Kelly Exposed
Viktor Redreich
Contents
1. Guys like it fast
2. Who needs clothes?
3. Lewd display
4. Public expsosure
5. Girls loving girls
6. Island delights
7. On your knees, now
8. Run girl run
9. A woman’s worth
10. Wet and messy
11. Stripped down
12. Are you dirty enough?
13. Control your urges
14. Do it harder
15. Discipline
16. Humiliated
17. Girls kissing girls
18. Put it on my face
19. Spread wide
20. Escape from paradise
21. Don’t get addicted
22. All used up
23. How badly do you need it?
24. Brains are for boys
25. Slave to the feeling
26. What more do you need?
27. Object of desire
28. Homeboud
Author's Note
From Sophie Corrupted
Also by Viktor Redreich
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
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Text copyright © 2020 by Viktor Redreich
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Published by Redreich Publishing Limited
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71-75 Shelton Street, Covent Garden
London WC2H 9JQ
United Kingdom
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www.Redreich.com
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ISBN: 978-1-913376-05-5
To Lucy for making-profound the profane.
Chapter 1
Guys like it fast
Horny MILF takes Eight BBC while Husband Watches. Cuckold.
I stared at the title of the porn video, horrified out of my mind, my spine crawling. My unsuspecting boyfriend hovered his mouse cursor over the video, considering it as an option. An option for what, I suspected, and really didn’t want to think about. Whatever a BBC was, eight was far too many.
My boyfriend gave a dismissive little shrug and scrolled further down the page. He paused when another title appeared to catch his attention and put his cursor over it. I leaned in, holding my breath so he wouldn’t notice me standing behind him.
Helpless Teen Gagged, Tied Up, Abused.
That one was even worse than the first. This time, I noticed the thumbnail image. A barely-legal teen girl who looked unsettlingly similar to me—blonde hair, Caucasian—lay on her back with her arms and legs bound. A certain part of the male anatomy was being shoved down her throat. A huge hand with grime under the nails pinched her nose shut. Mascara tracked down her face and the rest of her body bore signs of abuse, bruises, and even bite marks.
Numbness filled my brain at the awful sight. It all had to be staged, completely not real, but the sight of that girl who looked so much like me being portrayed as a victim ignited a series of harsh emotions inside me.
My boyfriend clicked on the video.
In the reflection of the laptop screen, I saw him bite his lip.
I should have stepped back to make sure he wouldn’t notice me, act like I had just entered the room. My legs wouldn’t work. My mind wasn’t working either, caught up in a whirlwind of fury and confusion and embarrassment. We were at my mom’s house, for goodness sake. He’d gone to use the bathroom upstairs. He’d been taking a bit, so I came up to check on him and found him in the guest room, the one that used to be my old bedroom. I’d wondered what he was doing, why he’d brought out his laptop from his overnight bag. And now I knew, but I didn’t understand.
The video loaded, showing a lone young woman walking on a long stretch of deserted road. Not only did she look like me, she was around my age, eighteen or nineteen. She wore a crop top and short shorts that left the lower half of her butt cheeks exposed. She looked around, looking right into the camera at one point, then paused by the side of the road. Vehicles approached four of them. She lifted her hand to flag them down. None even slowed down until the last vehicle, a rather stylish van. The van pulled off on the side of the road. The girl hurried over. The driver’s side window rolled down and a middle-aged man with a mane of black hair poked his head out.
The girl approached . . .
My boyfriend squirmed, leaning back in his seat. He caressed the volume button with a tenderness unlike anything he had ever shown me, and moans and pleas filled the small bedroom. The black-haired man railed at the girl, shouting demeaning things at her while wrestling her to the ground in front of him. He told her she knew what to do and it was for her own good.
The girl, crying, scrabbled at the front of his pants, pulled the zipper down.
“Tyler!”
My boyfriend jolted in his seat, dropping his laptop on the floor. He slammed the laptop shut and leaped to his feet to face me. The front of his pants bulged, the button undone and the zipper halfway down to show his underwear and a shadow of the member within.
“Kelly!” he said. Sweat popped out of his pores and his cheeks went red. “What are you doing?”
“I should be the one asking you!” I almost couldn’t comprehend what I had seen. “Why were you watching porn in my mom’s house? In my old bedroom, of all places?”
Tyler rubbed the sweat from his face and wiped his wet palms on his pants. I’d never seen him look so uncertain of himself, not that he didn’t deserve it. He was one of those preppy guys who always managed to be good at everything, even things guys weren’t normally good at, like styling their hair and dressing. He wore a blue-and-tan sweater vest over a pale blue shirt, and a nice pair of jeans and his hair was tousled using just the right amount of product.
Except now, his jeans hung open and his sweater vest was rumpled and his hair stuck up in the back where he’d leaned his head on the back of the chair. A thin wet sheen lined his upper lip, darkening the soft mustache fuzz. He didn’t look preppy at all. He looked deviant.
“I can explain, Kelly,” his soft voice pleaded with me to listen.
“So, explain,” I demanded. I really hoped he had a good explanation for this behavior because what could I do if he didn’t?
Tyler glanced away, then back at me. He held up his hands in a hopeless gesture. “I was horny.”
I winced. “Do you have to say it like that? Can’t you say ‘aroused?’”
“Geez, you can be such a priss.” Tyler jammed his hands in his pockets and turned his head away from me. “Can you blame me for needing some stress relief? You don’t put out. And the day after tomorrow, you’re going away on that trip to that backward island in the Caribbean, so I won’t even get what little you’ll do for me.”
I took a step back, blinking hard, offended out of my mind by the callous words. “You know why I won’t ‘put out.’ You know that. And even if that was a good excuse, this is my mom’s house! Dinner is almost ready and you’re up here playing with yourself.”
Tyler stepped closer, closing the distance between us. He lowered his head, blue eyes flashing. “It’d go faster if you’d help.”
“Tyler . . .” I swallowed hard.
“Come one, Kelly. Please?” He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me to him, pressing our hips together so I felt his hardness grin
ding on me. “You did Duke at that party the summer before college, so it’s not going to hurt. I’ll be gentle, I swear.”
Warmth coiled in my loins to feel him pressing into me. I loved that he could get so excited about me. His words, however, stung, made the warmth inside me easier to fight against. “Duke said all sorts of lies about me, Tyler. I don’t want to go through that again.”
My boyfriend scoffed. “Who would I lie about you to? Your mom?”
“I . . .”
He grabbed me harder and turned me around. He pushed his body against mine, his lips pressing against mine. He kissed me, his mouth demanding, his tongue pushing through my lips and striving further in. I gasped and grabbed at him. My gasp warped into a little moan as he ran his hands down my back, to my butt. His tongue thrust deeper, claiming me