited her by hardening her nipples. Even if Hugo had seen his wife's passion for her son, obviously too drunk to realize that his wife was enjoying her son's sexual attention as much as his son was enjoying having sex with his mother, father was to blame for putting mother and son together in this unholy, forbidden position. Only, before the invention of the radio, television, and the Internet, what else was there to do on a lonely farm in the middle of nowhere?

"I love your big tits mother," he said whispering his lust for her in her ear while caressing her breasts and fingering her nipples.

The more he played with her nipples the more excited she became. Turning, twisting, and pulling her nipples again and again, he leaned down to suck her nipple, first one and then the other. 

"Thank you Karl," she said standing on her toes to whisper in his ear. "I love when you feel my breasts and finger my nipples. I love it when you take my nipples in your mouth and suck them before gently nibbling them."

"You have amazing breasts mother and your nipples are so big and so hard that I just want to bite them while sucking them," he said whispering in her ear so that his father wouldn't hear the erotic game they played.

"Bite my nipples Karl. Bite them but not too hard. Nibble on them," Olga whispered. "I love it when you bite my nipples only not too hard."

Licking and blowing his hot breath inside of her ear, he aroused his mother's sexual desire for her son. He undid the clips that held her hair up in the way she arranged it when sleeping and watched as his mother's hair fell from her head, collected over her shoulders, and cascaded down her back and across her breasts as if she was Lady Godiva riding horseback naked.

"You look so sexy with your hair down mother," he whispered. "With your long, chestnut hair and shapely body," he said grabbing a handful of her round, firm, nightgown clad ass in his hand and pulling her to him, "Rachel looks just like you. When I have sex with you mother," he said whispering his incestuous, sexual lust for his sister in his mother's ear. "I imagine I'm having sex with my sexy, beautiful sister."

She recoiled at the sound of her daughter's name coming from her son's lips at a time like this. Rachel had everything. Youth, beauty, and freedom from having to cater to every whim and whimsy of a husband. All Olga had was Karl and she didn't want her daughter commanding the misplaced attention of her son's lust in the way that she commanded the attention of her husband's misplaced lust. Having heard enough of the incestuous, sexual lust that her husband held for his daughter, she didn't need to hear the same incestuous sentiments from her son. Only, not wanting to ruin a good thing, she needed to tread lightly when it came to Rachel.

"Promise me you won't touch your sister Karl," she said after hearing a familiar sexual fantasy from her son that she's heard so many times before from her husband. "Promise me you won't touch Rachel," she whispered staring up at her son with the same green eyes of her daughter. "For the future of our family and for the financial security of all of us, we must keep Rachel pure. Promise me you won't touch your sister," she whispered again moving her lips closer to his ear. "If you promise me not to touch your sister," she said with anticipated sexual excitement, "I'll make you happy with my mouth." She impaled his ear with her tongue before running her tongue across her lips while seductively staring up at her son before whispering. "Would you like to cum in Mommy's mouth again?" 

"Oh, yes, mother. I so want to cum in your mouth," whispered Karl while touching his mother's lips with his dirty fingers.

"Would you like Mommy to swallow you again?"

"Yes, mother, I'd love for you to swallow me," whispered Karl again.

"Promise me then Karl," she whispered in the way of a prisoner making a deal with a prison guard for special treatment. "Promise me by swearing on your soul that your sister will remain safe from having sex with you."

"Yes mother. Anything. I'll promise you anything for you to suck me and for me to cum in your mouth again," said Karl with as much sexual excitement as he had for her the first time she sucked him.

"Promise me that Rachel is safe from you and promise me that you'll protect her from her father. It's important that Rachel remains a virgin," she said again and again in her attempts to penetrate the dimwittedness of her son. "With so much turmoil happening in Germany and for the financial future of all of us, she must remain a virgin Karl. Rachel is the only hope we have of living a better life. Do you understand? By marrying someone rich and powerful, Rachel is the one who can protect us from harm."

"Yes mother, I understand," said Karl looking down at her with even more excited lust as he had before she agreed to suck him and allow him to cum in her mouth.

"Promise me then Karl. Promise me that Rachel is safe from you and her father," said Olga.

"I promise I won't touch Rachel, Mother. I promise I'll protect her from Papa," whispered Karl while touching and feeling his mother everywhere before running a slow finger across her full lips. "I promise to keep her safe so long as you suck me, allow me to cum in your mouth, and swallow my cum," he whispered with delirious with incestuous passion for his mother.

"Thank you Karl. You won't regret your promise to me to protect your sister," she said with a sexy smile. "I promise to make you happy, very happy," she whispered.

With those few men who have ever seen Rachel, lusting over her in the way that dairy farmers lust over a prized bull, Hugo kept his daughter locked away until he was ready to marry her to a wealthy man. No doubt, as he had done wooing Olga so very long ago, fearing that his daughter would flee his farm for the first man that asked for her hand, he didn't want men coming to his farm to woo his daughter and ask for her hand in marriage until he had arranged a union. Just as Karl promised his mother not to touch his sister and to protect her from his father from touching her, Hugo already made the same promise to himself to protect his daughter from the horny hands of his son.

Being that he was her father, being that sexual abuse was his God given prerogative, of course, he may touch, feel, and strip Rachel naked but he'd never violate her in the sacred way that he allowed his son to violate his wife. Further, not a stupid man, Hugo was fully aware of the financial rewards, the promised security, and the influential protection that a wealthy family wielded in Germany, especially during such a bad economic climate. By marrying his virginal daughter to a family of wealth, power, and influence, she'd finally make him happy that he had such a beautiful daughter instead of another strong, dumb son.

Without doubt, he'd protect his daughter from being violated by his son or by any man. Obviously by not dragging her from her bed and having Karl carry her out to the barn, as if it was his own idea, he had silently agreed with his wife's commonsense that Rachel was worth more to a wealthy man as a virgin than as a scorned women that was sexually abuse by her father and brother. For the time being, she was worth more as a maiden than as a deflowered woman. For the time being, Rachel was safe from the penetration of his cock but not from his incestuous stares, gropes, touches, and feels of his horny hands. 

"Suck me mother. Suck my cock. I need to cum in your beautiful mouth," whispered Karl.

When Karl moved his finger slowly across her lips, as if his dirty finger was his cock, Olga licked her son's finger clean before taking it past her lips and inside her mouth to suck. Swirling her tongue around his finger and licking his fingertip in the way she'd suck and lick his cock, she teased him with her mouth and tongue. With her husband, oblivious to their incestuous antics, napping against a support beam, they were safe to continue their forbidden, sexual union. Gently and silently moving her head back and forth and side to side, as if she was sucking her son's cock instead of his finger, she stealthily and silently sucked and licked his finger in a secretive way so her husband wouldn't awaken and notice their incestuous passion for one another.

"I can't wait to suck your big, hard cock Karl," she whispered her sexual excitement with delight.

"I'd rather be with you, mother, than with Rachel. You're so beautiful. You're so sexy. I love your shapely body," he whispered his lust in her ear while reaching his horny hand down and around to touch his mother's ass beneath her nightgown before moving his hand forward to feel her between her legs. He cupped her pussy before parting her bushy lips with his big finger to penetrate her wetness. Suddenly the barn was filled with the musky odor of Olga as Karl fingered and rubbed his mother to a silent orgasm. "I love you Mommy," said Karl kissing her, feeling her breasts, and fingering her nipples again with his other big hand.

Where Hugo was a slam bam two minute fucking kind of man, Karl was the master of slow, erotic foreplay. Taking his time touching and feeling his mother's body, it was just as obvious that he loved feeling his mother as much as she enjoyed being touched by her son. Only, when Hugo abruptly awakened from his short catnap to take another drink, playing the abused victim, Olga voiced her displeasure with her son for the sake of her husband. Hugo suddenly stopped drinking and leaned to peer around Karl. Hugo watched his son incestuously feel his mother while he fingered his cock through his pants.

"Karl, stop. Please stop. Don't touch Mommy in that way. How dare you! That's so wrong. I'm your mother and you're my son. I'm not some cheap, dance hall whore you'd find in a bar in Munich," she said talking louder for Hugo's benefit before looking around her son to give her husband a practiced look of shame and humiliation. "You mustn't touch Mommy's breasts. Please don't finger my nipples. How dare you finger my pussy! I'm so embarrassed. I so humiliated."

"Judging by the size of your nipples Olga," grunted Hugo while sitting up and leaning to the side to peer around his son again to watch him sexually abuse his wife. "I think you're enjoying this mother and son moment of togetherness a little too much," he said with a sick laugh and a big burp. "It appears to me that you want your son as much as your son wants his mother."

"How dare you, you filthy, fat pig! You're the one who commanded Karl to tie me and for you to--"

"Silence woman! You're giving me a headache," said Hugo temporarily stopping verbally abusing his wife to fortify his thoughts with another long drink from his bottle. "Is it because my cock is no longer hard for you that you suddenly want your son? Is that it? You're nothing but a cocksucker, a dirty, whore of an incestuous cocksucker," he said with contempt. "I know you love it when Karl touches you in that way, just as I know you love sucking his cock especially when he shows his desire for you by cumming in your mouth. As are all women, including my still virginal daughter, you're all such wicked, conniving whores."

Suddenly, as if being hit with a bucket full of cold water, Hugo became lucid enough to take control of the cruelty that obviously manifested within him and within his barn. Fueled, no doubt, by his misplaced frustrations along with copious amounts of alcohol, Olga was the one who needed to pay for her to obey. Having already voiced his agitation and his annoyance with the quickly changing events of a modern day Germany unfolding before his eyes, with everything in his daily life changing and with everything now so confusing, he was obviously angered that he was unable to control anything other than his family. Now, even with trying to control his family, he was having difficulty controlling his wife.

With women wanting more rights and becoming more independent controlling his family, especially his wife and daughter, gave him a obstinate time. They wanted equality, they wanted freedom, they wanted to be treated better, they wanted what he was born to have and what he could never give them. Even though he allowed his wife the pleasure to service her son when he was no longer able to pleasure her, not that he ever did, obviously blaming her for seducing him and as if everything was all her fault, he looked at Olga with a face full of jealous rage.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #07



Staggering to stand, he stood to grab the horsewhip from the hook. Judge, jury, and executioner, his whip was what he used not only to dish out his punishment but also to inflict the pain on someone else that he obviously felt from living such a hard life. As if the whip was the only way that he could connect with his wife, he held the whip in his hand in readiness to whip her while drinking from his bottle again before sitting down on the ground again and leaning against a support beam to steady himself again.

"Please don't whip me again Hugo," she begged. "I beg you not to whip me Hugo. Please."

With her begging falling on deaf ears, as if he was alone in his room and masturbating to his incestuous thoughts of his wife with his son, he watched his son aggressively manhandle his mother before reaching his hand inside his pants. He pulled out his cock and stroked himself while watching Karl kiss, touch, caress, and feel his mother. Holding his cock in one hand and his horsewhip in the other, only putting down the horsewhip to pick up and drink from his bottle, Hugo fingered and stroked his cock while Karl felt and sucked his mother's big tits.

"No! Please, stop, Karl. You mustn't touch Mommy in a sexual way," she said showing her mortification for the sake of her husband not whipping her when she saw that Hugo was watching. "Please stop feeling my breasts and fingering my nipples. I'm so very embarrassed. I beg you," she said more for the sexual excitement of her husband than for the scolding of her son.

Then, standing again to unravel it, he whipped the horsewhip at the air and stopped when he spooked the horse and the horse jumped and kicked at his horse stall. Miles from nowhere, a father and his son had nothing else to do to entertain themselves but to drink and have incestuous sex with their women. A drunken father beating and whipping his wife and a horny, perverted son stripping and having his wicked and forbidden, sexual way with his mother was nothing uncommon on a lonely farm in German in 1860. Even though, no doubt, many men were either having incestuous sex or sexually fantasizing about incestuous sex, no one spoke about incestuous sex.

Who was to know or even care about this families' physical and incestuous abuse when their next neighbor was miles away and was probably doing the same dirty, nasty things to their womenfolk? Within the barn that housed an entire hangar of dark, dirty secrets and with no one around to see and to stop them if they did see what went on in the barn, who was there to complain that a husband shared his wife with his son and a son forced his mother to suck him? With little to do on a lonely, isolated farm when not working, once the men started drinking, best the women stay out of sight.

Typically pushing her back on a stack of fresh, fragrant hay, it was common for a brother to have wicked sex with his meekly and mildly struggling albeit willing and seductive sister in the privacy of the barn. Pretending she didn't want him while playing her sexy game of tickle and run, most times it was the sister that instigated their incestuous relationship by teasing her brother. With her hormones flying too and with nothing to occupy her time but for chores, the sister wanted her brother as much as he wanted her. With brothers too busy with chores, most times it was the bored sister who was the sexual predator and not the brother. 

It was only when fathers discovered that their sons were having sex with their daughters that sisters blamed their brothers for raping them. Justifiably outraged that their innocent daughters were no longer virgins, it was then that fathers took up with their daughters where their sons left off with their sisters. Unless it was made public fodder for the sermon on Sunday's Mass, it was no one's business what happened in the barn. Thinking and caring more about their collection plate than about passing their moral judgments when it came to what their faithful parishioners did behind their closed doors, the Church didn't want to rile Christian households with undue restraints put upon their women by voicing their disapproval of men having incestuous sex with them.

Already controlling them enough with guilt and already twisted by the secret sexual interplay happening behind closed, rectory doors, incest was a fine, closeted line that even the church feared publically and politically crossing. Forget about the mass population as a whole, when even the royals worldwide were having incestuous sex and still arranging incestuous marriages between their cousins and brothers with sisters, the clergy would, no doubt, anger the members of the royals and the royal family by denouncing incestuous behavior. During a time before mass communication, women were unable to voice their outrage against violence and forced incestuous sex. If they didn't want a beating, they obeyed.

Living alone on a farm miles from nowhere and having little or no contact with anyone but their intermediate family, most women didn't know what was normal, sexual behavior and what was not. With nearly every household having incestuous sex, especially during those long, dark, cold winter nights, who was to stand against what was happening behind closed, bedroom doors? Rather than scream in the night for no one to hear and rather than fight a hopeless fight that they'd seldom win, women submitted to their fathers and brothers. So long as they didn't make them pregnant, it was only sex after all.

Instead, already controlled by guilt and shame, only whispered about, no one openly discussed incestuous sex for fear that others would think they were having it or were victims of it. Talked about in hushed, suspicious, drunken whispers at the bar, with so many men doing it and so many women succumbing to it, few people would even think it odd that a son had sex with his mother, that a father lusted over his daughter, and a brother wanted his sister sexually. Since the beginning of time, most men were already having sex with their sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, nieces, cousins, daughters, mothers, and sisters-in-law too. Rather, wishing it was them instead of him, being that Olga was such a tall, attractive, and shapely woman, those men with short, fat, and unattractive wives would find it jealously exciting to know that Karl was enjoying his mother in such a sexually forbidden way. Obviously enjoying the incestuous union between the two, Hugo so enjoyed watching Karl sexually satisfy his wife that he masturbated while watching his son with his mother.

Yet, just as Karl and Hugo would never tell anyone what happened in the privacy of their barn, none of their business, they didn't want to know what was happening in someone else's barn either. No doubt, undeniably, they just assumed what was happening on their farm was happening on every else's farm. No doubt, undeniably, they just assumed that it was okay for a son to have sex with his mother while his father watched and masturbated. Silently okay for a son to have sex with his mother, a father to have sex with his daughter, and a brother to have sex with his sister, God forbid the stranger who had sex with their women. The only thing that saved Rachel from the same incestuous fate as her mother was that she was born beautiful and would fetch her family a hefty, financial reward when marrying her to the right family. 

"Don't worry, Mother, I'll be gentle," whispered Karl with a sick and sexually excited laugh after receiving the nod of permission from his father to sexually abuse his mother.

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #08



Chapter 8

Son forcing mother to have sex with him and mother enjoying the sexual relationship

With father and son taking turns drinking from the bottle and falling down drunk, Hugo stopped beating his wife to watch his son having sex with her. Touching and feeling her everywhere, Karl pulled her nightgown all the way down and off before untying her wrists. Once she was naked and once she was untied, Olga continued playing her meekly vulnerable, unwilling victim part while her son removed his cock from his trousers.

"No Karl! Stop! You mustn't!"

Watching the sexual interaction between mother and son with intensity, her husband stroked himself while watching his son pull his mother's hand to him. When Karl forced his mother to take him in her hand, Hugo stroked himself faster. Karl wrapped Olga's fingers around his cock and while humping her hand with his hips, he moved her hand with his to stroke him.

Playing along with her son as the unwilling victim, undoubtedly with the incest adding more sexual excitement to their sexual encounter, a mother stroking her son's cock whether as a willing or unwilling victim was just as sexually arousing as it was incestuously wrong. From chocolate to fattening foods, to drinking and smoking, bittersweet as with everything else in life something that feels as good as having sex with one's mother shouldn't be deemed so wrong. Nonetheless, as his pretense to show his father that he was forcing his mother to masturbate him, he slapped her while holding his hand over hers. Back and forth and in and out, he moved her hand with his. He humped her hand with his hips while clenching her fingers tighter around his cock.

"Let go of me. Let go of my hand!"

With one hand positioned over her hand while she stroked his cock, he continued kissing her and feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples with his other hand. With her feigning embarrassment and shame, merely for the benefit of her husband, she recoiled and pulled her hand away again and again. Wrapping her fingers around his cock again and again while holding his hand there, now giving her son a much better hand job, she gave a realistic show of being victimized for the sake of not enraging her husband anymore than he already was. 

"Stroke me mother. Stroke my cock."

Needing more to show her husband that she was more the unwilling victim than the willing participate in their mother and son incestuous lovemaking, even if Hugo didn't believe her act, obviously it was worth a whipping to her to have sexual relations with her big, strong son. Learning how to treat a woman from his father's mistakes, Karl was a much better lover than his father. In the way that he enjoyed his mother's body, he gave her as much pleasure first as she gave him pleasure after.

"Karl, please stop. I beg you. Please don't."

Already aroused from his mother's reluctant hand job, with a heavy hand to her shoulder, showing her husband all the struggling necessary to make him think that her son was forcing her to her knees to pleasure him with her mouth. Feigning her resistance, Karl forced his mother to her knees. A promise is a promise after all and telling him that he could cum in her mouth and that she'd swallow his cum, she promised him she'd pleasure him with her mouth if he not only didn't touch Rachel but also promised to protect his sister from his father.

"Karl, don't do this. It's wrong for a mother to suck her son. It's wrong for a mother to give her son sexual pleasure. It's wrong for a son to cum in his mother's mouth."

With his big back blocking his father's view, he took his stiff prick in hand and, as he did with his fingertip, he ran his cock slowly back and forth across her lips. She wrapped her hand around her son's cock and stroked him faster and harder. The mere fact that Olga was on her knees in front of and looking up at her son, Hugo didn't need to see to know what his wife was doing to her son and what his son was forcing his mother to do. Teasing her lips with his prick as if teasing her lips with food, Karl seemingly enjoyed the sensual, erotic foreplay of slowly moving his cock across his mother's mouth while she stroked him.

"Lick my cock mother. Take me in your mouth and suck it."

Before flicking out her tongue to lick her son's cock and before voluntarily stroking him with her hand, Olga looked around her son to make sure that her husband wasn't watching them but he was. She motioned with her head for her son to come closer to block her husband's view and Karl took a step closer to his mother. He served up his erection to her willing mouth again while further blocking his father from seeing what they were doing. Leaning to the side again to peer around his son, now with Hugo keenly watching his wife with his son, Olga went into her act pretending that she didn't want to suck her son.

Turning her face away and moving her head from side to side, she wiggled and squirmed her mouth away from her son's big prick. A game she needed to play to avoid a beating and a worse whipping, undoubtedly, as it was before and as it will be now, all part of their incestuous game, she knew that both a beating and a whipping were inevitable. Once she was done pleasuring her son, her husband would begin hurting her. At least hoping for some pleasure before suffering her pain, with an orgasm the end result of having sex with her son worth the pain she'd surely suffer at the hands of her husband, the tradeoff was one that Olga was willing to endure.

"No, Karl. You mustn't do this. Please stop. Don't. Stop. What you're doing is wrong. I beg you to stop. Please. I'm your mother and you're my son. How dare you! Let go of me. Let go of my hand. I refuse to touch you. I refuse to stroke you. No! Don't! I refuse to suck you," she said with feigned defiance while raising her voice louder with each protest. "Karl, please stop. Please don't do this to me. Let me go. No. Hugo, do something. Help me. Hugo, please do something to stop Karl from forcing me to suck him. Help me Hugo. Dear God in Heaven what did I do to deserve this abuse."

With her acting so believable and her plight so pitiful, if there were Oscars given back then, Olga surely would have won one for the role she played as the sexually abused mother forced to have sex with her son. Even though she obviously wanted to be touched, felt up by him, and stripped naked, she acted as if she didn't want her son touching and feeling her naked body. Even though she obviously wanted to stroke her son and take her son in her willing mouth, she acted as if she didn't want to stroke and suck her son. Even though and especially since this was all Hugo's doing, she made the best of a bad situation to save her daughter and to give herself some sexual pleasure in the process along with the pain.

"Suck my big cock mother. Suck it," said Karl.

Her obvious way to show her husband that she was being forced to sexually pleasure her son, she played the part of the innocent prey, the abused wife, and the sexually molested mother. So as not to be whipped afterward, she tried to convincingly play her role as the unwilling victim by turning her head, closing her mouth, and moving her mouth away. All to no avail, no matter what she did, as part of his deranged desire to hurt his wife while she pleasured him with the incestuous show of pleasuring her son, Olga was the one who'd pay for this folly.

"Take me in your mouth mother. Suck my cock. Suck it."

"No Karl. Hugo! Do something."

On the pretense of screaming her pain, it wasn't until Karl pulled hard on her long, chestnut brown hair that that she looked up at her son with her big, green adoring eyes and a sexy smile that she willingly opened her mouth to take his cock inside. When his mother opened her mouth, with a thrust and a hump of his hips, he was inside a forbidden warm, wet place where so many sons fantasize being and so few have mothers willing to sexually satisfy them with their mouth. A perfect incestuous relationship, with his mother wanting her son as much as he wanted her, their passion for one another was what she should have had for her husband but what her husband never had for her in the way that her son did.

"That's right mother. Suck my cock. Suck it. Lick it while taking it deeper."

Sucking her son while licking him with her swirling tongue, Karl turned his head to watch his father watching them while she continued stroking him and he humping her mouth. No doubt sucking her son in the presence of her husband was her only way to salvage something from this forced incestuous seduction and to gain some modicum of control over her husband for the physical abuse he forced her to suffer. Obviously sucking her son more for the pleasure than for feigned sexual abuse of being forced to suck her son, she controlled her son with her lips tightened around his cock while he controlled his mother with his hand pushing against the back of her head. She continued sucking him and stroking him while he humped her mouth and fucked her face. If a stranger was to unexpectedly enter the barn, in the way she was willingly stroking him and passionately sucking her son and in the way that Karl was excitedly humping his mother's mouth and fucking her face while feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples, no one would know or even suspect they were mother and son, but lovers, husband and wife.

"Oh yes mother. That's good. That's very good. Don't stop. I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum." 

With a big, heavy hand pushing the back of her head forward, as if he was holding the leg of a horse to shoe it, after sucking him a while and with the sexual tension building, obviously needing a release, he was possessed with incestuous lust for his mother's mouth. Humping her mouth and fucking her face as if she was a cheap, two bit whore he had picked up in a bar in Munich instead of her being his mother, he continued fondling her bare breasts and fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples as she sucked him deeper and stroked him faster. As if she was a willing victim and she was, she swirled her tongue around the head of his big prick while stroking him faster and longer.

"Stroke me mother while sucking me. Yes, that's it. I'm going to cum. Don't stop. Stroke me faster. Yes mother. Yes, yes. Oh God! Oh God!"

Wanting him to cum to sexually satisfy him and needing him to cum to control him with her mouth for her to keep him as a much needed friend than a foe, she did her best to give her son what he wanted and needed. Not daring to make those cock sucking sounds that her son, no doubt, would love to hear to show that his mother was enjoying sucking his cock as much as he was enjoying having her suck his cock, she quietly sucked and stroked her son harder and faster while Hugo fingered the whip. Karl exploded in his mother's mouth. After watching his son unload his incestuous lust for his mother in her mouth, after Karl ejaculated in Olga while Hugo watched his wife pleasure his son, immediately, he was angered that his wife and the mother of his children was nothing more than a cheap, German whore.

"How dare she," he mumbled while tightening the whip in his hand. "No good whore."

After watching his wife willingly swallow her son's passion for her without spitting any of it out of her mouth, he was enraged when she swallowed him. 

"How dare she pleasure another man with her hand and her mouth," he mumbled even though that man was his son and even though he was the one who arranged for this incestuous scenario to happen while he watched and masturbated. "How dare he!"

"Oh mother, that was the best blowjob you've ever given me," said Karl stroking her dark hair while kissing her on each cheek.

With her no longer appearing as the unwilling victim, watching his wife gazing up at her son while licking his prick clean and gently cupping his balls, Hugo's usual routine was to whip his wife for seemingly enjoying sexually pleasuring her son a little too much. A sick, sexual game that this husband played with his wife, the only winner in this amusement was the son being rewarded with a motherly blowjob. A sad sexy, albeit incestuous scenario, whether she resisted her son or relented to the forbidden, sexual advances of him, Olga was the only loser in this match. Either way, she'd receive a whipping. All let to Hugo's imagination, the only extent in the duration of the whipping was how much she seemingly enjoyed having sex with her son.

"Filthy whore," said Hugo. "No good whore."

She was the one who wouldn't be leaving the barn without a whipping from her husband. She was the one who paid for all the negative effects of the coming of the second Industrial Revolution and for all of her husband's frustration with the economic, political, and social injustices of the times. Without her receiving the respect from her husband or from her son, indeed, her husband was right. With her being a nothing, a no one, and a lowly woman, she was the one with no right to live her life in the way she wanted to live it.

"How dare she want what a man had," mumbled Hugo. "How dare she think she'd be treated any better than a common street whore just because she was the loving wife to her husband and the mother to his children! How dare she even think! How dare she suck her son! How dare she!"

Only, this time was different with Karl. Instead of her blowing ending their incestuous affair, this time, while still fondling his mother's bare breasts and fingering her erect nipples, still sexually aroused and not yet totally sexually sated to allow her to be whipped by his father, Karl wanted more than just a blowjob from his naked mother. Seemingly, by the sheer sized of his engorged erection, even after cumming off in his mother's mouth, determined to have his wicked way with his mother, he was still sexually excited and aggressively aroused. Obviously, if only by the deranged look on his 20-year-old face, Karl wanted more than just cumming in his mother's mouth and her swallowing his cum.

"Mother, I want you. I must have you. I need to make love to you," said Karl kissing and kissing his mother while feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples before stopping to stare at her as if remembering what he must do.

No doubt, by the aggressiveness of his actions, in the way stood while scooping her up in his arms and placed her down on the ground with such determined conviction, obviously, he wanted to take control of his mother. Evidently, he wanted to own her body in the way that his father possessed his wife and controlled him. Like father like son, only a better man than his father, as if showing his mother that he was her lover and showing his father that he was not such a dimwitted man, he needed to make love to his mother before fucking his mother.

"No Karl! What are you doing? I sucked you, I can't fuck you too! You're my son. Please don't. Hugo! Help!"

With her mildly protesting, no doubt, playing her husband's sick game by resisting her son, she acted as if he overpowered her when she willingly fell back as he pushed her to the dirty ground, spread her legs, and mounted her. Struggling against the sheer size, the heavy weight, and the enormous strength of him, she feebly tried closing her legs to disallow him forced entry. Yet, forcing her legs open with his hands and wetting her pussy with his tongue before sticking a long, fat finger inside of her, she was already wet enough for him to take control of her. Licking and licking her while fingering her, he gave his mother as much pleasure with his tongue and fingers as she gave him with her mouth.

"Oh Karl, you mustn't lick Mommy. Oh my God! Oh my God!" 

Something her husband never did for her, her son was doing for her now. Giving her an orgasm with his mouth and his fingers, Olga stopped playing her foolish game and relented to the pleasure of her son.

"Lick Mommy Karl. Lick me. Rub me. Yes, right there while you lick me. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! I'm going to cum my sweet boy. Mommy is going to...God!"

Finally, after Olga exploded with an orgasm and while Karl held his mother to tight until she regained her composure, he mounted her. When he moved his cock to her, her hand was already there waiting to position him inside of her. Slowly humping his mother, moving his cock deeper in her wet pussy, he humped her and she returned his humps. Now fucking his mother with all the pent up lust he's had for her, humping her harder and humping her deeper with all the force of pushing a fat pig in the stall, he pounded his big cock into her, as if he was tossing bales of hay high in the loft.

"Fuck me Karl! Fuck me! Fuck Mommy. Don't stop. Faster! Harder! Fuck me!"

Lasting so much longer than the two minutes of sweating and grunting his father did when having sex with his wife, he humped his mother with the runaway incestuous lust of a son having consensual sex with his mother. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, and more than twenty minutes later, humping her and fucking her, no longer a victim but a willing incestuous participant, Olga wrapped her long, shapely legs around her son's strong back and screamed her sexual passion for her son.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! I'm cumming again."

"I'm cumming too mother. We're cumming together," said Karl.

No doubt, it was painfully obvious to Hugo now that Olga was not only enjoying sexually pleasuring and controlling her son as much as Karl was enjoying sexually pleasuring and controlling his mother but also that she wanted her son more than she wanted her husband.

"Oh my God, Karl. Karl! Karl! Oh my God! Karl. No you mustn't fuck Mommy," said Olga trying to cover her sexual satisfaction with protest but she was too late and too obvious in her sexual pleasure of her son. As a last resort she tried to change her plea from ecstasy to horror for the benefit of her husband while biting her lip, no doubt, with the dread of the whipping she was about to receive from her insane husband. "Please Karl. Get off Mommy."

Assuredly knowing she'd be getting a whipping anyway and wanting to take something other than blood, tears, and scars from the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, Olga returned her son's humps with as much incestuous passion as he humped her. Humping one another in a sordid rhythm, when he humped her, she humped him. Humping harder and humping faster, back and forth and in and out, Karl humped his mother harder, faster, and deeper and Olga returned his every hump with as much sexual passion.

"Oh God," screamed Olga.

"Oh God," screamed Karl.

As if he too was pounding his fist in frustration, instead of pounding his cock in his mother, not blessed with the intelligence enough to understand his father's dissatisfaction and discontent, Karl fucked his mother with all the misplaced anger of his father. After being so controlled by a socialist, German government, a good economy for the employer but a bad one for the employee, and by an insane King Ludwig II, the only freedom they had was what they did in the barn behind the house and what they did on their land. Albeit still insanely angry, Hugo felt invigorated watching his son pleasure his wife. Even though she'd pay a price for showing her passion in sucking and fucking her son, undoubtedly watching Karl sexually satisfy his mother was his twisted gift to Olga for putting up all of his bazaar antics

"Karl! Karl! Oh my God, Karl. Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop! I'm cumming. Mommy's cumming," she said whispering the last parts of her passion for him and for only him to hear in his ear. "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm cumming for my son," she whispered in Karl's ear.

"Oh mother! This feels so good to be so wrong. I love you Mommy! I love you."

As soon as his mother screamed her sexual pleasure, Karl released his with a last, fast series of hard humps of his hips and a deep, prolonged thrust of his engorged prick. As if exploding his frustration along with a second load of his cum for being born dimwitted and as if exploding his frustration by being so controlled by his father, he exploded his rage sexual and otherwise from whence he came in the one responsible for his birth. He filled his mother's pussy not only with his passion but also with his cum. Holding one another while hugging, sweating, and whispering their lustful love for one another, with both of them, no doubt, fearing the inevitable wrath of Hugo, Karl relinquished control of his mother to his father while Hugo stood to unravel the whip.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #08



To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #09



Chapter 9

Brunette, green-eyed, busty, sexy, shapely, and beautiful, introducing Rachel

'Twas an unusually eerie, summer night, a full moon lit up the barren cornfield as if nature had left a nightlight on when Rachel put her head down on her pillow to sleep. Exhausted from her long day of chores, she was beyond tired. She was exhausted. It's not easy working on a farm in 1860.

"It's so quiet, too quiet," she said feeling the sensation of weather looming. "The lull before the storm."

It had been a long, hard day of physical labor and unlike her father and brother who were now free to lounge around the house and do nothing but drink beer for a week or two, her chores and her mother's chores were never done. From the time they opened their eyes until the time they closed them, they were always working. Cleaning the house, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner, feeding the animals, and doing whatever women's work needed to be done from darning socks to sowing clothes, Olga and Rachel never had any free time.

Her father and her brother had too much time on their hands and were making drunken asses of themselves. In between the plowing and planting seasons, nevertheless with always something to do around a working farm, her father's time to fix whatever was broken before her brother tilled the soil in readiness to grow the winter crops, they were enjoying their brief leisure time. They worked hard enough to enjoy the down time but not when all they did was to make nuisances of themselves and get in the way of her doing her chores. Instead of being gone all day working the fields, both of them hung around the house as if they were on vacation and this was a hotel. Actually they were on vacation from working their twelve hour days and with her and her mother waiting on them hand and foot, this farmhouse was their hotel and they were their not so merry maids. Never totally without work on a farm, her father and brother were taking a much needed break to recoup their energy by drinking and talking stupid.

"Give me a kiss Rachel," said Karl grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to him while reaching down to cup her ass through her petticoats and fondle her big breast through her dress.

Then when he grabbed her hand to move it down to the bulge that his cock made in his pants, she pulled her hand away and slapped his face.

"Get away from me you pig. You stink," she said stomping on his foot and pushing him away to break his hold on her. "Brothers aren't supposed to kiss and feel their sisters in a sexual way. What's wrong with you?" She looked at him as if he were crazy or drunk, which he was. "Yet, if any man other than you touched me, groped me, and tried to kiss me, you'd kill them."

"You're damn right I would. You're my baby sister and I'm your big brother. It's my responsibility to protect you from--"

"The only protection I need right now is from you Karl," she said running away from him.

Getting in the way of her and her mother's work, singing, talking loud, and being noisy, stupid drunks, the self appointed king and prince of the castle and lords of their land, when not laughing and horsing around, were insanely out of control with angry diatribes, violent attitudes, and incestuous lust for Rachel and her mother. 

"Do you know what's wrong with this country? Do you know what's wrong with our government? Do you know what's wrong with the King?" 

Hugo stood in the middle of the room as if he was on stage looking from his son to look to at his wife before focusing his stare on the impressions that Rachel's button sized nipples and abundant breasts made in the tight bodice of her dress. Only, having heard it all before, especially when he's been drinking, no one was listening to him now but for his son. Before getting too drunk to ask the questions, Hugo was now too drunk to coherently and intelligently answer any of them.

With Rachel just having to scratch the surface by giving them an unguarded sexy look or even a an inadvertent flash of her ankle or calf, always inappropriately present, their lewd and lascivious behavior was worse when they were drinking. Groping and grabbing, where no father should touch his daughter. Feeling and caressing, where no brother should feel his sister. Their incestuous behavior was always worse when they were drunk.

If they could strip her naked, they would. If they could have sex with her naked body, they would. If they could force her to her knees to suck their cocks, cum in her beautiful mouth, and watch her swallow, they'd do that too. The only thing that stopped them from stripping her, fucking her, and forcing her to blow them was that she was a virgin and a valuable family asset.

"Karl! Stop! Don't touch me! I hate it when you touch me in that way," she Rachel removing his dirty hand from her breast and running away from his clutches again. "You're a disgusting pig."

With her drunken father and randy brother, suddenly the farmhouse loomed small. Feeling the lull before the storm. Restlessly uneasy, unable to relax enough to let down her guard, Rachel had an ominous feeling of doom. An unrelenting sense of quiet desperation pained her in the way of a dull, unceasing toothache. She wanted out of his crazy house. Wishing she had wings and could fly, she wanted to flee from her father and brother and be as far away from them as she could.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star..."

Every night she wished upon a star but her wishes never came true. She wished she lived elsewhere. She wished a handsome man would ask her father to marry her. She wished a wagon of gypsies would kidnap her and cart her away from this awful place and away from her father and brother. She wished she lived in America. Even after falling asleep thinking that her wishes would come true and she'd waken in another bed somewhere else, she was still here the next morning.

A country girl and a farmer's daughter, if Hollywood had existed then and known her, more than one hundred years before the Beverly Hillbillies aired, the original Elly May Clampett, played by Donna Douglas, they would have fashioned her character after Rachel. The only distinguishable difference between the two woman was that Elly May had blonde hair and blue eyes where Rachel had chestnut hair and green eyes. Surely, if Rachel was Elly May Clampett, then dumb as a stump Karl was the likeable and affable Jethro. With Hugo shrewdly wise, he could have been Jed Clampett with a touch of Mr. Drysdale mixed in him. Yet, in the shapely and beautiful way that Olga once looked, especially long ago before the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse saddened her and took its toll on her, albeit still a beautiful woman when compared to other farmers' wives, she was no Granny Clampett or Miss Hathaway. Olga still looked pretty good and good enough for her son to continually lust over his mother and have sex with her instead of trying to have sex with his sexy sister.

Leaving the house to get away from them but careful where she walked whenever she wasn't near the main house, so as not to be caught alone with either or both of them, she walked down by the stream and stayed hidden in the grove of trees. Her safe recluse, she could duck behind a tree before they spotted her and remain hidden there until after they left. Always mindful of the ever present wildlife, bears, wolfs, and snakes, she was more afraid of the two legged, human wildlife than the four legged animals and the slithering legless reptile versions. Her private place to go and to be alone with her thoughts, yet still an involuntary prisoner of this land, she made the best of her life by taking the time to go for long walks to enjoy nature. In the distant shadow of the Bavarian Mountains, it was truly beautiful here.

Alternating with her eyes lifted to the sky and her nose cast down to the ground, with her head back and her arms stretched down to touch the tall grasses with her fingertips, she felt the breeze, the moisture, and the subtle changes in the weather as she walked. Without doubt, there was a storm coming. She could tell by how everything green looked up to the sky for rain.

She was one with the earth, accepting of the wind, and the content with the sky no matter if it was blue and calm or grey and angry. Positive in nature and just happy to be healthy and alive, in a era where few lived past the age of 45-years-old, she was an 18-year-old woman who seldom complained. Blessed with intelligence, commonsense, and an inherit sensitivity, as if she was an incarnation of Mother Nature herself, she read the obvious and not so obvious signs of nature that others often missed when running helter-skelter through their lives.

As if she was Mother Earth personified and walking the Earth in human form, sensing the lull before the storm, she felt the sensation of an exaggerated atmospheric inhalation that sucked up a big breath of air. Then, taking it all in and holding it until everything was quiet before blowing out a bad wind in a disappointed sigh, she felt the change in the air. With the humidity skyrocketing up and the barometric pressure dropping down, she had a sinus headache. She didn't need any manmade weather instruments to feel the changes in the climate that she keenly felt with her body. Without even looking, all she had to do was to lift her head to the sky and close her eyes to feel the subtle and sometimes not so subtle changes in the weather.

Definitely there was a storm coming and she could feel that it'd be a bad one. Already so humid and not wanting to be caught outside in a lightning story, best she cut her alone time short and head for home. Wishing she could have stayed out longer to avoid her drunken father and brother, she'd turn in early for the night. She hoped she'd fall asleep before the boom of thunder and the flash of lightning awakened her. Walking faster to make it home before the rain, she headed upstairs undetected, closed her bedroom door, and pushed her dresser against it.

Quickly getting out of her clothes, she put on her nightgown, pulled back the covers, and dove beneath the sheet. So very tired but too early to sleep, once in her bed, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself with her breathing to relax. Earlier in the evening, before she readied herself for bed, when she was out walking to be alone with her thoughts and to commune with nature, she was already disturbed by the quiet. Unnaturally calm, too unnervingly quiet, she sensed there was something wrong. Knowing that sleep tonight would be elusive, if ever it was to come, just as it was too uncommonly quiet to comfortably sleep, it was too hot.

Sensing evil in the air, the silence and the stillness of the night frightened her. No longer hearing her father and brother, either they went out or they fell asleep. Not wanting to put herself in jeopardy to check, she remained locked in her room. Waiting and listening, finally, she got out of bed and trying not to avoid the steps that creaked, without taking a light with her, went downstairs to stand out on the front porch to get some air. With the dogs locked in the barn sleeping when not killing rats, if there were wolves about looking for food, the dogs would have been barking. Knowing they traveled in packs and seldom traveled alone, she took the rifle with her before stepping out on the front porch to peer through the darkness. Shooting one would frighten off the others.

With her father and brother already drunk and not asleep downstairs, not seeing the shine of a lantern, obviously they were out wandering the grounds in the dark drunk again. Sometimes, especially when drinking, neither one of them had the sense enough that God gave them to stay indoors and just go to bed. Especially as drunk as they were, it was dangerous to prowl around the farm without a light and a gun. Not knowing nor caring where they were and what they were doing, she figured they may have been in the barn and left the barn door open. Hoping they'd be struck by lightning, when she saw the first flash of lightning in the distance, she was glad she'd soon be safe inside and in her bed again. She feared an impending lightning and thunder storm coming that would spook the horses. Before she went upstairs to bed, Mother Nature's nightlight, the moonlight allowed her to see that the distant barn doors were secured and the horses were safely inside. 

As if there was a hawk soaring high above her in the sky, no doubt looking for a late, night meal, her early warning device much in the way of an alert dog barking, it was too late in the evening for the cawing and cackling cacophony of crows to be a noisy nuisance that foretold of someone or something approaching. Without the chatter of squirrels, the rustle of rats, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, turtles, and the noise of ducks and geese to alert her, it was so unearthly quiet that even the crickets would have been an intrusively loud welcome but they were quiet too. So weirdly quiet, it seemed that every animal, reptile, bird, and insect was asleep or knew enough to hide from the approaching weather but her.

"It's so quiet. Where do they all go? Maybe they're all smart enough to hide below ground or up in the trees. There's so much to learn from nature if observant enough to see," she said for no one to hear.

She returned safely inside, closed the front door with the unsettling feeling of being watched, and climbed the stairs for bed again. Just in case her father and/or brother returned and tried to climb in her bed as they'd tried to do before, she pushed her dresser against her door again. She couldn't have been asleep for more than a an hour or two when she heard the scream. Wanting to fall back to sleep but sensing there was something wrong, fearing that she may be in danger, she struggled to open her eyes. As if she dreamt herself screaming, as if she was having a bad dream, the noise awakened her in a fright.

"What the Hell was that? It sounded like a scream."

Already on edge with the unearthly quiet before, even though she was exhausted from working hard all day, the mystery of not knowing if it was a scream she heard and, if it was, where the scream emanated from would surely keep her awake. Being that it was so very quiet again now, did she really hear a scream or did she imagine it? Was it a dream or was it real? Hoping to hear the scream again for her to make out what it was and where it had come from, she sat up in bed while waiting to hear it again.

Not making a sound, not even breathing, she intently listened. Asleep when she heard it, she heard something but what did she hear? Was it a screech or a scream? Was it animal or human? Maybe Mr. Owl perched outside her window in the tree swooped down to catch another rat. Hiding in the hay, rats had the run of the barn and the cornfield whenever the dogs weren't killing them. Maybe the cat played with a mouse downstairs in the kitchen. Whatever it was and wherever it was, what was it? She didn't know. Even though she quietly listened, even though it fell so stilly silent outside for her to hear, she didn't hear the scream again.

Waiting to hear it, listening intently while remaining awake not to miss it, it was quiet again now, too quiet, as quiet as it was before, and now she was wide awake listening for the noise she heard. Too early to get up, she wondered what time it was. Too tired to start her day, she wondered what had awakened her. Too frightened to go back to sleep, she stayed in her bed listening, thinking, and peering out her window while trying to see what or who was out there at this late hour. Too tired to get up and too afraid to walk around in the dark again, she remained positive that the noise was nothing more than a bad dream. Unable to kid herself that what she heard wasn't real, she gave in to her suspicions, suppositions, and premonitions to imagine the worst by fearing the most horrible.

"Who's out there? There's something or someone out there. I just know it. I can feel it," she said to herself for no one to hear.

Knowing that rain was inevitable before, raining now, it had started raining sometime during the night. Even by the light of the full moon and the occasional flash of lightning in the far distance, the thin fog as if a sheer curtain that concealed the evil that lurked outside, veiled the landscape to make it more difficult for her to see out her rain speckled bedroom window. Normally it was so dark outside anyway, as dark outside as it was dark inside her bedroom, especially this time of the early morning, before the morning's first light and before the clockwork like crow of the rooster. Even with the light of the full moon, it was still too dark to identify nature's dark and scary shadows.

With her face pressed against the cool, wavy glass of her bedroom window, the scary shadows she saw made her wonder if there were ghosts and/or monsters lurking about her father's farmland. Maybe there were bandits and marauders out and about hoping to kidnap her, strip her naked, and make her do whatever they sexually so desired. As sexually excited as she was frightened by a bandit or marauder kidnapping her and forcing her to do all sorts of sexual things, she closed her eyes hoping to have a sexual fantasy while fingering her nipples and touching herself beneath the covers.

Reassuring her fright by trying to fall back to sleep while blocking out the deafening silence, she took some big breaths of bravery. She tried to calm her feelings of foreboding by convincing herself that what she heard was just her imagination and just a bad dream. Besides, after what she's already witnessed by seeing how tragically her mother's been so abused, after all that she's experienced being beaten, and after all that she's suffered being brutalized herself at the hands of her father and her brother, she knew that she needed to fear the living more than the dead. Much more monstrous, men were much more frightening than ghosts.

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #10



Chapter 10

The scream, her mother's scream, was coming from the barn.

Preoccupied with premonitions and with none of them good, whether imagined or real, Rachel stared out her bedroom window trying to determine if the shadows she saw and the images she feared were friend or foe.  As the moonlight lifted the early morning fog, it didn't take her long to realize that her ghostly shadows were just tree branches moving in the warm, summer breeze and her demons were nothing more than distant scarecrows moving in the field with the wind.  Was the scream a dream, her imagination, or did her brother and father take her mother to the barn to be disciplined again?

Suspecting the latter over the former, she suspected and rightly so that the only monsters out and about at this hour were her father, Hugo, and her brother, Karl.  The Devil incarnate himself in father and in son, they were her definition of evil; they were the real demons.  In the brutal way they treated women and in the way they viewed women as weakly inconsequential, to be taken and sexually used and abused at their whimsy, they'd put fear in any good, God fearing, Christian woman.

"I can't sleep it's so hot," she said kicking the covers off of her and staying like that with her nightgown up to her waist.

Suddenly feeling horny and wickedly sexy, with no other men around, she wished her brother were here to see her pussy.  Feigning sleep and pretending that she didn't know her pussy was so exposed, she wondered if after staring at her naked cunt, if her brother would touch her in the way they he was, no doubt, touching her mother now.  In the horny state she was in now, she'd allow him to touch her and feel her, before allowing her to force her hand to touch his cock through his pants in the way he always did when he was aroused by the sexy sight of her.

"Fuck!  I'm so horny that I'm thinking about having sex with my stupid brother.  Eww.  Having gone to bed so early, too early to sleep because of my stupid brother and drunken father, I'm wide awake now."

Too unbearably hot and humid to go back to sleep and too early to leave her bed to begin her chores, as if she was a damsel in distress, she put the back of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes while still wondering what the noise was she heard.  Feeling so alone and so lonely, with not even her neighbors within walking distance of the farm and too far away to travel to town without a horse and wagon, she felt alienated.  Wishing she had a friend to talk to and to share her feelings and desires with, she was trapped in this small room on this large farm in the middle of nowhere.  Everyone else's needs were taken care of but for her needs.

"God, I'm so horny," she said feeling her breasts and lightly fingering her nipples.

Making slow circles around her areolas before teasing out her nipples, first one and then the other, she pulled, turned, and twisted her nipples.  Once her nipples were erect, with the sexy thoughts of having sex with a man, she continued fingering her pussy.

"I wish there was someone here to see me naked, a tall, dark, and handsome stranger.  If only to upset my father and anger my brother, I'd allow him to do dirty and nasty things to my virginal body while I explored his body by doing dirty and nasty things to his body too," she said for no one to hear.  

Forsaking her pussy for her tits, she unbuttoned her nightgown and raised her tits to her mouth to suck her nipples.

"I'm always so horny in the morning.  I wonder if I wasn't so bored if I'd still be so horny.  I wish I were married.  I wish I had a husband to fuck and suck.  I'm old enough now to start my life away from this farm of lunacy.  I wish I had a baby."

She reached down again and her fingers found their familiar wet spot.  She slowly and gently rubbed herself before fingering herself deeper while thinking about having sex with a man and while thinking about fucking and sucking some tall, dark, and handsome stranger.  The only guilty pleasure she received was from her own hand when touching herself to rub her clit and finger her nipples.  Now, after suspecting she'd be the next, intended victim of her father and/or brother, even the pleasure she received masturbating herself was ruined by the unsolicited, incestuous lustful leers and desperate gropes of her father and brother.  She removed her hand from herself, closed her eyes again, and tried to sleep.

Always touching her, feeling her, and groping her, sickened by their sexual debauchery and incestuous depravity, her father and brother stared at her in the way they leered at her mother before they took her to the barn for the first time.  Feeling violated by their stares and by their unwelcomed and inappropriate touches of a father groping his daughter and a brother feeling his sister, before forcing her hand to touch and feel them through their pants, they made her feel dirty.  They made her feel sorry that she was born a woman instead of being born a man.  Turned off on sex by the twisted perceptions of sexuality that made incest not only acceptable but preferable to men but abhorrent to women, men thought that what a woman wants is the same as what a man wants.  Only, her worst nightmare being so incestuously desired, sex with her father and/or her brother is not what she wants at all.

With those perversely dirty thoughts in mind, she no longer wanted to masturbate herself for fear that she'd be just as sexually depraved as they were one day.  Intent to remain chaste, a sexual and sensuous woman in a maiden's body, she wanted to remain purely virginal by only giving herself to God and to her future husband, whoever he may be.  Only, she wished he was there with her now to rescue her from them.  She'd give him sexual pleasure for the promise of his help.  With her father so horribly mean and her brother so monstrously big, it would take a special man to rescue her and to save her and her mother from them.

"Dear God in Heaven help me and help my mother.  Save us from my father and brother.  Stop my mother from being beaten, raped, and whipped," she prayed.  "And save me from the same fate before it happens."

Only falling to her knees to pray and not to suck cocks, she didn't want to lay with someone, especially not with a family member, until after she was married.  Definitely, she didn't want to have sex with her father and/or her brother unless forced in the way they forced her mother.  Still, she was more than a little curious about seeing cocks, touching cocks, feeling cocks, stroking cocks, sucking cocks, and fucking cocks.  Cocks, cocks, and more cocks, the hornier she grew the more she thought about cocks.  All she thought about lately were big, hard cocks.  Fearing some inherit medical condition of lunacy that she wouldn't want to continue the cycle of lunacy, if she were to become pregnant with her father or brother's baby, she didn't want to be nor did she want her child to be as perversely twisted as were her father and her brother.

The Devil's child and being that she was her father's daughter, maybe she was the Devil's child too but she didn't want to continue the cycle of incest first with mother and then with daughter.  If they forced her to have sex with them, she'd kill herself and the baby rather than to give birth to their bastard, monstrous baby.  No matter if the only woman available was their daughter, mother, or sister, they were animals needing to be fucked and sucked at will for only their selfish pleasure and not for the pleasure of anyone else.

She felt as if she was owned and bound in indentured servitude until she paid back her father's disappointment in having been born a daughter instead of a son and a kitchen helper instead of a farmhand.  Merely because she was a woman and not a man, her father and brother treated her less than she was when she was more than either of them could ever be.  All they wanted to do was to control her, mount her, and push her to her knees to suck them.  With a forceful hand to the back of her head, she knew that if she gave her father and/or brother any sexual encouragement, they'd take her out to the barn to cum in her mouth before stripping her naked to beat her and fuck her before whipping her for making them do that to her.  It was all their twisted game to play and she wanted no part of it.

"I wish I was born a man so that I could beat them every time they did something horribly inappropriate to my mother and me," she said shaking her fist in the air.  "I wish women had freedom and equality.  I wish women had the power to be listened to and to be right.  I wish women were free to give their opinions without checking with a man first before they dared open their mouths.  I wish women could make their own decisions without having to receive the permission from a man on how to think and what to think."

By their amorous looks, inappropriate touches, and frantic, freehand gropes of her breasts and her ass through her clothes, even though she was a virgin, they made her feel as sexually abused as her mother must feel.  Hating having been born a useless woman, feeling unworthy and ashamed of herself for having sexual feelings, in the way they sexually lusted over her, they made her feel perversely dirty whenever she pleasured herself.  When she had any normal sexual feelings at all, feeling guilty for having them, she felt evil for having the sexual and sensual feelings of a normal, hormone filled woman.  Instead of feeling like the woman she is, they made her feel as if she were a thing to be abused or an animal to be used.  They never made her feel proud, loved and cherished.

Instead of making her feel like the doting daughter and the loving sister she once was, they made her feel sexually desired and lustfully wanted in the way of a whore of a woman that she's not and never will be to them.  They didn't make her feel like the young, beautiful, and intelligent woman she was.  Instead, even though she's done nothing wrong to feel that way, other than to masturbate herself in the privacy of her bedroom, they made her feel wicked, reckless, and slutty.  Unable to help the fact that she was born beautiful, they made her feel that their lust for her was her fault just for looking the way she does.  Born beautiful, it wasn't her fault that she was born beautiful.  Yet, even if she was born ugly and/or horribly deformed, that wouldn't matter to these two demons once they started drinking.  Surprised if they haven't already had their sexual way with farm animals, they'd still fuck her and force her to suck them, if they could.

"It's not my fault that I was born beautiful.  I wish I was born ugly," she said, even though she was glad she was born beautiful instead of ugly.  "I wish I was born flat-chested and didn't have big tits.  I wish I was fat and ugly as are so many farmers' daughters."

Looking so much like her mother when her mother was her age, glad that she wasn't flat-chested, fat, and/or ugly, she liked how she looked.  She liked how her clothes fit her shapely form and flowed down and over her womanly curves.  Even though she made sure to cover every part of her body and to expose nothing to the wicked eyes of her father and to the horny eyes of her brother, the few men who have seen her knew she was beautiful and had a sexy body beneath her clothes.  As if she was a tall tree with arms that stretched out against the blue sky and as if her lush hair were leaves that accentuated and accented the branches, she loved how her dark chestnut hair contrasted her bright, green eyes.

Shunning her as the obedient daughter and loving sister she grew to be, they only saw her as a sex object and the incestuous slut they wished her to be.  They viewed her as a low class whore to be fondled, felt, groped, stripped, beaten, and fucked before she sucked them and whipped, after they had sex with her, under the pretense that she enjoyed the sex too much.  Now, in the way they looked at her, she didn't feel pretty.  Even though she was tall, beautiful, and shapely, she felt ugly.  In this family of insanely incestuous men, the last thing she wanted to be was pretty enough to be sexually desired by her father and/or her brother.  If anything, she needed to look less desirable instead of more and unattractive instead of more attractive.

"Maybe there's something that I can do to myself to make them less attracted to me and not want me sexually," she said while thinking what could she possibly do to change her appearance from beautiful and desirable to ugly and unwanted.

In the way that her father and brother seldom bathe, maybe if she bathe less too, they wouldn't like the smell of her.  Smelling as bad as they did when working out in the field under the hot sun all day for days without taking water and soap to their filthy bodies, maybe if she bathe less, they'd leave her alone.  Maybe if she bathe less, they wouldn't want her.  Only, she couldn't stand the smell of herself if she smelled as bad as they sometimes did.

Besides, knowing them, they may be more attracted to her womanly, unwashed scents than if she perfumed herself with bath salts and lilac.  Instead, unable to help how she looks, looking as beautiful as her mother once did and looking at them with her mother's same green eyes and long, lush, chestnut hair, she wondered if she'd end up just like her mother, tied to the horse stall in the barn.  She wondered if they'd used her in the way they used her mother, as just holes for them to stick their dirty and disgusting cocks.

She had no rights and was never allowed to express her opinions, even over the nonsense that her idiot of a brother spouted.  Wishing she had been born a man instead of a woman, she wished they were dead and she was free.  She wished they'd just leave her alone.  She wished she could run away and never return to this farm of sexual fetishes and incestuous lustful desires.  Not having any money nor knowing anyone, she had no place to go.  Without even having a horse to ride or a wagon to take her, she was stuck here with them while waiting for them marry her off to a wealthy man or to take their turn with her when they couldn't.

"I hate my life.  I wish I were dead," she said not meaning the last part.

As if it were all a dream, as if she had heard a baby crying in pain and she was a new, nervous mother awakened by every distant, muted, crying sound, she recalled the sound as if she just heard it again.  It was then that she realized that it wasn't a howl of a ghost or screech of an animal but a scream of a woman she heard.  Then, off in the distance, distorted by the whoosh of the wind and caught up in the rustle of the leaves of the trees before reaching her ears through her closed window, she heard the scream again.  Now that she was listening for it and with her ear poised waiting to hear it again, she recognized it as a woman's scream.  It wasn't so much the noise that startled her awake from her sound sleep but, as if she was the one screaming and suffering, it was the panicked horror of the screamer that she felt and that awakened her.

When she looked out her bedroom window again as the fog slowly began to lift in the way of smoke clearing a room after a magician's fiery, magic trick, she saw the distant, dim glow of a lantern coming from the barn.  Hung on a nail and gently swaying and slowly rocking in the warm summer breeze as if the yellow light was cautioning her of danger and warning her to stay away, the shimmering, shaky shine of the lantern's faint burn was a foreboding sight to see.  The only time there was a lantern in the barn was when one of the animals was sick and her father spent the night caring for it.  Now that she knew that the scream wasn't a dream, now that she knew that the scream wasn't a baby crying in pain, a screech from an animal being caught and eaten, or even a sick animal attended to in the barn, she immediately knew what it was.

"Those bastards!  I hate them," she said for no one to hear.  "I wish they were both dead and we were free of them."

No longer asleep but wide awake, she recognized the scream this time without even having to hear it again.  It was her mother's scream and her mother's pleas for mercy.  Hearing her scream again and again, with her mother, no doubt, in horrible pain, her mother was in the barn screaming.  Wanting to run to the barn to help her and to save her and wanting to take her mother in her arms to hold her, wishing she could trade her own body for her mother's, there was nothing that she could do but to helplessly listen in horror to her mother screaming.

"I'll kill them," she said mad enough and with enough pent up rage to pull the trigger but not thinking that was crazed enough that she could.

She wondered if the rifle was still downstairs by the front door or if they took it with them to the barn.  If she could shoot animals, a bear, a wolf, and a deer, there's not much difference in shooting men who acted like animals.  Feeling herself becoming enraged, she thought about shooting her father and brother.  Even if she got away with murder, two women living alone out here without protection, who'd protect her and her mother?  Who'd come to their defense and to their rescue should they be attacked?

A man's world, with a legion of unemployed, desperate, and drunken men wandering the land, they'd only be at the mercy of another man.  For better or for worse, stuck with her father and brother, who knows what would befall them without the safety and the financial security they provided?  Besides with her father and brother dead, buried, and rotting in the back of their land, who'd plow the field and plant and reap the crop?  Who'd run the farm?  Seeing to her womanly chores, she had enough to do as it was without taking on men's chores too.  There was just no way that she could do any more than what she was doing now.

Thunder made her jump and lightning illuminated and parted the sky in the way that only God can.  Even over the sound of the storm, she heard the crack of the bullwhip tearing open her mother's soft, beautiful skin.  Alternating with the sound of thunder and the crack of the whip, along with her mother's screams, as if the noises were a sad, sick song that gave sound to the terrible torment of the tumultuous times, she heard the crack of the whip again and again.  Perhaps now that she was awake, now that she knew what the scream was, and now that the scream didn't have to penetrate the fog of sleep or the fog and the wind outside, the scream seemed louder and longer this time.  

"Leave her alone," she screamed for no one to hear.  "Leave her alone," she begged hoping they'd psychically hear her and obey.  "Leave her alone!  For God sakes, leave my mother alone!"

When they wouldn't leave her alone and when her mother continued screaming, she couldn't take it anymore.  The guilt of her doing nothing to help her mother was much worse than her mother's screams.

"Stop screaming!  Just stop screaming.  Please just stop screaming," she said covering her ears with her hands.  "I can't bear to hear you screaming and suffering."

With sleep leaving her and her mind clear, she remembered now.  With Rachel routinely getting up early to feed the animals, obviously not wanting to awaken her for her to know where they were going and what they were doing, her father and brother get up even earlier whenever they take her mother to the barn.  Half asleep when she heard them, she now recalled them leaving the house.  She thought she was dreaming but she wasn't.  It was so late and with all the nocturnal creatures out and about, but for the glow from the full moon, it was too late to be outside in the dark.  Startled awake before falling back to sleep, the last thing she heard was the screen door slam shut and her father's voice.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #10



"Bring the lantern, Karl," she remembered he said in his deep voice and thick German accent as if ordering a beer and a knockwurst sandwich in a Bavarian bar.

Her father and brother had been drinking heavily all day again.  After days of drinking, they took her mother to the barn again.  They only took her mother to the barn when they were drunk and they were drunk again last night.  She wondered what her mother did now to deserve such punishment and to be party to such abuse?  Whatever her slight transgression against them was, they didn't need a reason to take her to the barn to abuse her, beat her, torture her, strip her naked, rape her, and whip her.

After not happening for a while, now that they're done reaping the fields, selling their crop, and resupplying and restocking the farm, they drank away whatever profits were left before starting all over again to plow and seed the fields.  As if having their way with her mother was just another step in their farming season, the sexual abuse was happening again.  Every time they took her mother to the barn, their physical and sexual abuse worsened.  She wondered if the full moon had anything to do with their incestuous lunacy.  Only this time with her mother paying for the sins of her daughter and with their wickedness their unjustified excuse to take her mother to the barn, Rachel knew that it was all her fault.  She knew 'twas only a matter of time before they took her to the barn too.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #11



Chapter 11

The Horror Hidden in the Barn. 

A time of massive changes and social unrest, 'twas the season of mass discontent

'Twas the summer of the German Revolution and the advent of the second Industrial Revolution with women wanting equal rights adding to the upheaval of social unrest. Confused by a slew of social, economic, and political changes that effected most who held a job, manufacturing or otherwise, workers no long knew what to expect after being thrown from their comfort zone. Even when at home with their wives, girlfriends, and/or daughters all talking about women's rights and equality, there was no peace for the frustrated men who were reeling from having too much change thrown at them all at once.

Seemingly with massive, world-wide changes happening every 50 years in the lives of most people, there was no other time like their own. With no other era like it, since the first Industrial Revolution in the 18th century and the dawn of automation with the advent of the modern day computer in the mid 20th century, there was a lot happening in just a short amount of time during the 40 year span of 1840 to 1880. With men being replaced by machines and machines doing a faster, better, and cheaper job than men, most Germans were against the changes that came with big, mechanical factories over small businesses. Even though there were those who embraced modernization of factories, generally factory owners standing to make more profits, most men, especially those losing their jobs and having to start over again with retraining, were in disfavor of the second Industrial Revolution.

Some men tried single handedly to stop progress and sabotage the new technology by disabling machines in the hopes that their jobs would return to the old ways of making things by hand instead of by machine. Working on the factory floor and being pressured for more production by the floor supervisor, they had to work harder and faster to increase production and to keep their jobs. No longer rubbing elbows with the owner of a smaller and more employee friendly business, most workers missed the good, old days of personally being recognized for a job well done. Now they weren't even a name, just a number.

A time just before mass production, no job was easy back then and not all employers, whether big factories or small companies, treated their employees well or even fairly. Yet, with industrial injuries and work related accidents and deaths on the rise, working conditions were even worse than better on a big, factory floor that now housed, smelly, noisy, and dangerous machinery. With owners looking to increase their profits by lowering their costs per unit produced, production was more important than hand assembled craftsmanship, the talent of skilled workers, and the experience of valued journeymen. The safety of men wasn't even a consideration. When working side by side with a few hundred employees instead of a dozen, the workers already felt as if they were just another employee and not someone significantly important to the company.

Hand assembly and job satisfaction in doing a good job well done were replaced in favor of machinery producing more units. It wasn't the men that worked the factory floor that mattered, what mattered more were more units that met established quality control standards. After putting out so much money in capital investment to fill their factories with machines instead of with men, more units to earn them more money and not the job satisfaction and/or the safety of their employees was the only interest of the owners.

With Socialism having a stranglehold on Germany, change was in the air. Germans were fleeing their country and their mad, homosexual King Ludwig II, along with his insane brother Otto for the hope, the promise, and the freedom of America. Why stay here to be worked like a dog when you can go there and not only be free but also be rich?

Those friends and relatives who went ahead of them wrote them what to expect after surviving the long, hard voyage. Surely, America was no utopia but, at the time, it was better than Germany. It had to be. Surely, things couldn't get any worse than what they were enduring now. Besides, welcoming immigrants with open arms, America needed people, workers, and citizens to grow its country.

"God Bless America!"

A devoted patron of the composer Richard Wagner, King Ludwig was quoted as saying, "I wish to remain an eternal enigma to myself and to others." Now that's an understandably fine philosophy if you're a crazy composer commissioned by the King and locked away writing a symphony. A mad scientist in the way of Dr. Frankenstein working in a laboratory day and night to invent the latest and greatest invention may also have such a philosophy so that he could continue his work and his research uninterrupted and in privacy. Even a writer of erotica in the way of the Marquis de Sade, who wrote stories and poem that were pure and utter blasphemous against the church, against religion, against men, against women, against animals, and against his cousin, the King. Yet, even the Marquis went out to sample the fair maidens and gay men of landscape by deflowering women and men. Certainly, even if the King so wanted to be one, he was no enigma. Everyone knew what he was.

"Long live the King!"

Alas fame comes with riches or in the case of the King, notoriety begets fame and riches. Yet, on the other hand, a very public figure and not so much of a private one, King Ludwig was the ruler, their leader, and their King of Germany and other faraway lands and peoples. Without having a clue what he was doing and when he was doing it, his personal philosophy was not a good one when his people looked up to him for his assurances that things will get better instead of worse during such troubled times. Long live the king soon turned into the king shall die.

Putting everything in a pot, heating it, and mixing it with lots of alcohol to further stoke the fires of change, confusion, and discontent, as if annoying gnats before biting, the public protestations of the Women's Rights Movement didn't help men's already unruly mood. Having no control over their King, their government, and their job, now losing control of their women in their own households was the last straw. If it wasn't bad enough on the streets, now with women riled up to believe that they were men's equals, even at home, there was no escaping the conflict that men faced outside and that continued inside their homes. With women given false hope of ever being equal to men, the dialogue continued from the streets, to the kitchen, and into the bedroom. 

"God Bless America! The land of the free and the home of the brave," quoted Germans from a the poem, The Star-Spangled Banner, written by Francis Scott Key in 1814, when boarding boats in the mid 19th century to take them to a better place and to take them to America.

Angered by loyalists' speeches on one side and by revolutionists' bashes on the other, their words were fueled by as much passion as they were by beer. A close personal friend of the King, composer Richard Wagner captured the emotion of the time by playing the unintended music that orchestrated the mass exodus of multitudes of Germans in the background. As if a resounding heartbeat of the Germanic country, it was the thumping sound of Wagner's tuba that musically interpreted the reverberation of machine pounding metal that proclaimed the advent and the progress of the second Industrial Revolution.

"The Revolution introduced me to art," said Albert Einstein decades later, "and in turn, art introduced me to the Revolution!"

With more than just suffrage at stake, it was a time when women wanted the rights to own land, divorce, retain custody of children, maintain sexual independence, obtain birth control, and receive fair payment for their work. A lot for women to ask all at once and too much for men to digest and swallow all at once, sadly, after more than one hundred fifty years later, still wanting equal rights, the issues are still the same, just the names and faces are different. These early feminists of 1830 to 1890 wanted full equality with men.

Going against the grain, hoping to change so much in such a short amount of time, these early feminist did nothing more than enrage the men and confuse the women. Yet slow to change and with just the reverberations being felt throughout the country when women's rights groups splashed their headlines in newspapers, they gave farmers reason to worry about their own women turning against them and killing them in their sleep. The social changes that were happening in Berlin hadn't yet reached Germany's rural areas and farmlands.

Rachel regretted her decision to enlighten her mother in the hopes that she'd stand up against the abuse of her father. Now with her mother taken to the barn and in her ignorance to be accepting of her fate, Rachel never should have taught her mother how to read. In hindsight, she never should have brought home that Women's Rights flyer. Now that she knew how many other women were suffering under men's iron fist, she wished she had never heard of the Women's Rights Movement. In 1860, the only rights that women had were to obey, bleed, and die.

"There never will be complete equality until women themselves help to make laws and elect lawmakers," said Susan B. Anthony, a 19th century pioneer in the United States Women's Suffrage Movement. 

Her father and her brother had been drinking and, no doubt, were drunk again. When they grabbed her and touched her where no father should grab his daughter and no son should touch his sister, they invited her to have a drink with them, something they've never done before. God knows what may have happened had she accepted their invitation to have a drink and they got her drunk. Rachel knew by their randy mood and luridly lascivious behavior that something bad was about to happen. She went to bed early, before their inappropriate touching turned to groping, their groping turned to stripping, and before things got out of hand. Now that she had gone to bed so early, too early to get up to begin her chores, she was wide awake sooner than she needed to be.  

Frightened for her mother, she was frightened for herself too. Fearing that they'd be coming for her next and taking her out to the barn too, she pushed her heavy, maple chest of drawers against her bedroom door. The barrier would have little effect on the animal like strength of Karl. Yet, delaying them from opening her bedroom door, her temporary barricade would give her a chance to slip out the window and jump to the grass below from the second floor and run.

Run? Run where? Hopeless in her escape, with no place to go and nowhere to hide, where would she run? In the way that they looked at her, touched her, and tried feeling her through her clothes, the same way they did with her mother when their sexual assault started, she was surprised that they haven't taken her out to the barn already. 

The barn was their secret place to take her mother and now scarred and scared, it's because of all that happened to her in the barn that her mother never goes out to the barn to feed the animals anymore, even in the daytime. Instead she sends Rachel, but she waits until her husband and son are already gone for the day working the fields. Now that they're not working the fields, not wanting to be trapped with them so far away from the safety of the house, especially not in the barn, even Rachel refused to go to the barn.

Of little consolation, she was glad that her father and brother didn't do their dirty deeds in the house. By not hearing what they did to her mother in the barn, only imagining the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, she could better pretend that it never happened. Except for her mother's loud screams that emanated from the barn to shatter the quietness of the early morning, and with the impending storm looming with the soon to be swirling and whooshing sounds of the sudden wind, she didn't hear anything, not even the chirping sounds of those incessant crickets. It was just too damn quiet for there not to be something wrong.

Bad enough that they felt the sick need to beat, strip, rape, and whip her mother at all, she couldn't bear it if she was forced to listen to every dirty word and watch every foul action had they been doing their incestuous perversity downstairs in the kitchen or upstairs in their bedroom. If they were going to treat her mother like an animal, at least they had the common decency to take her out to the barn with the rest of the animals. Only she couldn't help but imagine what they were doing to her mother and what she imagined paled in comparison to what they actually did to her mother. Knowing that her father wanted to strip her and touch her, knowing that her brother wanted her to suck him and her to fuck him, Rachel couldn't help but imagine what they'd do to her should they drag her out to the barn too. With her life so out of her control, her life was always so full of fear.

Hoping to hear her scream again, she listened in silence for evidence that her mother was still alive. Should her mother be dead, with no one there to protect her, not her father or her brother, with no one to act as a defensive buffer should they turn their incestuous lust to her, what would she do if her mother was dead? She softly sobbed while clutching her pillow as if she was holding her mother. Afraid to let her go of her pillow for fear that her mother would be gone forever, when her father and brother finally killed her mother, she didn't know how to stop their abuse or how to prevent the inevitable.

In the past, not wanting to hear, pretending that this torturous physical, emotional, and sexual abuse wasn't happening, she pretended she didn't know what her father and brother were doing to her mother out in the barn. So early in the morning, when even the rooster and the dogs was still sleeping, it was too early to arise to start her day. As if her father and brother were nomadic kidnappers roaming the countryside at night in search of a female victim, they beat, tortured, stripped, raped, and whipped her mother.

Creating a monster within, her mother now turned against her husband to plot and plan his demise for the sake of her daughter and to be with her son as husband and wife. After someone has suffered and survived that violent of an assault, there's nothing more that anyone can do to them. Instead, as if she's had a lobotomy, the only happiness her mother felt was when having sex with her son, Karl. When not in the barn naked with her son, her mother closed down her emotions so as not to feel the abuse. She was a shell of her once happy self. 

Other than to listen, other than to be careful not to be alone with them, and other than to volunteer that they take her instead, there was nothing that she could do to stop the emotional, physical, and sexual abuse of her mother. Berating herself for not doing more, at only 18-years-old and still a virgin, she wasn't brave or sexually experienced enough to offer her body to save her mother. Desperately wishing she could fall asleep, so as not to hear her mother's frantic screams, she put her pillow over her head and stuck her fingers in her ears while thinking of how happy and how pretty her mother used to be. Hoping to sing over her screams, she sang the Cradle Song, the song her mother used to sing to her every night to lull her to sleep when she was a little girl before the song became Brahms's Lullaby.

Yet, helpless to save her mother, lucky if she could save herself, there was nothing she could do not to hear her mother's pleas of mercy for them to stop. 'Twas a time when men were superior and in control and women were inferior and frightened. Seemingly more annoyed with her mother's screams for disturbing her sleep than with her father and brother for causing her mother's pain, without doubt, she'd prefer listening to the crickets rubbing their legs together than having to listen to her mother's piercing screams. As if there was a big, bad boogie man emerging from her closet, instead of coming up from the barn, hoping that sleep would come for her again but unable to block out the loud cries to sleep, she stayed awake too frightened to go to sleep. Off in the distance, as if what she heard was a bad dream and what had become her all too frequent nightly nightmare, she could hear her mother's pleas for mercy.

"No! Stop! Please Hugo. Please Karl. Don't do this. I beg you," cried Olga to the deaf ears of her husband and son. "Let me go! Please let me go!"

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #12



Chapter 12

Olga confesses that she enjoys and orgasms while making love to her son. 

When she was younger, helpless to do anything to stop her mother's suffering but to listen, she didn't want to know all that happened in the barn. Casting a blind eye to the sexual abuse her father and brother did to her mother, she resigned herself that so long as they left her alone, she could live there. Her mother didn't seem to mind having sex with her son. Now that she's older, if only to add fuel to her fire to leave this horrid house for good without looking back, she needed to know what they did to her mother. Now that she's forced to listen, she needed to see what they were doing to her mother so that she'd never forget. Now that she's been made so aware of the monsters that her father and brother are, she never wanted to make the same mistakes that her mother made with men. She'd never stay married to a man who'd beat her and raise a son who'd raped her.

With the physical and sexual abuse of her mother escalating, especially after her father enlisted the help of his son, further motivating her to run away, the abuse of her mother gave her the strength she needed to flee her father, run from her brother, and escape from this horrible house of horror forever. Yet with very little money and without a wagon to take her, it wasn't safe for a woman to travel alone, especially a woman who looked like her. When the only unescorted women were dirty, diseased women of the night, she'd be a real prize for some man or men to take her, strip her, rape her, and maybe even kill her. Best not to put herself in deeper danger than she already was staying with her father and brother in this house, she had to bide her time, while plotting and planning her escape. She wished she could take her mother away with her but, not having the resources to do that, taking her mother with her was impossible.

Difficult enough for her to leave alone, men without women and men unable to care for themselves, they'd never allow them to leave together. Even if she had the money to pay for two fares to America, no doubt, destined to die at the hands of her husband, she knew her mother would never leave the suffering life she had in Germany, even to save herself for a new and better life in America. Unable to leave her homeland, her mother would rather suffer the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse here than to be safe somewhere else and in another country far from home. Fortunately, other than her bad memories, Rachel didn't have the ties to Germany that her mother did. Instead of loving her country, she hated it. 

"You go, Rachel. I can't leave here," said her mother, Olga, in German. Only thirty-five-years-old but looking ten years older, she tightly wringed her apron in her hands as if it was the neck of her husband. "I can't leave my beloved Germany behind," she said looking at her with tears in her eyes. "Born here and with my family buried here, I'll die here. I don't know any other life," she said looking at Rachel with sadness, while holding her daughter's hands in hers.

"But Mama, I can't leave you alone with them. Their abuse will escalate with the absence of me," said Rachel beginning to cry. "Papa will blame you for me leaving."

"Faithful and loyal, I've been with your father since I was 14-years-old. Other than my son, he's the only man that I've intimately known," she said with sadness. "He was never like this, so drunkenly violent. Always angry, yes, but not like this, never like this. Fun and funny before when he was drinking, now he's insanely so very angry when he's drunk. With everything in upheaval and no one happy, especially for a man and much worse for a woman, these are bad times to be a German in Germany," she said giving Rachel insight that she didn't know her mother had.

"If you stay after I leave, blaming you for my departure, the beatings will intensify Mother." Afraid to say the words, she looked at her mother with foreboding before she uttered the words. "They will kill you," she said kissing her mother's hands and, as if hugging her for the last time, she took her in her arms and hugged her.

"Then, for the safety of you Rachel, my darling, knowing that you're happy and free in America, I shall willingly die in peace for you to escape them to start a new life. Your father is my problem and not your problem."

"Oh mother, please reconsider," she said.

"You're young, you're beautiful, and you're so healthy, you can do what I cannot," she said smiling and returning her daughter's hug. "Besides," she said looking away with shame and guilt while playing with her apron ties as if it she was playing with her son's cock, no doubt, for what little sexual gratification she received. "The only pleasure I have is when having sex with Karl," said her mother looking down in obvious shame that a mother would find pleasure in having sex with her son.

Rachel was stunned. Already knowing she was having sex with Karl but figuring she was forced to sexually pleasure her son, she couldn't believe her mother found pleasure from having sex with him. She looked at her in shocked disbelief. Her mother just admitted that she enjoys having sex with her son. Eww. Gross. Oh, my God. Why?

"Mother," Rachel looked at her mother while trying to make sense of her confession. "I don't understand. How can you possibly enjoy having sex with Karl? After father beats you, Karl rapes you, and then father whips you, I don't understand how you can find any pleasure in having sex with Karl after suffering the physical abuse from father." Rachel looked at her mother, as if she had lost her mind. "What pleasure is there in any of that?"

"While Hugo sleeps drunk in the barn," said Olga fluttering her eyelids as if imagining her son's big, hard cock in her hand, in her mouth, and in her pussy, "Karl takes his time to make gentle love to me, something that your father has never done. Your father doesn't even kiss me anymore but Karl does. He humps me with passion instead of with anger and I return his humps with love," said Olga with a excited smile as if she was confessing a romantic liaison with a handsome lover instead of with her son.

"Mother, he's your son. How could you enjoy having sex with your son?"

"Karl makes me feel wanted and desire. He makes me feel like the woman I used to be when I was first married to your father. Now, unless he pretends I'm you and he's having sex with you, Rachel, unless I allow him to whisper your name in my ear, your father can no longer maintain an erection long enough to penetrate me. No longer wanting me, my husband wants you instead of me. Without even realizing it, because Karl is so big and so strong, he gives me what I need. He gives me an orgasm."

"Mother, please. That's enough. Spare me the details of your incestuous relationship with my brother. For you to enjoy having sex with your son enough to have an orgasm, when that's something you can do with your own fingers, is shockingly sick," she said looking at her mother with shame. "You're just as demented as they are. You three deserve one another," said Rachel with sudden disdain for her mother.

"The orgasm that I receive from my son is nothing like the orgasm that I give myself with my fingers. With you a virgin, I don't expect you to understand the fire that burns deep within me when Karl's cock is buried deep inside me. In all the years I've been with your father, Hugo has never once given me such sexual pleasure. In return for how my son makes me feel so desired, so loved, and so wanted, I'm happy to give him sexual pleasure in return. I'm happy to suck him," she said looking at her daughter with guilt.

"Mother! Please! That's quite enough. I'm going to be ill," said Rachel holding her stomach while staring at her mother as if she was insane.

Yet, after her mother confessed that she received an orgasm from her son, there was a glimmer of curiosity in Rachel. Being that she masturbated herself so very many times, being that it felt good to masturbate, now that her mother said there was a difference, she wondered how different it would feel for a man to give her an orgasm. She wondered what it would feel like to have a cock buried deep within her pussy. She wondered what it would feel like for her to control a man with her mouth and her pussy and for a man to explode his sexual lust inside of her.

"He doesn't know that I enjoy giving him sex, as much as he enjoys forcing me to give him sex," said Olga with shamelessly. "So long as he makes it appear that I'm being forced to do the things that a mother should never do with her son, I'm obliged to suck and fuck my son. Because he always sexually satisfies me, I'm happy to sexually satisfy him."

After having peeked through the split wood of the barn and after already having seen her father and brother stripping off her clothes and her brother raping her once before, Rachel no longer had to see what her father and brother were doing to her mother. Unable to erase the image burnt in her mind of a husband beating and whipping his wife and a son stripping and raping his mother, she could visualize their physical, emotional, and sexual abuse with her every scream. Tying her to the horse stall was their favorite place to strip her, beat her, and rape her.

Karl didn't untie her ties until his father was done with her and until he needed the use of her hands to pleasure him. Leaving the ties there ready for the next time, they didn't even bother to remove the blood, sweat, and tear soaked ties. A visual image to the horror they did to the woman they supposedly loved, they left the ties there dangling in the way that blood stained a white altar after a human sacrifice. As if it were a bridle, a harness, a saddle, and/or reins, the ties that bound her mother were now a permanent fixture of the barn's tackle. Unless she fled, it was all a horrible reminder for her to see that it was only a matter of time before she'd be tied there too, beaten, raped, and whipped.

A life not much better than that of a Negro slave or that of an indentured servant agreeing to be sold to the highest bidder to work free for four years in America, in exchange for his or her safe passage there, her German born mother already worked like a dog. From sunup to the darkness of night, not deserving this abuse when already living a hard enough life of chores and with only her daughter giving her a helping hand to help her around the farm, she did nothing but cook, bake, can, clean, sew, darn, and launder for her husband and son. An understatement, her mother deserved much better than being beaten and whipped by her husband and stripped and raped by her son. Unable to just say thank you for all that she did for them, their physical and sexual abuse was their payment for her household services.

Depending on her mother's offense, stripped topless with her abundant breasts exposed to the eyes of her horny son or stripped naked with no modicum of respect or decency given her, somehow it was as twisted as it was important that a father teach his son how to discipline his woman by torturing and humiliating his wife. When so many of his social conventions and daily norms around him were crumbling to the whims of an insane King, the second Industrial Revolution, widespread Socialism, and to the enraged thoughts of women having equal rights, no doubt, Hugo felt that he was losing control and losing his mind. Olga was the only one that he not only could take out his frustrations on but also could control.

When women suddenly wanted to have a mind of their own to do whatever they wanted and say whatever they were thinking, beating, torturing, stripping, raping, and whipping his wife, while watching his son do the same to his mother was their family's dirty secret that they kept hidden in the barn. As if Hugo was striking his fist against the government and against all the changes of progress, instead of against Olga, the abuse was his way to close the door to social changes, abandon new norms, and to keep his wife in line during these modern times of 1860. Only sadly, happening behind closed doors all over the world, from Paris' Moulin Rouge to Boston's Back Bay and Beacon Hill, and not just here in the lowlands outside of Munich in Bavaria, men still controlled women by physically, emotionally, and sexually abused women.

Rich in agriculture, some of the best farmlands in Germany were east of the Black Forest and south of the Danube River in the Rhine Valley and in shadow of the Bavarian Alps. The regard for women here wasn't much higher than their regard for livestock. Actually, depending on the value of the animal, some livestock, such a prized bull or a trained horse, were regarded much higher and worth much more than mere women. No doubt, Hugo wasn't the only husband beating and whipping his wife and Karl wasn't the only son stripping and raping his mother. A time of hardship, when women needed men to not only protect them but also feed, clothe, and support them, young, widowed wives spawned an entire generation of forced, incestuous births.

Not an easy life back then, farming in the hot sun and trying to keep warm in the dead of winter, other than drinking, eating, and having sex, there wasn't much recreation to keep a young, testosterone filled man busy after working twelve, laborious hours a day, six days a week, in the field. Moreover, with the next door neighbor miles away and the city too far to travel in a day, there weren't many women available for a son to fulfill his sexual needs. Other than his mother and his sister to accommodate his every perverted, sexual whim, lustful desire, and incestuous need, they were the only women conveniently available. With his virginal sister off limits, his father would kill him if he dared deflower her. Besides, after promising his mother that he wouldn't touch Rachel, after promising his mother that he'd protect her from his father, and after already having been given his father's blessing to have sex with his mother, his mother was the only available woman left to satisfy him sexually.

The barn, set back at a distance from the house, was Hugo's secret place to take his wife. They were in the barn again late last night and early this morning, her father, Hugo, and her brother, Karl, with her mother, Olga. She could hear the cracking sound of the horsewhip snap against her mother's fair skin to reopen wounds that hadn't yet had the chance to heal. The soft whimpering sounds of her mother crying and begging them to stop, while Hugo whipped her, and her agreeing to do whatever they wanted wasn't enough to end their punishment and stop her pain. They wanted more than just sex from her, they wanted to control her, own her, and punish her for whatever she did to deserve the likes of the two of them in her life.

No matter her offense, this time, whether she broke a plate when washing it after cooking them their dinner, didn't launder their clothes to their satisfaction, or gave them a delayed, smart, or no response to their inane questions, they were hurting her mother again. When looking for an excuse to abuse her, torture her, beat her, strip her, rape her, and whip her, they always found one. Actually, they didn't need a reason to hurt her. They could take her out to the barn whenever they damn well pleased. It didn't matter if she willingly submitted her will and gave herself to them or tried to fight them. No doubt, preferring her to struggle a bit to make it more of a challenging game, obviously they needed forced sex to get themselves off, a husband beating and whipping his wife while aroused watching his son stripping his mother naked and having sex with her.

How could they do that to her? Why would they do that to her? There'd be a reserved spot in Hell for these two when they died. Willing to take her chances alone without them, for the sake of her mother and for the relief or her, Rachel hoped that her father and brother would die sooner than later. For the sake of her mother, if she wouldn't come to America with her, she hoped her mother would die soon too. Only, before they tired of her mother and turned to her, with her mother playing interference for her, Rachel hoped she'd stay alive long enough for her to escape and long enough to be free and happy in America.

Although she couldn't see inside the barn from her bedroom window, she knew what they were doing to her mother. When her mother bathed herself in the kitchen, by the dim light and the reflections of the flames from the fireplace, she saw the scars on her mother's back, legs, and buttocks. When her mother still didn't tell her what happened and why it happened, sobbing in her hands, she hid her face in denial and humiliation. Determined to stop the beatings, Rachel snuck out of the house, silently made her way to the barn, and looked through the cracks in the wood. Only, frozen with fear, unable to help her mother, what she saw was much worse than she had imagined.

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #13



Chapter 13

First Olga and now Rachel pays for Hugo's rage against social changes

With her mother being so emotionally, physically, and sexually abused, what Rachel saw happening in the barn frightened her and sickened her to her stomach. She wanted to scream out to help her mother and run inside the barn to save her. Only, she was helpless to do anything but watch their senseless and shameless evil abuse of her mother. As if her father and brother had captured a Jewish woman, someone who had embraced the revolutionary aspects of Karl Marx's philosophy and personally defied and disrespected their King as well as them and their country, they acted in the way of Communist soldiers, a precursor to Nazi war criminals more than eighty years off in the future. Other than to hope that they didn't kill her mother and take her next, there was nothing that she could do.

Inevitably knowing that she'd be next, unless she married and left his house, she needed to escape this incestuous madman and this perverse farmhouse. With the writing already on the wall, she had already seen signs of how it starts with an inappropriate word here and an inappropriate touch, grope, and grab there. Never given any privacy, treating her as if he owned her, her father was determined to see his virginal daughter naked whenever she bathe and while he masturbated before her. No doubt, needing to see her without her clothes to imagine her naked, he'd whisper her name in Olga's ear, while having sex with his wife. While insisting that she strip naked and bathe in his presence, her father took his usual seat in the kitchen to smoke his pipe and drink his beer while watching his daughter wash herself.

"Papa, get out. I'm taking a bath."

"I know. That's why I'm here," he said. "Go ahead," he said removing his pipe from his mouth to encourage her to undress with a wave of his hand. "Take off your clothes. I want to see. I want to watch."

"No, Papa. Please. Don't. I'm embarrassed. Give me some privacy please."

"Take them off now. Take off your clothes or I'll take them off for you," he said shouting before slapping her across her face in the way he did with her mother.

Obediently but reluctantly, Rachel obeyed her father and slowly stripped off her clothes to the intense, incestuous leer of her father. Taking the lesser of the two evils, not wanting a beating and a whipping in the way that he beat and whipped her mother, she didn't want to be dragged out to the barn to be raped by her brother,

"I'm embarrassed, Papa," she said covering her nakedness with her hand and forearm and turning away from his stare.

"Turn around and face me. Let me see. I want to see my daughter," he said standing to approach her. "Take your arm and hand away. I want to see," he said reaching out his big, calloused hand to pull her arm away before reaching to feel the full weight of her big breast.

"Papa no. Please don't. Stop," she said trying to move away from him but she was standing in the tub of water and there was no place for her to go.

"You're built like your mother. This is how her breasts used to feel when they were firm and proud before they drooped soft from suckling you and your brother and sagged under the weight of them with age," he said.

Closing his eyes and putting his head back as if imagining having sex with Olga so long ago or with his daughter now, he reached his other hand around her to cup her firm, round ass cheek. Then, with her recoiling from his touch, he put a forceful hand between her legs and cupped her bushy, blonde pussy.

"Papa! No!"

"Don't worry. I just want to feel you. I just want to touch my daughter," he said with a look of insanity on his face. "I'm not going to penetrate you with my finger. You're worth more to me as a virgin than as my sexy slut."

He kept his hand there and when he withdrew it, he smelled his hand and his fingers. Not daring to violate her, as if hasn't already, he didn't dare stick a finger inside of her pussy, no doubt, even though he wanted to do that. Instead, he seemed content to slowly slide his palm across her nipples from one to the other. Mortified, humiliated, and embarrassed, especially when her nipples responded to his touch by erecting and hardening, not wanting to see what he was doing to her, she looked down and away. As soon as her nipples erected, he took them between his fingers and pulled them out more, first one and then the other. Pulling them, turning them, and twisting them, he appeared sexually enamored with his daughter's nipples.

"Papa. No. Stop. Please don't touch me like that," she said pulling away from his touch.

"Papa likes feeling his daughter," he said. "Don't you like when Papa touches you Rachel?" Removing his hand from her, he looked at her waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, Papa, but not like that," she said begging him to stop with pleading eyes.

He wrapped an arm around her naked waist and pulling her to him, he leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, first one and then the other, while fingering the one he wasn't sucking.

"I love your big tits Rachel," he said giving you a big toothless smile.

"You must go now so that I may have my bath in privacy. Please leave Papa," she said covering her nakedness again with her forearm and hand while pushing him away with her other hand.

Seemingly satisfied with all that he's done and appearing sexually excited with all that he was about to do, he unbuttoned his trousers, pulled out his cock, and sat back down in his chair. To the obvious humiliation of his daughter, he stroked himself while watching Rachel standing before him naked. 

"Go ahead and wash yourself while I watch and stroke my prick," he said.

"Okay Papa," said Rachel in a quiet, defeated voice.

"You have a beautiful body, Rachel, as beautiful a body as your mother once had. You excited Papa, Rachel," he said. "See?" He held up his cock as if offering it to his daughter. "Look at me. Look at Papa, Rachel," he ordered and raised his voice when she looked away. "Do you see what you did to Papa? You made Papa very hard and big. See?"

Rachel looked at her father's holding and stroking his cock. An 18-year-old, virginal daughter, forced to strip herself naked and made to turn to face her father as he touched her, felt her, and fondled her, while ordered to watch him masturbate over her bathing her nude body before his eyes is an abomination. Getting more than just an eyeful too, she knows her brother hides outside and peeks through the dirty kitchen window while watching her bathe. Just as her father masturbates over her naked body, she knows her brother does too. 

"Papa, Karl is watching me," said Rachel covering her nakedness again with her hand and forearm from the horny leer of her brother.

"Get away from the window, Karl," yelled Hugo. "How dare you peep on your sister."

Karl ducked down but didn't leave and, when his father was busy ogling his daughter, he peeped through the kitchen window again to ogle his sister. Like father like son, Karl masturbated to the forced striptease show of his sister. Violently forced to obey, the first time Rachel resisted her father, he slapped her before stripping her naked, while touching her, feeling her, and caressing her everywhere. Now, so that he doesn't grope her naked body, she willingly, albeit reluctantly undresses.

Never has she been as embarrassed as she felt now. Never has she felt so used and abused as when her father forces her to strip herself naked in front of him. She could only imagine how battered her mother must feel being beaten, horsewhipped, and then forced to sexually service her son. Now, just as her mother taught her to do when her husband forces her to bathe in front of her son and sexually service her son, when Rachel bathes in front of her father, she takes her mind somewhere else.

Her special place used to be deep in the grove of trees on her father's land. Now her special place to go is to America, a land of freedom, where all the streets are paved in gold and where everyone is happy to be alive. America, a rich land of tall buildings, is a land where even the maids have maids. That's where she wants to go and that's where she needs to be. Finally free from her father and brother, maybe she'll marry a wealthy American.

She knew that if she stayed here that it was only a matter of time before they took her to the barn too to beat her, strip her, and have sex with her. Free with their full body hugs on their feigned pretense of being affectionate with her, whenever she passed by them, her father and brother were already groping her and copping cheap feels of her shapely body through her clothes. Knowing they'd try and feel her, she always wore extra clothing to deny them the feel of her body but they'd still dry hump her against the kitchen sink while trying to lift her skirt to get beneath her petticoat. After denying them a feel of her drawers, instead they'd reach their hands up to cup and caress her ample breasts and finger her nipples through her dress, bodice, and chemise. With two men inappropriately touching her, always trying to preserve her modesty and dignity, she knew that, eventually, it was a losing battle and they'd have their wicked way with her one day.

Then, never having felt a cock before, when they pulled her hand to them and forced her to feel their stiff bulges through their pants, sickened to her stomach, she wanted to die. Moreover, she wanted them to die. She felt so violated that she wanted to bash them over their heads with the iron skillet that she always carried as her personal weapon when using it to make them their damn waffles and sausages. Only she knew, whatever she did to them, they'd do worse to her mother. If she stayed there much longer, it wouldn't be long before she'd be trading places with her mother, taking their beatings, enduring their whippings, and sucking their cocks. Only if she fled, a dire circumstance she had to face, her mother would pay the ultimate price for her leaving.

No longer screaming for them to stop, obviously for fear of awakening her daughter, Olga endured the whippings and suffered in comatose silence. Lost in a safer place, as if there was an internal switch that turned off her feelings, their beatings and sexual depravity had also turned off her will to live. As if her eyes were that of a doll, instead of a human, her blue eyes once full of life, were now dim, fixed, and stared off in the distance. No doubt a way for her to save her sanity, her mind was somewhere else.

Perhaps she thought of better times. Perhaps she thought of when Rachel was just a baby and Karl was a toddler. Rachel loved holding her mother's hand and Karl loved hanging on to his mother's skirt while adoringly looking up at her. Now with her son's cock in his mother's mouth, he perversely looks down at her. A twisted incestuous reality was when Olga confessed to her daughter that she enjoyed making love to her son. Would that happen to her one day? Would she enjoy making love to her brother? She couldn't bear the reality of her brother impregnating her with their child.

With her long, blonde, lush hair and her tall, shapely body, her mother was so beautiful, before the abuse, as beautiful as Rachel is now with her long, blonde, lush hair and tall, shapely body. Her father never happy, even back then, his eyes small and beady with his brow furrowed, as if a caged animal, he was always a dark, angry shadow lurking in the background and always ready to erupt his rage. His face mirrored the plight of his angry country and bitter countrymen. No doubt, just as his father did to him when he was a boy, her father did all that he could do to ruin his happy family.

Now, Olga barely 35-years-old, the beatings, the whippings, and the incestuous sexual abuse have made her mother an old and broken woman. Done screaming and done fighting, relenting her body and relinquishing her will, with her mind elsewhere, she's given herself over to them. She willingly and protectively traded her body and her spirit for assured the safety of her daughter. Unlike his dimwitted son, her father was no dullard. He knew he'd receive more for Rachel as a virgin than as a scorned woman.

The only time Olga showed any signs of life was when she whispered her joy for her daughter to travel to America and flee this horrible house. Accused of stealing their money anyway, better for her to steal it than for them to drink it and pee it away, Olga dug deep in their pant pockets and took it whenever they were drunk and sleeping. Nearly every day, her mother gave her a gold coin that she somehow stole from her husband's pant pocket or from her son to sew in the lining of her clothes for the occasion of her trip. Rachel sewed the coins in an old petticoat and hid it in the back of her closet. After sewing and hiding coins for more than a year, her undergarment was heavy with the hope and salvation for a new life for her in America.

It was bad enough when her father beat her mother, now to recently enlist her son in the abuse, especially the sexual abuse, was too much for mother to bear and too much for Rachel to dread. The only thing that saved them from going after her, from stripping her naked, from beating her, from raping her, and from whipping her was because she was a virgin. As a chaste woman she was worth so much more than a woman who wasn't a virgin. Only going so far by having her strip naked and feeling her, her father would kill his son, if he ever touched his daughter in that same sacred and forbidden way. A son deflowering his innocent sister was frowned upon, even by these two Satanic demons.

Saving the purity of his daughter for his future financial security and as his way to heighten his place in the community, Hugo knew he'd get plenty of land and farm animals in return for marrying his virginal daughter to some well to do family and to a man who appreciated his daughter's beauty. Just as Olga had given him, his daughter would, no doubt, give her future husband a big, strong son. As if buying a farm animal, he'd only have to take one look at Karl to know the stock of their family.

With his eye already on John Astor, a direct descendent of the very rich and powerful Astor family. Some of family had already gone ahead to America and to England on first class passage to explore their business options there, while increasing their vast fortunes here and abroad. Then, there was that charming and handsome, Christian Straub, who his daughter fancied. His family owned a huge farm the next town over. Embracing the Women's Rights Movement, Hugo hated Straub's father because he was too lenient with his women, allowing them to run and ruin his life, while he was out selling his crops at market and making money. He knew that if she married him, she'd give her mother modern ideas, ideas that would, no doubt, mean her doom and the end of her.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #14



Chapter 14

Women take back control from men by sucking their cocks.

Olga rebuffed her husband's touch, when he reached out to grab her and to grope her in front of her son.

"Be careful, Olga, or I'll take you out to the barn to teach you another lesson," said Hugo to his wife.

"Go ahead. You don't scare me," said Olga to her husband, while making eyes at her son behind her husband's back.

Obviously, Olga wanted her husband to take her out to the barn so that she could have sex with her son. Obviously, once what was a threat and a punishment was now a delight and a pleasure.

With her father and brother drinking again, Rachel decided to stay out of their sight and reach. Always grabbing her, groping her, and feeling her, they're too unpredictable when they're drunk. So long as she stayed out of their way and remained their hidden and temporary forgotten victim, she knew they'd take her mother to the barn again.

"I'm going to bed," said Rachel leaving her mother to defend for herself and giving her father and brother the privacy they needed to do their nasty business in the barn.

With her dresser pushed against her bedroom door, Rachel locked herself in her room, until she heard them leave the house to go out to the barn with her mother. Reeling from her mother's confession, she was still shocked that her mother admitted that she enjoyed having sex with her son. She recalled the conversation she had with her mother.

"The only pleasure I have is when having sex with Karl. While his father sleeps against the support beam in the barn, Karl takes his time to make gentle love to me, something that your father has never done in the more than 20 years I've been with him. In return for how he makes me feel so desired, I'm happy to give my son pleasure," she said looking at her daughter with guilt.

"That's just so nasty that you have sex with your son Mother," she said with a face full of disgust.

"He doesn't know that I enjoy giving him pleasure, as much as he enjoys forcing me to give him sex," she said with a sly look as if she was proud of the fact that she had the upper hand over her son. "So long as he makes it appear that I'm being forced to do the things that a mother should never do with her son, I'm obliged and happy to do them."

Even though she saw her mother through different eyes and with a new insight, she wondered what woman would enjoy being forced to have sex, especially with her son? In a world where women lived a life of drudgery, forced slavery, indentured servitude, and had no control over anything or anyone, perhaps a freer woman was a woman who felt in control over a man. Perhaps a woman who gave her man what he wanted was a woman who got what she wanted too. Then, she wondered, what mother would enjoy having sex with her son? Even if only by having sex with her son and even if only with sex for an hour at a time, her mother was a happier woman after she's given Karl what he wants and he's given her what she needs.

As if they were two guards walking their prisoner to jail, Hugo and Karl with Olga in the middle, she watched the three of them walk towards the barn carrying the lantern. As if they were monsters walking in the night, with their shadows looking as frighteningly big as what was about to happen, Rachel watched them disappear in the barn in stunned silence. She listened for her mother's screams from the beatings and the whipping that her father gave her for the offenses and transgressions he felt she did, even when she didn't.

"No! Hugo! Please! Stop! Don't! No!"

Now knowing their routine, even after hearing her screams, she waited until she heard the crack of the whip, before sneaking out of the house to walk to the barn to see. A big risk going to the barn in the dark and without a light to show her way, there could be any kind of animal out and about at this hour. If they knew she was there looking, no doubt, they'd drag her inside, strip her naked, beat her, and force her to have sex with them too.

Bored with her life and with nothing else to do to occupy her time but chores, Rachel walked to the far side of the barn to peek through the split, petrified wood. Surrounded by knee high weeds, insects tickled her bare legs. She just hoped there weren't any snakes stealthily crawling through the grass. From where she stood peeking in the barn, with their backs turned to her, she could see what they were doing to her poor mother but they couldn't see her poised there in the darkness while peeking through the split wood.

Had she not seen this before, had she not known what they did to her poor mother, she would have been horrified. The first time seeing them beat her, strip her, and rape her, she wanted to scream her indignation at her father and brother for brutalizing her mother in hopes of stopping the abuse and rescuing her mother. Only, she knew if she interrupted their good time, too drunk to know any better, they'd take her instead. Now, helpless to do anything, never wanting to forget, she just watched to make sure that she'd always remember.

Glad that she had already missed the beating and the whipping, not wanting to see her father beat her mother, they had already stripped her mother to her waist. Rachel felt sexually aroused in seeing her mother's breasts exposed to her brother. As soon as the wounds reopened on her back from her father horse whipping her and as soon as she started bleeding again, her brother stopped the whipping and untied his mother, allowing her to collapse to the ground. With his back turned to his father, unable for her father to see, her brother squatted down consoling her and kissing his mother on the lips while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect nipples. The normal bond of a mother's love for her son had somehow morphed to include their incestuous, sexual love.

"It's okay, Mom," she heard him say. "I have you now. Don't worry. You're safe in my arms," he said.

Feeling as much shame as she felt guilt in her sudden fascination with watching her father and brother with her mother, normally she bristled at the thought of her brother stripping, groping, and sexually using and abusing her mother. This time, however, she felt different. This time she was fascinated by the sexual assault.

Sexually aroused by what was happening, she was as twisted in her voyeuristic delight in her mother's exhibitionistic display, as she was shocked and ashamed by her excited, incestuous interest. As much as she was horrified by her mother's plight, she was envious. She was aroused by the thought of being taken and stripped naked, not by her father and brother, but by someone else, a handsome, mysterious stranger. This time, instead of looking about the incestuous sexual scene with horror, she quivered with sexual excitement by the thought of having her breasts so completely exposed, even if only to her father and brother, especially to her father and brother.

Always embarrassed before when forced to bathe naked in front of her father as he masturbated while he leered at her naked body, she couldn't wait to give him a good show now. Knowing that her brother was peeking in the kitchen window while outside masturbating too, she couldn't wait for her next bath to tease him too. Only something that she could get away with her brother, she had to take care not to anger her father by flaunting her naked body too salaciously to her father. Still learning how to control men by watching her mother, she didn't want to let her father know that she as playing him while controlling him.

It was one thing for her to be victimized as the dutiful daughter forced to strip naked and bathe in front of her father. Yet, it was quite another thing for her to hold up his distorted mirror of incestuous, sexual enjoyment of his daughter's nudity to his face by her taking pleasure in her exhibitionism in the way he took pleasure with his voyeurism. Obviously after having lied to himself for so long, when shown who he really is, in the way of the Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera being so exposed for who and what he is, the monster always recoils before lashing out to the one who exposed him.

Too drunk to do anything other than to watch, she watched her father allowing his son to have his wicked way with his wife. She wondered how a father could watch his son have sex with his mother. With his eyes half closed, he was sitting in a drunken heap against a support post, while his son knelt beside his mother whispering his forbidden thoughts in her ear, fondling her tits, leaning down to suck her nipples, and kissing her. 

"I love your big breasts, Mother. I love sucking your hard nipples."

"Suck them, Karl. Suck my nipples," she said whispering in his ear, while running her fingers through his hair.

Despite the shame that she felt by her heated sexual arousal in watching the physical assault of her mother, Rachel fingered her nipples while watching her brother playing with her mother's breasts. Even though she was horrified by the incestuous, sexual scene, she wished she was the one being so sexually abused. She wished someone had stripped her topless. She wish someone was feeling her breasts and sucking her nipples. She wished someone was forcing her to touch them before sucking them.

If this was a Shakespearean play at the Globe Theatre in London, England in the 17th century, instead of a small rural farm in southern Germany, in Munich, by the Bavarian Alps in the 19th century, as written in the play, Karl would have killed his father to marry his mother. Instead of the shame she felt for wanting to be ravished too, in the way her brother was ravishing his mother, she'd have applause. Instead of the guilt she felt for enjoying such a incestuous sexual show, there'd be a standing ovation, by the spectacle of a son so disrespecting and dishonoring his mother before doing the same to his sister. Only what she was watching in the barn was reality and not a play.

A son having incestuous sex with his mother and/or sister was all too common an occurrence and one that went along with a lonely life on the farm. Even though it was such a common occurrence, being that incest was a deep rooted taboo, with no one speaking of it, those who were in an incestuous affair thought they were the only perverted ones having incestuous sex. If only they knew that their neighbors were just as consumed by incest and incestuous sex as they were. If only they knew that fathers were fucking their daughters and brothers were having sex with their mothers and sisters everywhere. Perhaps had they known, their guilt and shame would have been lessened by understanding the phenomenon of mass incestuous.

Armed with the knowledge that incest was happening not only in Germany but all over the world and that it was wrong, perhaps they would have thought twice before a father forced his daughter and a son forced his mother and/or sisters. Only, these weren't modern times with mass communication. Back then, it was a big world and not a small one. No one knew what the other man was doing the next farm over never mind in the next city or country. On the other hand, if they knew that incest and incestuous sex was such a common occurrence, with less guilt and shame preoccupying their thoughts, perhaps in the way of the plague, incest would have been much worse when making aunts, cousins, and grandmothers fair game too.

Unable to control her sexual urges, impulses, and excitement as she had done so often in the past, Rachel unbuttoned her nightgown to reach her hand inside to fondle her breasts and finger her nipples while watching her brother manhandle her mother. Feeling so very horny by the violent incestuous sight of watching her mother do unspeakable things to her son, she unbuttoned more buttons of her nightgown to lift her breasts out of her nightgown and high enough for her to suck her nipples. Taking turns, she fingered one nipple and sucked the other, while watching her brother finger and suck her mother's nipples. In a momentary moment of heightened sexual excitement, so long as they didn't beat her, whip her, and hurt her, she almost wished they'd see her peeking through the cracks of the barn. She almost wished they'd catch her touching herself and abuse her in the way they were now incestuously abusing her mother.

Other than her brother and father, she wondered how sexually excited she'd be having a man see her breasts and/or see her naked. She wondered what it felt like to have a man feel her breasts and finger her nipples, before sucking them. In the way that she wanted to touch a man, she wondered what it felt like for a man to touch her. After witnessing the perverse sight of a husband abusing his wife and a son having his wicked, sexual way with his mother, knowing that what she was suddenly feeling was so wickedly wrong, she wished she had a man in her life to want her, touch her, and take her too. She yearned to feel a man's naked body next to her and laying upon her while humping her, feeling her, and whispering his love for her in her ear. She yearned to explore a man's naked body in the way she wished a man would explore her naked body.

"I love you, Rachel. I want you. I have to have you," she imagined a man whispering his love to her, while making passionate love to her.

Only, what she was watching now had nothing to do with love. What she was watching now had nothing to do with sex. What she was watching now had only to do with control, domination, and violence. Not caring if the woman was their wife, their sister, or their mother, with no regard for the woman, what she was watching now was the violent confrontation of men controlling a woman by forcing her to do dirty and nasty sexual things against her will for the sake of their personal pleasure. Deadening her spirit and her will to fight back by forcing her to do the sexual things they knew would violate her physically, emotionally, and spiritually, it was their way to show their women that they owned them in the way they owned their livestock.

'How dare they!'

As if she had fallen and he was helping her up, she watched her brother gently lift his mother to her knees. Then, with her still topless and her exposed breasts still on display to his horny eyes, he held her and propped her up against the horse stall. It would be different if this was just a random man with a random woman, but this was her brother having sex with their mother. Even though she knew it was wrong, she couldn't look away.

For some twisted reason, she may have not been as sexually excited seeing a man having sex with a woman as she was now sexually aroused watching her brother take control of her mother. With her mother pleasuring her son as much as he was pleasuring his mother, the sight of them together gave Rachel a sexual hunger that burned deep inside of her. She wished she had a man to give her sex. Now that she knew her mother enjoyed having sex with her son, she wondered if her mother was controlling her son. 

The action of them moving about so early in the morning frightened the hidden residents of the barn and she watched a pair of rats scurry away hugging the wall, while several more snuck out of a haystack in the opposite direction. Even the dogs, a wildly ferocious, natural born killer pack of Jack Russell and Rat terriers, were smart enough to still be sleeping, otherwise, they'd have earned their keep in ridding the barn of the rats. Nonetheless, as if they were offended by it too, Rachel didn't miss the symbolism in seeing rodents, the scavengers of the Earth, abandon a place where incestuous sex was happening. She wondered if that violent perversion of incestuous control was solely found in humans. 

Without feeling the guilt, the shame, the embarrassment, and the stigma associated with incest, she wondered if rats knew enough not to fuck their mothers and copulate with their sisters. Nonetheless, with these humans that were contained within the barn with the rats, she figured that even rats, especially rats, had incestuous sex. Maybe, whether animal, mammal, reptile, bird, fish, or human, we'd all have sex with whomever no matter our incestuous relationship and family ties. Maybe we're all just animals and are as salaciously lonely as we are incestuously horny. Maybe, especially during a time of insanity and revolution, we're all just looking for comfort, sexual or otherwise, with whoever, wherever, and whenever we find it. 

"I have a big surprise for you, Mommy," said her brother with a sick look on his face. "I'm going to give you something hard and hard to suck," he said laughing while reaching in his pants to pull out his cock.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #15



Chapter 15

Karl has sex with his mother in the barn while his sister, Rachel, watches.

She watched her brother unbuttoned himself and pull out his cock to stroke himself to a larger erection before presenting his erect cock to their mother. A time, when she only looked at him with love, now looking down at the floor with her mind obviously elsewhere, her mother didn't even look up to acknowledge the sick sexual behavior of her son exposing his cock to her. In the way she looked at him or, actually, didn't look at him, Rachel wondered how her mother could possibly enjoy having sex with her son after being so badly treated by her husband and her son. Abusing her for their incestuous passions, they were only using her for sex. Only, she had a look on her face that confessed to her daughter that she didn't care.

After she confessed that she enjoyed having sex with Karl, she wondered if her mother was pretending to be so horrified by seeing her son's cock and by the action of her son forcing her to suck him now. Maybe her mother maintained a brave face for the sake of her daughter by lying to her that she enjoyed having sex with Karl so that she wouldn't feel so bad for her mother. Maybe her mother hated having sex with her son. She didn't know. By her mother's mixed signals, she couldn't tell.

"Karl," said her mother to her son in a calming voice, while appearing to play her part as the reluctant victim and the abused mother for the sake of her husband who watched their twisted interaction while masturbating himself. "I'm your mother. Forcing me to suck you is so very wrong."

"Something that feels so very good, Mother, can't be so very wrong. While I play with your big tits and finger your hard nipples, I need to cum in your mouth and I need for you to swallow," he said reaching out to feel her big tits and to finger her hard nipples.

With her brother always exposing himself to her, always looking away in shame, embarrassment, and disgust, Rachel had seen his cock many times before, mostly when it was flaccid, but not when it was hard as it was now. Seeing his big prick now was different. With his prick sticking straight out and looking so very big and so very hard, instead of looking at his cock with shame, embarrassment, and disgust, she looked at his prick with hunger, lust, and interest.

Seeing her brother's look of incestuous lust that he had on his face for the sexual love he felt for his mother was something she had never seen before, except in the way that her father looks at her and lusts over her. When a new feeling of incestuous lust emerged in her, something she never felt before, she wondered if she was turning into them, an incestuous pervert. Definitely, especially in the horny state she was in now, she'd suck her brother's cock if he forced her to suck hm. She would.

This time the sight of his engorged prick aroused something inside of her that lay dormant until now. Perhaps, if was a simple feeling of jealousy that her brother wanted her mother over her. With no man in her life to make her feel special in the way that her brother was making his mother feel special now by sexually wanting her, she wished a man would pay her some attention too, sexual or otherwise. She wished her father had a hired farmhand who could give her a hand, a mouth, and a cock with the horniness she was feeling now.

Yet, when she thought more about it, relieved for the lack of incestuous lust, the sight of Karl's prick didn't excite her because the prick was her brother's engorged prick. The sight of Karl's big prick excited her because it was an engorged man's prick. She's never seen an erection so big and so hard. Preferring it not to be her brother's prick that sexually excited her, nonetheless the sight of her brother's prick aroused a curiosity and a sexual need to experience a man sexually. Feeling a familiar warm gush and a tingling feeling between her legs, she wondered what it felt like to have intercourse with a man instead of masturbating herself with her finger or with a carrot. Truly, now running on sexual overload, with it not even being her brother's prick, it could have been any man's prick that finally flipped her sexual switch.

Tired of being a virgin and tired of her father saving herself to give her to the perfect, wealthy man in exchange for land and livestock, in the way it was done with other women her age and in the way it was done with her mother and her grandmother before her, she was tired of waiting to begin her life as a married woman. Women her age already had a husband and babies suckling their tits and a brood of small children tugging at their skirt and demanding their attention. As if a moth emerging as a beautiful butterfly after experiencing her metamorphosis, finally emerging as a beautiful woman, she wanted a man of her very own.

She needed a man who wasn't as depraved as were her father and brother. She wanted a good man who loved her. She wanted a husband and to start a family with a baby. She wanted to have sex.

"Here it comes, Mommy. Here's your big surprise," said Karl with perversity.

In the way that he put his fingers inside his pants to wrap his hand around himself, as if taking hold of a wild eel or a big snake, when he pulled himself out of his pants, his cock was so big and so hard. Rachel was curious what Karl's big cock would feel like in her hand, in her mouth, and in her pussy. It was one thing to tease her brother and to control her brother with the promise and the hope of having sex with her, but she'd never have sex with her brother, that is, unless he forced her in the way her father coerced his son to have sex with his mother now. If only her father knew that his wife and his son were complicit in their incestuous, sexual desire for one another, he wouldn't be happy. Yet, nonetheless the incestuous sex, as if her brother's prick was nothing more than a dildo or a vibrator, generally speaking as big pricks go, she was curious about her brother's cock.

What did his cock feel like to hold it in her hand while stroking him? What did his cock smell like to hold it up to her nose? What did it taste like to put his big prick in her mouth. What would it be like to feel that huge monster deep inside of her pussy.

If ever she found her brother drunk and unconscious, she'd be tempted to take out his cock and to feel him in her hand while stroking him. In the way she felt now, so delirious with horny, albeit incestuous sexy desire, maybe, if she was feeling wicked enough, she may even suck him. While knowing that he'd never know that she had sexually used and abused him for her personal, sexual education, in the way that he was using and abusing his mother now, she imagined that she'd touch him, feel him, hold him, stroke him, and suck him if only she could without him knowing that she had. As if his big prick was her personal, family sex toy, her way to control and dominate him, she wouldn't mind having the unconscious use of his cock for an hour.

She wondered what was more sexually arousing. Was it more sexually arousing to see his erect prick or was it more sexually arousing to see the obvious sexual excitement that her brother had for her mother and that his mother secretly had for him. The lust that he had for his mother was the lust that Rachel now felt, not as much for him but for a man, any man. The lust that Karl had for his mother, Rachel wished a man, any man, would have for her.

Now guilt ridden that she felt pleasure in watching her mother being so sexually abused, she wondered how much she was like her father and brother, not so much for incest, but in her appetite for sex. Now knowing that her mother enjoyed having sex with her son, she wondered how much she was like her mother. Seeing her brother's erect cock attached to his lust is what excited her that he'd want her at all costs. She wondered what it would be like to have a man so sexually attracted to her and so sexually excited over her as her brother was excited over his mother now. Just as she wondered what it felt like for a man to make love to her before fucking her, she wondered what it was like to have a man sexually abuse her and force her to have sex with him.

With a pull of her long, chestnut hair, when his mother opened her mouth to scream, Karl filled her mouth with all of him. Something that would have offended Rachel before, something that she wouldn't have bared to watch then, was something that she couldn't remove her eyes from watching now. A mother sucking her son, she watched her mother take her son in her mouth, close her lips, and wrap her hand around his big prick, while stroking him.

When Rachel watched her mother close her eyes to the image of blowing her own son, she imagined that, perhaps, her mother pretended that Karl was someone else other than her son. Maybe she imagined herself blowing her husband. Nonetheless who she imagined, she wondered what she was thinking while sucking and pleasuring her son. Was she thinking that she enjoyed having Karl's cock in her mouth or was she thinking that blowing her son was something she had to endure? Now that she knew the truth, now that her mother confessed how she really felt about giving incestuous, sexual pleasure to her son orally, she wondered if her mother was offended or excited while sucking her son. In the way that she was offended with the thoughts of them having incestuous sex before, wishing Karl was forcing her to blow him instead of forcing his mother to suck him, she was excited watching them having incestuous sex now.

Intently, as if expecting her mother to teach her what to do on her wedding night by demonstrating on her brother, she watched her mother suck her son, while Rachel wondered what it felt like to have a cock in her mouth. Then, with sorrowful shame replacing her sexual excitement, she realized how awful for a mother to be forced to suck her son and how sick it was for a sister to watch her brother forcing his mother to suck him. A man's world, where women were of no consequence, had no rights, and weren't even valued for their opinions, she wondered if she had a son, if he'd force her to blow him too. Suddenly feeling guilty of thinking such things, even the shameful thoughts of sucking her imagined son excited her.

Catching herself before falling victim and before becoming too enthralled over the disturbing sight of watching her mother suck her son, she wondered what was wrong with her? Was she just as depraved as the rest of her family? Was she thinking about blowing her brother too? Being that it was modern times of 1860 in Munich, Germany, maybe if it were a different time and a different place, she wouldn't feel this way, so perversely guilty for having such incestuous thoughts about her brother and father. Maybe there was something in the water. Maybe she was just born this way to have incestuous thoughts, albeit spurred by the sight of her mother sucking her son.

Sickened by her father stripping her naked to watch her bathe while masturbating himself, automatically, she always recoiled from the sexual touches of her father and the suggestive groping of her brother. The thoughts of all the incestuous sex around her always physically sickened her before but sexually excited her now. She reached down to feel her breasts and finger her nipples, while wishing it was a man's hand feeling her and not her own. As if the horse stall was a sexual, musical instrument, she watched her brother bounce the back of her mother's head against the wooden rails of the horse stall that sprung back and recoiled forward against his humps in a perverse sense of sexual rhythm with a rebounding wooden noise. His preferred place for his mother to suck him, humping her mouth while fucking her face, she watched while waiting for him to explode his lust for his mother in her mouth.

No doubt, thinking that it was because she feared that he'd beat her and really hurt her, if she spit him from her mouth and didn't swallow, her mother always swallowed her son. After her mother confessed that she enjoyed having sex with her son, Rachel wondered if she enjoyed swallowing him too. Maybe swallowing him was just learned behavior in the way of training a dog. As she had learned to do and had done so many times before in swallowing her pride, Olga swallowed her son too. Rachel wondered what it felt like to suck a man before swallowing a man.

Even though she was disgusted by the thoughts of sucking her brother and/or her father and swallowing them, Rachel wondered what it felt like for a man to fill her mouth with his cock before filling her mouth with his seed. She wondered what it smelled like and what it tasted like to swallow him. Something that she, as a woman in a man's world, could control at last, just the thoughts of a man being sexually excited enough to cum in her mouth made her dizzy with sexual lust. She wondered who'd want her enough to do that, to hump her opened mouth, fuck her face, and cum in her mouth?

This time, not looking away with disgust, as she always did in the past, she stared at the incestuous, sexual interaction between her mother and brother with sexual interest. Imagining what it was like to suck him, she wanted to see her brother's big prick in action. Now that it was all nearly over, she watched her mother stroking him faster with one hand, while cupping his testicles with her other. No doubt, pretending that she wanted to get the horrible experience over with, Rachel had intently watched her mother suck her son's cock with relish. Indeed she did. Olga sucked Karl with lustful enthusiasm, while making all of those wonderful cock sucking sounds that Rachel imagined, based on the look upon her brother's face, that all men obviously love to hear to show them that the woman enjoys sucking them as much as they enjoy being sucked.

Then, with a big hand pressed firmly to the back of his mother's dark, haired head, as if submitting himself for decapitation, Karl leaned his head back and ejaculated his contempt for all women in his mother's mouth. A learning experience for Rachel, her personal epiphany, watching her brother cum in his mother's mouth was as telling as it was sickening to watch her brother so physically abuse and incestuously sexually assault their mother. If he'd do that to his own mother, what would he do to other women, women that he supposedly didn't love. Yet taught so expertly by his father, now like son like father, men like them could never love a woman. Men like them could never give a woman what she needs.

Learning from her mother, taking lessons by not copying how a mother sucks a son but how a woman should suck a man, by delaying his ejaculation, she slowed the action of her hand to lengthen the sexual experience and increase his pleasure. She watched her mother stroked her son with her hand slower and teased him with her tongue longer, while looking up at him sexily with her big, green eyes as he fondled her breasts and fingered her nipples. She imagined driving a man crazy, crazy enough to want her even more, and crazy enough to give her everything she wanted, and to do anything for her, even if the lust he had for her meant killing someone. Being that men enjoyed talking dirty, she'd tease him as much with her words as she would with her mouth, her hand, and her tongue.

With it being that time of the month, she was getting her period soon and she was so horny. Tired of humping her mattress, not relishing the idea of returning back to her room alone, but feeling so sexually frustrated after watching her mother pleasuring her son, she lifted her nightgown and touched herself where no man has ever touched her and while watching her brother force his mother to suck him. If only her mother knew the control she exerted over her son, maybe she did, she could have enlisted his help to improve their plight against her father. If only her mother knew the control she exerted over her son, maybe she did, she could have used the control she had over him to her advantage.

Then, when her brother pulled his cock from his mother's mouth, no doubt, a purposeful act of disrespect, she watched her brother shoot a second load of cum all over his mother's face, hair, and breasts. Disgusted as much by her brother giving her mother a cum bath, she was excited by the site of her mother dripping with her son's cum. Holding up her hand and squinting to save herself from her son cumming in her eyes, Olga recoiled in embarrassed shame. 

"Karl, no, that's so wrong. That's so nasty," said Olga with sadness. "Why did you do that to me? Why must you give me so much shame, after I've given you so much pleasure?"

He looked at her and laughed.

Even after having submitting her will to him, this is how a son thanks his mother for crossing the incestuous line by sucking him. This is how a son has been taught to treat woman by his father. The typical men of their times, she could only imagine the man he'd be, once he left the farm. Like father like son, no doubt, he'd be another abuser of women, whether the wives and daughters of other men or his own.

Many of the women she knew were already married with children and already complaining what a chore it was to have sex with their husbands, men who only cared about satisfying themselves, for a split second. If only as an experiment to see if she was correct in her assessment that she could so control a man with her words, her mouth, her tongue, and her hand, she wished it was her sucking her brother and fucking her father. Maybe her father and brother would treat her better, more special, if she was sucking them. Maybe her life living on this horrible farm would be more livable, if she was giving her father and brother regular blowjobs and all that they wanted by allowing them to sexually use her body and incestuously abuse her.

To be continued...



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #16



With her brother peeping, Rachel takes her bath while forced to suck her father.

Now that her brother was done with her mother, Rachel needed to race them back to the house before they discovered her spying on them. With her father drunk, her brother would be a while helping him to his feet and their mother out of the barn and back to the house. As if she was a rat fleeing the barn with the dogs hot on her tail, not even taking the time to button her nightgown, with her breasts fully exposed and bouncing up and down and flopping from side to side with each running step, she scurried to the house and up to her room. She pushed her heavy bureau to block her bedroom door should her father and/or brother get any incestuous ideas about wanting to do her too or wanting her to sexually satisfy them with a hand job and/or a blowjob.

Safe in her room she thought of all that she had seen with her brother forcing their mother to sexually pleasure her son. As exhausted as she still was sexually aroused from watching such an incestuous display of forbidden sex, she fell upon her bed and masturbated herself with the thoughts of her mother sucking her brother's cock. Then, instead of thinking about her mother sucking her son's cock, she imagined herself sucking her brother's big prick.

Karl's cock was so big when erect. She's seen his cock lots of times before but never like that when it was so stiffly sticking out straight. She fondled her breasts and fingered her nipples with the thoughts of a man touching her and feeling her. In the way that her brother had just done to her mother, she imagined a man forcing her to suck him, before forcing her to fuck him. 

Knowing she'd need the carrot for other things later, she grabbed the carrot that she pocketed and didn't eat from dinner and took it in her mouth. Feeling the hard roundness of it, she pretended the carrot was the cock of Christian Straub, a man she fancied the next town over. Wishing he was here right now, she'd suck his cock, she would, if only she could. More than just sucking his cock, in the horny state she was in now, she'd fuck him if only she could. Obviously after all that she's seen and after all that she's imagined in her sexual fantasies while masturbating, she needed a sexual release. She needed a man. She needed to experience a cock. Tough being a virgin when she has such sexual needs, she needs her father to find her a husband.

Only, with Rachel never allowed to leave the farm to attend a dance, Christian Straub, the man she fancied the most, was already promised to someone else, Hilda Brandt, an old classmate of hers. When she was done sucking the carrot, she bit off the pointy top and moved it to her pussy. Rubbing the carrot along her clit and along the length of her pussy lips as if it was a cock, Christian's cock, she pushed the bitten tip of it inside her, while taking care not to violate her virginal status. Then, she twirled it around and inserted the thicker butt end of the carrot in her pussy. She only wished there was someone there watching her masturbate herself in the way that she watched her mother masturbate and suck her brother. Positioned in her typical bedtime posture with one hand tucked between her legs and the other hand caressing her breast, she closed her eyes while holding her carrot and fantasizing of holding a penis.

Besides herself with incestuous lust and horniness, wondering if she was just as perversely depraved as was her father, mother, and brother, tomorrow night she'll give her father and brother a real show while bathing. Tomorrow night, maybe if she sexually teased her father enough, he'd feel her tits, feel her ass, finger her pussy, or pull her hand to his cock, while he masturbated himself. Maybe if she could make him sexually excited enough, not a very hard thing to do with her looks and body, he'll grab her hand, wrap her fingers around his stiff prick, and force her to masturbate him. Tomorrow night, so long as they forced her to do such an incestuously deplorable thing, she'd suck her father and/or her brother. Maybe tomorrow tonight, she'll discover what it's like for a man to cum in her mouth too.

Careful not to break her hymen, she rubbed her clit while fucking herself with her carrot. Feeling her big tits while fingering her nipples, she imagined her father and/or brother having their wicked way with her naked body and especially with her big tits. She'd let them suck her nipples, so long as it appeared they were forcing her. She couldn't wait to strip naked in front of them. She couldn't wait to give them a sexy show. She couldn't wait to see what they'd do when she acted just as sexually depraved as they do.

The next night, knowing her father would appear to take his seat while her mother stayed in her bedroom, Rachel filled up the tub with hot water. Knowing her brother was already outside peeking through the kitchen window to watch her undress, she couldn't wait to give him a sexy sisterly show of her naked body. Only, she needed to wait for her father to take his usual seat. Just as she poured the last of the water in the tub and ready to undress, her father walked in the kitchen ready to watch his daughter strip out of her clothes. As if she was an actress on stage, she gave her performance of non-consensual reluctance as soon as her imagined curtain was pulled back from her pretend stage was set with the appearance of her perverted father.

"Get out! Get out," she said pushing her father back out of the kitchen.

"Shut up and take your bath. I want to watch. I want to see," he said. 

"No, I demand some privacy," she said.

"You demand? You demand? Who are you to demand when you are just a woman. You demand nothing," he said. "You do whatever I say and whenever I say it."

"No Papa, please leave," she said pretending that she was about to cry.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered in his big booming voice that was heavy with a Germanic accent. "Take them off right now."

"No," she said defying him. 

With her struggling to push him away from her and out of the kitchen, overpowering her, he pushed her back in the kitchen and against the sink. When she continued resisting him and fought him, he slapped her hard across the face, before grabbing her and ripping open her nightgown. As soon as her torn nightgown exposed her breasts and the rest of her naked body to him, her father's horny, incestuous hands touched and felt her everywhere.

With her buttons bouncing all over the hardwood, kitchen floor, as soon as her naked breasts were exposed to his incestuous eyes, she was already wet with sexual excitement. She wasn't sexually aroused not so much for him but because of how he physically assaulted her, sexually abused her, and in the way that he stared at her nakedness. His look gave her a feeling of empowerment. Just by flashing him her naked body, for the first time in her life, she felt a modicum of control over her.

Touching, feeling and caressing her naked breasts, he was all over her erect nipples. Pulling them, turning them, and twisting them when he leaned down to take her nipples in his mouth, first one and then the other, she wanted to put her hand to the back of his head for him to stay there while sucking her tits. Instead of going along with his incestuous lust for her, continuing to play her acting role, she recoiled.

"Papa! No! Don't! You mustn't do that to me. I'm your daughter. Stop! How dare you!"

With her slapping at him, just as she hoped he'd would, he grabbed a breast in each hand. While touching, feeling, and caressing her big breasts, he fingered her nipples and stared down at her big breasts. In the way that he touched her sexually excited her. In the way that he looked at her, sexually aroused her. 

Then, leaning down to grab her nightgown hem, as if she was a burlap sack that he was filling with feed, he pulled her nightgown over her head. She struggled against him to keep her nightgown and save her modesty but he was too strong for her. Not stopping in his attack until he stripped her naked, he stripped her naked and after he did, he touched her where no father should ever touch his daughter. As if a man possessed with eight hands, instead of two, he felt her tits, fingered her nipples, squeezed her ass, and cupped her bushy, blonde pussy. Obviously remembering that she was still a valuable virgin, he stopped short of inserting his fat, stubby finger inside of her.

Then, once she was naked and helplessly vulnerable, cowering, and standing in the bathtub, he sat in his chair, pulled out his cock, and started stroking himself to the naked image of his daughter. With her back to her brother and her naked ass in full view of him, she watched her father stroking himself. Knowing her brother was there poised at the kitchen window watching the incestuous striptease show while masturbating too, she turned to face him. She turned to tease him. She turned to make him want her. Now naked before not only her father but also her brother, she was wet with incestuous lust for both perverted men as much as they were, obviously, sexually excited for her.

If only they knew that she was just as sexually excited showing them her ass, tits, and pussy as they were seeing her ass, tits, and pussy, she knew what they'd do to her. They'd sexually use her. They'd sexually abuse her. They'd incestuously rape her, beat her, and whip her.

Using her outrage to her advantage and as her excuse to stare at her father's cock, while he stared at her tits and pussy, she stared at his exposed prick before voicing her shame and disgust for his inappropriate, incestuous behavior. She only wished he'd fill her hand with his cock before filling her mouth. She only wished he'd force her to have sex with him. Maybe after she lambasted him, he would. Maybe after she lambasted him, he'd lose his mind and fuck her.

"You dirty animal! You vile, filthy pig," she said goading him, while hoping he'd pull her hand to his cock. "You disgust me. How dare you strip me naked? How dare you touch me, your own flesh and blood daughter? How dare you expose yourself to me, you disgusting, vile, filthy man? I hate you! I wish you were dead," she said spitting at him.

Enraged that his daughter dared speak to him like that and call him names, he stood and slapped her across the face again, especially after she spit her disrespect at him.

"You hate me? You wish Papa dead? Maybe you want to do this for me," he said pulling her hand down to his stiff prick and wrapping her fingers around his cock, while moving her hand with his to stroke him, just as she had hoped he would.

"No! Stop! Don't!" She allowed him the use of her feigned reluctant hand before pulling her hand away from feeling and holding her father's stiff prick. 

His cock felt good in her hand and if only he knew she enjoyed stroking him as much as he enjoyed forcing her to stroke him, she couldn't even imagine the consequences of her lust for her father and brother. The feel of her father's hard, fat cock in her hand excited her. She wanted more. She was hoping that he'd force her to suck him. With her brother there watching, surely, if her brother saw her masturbating her father before sucking her father, he'd want to sexually experience her too.

"If you don't want to stroke me, then maybe you want to suck me," he said pushing down hard on her shoulder and pushing her to her knees. As soon as she knelt in the bathtub, he more closely approached her.

Once she was poised and positioned on her knees in front of him, he took a handful of her long, chestnut hair and pulled hard. Just as her brother did with her mother, her father did to her. As soon as she opened her mouth to scream, he filled her mouth with his cock, while feeling her tits and fingering her nipples. Finally given admission to this incestuous den of degenerates, Rachel was sucking her father. Her first cock in her mouth, her father's cock, she couldn't believe she was sucking her father's cock. 

Clearly, even through the dirty window, she could see Karl's face pressed against the outside kitchen window. While, no doubt, masturbating himself too, he was watching her suck their father. Even though she wanted to suck her father and now her brother too, fearing that he'd horsewhip her, Rachel couldn't show him that she wanted to suck him or any man. Instead, she tried pulling away, but he put a heavy hand to the back of her head and held her in place, while humping her mouth and fucking her face. He was really forcing her to suck him now. With the steady motion of his hips, she could feel his sexual excitement and she could feel him getting ready to cum in her mouth.

"Suck Rachel. Suck Papa's cock. That's right. Blow Daddy. Daddy wants to cum in your pretty, little mouth."

Suddenly having second thoughts about sucking her father, even she shocked herself when she was able to forcefully reject him and eject him from her mouth. Yet, just as she removed his cock from her opened mouth with her tongue and just as his cock was clear of her still opened mouth, her father ejaculated in her mouth and all over her face, hair, and breasts. As soon as he soiled his daughter, he pushed her away and left the room.

Still naked, pretending she didn't know that her brother was still there watching her, she turned to face the window and her brother Karl again, while wiping her father's cum from her face and pretending to cry. Washing herself with warm, soapy water, she gave Karl a sexy show of her naked body. Touching herself where she wished her father and brother would touch her, she continued bathing for the masturbation sake of her brother. With the kitchen window shaking, she could hear him stroking himself outside before she heard him voice his sexual excitement when ejaculating.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #17



Chapter 17

The Farmer's Daughter and the Traveling Salesman

In those days with the roads rutted and washed out by the first hard rain, unless expanding their routes and/or enjoying being stuck in the mud, traveling salesmen didn't stray and venture out much further than a few miles past the city limits. There were plenty of farms bunched together near the towns that they didn't have to travel too far for them to sell their wares. Yet, with money in short supply, farmers were a hard sell and salesmen had to travel further out to new territories to make their quotas. While returning to their home base to resupply, whatever was left in their wagons they sold to the city's residents at discount prices. Those who needed goods waited to catch the traveling salesman on the way back while hoping that what they wanted was still on his wagon and at a reduced price.

Based on the motto that if it wasn't broken they didn't need a new one and if it was broken they could fix it, the farmers that lived further away from the city had grown accustomed to being self-dependent and self-reliant. Using the handed down tools that their father's and grandfather's used, they preferred the old, worn things to the new, unproven ones. Anything shiny, fancy, or new fangled wasn't for them. Educated consumers who relied on their commonsense, they weren't much of the shoppers and preferred making the things they needed instead of buying what they didn't have and certainly didn't need.

Farmers traveled to Munich every other month to load their wagons with all the supplies that they needed and that they couldn't make themselves. As if squirrels loading their nests with food for the long, difficult snowy season, so long as they had the money, farmers took two wagons to town to get them through the winter. The only time they changed their routine and made an unscheduled trip to town, was when something broke that they couldn't fix or was when someone was hurt and they needed a doctor. Farmers could fix mostly anything but sometimes even they had to relent, order from the catalog, and wait for months until what they needed was shipped from the factory in Berlin, Frankfurt, or Heidelberg.

A long way from home, Otto's horse slowly pulled his wagon loaded wagon. Careful where to put his spokes, he didn't want to break an axle this far away from town. When he spotted Rachel in the distance, he changed his course and nudged his horse in her direction. Acting oblivious to him, she was outside sweeping the front porch. Only, as soon as she saw his wagon, hoping he'd stop and talk, so lonely that she'd even talk to his horse, a game she played, she ran outside while pretending that she was too busy sweeping to notice him. He continued moving his horse and wagon forward nearly up to the front steps before she turned to acknowledge him and before he began talking to her. 

With her long, lush, chestnut hair, rosy cheeks, and shapely figure, having already traveled miles without seeing anyone, no doubt, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, she was a sight to behold in the morning light. When most women he's seen her age are bursting with a baby on the way and surrounded by a brood of dirty and unruly kids, or are too obese from overeating, by the mere sexy sight of her, she made his jaw drop and his cock harden.

Normally up before the light of dawn, Olga was still upstairs sleeping, after being out in the barn most of the night again. Having gotten a late start, her father and brother were somewhere out in the fields working and wouldn't be home until lunch. If she wanted it, she had hours to be alone with a man she didn't know. For the first time in her life, as if a woman left alone in a shoe store, she was alone with a man she had never met before. Shocking for her to dare talk to him without her father and/or brother there as her escorts and protectors, she was wicked in her desire for a man, any man, even him.

"Hi, how are you?" He climbed down from his wagon. He removed his hat and looked skyward, when she didn't answer. "It's going to be a hot one today. I don't remember a summer this hot," he said looking at all of her as if she was standing there naked. 

"Hi," she said resting her hands, her chin, and her opinion of him on the top of her broom handle.

"Is your husband around?"

He drank her all in as if she was a cold beer on a hot day. He looked all around her. Twitchy and fidgety, he appeared dangerously nervous. He appeared overly anxious. He appeared sexually interested.

Having never been with a man when alone before, she was unable to read the signals that she needed to tell him to leave and to be on his way. Only, in the way that he was looking at her, it would take the business end of a shotgun for him to leave. Generally not answering questions, especially personal questions posed from a stranger, she answered him anyway.

"I'm not married," she said looking at him as if he was a potential husband, while wondering if he was married.

He was good looking enough, older than her brother but younger than her father. Wearing his best city clothes, his clothes were different from the dirty overalls her father and brother wore every day. Used to being alone, other than being with her immediate family, it was a real treat to have someone to talk to, especially someone from the big city. Telling her that it's too dangerous for them to take her there, a place she had never been but always wondered about, when her father goes to the city, he goes alone or with her brother. She figured they got drunk and paid whores to sleep with them, probably the reason why they never took her along with them.

"As if my horse was on a mission to take the road least travelled and to put my life in a new direction, it's enchantingly odd how I found myself in close proximity to you. Here alone with you in this vast farmland, a wilderness of plowed fields punctuated with cow pies, occupied by more animals than people, this is a serendipitous meeting, indeed."

Not sure if he was complimenting her, making fun of her, or insulting her, he talked fast and funny with words she didn't always understand their meaning but figured out when he used them in his sentences. Unlike her home schooled father and dimwitted brother, he was educated, cultured, and sophisticated, where she wasn't. They didn't educate women in the way they educated men back then. Yet, regardless of her lack of formal education, she was holding her own in the conversation. Taught by her mother, unlike her brother and her father and unlike most people of the period, as if reading and writing was a secret language available only to the rich, she was able to read, write, and cipher.

Watching his movements and paying attention to his darting eyes, she could tell that he had a rough side to him. No doubt slick, he was as crafty as the fox her father has been trying to catch, before he eats anymore of their chickens. Now that he's here standing in front of her, obviously, this was him and certainly he was the one, the type of man that her father warned her about.

Fast with his mouth, he was probably just as fast with hands and fingers too. It was men like him, men who cheated farmers out of their money, when they paid them cash money for a deposit never to see him again. Wise country folk, as their barometer to someone set out to steal from them, no one but a criminal would stray this far away from the city. It wasn't safe for man, woman, or beast to travel these roads alone, especially in times so desperate after so many men were displaced by machines and out of work.

These were desperate and dangerous times. Carpetbaggers and scallywags littered the countryside preying on hick farmers. Then, in the way that Robin Hood controlled Sherwood Forest with his band of merry men, there were the murderers and thieves that lived in the Black Forest just waiting for someone to travel unescorted through their domain.

Nonetheless, what comes around goes around and even though these dishonest salesmen were intent on stealing from farmers, these were the type of men who were preyed upon too. These were the type of men who suddenly went missing, their pockets emptied and their horse sold and wagon and wares stolen while vultures cleaned their bones of all evidence of them. If she figured him for carrying a gun, she'd be right. Between snakes and varmints, the four legged and two legged kind, everyone carried a gun back then, a pistol, a shotgun, and a rifle.

"Who owns the farm?"

"My father."

Suspicious of strangers and taught not to volunteer information unless asked and even then taking care what to say and when to say it, even though she was eager to have a conversation, she divulged very little.

"Is he home?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

"He's out in the field, but he'll be home any minute," she said lying as her way to protect herself should he mean her any harm.

"This is a big piece of land to be working alone," he said shading his eyes to look out over the acreage before focusing his eyes back on her.

"He's not alone. He's with my brother and their field hands."

He raised his eyebrows, when she said that her father was with their field hands. No farmer made money enough to hire extra help, even during the picking season. Rachel and her mother were all the extra hands her father had. Trained well by a family untrusting of strangers, conversing with Rachel was like pulling teeth from a grizzly bear.

"What time do you think they'll return?"

"There's no telling what time they'll return," she said knowing they wouldn't return until lunch. "Depending on what they run into, they return home unexpectedly at different times every day," she said knowing full well that once they're working the fields, too far to waste their energy traveling back and forth, they only returned home for food.

"I see," he said taking out his handkerchief to wipe across his mouth and brow as if he was a man dying a thirst. He looked around her again, before taking out his pocket watch to check the time. Rachel figured by looking up at where the sun was positioned in the sky that it was barely 9 am and she'd be right about that too. "Do you think that I could get a drink of water?"

"The pump is over there Mister," she said pointing to the side of the house and following him when he started walking to it. "Help yourself."

"And for my horse?"

"There's a trough down by the barn," she said pointing.

He walked over to the pump, pumped it, and filled his hands with water to splash on his face and his neck before scooping some in his hands to drink. There was a ladle hanging there but he didn't use that, preferring instead to use his hands to hold the water.

"Do you know if your father needs anything? I come bearing all kinds of store bought goods. I'd give him a fair deal," he said, while removing the harness from his horse to leave the wagon where it was and to walk the horse to the trough.

"I don't know what my father needs," she said with a shrug of defiance. "Probably he doesn't need anything at all. He and my brother make everything they need."

It was obvious that he was reading her, as much as she was reading him. It was obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

"Being that I'm going down that way to water my horse," he said taking a long look at her again. "Do you think I can have a look in your barn?"

"My father wouldn't want me showing some stranger the inside of his barn," she said with sudden sexual excitement about personally showing him the inside of the barn.

Suddenly, in the way that her brother tied her mother to the horse stall, she imagined this man tying her helplessly and vulnerably there too before stripping her naked to have his wicked way with her. After what happened last night, being forced to stroke and suck her father while he touched her where no father should ever touch his daughter, she was still horny. After what happened the night before, witnessing her mother stripped naked and forced down to her knees to service her brother, while Rachel watched before running to her room to masturbate, she was ready to lose her virginity, that is, so long as he was man enough to take it.

Other than her father and brother, she had never been alone with a man before. She wondered if he was the same type of a man or because he was educated, if he was different from the way that her father and brother behaved towards her and her mother. She wondered if he respected women more. Or she wondered if him wanting to take a peek in the barn was just an excuse to get her alone in the barn.

"Otto, Otto Schmidt," he said offering her his hand.

"Rachel," she said accepting his hand.

"Now we're not strangers anymore, Rachel," he said enthusiastically pumping her hand in the way that he pumped the well. "So how about that tour of the barn?"

"Okay," she said biting her lip with as much trepidation as she had sexual excitement. If her father knew she showed a stranger the barn, she'd be whipped.

They walked to the barn together, after he tied his horse to the trough. Once inside, he walked around looking at this and poking at that. Rachel took her place in front of where her mother is usually tied. With her sweat and blood staining the wood dark, she didn't want him to see that. Only, as soon as she stood there with her back touching where he mother was tied, as if the ties that bound her mother came alive to bind her too, she became nervous, anxious, and sexually aroused.

"I sell dresses, too," he said turning to her and walking closer to her while staring at her. "What size do you take?"

"I don't know. I never bought a store bought dress. I make my own," she said looking down and away from his leering stare.

"Do you think your father would buy you a new dress to make you look--"

"I doubt it, Mister," she said not even allowing him to finish when he talked about her father. "My father doesn't waste his money on clothes and doodads."

"Otto. Call me Otto," he said walking still closer to her. "The color of mahogany in the sunlight, you have beautiful, lush hair," he said reaching out to touch her hair and taking it to his nose to smell it. "With your big, green eyes, green is your color and I have just the dress for you in my wagon," he said running his hand down the side of her. 

Feeling the side of her and allowing his hand to fall to her waist before sliding down to her hip, he felt the roundness of her buttocks through her dress. Then he moved his hand to the front of her to ever so slowly. As if he was a pickpocket taking what was valuable to her for himself, he gently cupped her breast through her dress. Wanting to say don't, she didn't. Wanting to move away from his touch, she didn't move. Wanting to run screaming from the barn to the house, she stayed in place, while looking down at his hand before looking up at him.

Then, when he fingered her nipple that suddenly made an impression thought her dress, he leaned in to kiss her while still fondling her breast. Having never been kissed before by someone, other than her father and brother, she allowed him to part her mouth with his tongue. Even with her father and brother trying to kiss her while groping her, they were more interested in touching and feeling her than kissing her. Nonetheless the incestuous lust that her father and brother had for her, always able to squirm away from their grasp, she had never truly kissed a man before with a long, wet kiss in the way she was doing now. While alone in her room and touching herself, she often fantasized about a man kissing and touching her and now here it was happening to her as if she was sexually fantasizing about it. 

While kissing her and feeling her breast with his other hand, he took her hand by her wrist and pulled it down to him. Shocked enough to withdraw her hand from his exposed cock, she was stunned when she felt warm, hard skin. She looked down at him and his erect prick was already out of his pants. How did he do that? When did he do that?

Sexually aroused by the sight of his engorged prick, mindlessly, she stared at his cock, while he unbuttoned her dress. Once exposing her big breasts, fingering, pulling, and tugging at her nipples, his hand was feeling her breast through her camisole before moving that out of the way too. Again, this was the first time she was topless in front of a man who wasn't her father and brother. She remembered the sexy bathtub show she gave her father and brother last night and here she was now giving an encore presentation to a stranger.

"I'm a virgin Otto," she whispered in his ear as if saying no but giving him the go ahead to continue. "My father would not be happy if you ruined me for the man he wants me to marry."

Nonetheless her warning that she was a virgin and by the threat of the unhappiness of her father, even though she said no, her lips said yes while her hand never let go of his cock. Stroking and stroking him, she couldn't wait to feel him inside of her.

"That's okay," he said with a laugh. "I'll be gentle. Stroke me faster. Make me harder," he said pulling her hand with his while wrapping her fingers tighter around his cock. 

Already possessing a strong grip from milking, in the way she had masturbated her father last night, as if she was milking Thelma, Hilda, or Emma, their milking cows, she wrapped her fingers more forcefully around his cock. Other then the sexual excitement her father had for her, she had never felt the sexual excitement of a man before and now she was feeling this stranger's sexual excitement for her now. She was enjoying masturbating him while he played with her big tits, fingered her erect nipples, and French kissed her.

For the first time in her life, she felt wanted. She felt desired. For the first time in her life, she felt important. She felt empowered. No doubt, she obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her. Had she known that all it would take was to have sex to not only make her feel like a woman but also like a person and an equal in a man's world, she would have had sex long ago.

"It's so hard," she said looking down at his cock again.

"Stroke me faster," he said moving her hand faster with his. "It gets bigger and harder, when you stroke me faster."

She stroked him while looking down at his erection. Something that she fantasized only doing to do with her father and her brother, she was afraid to touch them for fear that they'd take her to the barn, she was now doing with a stranger. Only, feeling safer with a stranger than she did with her own men folk, feeling safely in control of him, she felt safe with this man.

No doubt, an educated man, he'd never tie her to the stall. He'd never beat her. He'd never whip her. He'd never rape her. Yet, nonetheless what he wouldn't do to her, he was still about to have his wicked way with her.

"It's getting bigger and harder," she said stroking him faster as if she was playing a game with a pull toy.

"Relax," he said. "Not too fast," he said pushing on her shoulder with one hand, while going inside her dress to cup her breast and finger her nipple with the other.

With a gentle hand, he pushed down on her shoulder and Rachel fell to her knees. She stared at his cock before looking up at him. She smiled at what she was about to do.

"Do you want me to suck you Mister?"

"Otto," he said. "Call me Otto. You should at least know my name, especially if I'm the first man you'll suck."

"You're not the first man I've sucked," she said unembarrassed while looking up at him before looking down at his cock again. Taking his cock in her hand again, she slowly albeit firmly stroked him. "I sucked my father last night, not willingly, but I sucked him nonetheless, while my brother watched through the kitchen window. He forced me to suck him," she said. "If my brother only knew that I was sucking you now, he'd want me to suck him too."




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #17



"Then, you already know how to suck a cock," he said with a laugh and unmoved by her incestuous confession. Slowly running his finger across the length of her full lips, he lifted his cock as if to offer himself to her mouth.

"Other than sucking my father, I've never sucked a man before," she said flicking out her tongue to lick the head of his stiff prick.

"Just take it in your mouth and suck Rachel, while stroking me."

"Okay," she said opening her mouth to accept him inside.

As soon as she wrapped her lips around his cock and as soon as she swirled her tongue around his big prick, she could feel him surrender his will to her. She never thought that she could have such control over a man by just her hand and mouth. She couldn't imagine the control she'd have over him with her pussy.

Just as she enjoyed the feeling of taking charge of him with her hand, she liked the feeling of taking charge of him with her mouth. Then, when he put a hand behind her pretty, brunette head and held her head in place, while humping her mouth and fucking her face, she recoiled. Suddenly, this was no longer her sexual fantasy. This was too real. Suddenly, this was too much what her brother did to her mother the night before last and what her father did to her last night.

"No. I can't do this," she said standing. "I don't want you to cum in my mouth."

"Sorry, was I too rough?"

"It's just that..." she said pausing, while thinking that she'd only suck him on her own terms and not on his.

Now that she knew that she had control over a man with her hand and with her mouth, she wasn't about to relinquish the control to him for him to take over. She'd scream for her father and brother before she allowed another man to control her in the way they do.

"What? It's just that...what?" He kissed her and she returned his kiss only this time with even more passion than before.

She felt his knees go weak and she knew she had him by the balls. He was ready to do whatever she wanted, even take her innocence and her virginity.

"I want to feel you inside of me," she said whispering her lust for him in his ear before blowing her desire in his ear.

Checking for rats, he kicked at a pile of hay before pushing her back on a fresh stack while she lifted her dress and petticoats. Already wet and ready, with his cock already stiffly out of his pants, he was ready too. With just a pause and a gentle nudge, once he pushed by her hymen, he slid himself inside of her.

"Oh," she gasped after filling her hands with his jacket by pulling at the material.

Rocking his hips to hump her deeper, with just a gasp and a whimper, she wasn't a virgin anymore.

To be continued... 



Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #18



Traveling salesman brags about his sexual exploits with Rachel and excites two men from town.

"You should have seen this woman, a farmer's daughter," said the traveling salesman. "I spotted her from my wagon when I was coming upon her farm from the road. Even from that distance, as soon as I saw her, I knew she was beautiful. I could just tell by the way she moved while sweeping the porch with her broom. Then, as I drove my wagon closer and headed up their rutted road, she took my breath away. Hot damn she was so beautiful. The closer I got to her, with her big tits, slim waist, and curvy ass, she was so sexy," he said taking a long sip of his beer and turning to face the crowd of men to see who was listening.

"Tell us more about her Mister," said someone in the crowd. "We always like to hear a good story while relaxing with our beer," said one farmer winking at the other.

"Ah, but this is no story friend and even if it were a story, after all that transpired, it would be no ordinary story," he said looking a bit like Burt Lancaster in the way that waved his arms and talked with his hands when he turned from the bar to regale the customers with his amorous tale.

"Tell us again what she looked like Mister," said a man sitting at a table with his friends.

"In all of my days, never have I seen a woman who looked like her," said the traveling salesman to a bar full of drunken, horny men. "Tall and shapely, she had long, dark, lush hair and big, bright, green eyes the color of brilliant emeralds."

"I don't recall ever seeing a woman who looked like that living around her. If I had seen such a woman, I would have remembered her," said a man standing at the bar to the man standing next to him.

"In all the years I've roamed the countryside," he said opening his arms wide and talking with his hands again, "and traveled to farms, towns, villages, and cities, I've never seen a woman as beautiful as she was in my life." He nodded his head and smiled before putting his hands over his heart and throwing back his head as if he was in love and was imagining seeing her again. "She was one of a kind and a woman that I'd ask to marry me if ever I was to settle for just one woman," he said with a loud, annoying laugh.

Reading the crowd of men before continuing, the man looked from one customer to the other to look to see who was not only listening to him but also believing him.

"Best you be careful what you say about someone else's woman Mister," warned a farmer standing on the other side of him at the bar. "Worse when lusting over another man's woman, we don't take kindly to strangers around here, especially to a man who cheats a farmer out of his hard earned money," said the farmer walking up to his face. "I'm still waiting for my part that I paid you a deposit on last month. That's already two strikes you have against you Mister," he said holding up his fingers to count them. "One, lusting over another man's woman and two, cheating a farmer out of his hard, earned money."

"I don't cheat anyone," said the traveling salesman retreating back to the bar to take another sip of his beer. "It's only been a month since I ordered your part. Your part has to come all the way from Berlin and I'm sure it will be here soon. I'm just an honest farm tool salesman," he said turning to the crowd again. "If anything, I bring a service to you farmers," he said returning to the bar to take the last sip of his beer. "And if my only offense is having sex with a farmer's daughter, I'm willing to admit to enjoying it. Trust me when I say that she was well worth the beating I'd take for ruining a farmer's daughter."

"You're just damn lucky she wasn't my daughter Mister because I'd be giving you more than just a beating," said the farmer who was still waiting for his part. "You wouldn't be alive to talk about her and more ruin her reputation in the way you are discrediting her reputation now."

"Forget about him," said another man to the traveling salesman about the farmer complaining over the woman's reputation being sullied. "Tell us more about the woman," he said. "How did it happen? Who made the first move? What did she look like?"

"Okay, calm down and I'll tell you from the beginning all that happened," said the salesman turning to the bar to take a big sip of another beer that was just poured for him. "She walked me out to the barn and--"

"You were alone with the woman in the barn?" A man down the bar gave him a snide smile before giving him a stern stare.

"Yes," said the salesman already too drunk to notice his stern stare.

"Now I know you're lying," he said tucking a thumb in his overalls. "Just as your story does, your bucket has a hole in it and doesn't hold water. That's where your story is all bullshit Mister. No respectable woman would be alone with a stranger out in her barn without being in the presence of her man," he said. "That just doesn't happen around here. Unless the woman lives alone and her man is dead or gone, women know better than to be alone with a stranger. And even if a woman lives alone, they'd rather shoot you than look at you," he said with a sad smile. "If a woman acted so flagrant in her disregard for her reputation, she'd be shunned by the whole community. No woman would face shunning for the likes of you," he said looking to his friends for confirmation.

"And who said she was respectable?" The salesman laughed making many of the patrons laugh too.

"Where's her husband," said another farmer giving him a hard stare, "while you're out in the barn with his wife?"

"Taking her at her word, no man's woman, other than her father's daughter, she said she wasn't married and wasn't attached or beholding to any man," said the salesman too drunk to notice his hard stare. "She said she didn't even have a boyfriend. She said she was a virgin," said the salesman looking proud to have had sex with a virgin.

"And what about her kinfolk? What about her Ma, her Pa, her brothers, and her sisters? Where were they for you to be alone with a farmer's daughter on a farmer's land and inside of a farmer's barn? I still don't believe that a woman would take you in her barn alone. Women around here know better than to do that. Women around here know enough not to trust a stranger with their dog never mind with their reputation."

Not wanting to overstay his welcome and be attacked by the patrons, the salesman took another sip of his beer before retesting the temperature of the bar's customers with a long look.

"She said her father and brother were out in the field. I asked to see what her father needed," he said more defensively now that he realized the bar was loaded with farmers who didn't like him and her were already set against him. Not wanting to antagonize them that they already were, he chose his words more carefully. "It was all so innocent like and my intentions were honorable, but her intentions surely weren't. Once we were in the barn, she was the one who started things with me. Obviously, once she started touching me and kissing on me, she wanted me as much as I wanted her," he said grabbing his crotch to the cheers of some of the bar's patrons.

"I don't believe you Mister," said a farmer.

"Otto, my name is Otto," said Otto offering the farmer his hand and withdrawing it when the farmer didn't take it.

"Just as no woman would allow you to wander in her barn without her men folk there to protect her from the likes of you, no woman would trust a stranger with her reputation, especially a traveling salesman with the reputation your kind has," said another man. "If ever I find you had sex with my wife or daughter, I'll put a shotgun to your head and pull the trigger," said another farmer.

"Calm down now. Just calm down. After selling farm tools to farmers for years, I have an honorable reputation," said the salesman raising his voice and banging his empty beer mug down on the bar for a refill. "This woman not only trusted me with her reputation but she wanted me in the honorable way that a woman wants a man," he said lifting his refilled glass as if giving a toast. "She kissed me as soon as we entered the barn and allowed me to feel her big tits and finger her hard nipples through her dress and camisole," he said. "Damn, she was so beautiful."

"Ah, baloney," said the farmer. "For all I know, you had sex with a farm animal while thinking it was a woman," said the farmer laughing and causing everyone else to laugh too.

"When she stopped kissing me long enough to take a breath, she fell to her knees, pulled out my cock, and took me in her mouth," he said. "She was just as hungry for me as I was for her."

"Bullshit! You expect us to believe that a virginal woman that you met for the first time would suddenly fall to her knees to take you in her mouth? You're dreaming," said the farmer waving a hand of disbelief.

"Yes, it's true and I'm telling you just how it happened," said the salesman.

"You're lucky her father didn't come in from the field because if that was you with my daughter, I'd blow your fool head off with my shotgun and bury you out in the back of my land where no one would ever find you," said another man.

"Yeah, well, this woman was a little vixen, a real minx. Horny and ready, she was like no shy, embarrassed virgin I ever had before. She sucked my cock as if she was hungry for it. Then, we fucked like dogs in heat," he said.

"Best you not talk like that about our women Mister," said the farmer. "We don't like strangers talking about our womenfolk, especially in a disrespectful way."

"Tell us, what did this farmer's daughter look like?" A customer elbowed his way next to the salesman. "None of the farmers' daughters that I know of around here look like that otherwise I would have noticed her. All of the women around here are as fat as cows and as ugly as pigs," he said laughing and getting the crowd laughing.

A big farmer walked up behind the man.

"I hope you're not talking about my wife and my daughter, Mister, said the big German putting a meaty hand the size of a catcher's baseball mitt to his shoulder as if he was about to haul a pig out for slaughter. "Because I take personal offense to what you just said."

The man turned, looked up at the farmer, and stepped back.

"No, I'd never say anything bad about your slim wife and beautiful daughter," said the man moving away from the farmer to move further down the bar and closer to the door. "I was just sayin' that to prove that this man was lying about one of our women," he said spitting his nervousness in a spittoon. "I'm just sayin', ain't no woman around here who looks like that."

"I'm not lying," said the traveling salesman. "I don't lie and she really does exist and is that beautiful, shapely, and sexy."

"Ha! Just for you to say that you don't lie, is a lie," said one of the men laughing and making the others laugh too. "You're a salesman and all that you do to make your living is by lying, deceitfulness, and deception. You lie about the shit you sell and about the prices you charge. You're nothing but lies."

"If you're not lying," said another man, "then where does this beautiful woman live?"

"Outside of town, it's a half a day's ride south," he said.

"The only woman I know who fits that description is Hugo's daughter, Rachel," said a man scratching his head, "but I haven't seen her in nearly two years. Never taking her to town, he never allows her out of the house and off of her land. Her mother Olga is a beautiful woman too. Only, you don't want to be fooling with either one of those two women. As angry as he is crazy, Hugo protects his women in the way of an Eagle with his nest. That man has eyes in the back of his head and can smell a trespasser on his land a mile away. With signs posted for those who can read and other warnings for those who can't, he's buried more than one man who's trespassed on his property, especially when that man made advances and had ideas of taking liberties with his wife and/or daughter."

"Well, I made advances to his daughter and took more than liberties with her, if you know what I mean," he said moving his hand to his mouth and pushing his cheek out with his tongue as if he was sucking a cock. "I made it there and left without seeing anyone but her. Being that she was so young, so beautiful, and so shapely, had her father caught me with her, I would have done the right and honorable thing," he said giving the men a solemn look as if he was in church. "I would have asked him for her hand in marriage, that is, if I already didn't have a wife and five children," he said laughing and making everyone laugh again. "She said her father and brother, along with their farm hands were working the field," said the traveling salesman.

"Farm hands? They don't have any extra help. None of us do. None of us can afford to pay someone for the work we can do ourselves," said the farmer. "Now we know for sure that you're nothing but a lying sack of cow manure."

"You're lucky you didn't happen upon Rachel's big brother, Karl," said another farmer. A big man, more than twice the size of you and even bigger than him," he said pointing to the big farmer. "In the way of a big, ugly bear, he would have killed you with just a swipe of his big hand for dare touching his sister. He's just as protective of her as his father is."

"She was the one who came on to me," said the salesman. "She was the one who started touching me, kissing on me, and didn't reject me when I returned her kissing and started touching on her."

"I doubt that what you say is true Mister," said someone else, "being that everyone around here knows that Rachel is a virgin. And even if all that you say about her coming on to you, it won't matter none now that you ruined her for another man."

"I didn't ruin her. It isn't as if I killed her. I just used her a little," he said with a laugh. "I just borrowed her hand, her mouth, and her pussy to satisfy my sexual needs, is all. I just did what any other man would have done had they seen such a beautiful and sexy woman," he said slamming his empty beer mug on the bar.

"If what you say is true Mister, I wouldn't trade anything to be in your fancy shoes," he said looking down at his shoes. "When Hugo finds out you spoiled his daughter, he'll be looking for you. He's been saving her to sell off to a wealthy landowner but now that she's not a virgin no more, I wouldn't give two bits for your life Mister when Hugo and/or his son gets their hands on you," said another man walking away from him.

Only, further down the bar, taking it all in, listening without voicing their opinion, two men, one man as big as Karl, named Big Bruno and a smaller man, named Arnold, were listening to the traveling salesman going on about how beautiful and shapely Rachel was.

"Come on, let's go," said Big Bruno. "I've heard enough."

"Go? Go where? Where we going? I wanted to have another beer," said Arnold.

"You can drink later, after we're done doing what we have to do," said Big Bruno. "We're going to find this farmer's daughter and when her father and brother are out in the field, we're going to have our wicked way with her in the way that salesman did. What does it matter, now that she's not a virgin no more? No one will blame us for taking her after she's already been taken."

After a long ride in the dark, it was early the next morning when Big Bruno and Arnold made it out to Hugo's farm. They tied their horses to a tree and walked the rest of the way. Still dark and using darkness as their cover, they watched Hugo and Karl take the wagon out to the field just before sunup. Waiting for them to disappear over the hill, they saw Rachel carrying two empty buckets to the barn to milk the cows.

Lying in wait for her, they silently made their way to the barn and entered through the backdoor without making a sound. If the dogs were there, they'd be barking their heads off as soon as they heard them approaching outside. With the dogs running after Hugo and Karl, no one was there to protect her. As soon as she sat down on the milking stool and put a deft hand to the cow's utters, a big hand grabbed her around her mouth. 

"Make a sound and I'll snap your pretty neck. Dead or alive, either way, I'll be having my way with you," said Big Bruno reaching down the front of her dress and inside her camisole to feel her big breasts and finger her hardening nipples. He felt one big tit before feeling the other. "You have big tits. I like a woman with big tits. Take it off," he said. "Take off your clothes. Strip yourself naked or I will. I want to see your body and if you scream, I'll kill you."

"Listen Mister. I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt me," she said.

It wasn't until she stood and turned that she saw the second man. She couldn't believe there were two of them. Just two days since she was a virgin no more and now she was about to take on two men. Sex with three men in just two days, with her being so horny before, her prayers were answered, Yet, with sex not being her idea in the way it was with the traveling salesman, now that she was forced to have sex, she was afraid, especially when she saw that Big Bruno was even bigger than her brother. Moreover, they both smelled bad. They both were so dirty.

"Suck my cock," said Big Bruno taking his big prick out of his pants. 

As soon as he pulled out his prick was the first time she noticed was how big his cock was, bigger than the salesman's cock, bigger than her father's cock, and as big, if not bigger, than her brother's cock. The second thing she noticed was the stench of him. He wreaked. Nonetheless, fearing for her life, Rachel walked to him and fell to her knees in the soft hay to take him in her hand before taking him in her mouth. As soon as her mouth was within reach of his cock and as soon as she opened her mouth to willingly take him inside, he put a big hand to the back of her pretty head, pulled her forward as he stepped forward, and held her in place while humping her mouth and fucking her face.

Pent up with the sexual anticipation of having sex with a beautiful farmer's daughter, it didn't take Big Bruno long to cum in her mouth. Temporarily satisfied, Arnold was next and he approached Rachel with cock in hand too. Now eager to please him as she did his friend, with her hand around his erect prick, she took his cock in her mouth and started sucking him too. He didn't smell and taste as bad as did Big Bruno. The salesman was the only man who was relatively clean. Cumming in her mouth even quicker than his friend, accustomed to all the smells that the barn saved, Rachel was more enjoying the experience of so controlling the two men with her hand and mouth than thinking about how badly they smelled. Only, not satisfied with just a blowjob, they wanted more. They wanted to fuck her.

Bruno quickly stripped out of his clothes, pushed Rachel back on a stack of fresh hay, and climbed on top of her. With his big prick buried inside of her, he humped and fucked her for all his worth. Covering her nose with her hand, he really smelled bad and Rachel struggled to push him off of her but he was too heavy and she couldn't even budge the big man. Taking a longer time to cum this time, after Rachel already took care of his sexual needs by blowing him first, even though he smelled like shit, she was on the verge of having an orgasm herself when a loud bang interrupted her from cumming. With smoke coming out of his neck, Arnold's headless body stood before falling forward in the barn.

"Get off of my daughter!"

"Hold on now. Let's not be doing something you'll regret," said Bruno getting up from Rachel while grabbing his clothes and putting on his pants. Then, when he turned and saw his headless friend, he got mad. "Best you better kill me with that scatter gun because after I force you to suck me and fuck me too, I'll stick that gun up your ass and blow you to pieces," said Big Bruno running towards Olga.




Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #18



Ready to hunt for big bear, unafraid of any man after living with Hugo, Olga stood her ground, shouldered the gun, aimed, and fired but nothing. A misfire and with Bruno intent on charging her mother and removing her head in the way she removed his friend's head, Rachel picked up a pitchfork and ran up behind Bruno. As if she was Achilles or an Olympian javelin thrower and as if she was Davy and Big Bruno was Goliath, as soon as she was in range and with her arm pulled all the way back, she let go of that pitchfork with all of her might. Just as Big Bruno reached her mother and was about to reach out with both hands to grab her, the pitchfork went clean through him. When he turned to face Rachel with the pitchfork dangling from his back with blood dripping from the front of him, Olga broke the butt of the shotgun across his big head. Breaking the pitchfork in two when he fell, the big man fell to the barn floor dead.

"They raped me Mamma! They raped me," she said falling to the barn floor naked and crying.

"I know they did," she said. "I know and I'm sorry I didn't come sooner to protect you, my sweet baby girl."

Driving the wagon at breakneck speed when hearing the shotgun blast, Hugo and Karl came running. With Hugo out of breath and lagging behind, Karl was first in the barn.

"What happened?"

"These men raped your sister," said Olga pointing to the two motionless bodies that lay motionless in the barn.

"Are you okay?" Karl looked at his sister naked and crying.

"They raped me," she said playing her part as the sexually assaulted sister and the non-virginal daughter.

If only her brother knew that she willingly sucked and fucked a traveling salesman before sucking Big Bruno and Arnold and before fucking Big Bruno, no doubt, he'd fuck his sister and force her to blow him too.

"What happened?" 

Late for the party, Hugo looked at the two dead men that littered his barn before staring at his naked daughter.

"They raped me Papa," said Rachel.

"They raped Rachel," said Olga. "I shot one man dead and Rachel killed the other man with the pitchfork."

Hugo looked from Rachel to Olga and back to Rachel again. With his rage getting the better of him, his face reddened with his anger.

"They raped you? You slut," said Hugo picking her up by a handful of her dark hair and slapping her hard enough across her face to make her tits bounce. "Did you invite these men? Do you know these men? Men wouldn't just wandered in my barn without knowing what was there," he said pushing her down on the barn flood. Falling with her legs spread wide open, Karl stared at his sister's exposed bushy pussy. "Now what do we do that you're not a virgin no more?"

Karl continued staring at his naked sisters tits, ass, and pussy before staring at his sister's eyes. No longer a virgin and now ready to fuck her brother too, she returned his stare with as much sexual lust for him as he had for her.

"Don't you dare touch her," said Olga to her husband. "It wasn't her fault. You left her alone without even the protection of the dogs. It's your fault that they raped her. They forced her to have sex, just as you force me to have sex with your son, you miserable bastard."

To be continued...



Born Beautiful



He removed my teddy and stared at my naked body.

"Cheri, you are magnificent." 

"I know." I whispered.

I don't think he even heard me; he was kissing my nipples then my navel and worked his way down. From all the stories I have heard, and trust me, in the dressing rooms of some of these fashion shows these models can be quite graphic, I was expecting electricity. I felt something, mostly uncomfortable. No sparks or fireworks. I think now these women were just exaggerating or putting me on. 

He licked me and it felt, okay. I know he had a reputation of being with lots of women, but maybe he really didn't know how to do it well. I once saw Giselle in Milan with a young man; they were off stage hours after the show. I ran back to get something I left behind and stood behind the scenery watching them. The man was doing to Giselle what Vida was doing to me. Giselle was groaning and moving about like she was really enjoying it. I thought maybe this is what is expected. So I imitated Giselle. I moaned and rubbed his head. I moved my ass and pushed my pussy into his flickering tongue. He looked up with a smile on his face and continued. I then realized how good an actress I really was.

He finally stopped. I let out a big sigh. I think he thought it was a sigh of release; in fact it was a sigh that he finally finished. But that was just the warm up. He inched up toward my face.

"If you thought that was good, now is the main course. I have thought about this moment since I first met you."

"Me too," I lied. I actually just wanted to get this over with.

He put on a condom over his penis. I withheld my laughter, and just smiled. I thought it looked funny wrapped in that plastic tube. Vida must have mistaken my smile for one of anticipation.

He was propped up on one arm over me and I was able to glance passed my wonderful firm breasts, tight abdomen and see his erect penis resting on my where my pubic hair would be if I had any. Naturally I shave often, just because I am always being photographed in something tight or a thong. I watched as he grasped his penis with his right hand and placed it at the entrance of my pussy.

I wondered briefly if the entire penis goes in. Like I stated, I never masturbated so I really didn't know how deep it goes. I felt his eyes upon me and looked up. 

He was smiling and kissed me, saying something like "I'll be gentle." 

I was then wondering, would this sex thing be really everything that it is supposed to be?

I was looking at him when he leaned in to kiss me and I felt the pressure in my pussy. 

He maneuvered his thing in and out of me several times, each time I could feel it getting deeper. A thought then dawned on for me, "what was I going to wear tomorrow?" I started thinking about my wardrobe, then pain.

"What the fuck, oww."

"its okay mon cheri, it will soon feel wonderful."

I realized that the pain was my cherry being popped. Vida now started grunting and moving faster. I too started grunting. I listened to the sounds I was making, I did not like them. I thought they needed to be sultrier. He was kissing my neck and my nipples while continuing his thrusts. His face then went red and he arched his back and shuddered. He then looked down at me and I kissed him. He rolled over and I cuddled next to him.

"Thank you, Vida."

"Mon cheri, the pleasure was all mine."

And I thought to myself, "Yes it was."

So don't hate me. 

I just don't get the sex thing. Vida showed me many ways to have sex, the positions, and instructing me on how to move. I did it all, but to me it's just exercise. Vida talks about the orgasm, but I don't think I ever had one. Maybe I can't have one, maybe I have had them but it does nothing to me. 

There is a part of sex that I really do enjoy; I love the power it gives me. I love making men whimper and beg. I love getting them hard, stroking their cock, I even love sucking their cock. When I have a man's cock in my mouth, I feel like I control them fully.

After Vida taught me, I became curious about other men. I wondered if they were all the same. I love to flirt with them, especially older men that feel guilty when their eyes stare at my firm breasts or ass. I love catching them looking at me and then giving them a knowing smile. I like the flustering look and redness in the cheeks of their face as they cough and look quickly away.

Of course in Hollywood many of these producers and directors are used to this type of behavior. Many of them wouldn't even a give an actress a chance if they wouldn't fuck them, no matter how old they were. 

Vida liked the script for this one movie called Lie Truthfully. I was playing a small supporting role, but since it was a major big budget movie, it would be perfect for my first.

Vida warned me about the director and how things are done in Hollywood. He was being protective. It was then that I thought perhaps he was falling in love with me. It really was so sad. I told him that I no longer wanted to have sex with him. That he had taught me enough and that he needed to focus on business. Besides, I called my family and told them to come to Hollywood. I have decided to move out here.

Believe it or not, they insisted that I audition for the role. I had Vida drop me off at the studio, but I insisted that he go with the real estate agent and line up some homes for me to look at. They were all very nice, treating me like a kid. Then I hit the makeup room. This is my element. I was to play the teenage daughter to mister action hero, Artie Tezenager. He and actress Jenny Kurtz were to play my parents who are actually spies. They were not there for the audition, but Jack Kameron the director was. I walked out from make up and went right up to him and shook his hand. I then met the producers and other executives. 

I turned and walked to my spot, I know they were all watching my ass and how my hips sway. After the audition Jack came into the makeup room where I was getting my make up off.

He told me I got the role and I leaped off the chair and gave him a tight hug. I know how to "innocently" rub against a man. He gently tapped my back in the nervous way that men do. At first it used to amaze me that grown up men would want to have sex with a little girl like me. But then I realized that my power affected everyone. 

"Achem, how old are you again?" He asked in that nervous humor.

"How old do you want me to be? I am an actress after all. I can play many roles."

I could tell he was uncomfortable but he wanted me, they all do.

"Ha. You already have the part."

"Yes, and now we have many months working together, don't worry, I'm legal."

Working on the movie was a lot more work that I thought it would be. I would sometimes bring Ian with me and introduce him to some of the girls. As long as he was getting laid he seemed happy and didn't mind doing my chores or run me around. 

Mark was one of the producers in the movie. He was having a party at his house and I showed up with my mom and Vida. Mark's mansion was amazing. He was on his third wife who was about the same age as my mom. Mark introduced me to some teen actors, at the party. They were bores. They talk about things that don't matter. They are just clueless to the world. 

I grabbed Mark and asked him to show me around the place. I walked arm in arm with him as he talked about the house and we were far from the party as we walked into his garage. There were six assorted cars, all of them expensive and looking like a showroom. I leaned back against a silver convertible. 

"Oh, I just love this one."

"That is an Austin Martin DB9, it just arrived from England."

I can tell Mark was taking in my entire figure and it was making him uncomfortable for a 50 plus year old guy.

"Do you even have a driver license Ms. Tarboe?" 

I giggled, "not yet." 

I walked over to him "Mark, please call me Bridgette or Jet , that's what my mom and dad call me, especially when I am naughty." 

"And how often are you naughty?"

"Depends, how about you?" 

I then put my arms around his neck and kissed him. At first he was passive but soon he was opening his mouth and I felt his hands along my hips then around my ass. I slipped my arms down from his neck and held them against his chest. I whispered in his ear.

"I like you Mark, you're a real man, not a boy. I need a man."

"But Jet, you are so young...I...am no pedophile."

"But I am 18. I just look very young."

He was trying to convince himself, but his body and mind lied. I kissed him some more. His hands still caressed my ass and I could feel is penis stiffening in his pants. I took one of his hands and placed it on my tits. I then rubbed his cock through his pants with my hand.

"I can't believe this."

I then pulled down his zipper and pulled out his cock. 

"I heard you have a big deal with Dezniy for a movie series about a girl like me."

I thought he might push me away when I said that, but putting his cock in my mouth and sucking it made him only groan. He totally surrendered to my power. He played with my tits as I sucked on his cock. I undid his belt and lowered his pants and boxes. I cupped his balls in my hand as I continued to suck it. It seemed a bit thicker than Vida's cock. I wondered if all cocks were different. I stopped and looked up at him.

"Did you know I can sing?"

"I uh I uh no I didn't." He was breathing heavy and Vida taught me pace was important. I didn't want him to cum too quickly. We still had business to do.

"Well I can, that's why I would be perfect for the role of Shannon Dakota." 

I then swirled my tongue around his cock and sucked it deep into the back of my throat. I continued sucking him and could feel his knees slightly buckling. I stood up and stroked his cock with my hand while smiling at him.

"I would like to work more with you. Don't you think it would be fun? Wait till you see me naked." And then his cum splashed my hands.

Of course he wanted more of me, who wouldn't. I was everything Dezniy wanted, young, beautiful and virginal, by reputation. Naturally, the executives at Dezniy had their own empire to protect. Besides the amusement parks, they had one of the largest studios and children oriented business in the world. The Dezniy execs were concerned that maybe I was too sexy, but Mark argued for me and of course the role was mine.

Being idolized by thousands of little girls I also found I needed some diversion. But I wanted to keep my little innocent girl reputation intact. I enjoyed going on tour and performing live in front of all these screaming girls. It also gave me a chance to get out of L.A. The problem is being able to exhibit my power over men without ruining my reputation. 

The power over men, just by having sex is was intoxicating. Having sex with some Dezniy studio executives was easy, because they had just as much to lose if my reputation was dirtied as much as me.

With a professional Hollywood wig (black) and my remarkable make up to make me look older, all I needed were cheap clothes and no one would recognize me. I also had the idea to avoid the typical night spots that paparazzi or celebs would hang out. But would I truly be unrecognizable? I had one of the prop guys at the studio make me a fake ID, it only cost me some flirting and an autograph picture.

I had an out of town concert to perform in San Francisco at the Cow Palace Saturday night and I convinced Roger, the tour manager to have us drive up Thursday in the tour bus. That would give me Friday night to tryout my idea. Dad was flying in from Chicago Friday so mom was going to attend. Ian was going to make sure everything I needed was going to be attended to. I watched him on the bus and I had an evil idea. I knew I could have any man I wanted, but was that really true. 

I wondered why Ian put up with my shit, if he was around just for the money. I wondered what kind of power I had over him. I wondered if I could fool him in my disguise.

I found out Ian and some of the band was going to a small club in the area. I put on my disguise and took a taxi out there. I would try to disguise my figure, but it was difficult, even with baggy clothes every guy turned to check me out. The club was dark and packed. I saw Ian and the sound guy at the bar having a drink and checking out the girls. I chose a place directly across from them about half the room away. I swayed gently to the music and nursed my margarita. Naturally I attracted a lot of attention and several guys approached me but I just turned them away. Some of the guys were obviously good looking and used to having women indulge them. They think they have power, but a woman in the know can just twist them till they are on their knees. 

I walked over to Ian and stretched out my hand looking toward the dance floor. The sound guy jabbed at him to go with me. I took his hand and he followed me to the dance floor. As long as I don't look directly into his eyes I felt I had a chance to fool him. We danced and I would grind against him in a very suggestive way, I am sure every guy watching us got a hard on, as did Ian. He had his hands on my hips, my ass, my back, my tummy, everywhere. About three songs had gone by and I put my arms around his neck and leaned into his ear. 

"Do I turn you on?"

"Oh yeah." 

"I guess you wanna fuck me?" I nibbled at his ear; he still had not gotten a real good look at my face even.

"Oh yeah." 

"What? You would fuck your sister?" 

I held him at arm's length and he got a good look at my face. His eyes went wide with horror as I laughed at him.

"All you men are so pathetic. Go take that stiff dick and find yourself one of these whores." 

I then turned and left the club. I made my point, all men are subjected to me, I had the power over men even my own brother. I took a taxi back to the hotel. 

I was in my room and undressed wrapping a towel around me. I looked in the mirror at myself in the black wig and make up. I heard the door to the suite open and slam shut. I walked out and Ian was standing there fuming at me.

"You bitch. You fucking slut."

"Oh chill, I was just having a little fun." 

I never saw him this angry before, I actually thought he might hit me. It was time for me to use my power. I smiled and turned up my puppy eyes look.

"Oh Ian, I was just trying to have some fun, I didn't mean for it to get out of hand, I will make it up to, really."

He rushed toward me yelling "bitch" and pulled the wig off my head, in doing so the towel slipped off me. The look on his face changed. I smiled and turned my back feeling I had subdued him with just a glance of my perfect body.

"Brother dear, please get me my towel, I'll wash this off and we'll get a late dinner."

But before I even got my last word out he knocked me down with a blow and I fell half way on the bed. I tried to get up but he held me down with his left arm in the middle of my back pinning me to the bed with ass hanging off the bed. I screamed for him to let me up.

"You fucking bitch, this is what you really want isn't it you slut?"

For the moment I didn't know what he was talking about and then with his other hand if felt him shove his fingers in my pussy.

"Ian, no!"

I screamed. But his fingers left and I felt his cock enter my pussy. He thrust hard into me with long mean full strokes. He was fucking me fast and hard and now both hands of his were on my hips and my face was in the mattress. With both hands on my hips, I could have probably twisted my body away and kicked him in the balls, but I got to thinking about what he was doing. He was fucking me, he probably always wanted to fuck me but couldn't because I am his sister. I knew all men desired me, now I knew it extended even to family. He used this anger toward me as an excuse to fuck me. 

He shoved his cock deep into me and held it there as he grunted and his cum filled inside me. He pulled out and staggered backward. I pulled myself off the bed and without even turning around to look at him I headed toward the bathroom.

"If you're finished raping me, I think I'll take off this make up and take a shower now."

I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Turning to the mirror I smiled at myself thinking that all men are so pathetic. I knew Ian would now crawl back to his room with his tail (or cock) between his legs and fell guilty about what he did. He will in turn try to make it up to me for the rest of his life.

That episode proved a lot to me. First, the disguise worked, and I can have any man I wanted. As I predicted, Ian was ashamed he never mentioned it to me. On my part I pretended it never happened but I was even more demanding of him and he said nothing but agreed with me.

So any opportunity on tour I would wear the disguise and I would have Ian drive me to some spots. I would make him wait hours for me if necessary. I even enjoyed it knowing he was waiting outside for me while I was having sex. 

I would always get hit on by young guys in their 20's or younger. But it was only good for me to pick out the guy. I needed to choose who I was going to seduce. The more they said no, the better I liked it. Needless to say, I was never turned down, nor was I ever recognized. I enjoyed the conquest, but still the sex meant nothing to me. I never had an orgasm or enjoyed the fucking in my pussy or in my mouth or even in my ass. What turned me on was seducing these men. I realized I could have any man I wanted turned me on.

Married men were a good choice because it was more of a challenge. Once I even seduced a cop on the street while he was working. Imagine what he would think if he found out the girl he was fucking doggy style behind the Starbucks was Bridget Tarboe, movie star and Dezniy icon.

For the next couple of years my life remained pretty much the same, doing Shannon Dakota movies such as the High School Prom series, the Shannon Dakota concerts and TV series. The press never caught on about my secret sex life. Sure, every now and then one of the tabloids would print a rumor about me and a secret boyfriend, usually another actor. 

Once there was an internet youtube thing about a secret sex tape, but so called sex tape was so grainy and dark, it could have been anyone. Anyone without a perfect body, it was so not me. The internet was filled with all sorts of rumors, but even if some of them were actually true, no one could prove it and no one really believed it.

Vida did a great job with my career and was totally understanding about my lifestyle. Hell, it was Vida who was able to get me birth control pills and contraceptives. I thought he was the perfect manager until he told me one night that he wanted to marry me.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. He told me he didn't care about how many men I had sex with; he said he could fill that need. He wanted our partnership to last a lifetime. I reminded him I was only 19, but he said it would take a year just to prepare for the perfect wedding. He had even asked my parents and they encouraged it.

I thought about what he had said. The first thing I considered was that if I said no, Vida would probably quit. Then I would have to find another agent, someone I could trust. If I said yes, I would lose that little girl image. The thing was, I was going to lose that image anyway. I was tired of the Dezniy roles; I would never win an Oscar doing them. It was time I moved up to the adult world. So, I made the right business decision.

Vida and I were married one month after my 19th birthday. It wasn't a surprise to a lot of people, since every major premier or award show I went with Vida as my escort. Although most fans just thought he was my manager and I was too young, the media assumed we would hook up eventually. I officially gave Ian the title of being my agent. I got him an office in Hollywood, a staff of agents and employees. Starboe Talent Agency was then born. 




Born Beautiful



Things were going well, I did a couple of big movies and for the academy awards I was asked to be a presenter. It was an awesome night for me. Looking out over at a dozen studio executives whom I have had sex with and young stud actors who were dying to have sex with me. I felt truly wanted and part of Hollywood.

Vida had told me about a great script called Losing Translations. The lead actor Murray Williams was already cast and I heard I was up for the lead. Ian called me and told me that the director and producers had already chosen another actress, Scarlett Johnson as the lead. 

I was pissed and called Ian to pick me up at the house. I had him drive me out with my black wig and disguise and found myself to older men and had a threesome. It was my first time with two men. Sucking one while be fucked from behind, I felt like a conquering warrior. I left them panting and passed out. 

Ian waited outside the hotel for me and we didn't say a word the entire time back to my house. Halfway back to my house I told him to pull over to the side of the road. I had an urge to brag about my night. I told him that I was with two men at the same time. All the while I told him the details I unzipped his pants, took out his cock and tongued the tip of his cock and sucked it into my mouth. He didn't say a word or put up any resistance, he leaned back in the BMW enjoyed my sucking. 

As I sucked my brother's cock I thought how easy it was to subvert his morals just for some sexual release. I felt his hand reach around my back and fondle my tit, the fact he so desired me made me suck him intensely and soon his sperm filled my mouth. I reached for a tissue to dab my mouth and Ian wordlessly zipped himself up and put the car back on the road toward my house. Not a word was spoken between us the way back, which didn't bother me. I just lay back in the seat with a smile on my face.

Several months later Scarlett Johnson was nominated for the academy award for her role in Losing Translations. The role that should have been mine! That was bad. I was upset. Okay, that is an understatement, I went into a rampage a broke a few things in the house. Vida had to hold me down. But that was nothing compared to how I felt when I found out that Ian was Scarlett's agent and he got her the part. She fucked him and Ian got her the part. He could have had me, hell he had me and he still gave the part to her. Obviously he did it to spite me. Now I was sorry I let him fuck me and to think I gave him a blow job.

At first I headed toward my car to go over to his condo and wreck his place instead of mine. But then that would only be temporary satisfaction. No, instead I called my lawyer and bought out the rest of Starboe Talent. At the Golden Globes I saw him at the red carpet and gave him a great big kiss on the lips. I whispered to him that he was fired. 

The next day it was all over the tabloids and the internet. Everyone was speculating that we were incestuous. Naturally we both denied the rumors. But I thought it was really funny. I told Entertainment Hollywood that it was because he was pushing for me to do a reality TV show based on my marriage with Vida and it became a point of contention.

My mom was angry with me that I fired Ian, but when I placed her in charge of the agency, she softened up. She finally told Ian it was time for him to strike out on his own and stop hanging on to my coat tails. When I heard that, I couldn't stop laughing.

Vida was annoyed with me as well. He didn't like the way I treated Ian. He didn't like the way I disappeared several nights a week. He didn't like the infrequent times we had sex. But I think the final straw was that he wanted to direct me in my next film. 

The producers were dying to have me and they were negotiating with Vida. Vida then agreed to have me do the film if he could direct it. They offered him the title of executive producer. Everyone knows that the executive producer title means either you put up most of the money for the film, screwing the actress or both. Vida had been the executive producer on my last film, having fulfilled both those obligations. Eventually the producers agreed, I however refused to have him fuck up the film. We fought and I kicked him out of the house.

A month later we divorced. It was major Hollywood news. I needed a movie to get away from it all and took a stupid film based on a video game or comic of some kind. It wasn't Oscar material but it was being filmed in Hungary which was far enough away from California. I continued my "black wig ways" which should have been a lot easier in Hungary but the paparazzi was all over trying to find out what I was up to.

Surprisingly to me the film was a huge blockbuster. Although not critically acclaimed, the role made me the major star in Hollywood. It was then I realized that as a divorced woman and star I no longer needed to worry about my reputation that much.

I hit the nightlife and went out with all the stars that have been after me for years. I went out with Lenard Decaprizo, Juke Law, Mike Damiens and Josh Laketimbers. I made the front page of every tabloid for months and soon learned to embrace the paparazzi. 

The tabloids thought I was out of control with my nightly partying.

One night hotel heiress Rome Marriot and fellow actress Linda Highhan and I went out partying. Every paparazzi in a 200 mile radius must have followed us from bar to bar. I have met these girls before at parties at Benny Aflets house and some other events. Everything I heard about them was true. Rome was such a slut; I actually watched her give the waiter a blow job at our table for a tip. Linda was no nun either, every place we went she would grab some guy off the dance floor and bring him to some out of the way corner and fuck him in the shadows. Somewhere along the way she lost her panties and naturally the shot of her getting out of the car made all the tabloids and internet.

One day my dad dropped in on me unexpected. He showed up in my Malibu home at nine in the evening. My housekeeper let him in while Rome and I were getting dressed for a party.

Ever the proper gentleman, my father rose from the couch as I came down the stairs. I can tell from the uncomfortable way he looked at me that he did not approve of my outfit for the evening. Rome followed me down the stairs as I gave my father a peck on the cheek.

"Oh dad, this is my friend Rome."

Rome sauntered over to my dad and gave him a hug. My father cleared his voice and made an uncomfortable cough. Rome twirled around and winked at me and whispered into my ear.

"You're dads hot. I'd like to fuck him."

I giggled. I looked at my father. He was wearing tight blue jeans and a white long sleeve shirt that was buttoned to his well built chest. He was still blushed from Rome's hug. My housekeeper brought us all a class of champagne and we toasted. My father took a seat across from both of us on the couch.

"So you two going to a costume party tonight?"

Rome and I giggled. I know Rome thought he was probably making a sly joke, but I knew my father was probably serious. All these years he has been naïve to the model and acting business. Perhaps his small town boyhood suppressed this wild lifestyle and that is why he devoted his life to just his work.

"No dad, we are going to a party tonight...this is what people wear."

Rome crossed her legs. With her tight short dress, I knew she was purposely giving my father a view that she was not wearing panties. My father's eyes drawn to Rome's shaved beaver quickly darted back to my eyes and his cheeks again filled with blush. Another class of champagne was poured and he gulped it down.

Rome was enjoying teasing him, crossing her legs, licking her lips, sucking on her finger tip. My father grunted and got up from the couch and faced the ocean.

"Jet, I came here to talk to you about all this nonsense in the papers. I don't like the implication that you have turned into some kind of...er....floozie."

Floozie? How many years ago did they use that word? 

"Dad, do you mean slut?" I asked, barely able to control my giggling.

"Ever since your divorce, the papers are portraying you as some kind of ....sex fiend."

"Jet, I think your dad is calling you a slut. I guess he thinks I am one too? Do you daddy?"

Rome laughed as she called him daddy, and stood up blowing him a kiss. She walked out of the room, I thought to go to the bathroom. I must admit watching Rome blazingly teasing my dad was making me hot. I thought how easy it was for women like Rome and I to dominate men with our power. Looking at my father from behind, his broad shoulders and tight buns, I wondered if I had the power over him. 

If I could dominate him like I controlled my brother and any other man I met.

I put my arms around him from behind and leaned my head on his shoulders.

"Dad, don't believe what the tabloids write. They sell papers by exaggerating the most simple things. Sure I am going through a phase now. I figured I was married too young, I led such a sheltered life, I never did much dating. So I am just dating a little."

I turned my dad around and held him at arms length.

"Honey, it's just that I worry..."

"Dad, no need. You know Ian looks out for me. Besides, in Hollywood this is what we do to schmooze and party so that we get the right scripts. Yeah, some of the parties are wild compared to your home town, but this is how business gets done here."

Rome walked up on us holding out a glass of champagne to my dad and I.

"She's right daddy." Rome giggled. "Here, let's have a toast to the rotten tabloids."

My father balked about having another glass but Rome insisted and he finished it in a few sips.

"You know what Jet? We should take daddy here with us tonight, to the party. We don't have any escorts, he would be perfect."

My father shook his head and blushed as Rome took her arm under his. At first I was shocked she would suggest such a thing. We were going to director Bret Ratkers house. His parties had the reputation of being one of turning into the wildest orgies in Hollywood. Rome looked at me pulling her chin up high and stared at me as if a dare. I knew what she was thinking. Did I have the power over any man, could I really be the queen or was I just a pretender. I smiled back.

"Dad, that is a wonderful idea, then you will see for yourself what goes on."

I stared at Rome back with a look that said, 'challenge accepted.'

You think I am a bitch.

Perhaps I am.

By now you understand me. 

It is not my fault I was born beautiful. 

The world I was brought into turned me this way. It is adapt or be trampled. You know I will never relinquish the power. It is all just a game to see how powerful I am.

As we left for the car Rome whispered to me that she had left to fetch the champagne and she spiked all three with ecstasy. I laughed, no she had made it too easy.

Bret Ratkers is a short, chubby, man in his forties. The fact that he is one of the most successful directors in Hollywood, makes him very attractive to wannabe actors and actresses. He also attracts the best script writers and producers because of this harem of starlets that hang out at his mansion 24/7. When Bret throws an "official" party, it is one of the biggest events. Reporters can't get within 1000 yards of his property and he hires tons of security. This allows the famous to come and do whatever they please, without out any fear there will be a hint of an allegation.

Anything goes at these parties, which usually turn into a huge orgy. I have seen the macho action hero playing with a young boy and cougar actresses that spend most of their time touting poor orphans in Africa being double teamed by young studs on the pool table.

The party was in full swing, anyone who is anyone in Hollywood was here, even my brother Ian. As I made the rounds, dad was in the care of Rome. She was making sure he had a refilled drink in his hand at all times. Ian came up to me demanding why I brought dad here. I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a side hallway. I pushed him against the wall and leaned into his body.

"Brother dear. Don't you ever talk to me in that tone. You enjoy yourself, forget about dad."

I reached with my hand to stroke his cock.

"If you're a good boy, maybe later we can have some nasty brother sister fun."

He stood still and quiet as he let me stroke him through his pants. He closed his eyes and I kissed his chin and walked away, leaving him with a hard on. I love the power.

In the great room of the home, most of the guests were now either nude or in skimpy underwear. I noticed my dad in the corner, his jeans were at his ankles and Rome was riding his cock. I felt hands from behind grab my tits. It was Bret.

"Jet, I've been holding my first cum of the day for you. Why are you still dressed?'

I turned and kissed him and held his chubby cheeks in my hand.

"Now Bret darling, I find that very hard to believe, it's nearly midnight and you haven't cum yet?" 

"Jet, it's two minutes passed midnight, so yes, it's a new day and I haven't cum yet today."

We laughed and he helped me out of my clothes. All I had on were my black silk crotch less pantyhose and a see through black silk bra. No doubt, everyman in mansion got an instant hard on when they saw my perfect body.

"We are playing a new game out by the pool, come with me."

Out of the pool were long buffet tables with white cloths. Most of the women were naked and laying back on the table with their pussies exposed at the edge. Men holding Dom Perigon champagne stood over their hanging head with their dicks in the women's mouths. I took my place near the center of the table. The Asian actor, Jonny Cheng, took his place behind me. I sucked on his dick as he poured the champagne into my pussy.

The rest of the men all lined up and each took a turn licking each of the pussies laid out before them. As one stopped, another took moved down and took his place. The champagne kept pouring into the pussies as the men lapped it up. I felt Jonny cum into my mouth. 

I looked up my father was licking the actress Zelma Blare, who was lying next to me. This meant my father was next. I leaned my head back and felt the man licking me move to my left. A small rush of cool air and then I felt a warm tongue dancing around my clit. The champagne poured into my pussy. I lifted my head to look up and saw my father eating me out. For the first time in my life I felt like I was going to have an orgasm.

About eight men later I saw it was my brother's turn. 

I leaned my head back, sucked another cock and finally all the men had their turn, licking all the females. Now it was the men's turn. The men laid on the table and the women formed a line. Champagne was poured by servers on each cock as women went from cock to cock. Bret was next to my father and as I sucked on his cock, my eyes locked on to my dad. The line shifted and stood before my father. He looked at me and shook his head mumbling no.

"It's only a game." I whispered, and grabbed his dick and sucked it into my mouth. 

It was my turn to move on so I reluctantly let it out of my mouth and took the black dick next in line. After the last dick was sucked, Bret instructed everyone to jump into the pool to 'clean' up.

Everyone was horny and groping everyone. I swam over to my dad who looked puzzled in the shallow end. I put my arms around him.

"Having fun daddy?" I was now imitating Rome's voice.

"My head is spinning." He mumbled.

I held him closely, straddling his legs and stroking his hard cock.

"I love you daddy". 

I kissed him and guided his dick into my pussy. At first it was all me doing the work, humping up and down on his dick. Soon he began thrusting into me. I leaned into his ear and whispered.

"What's it like to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world? What's it like to fuck your little girl daddy?"

He just groaned and fucked me harder. He kissed my nipples and grabbed the flesh of my ass as he pounded my pussy.

Then it happened. I realized my power was so great, not only could I seduce any man, I could seduce my own father into wantonly fucking his daughter in the middle of a party with hundreds of people. It was then I had my very first orgasm. 

It was the combination of the power rush that sent my body over the limit. 

I yelled a groan and scream, for the first time involuntarily. It was awesome. So much so, I nearly passed out. I felt dazed and realized that my dad was now cumming into my pussy. We rested in the corner of the shallow end of the pool. We finally caught our breaths and gingerly walked out of the pool.

I searched for my Versace dress, but settled for pair of baggy gap jeans and a T-shirt. Ian grabbed me by the elbow; he was naked with a hard on.

"Hey Jet....how about uh...."

I smiled and touched his cheek. 

"Not tonight hon. Besides, we already sucked each other earlier on line, remember?"

I walked out of the mansion and grabbed one of the limos back to my house.

So that is my life.

If you don't hate me. Perhaps someday, I will tell you more. There is so much more to tell.

Love,

Jet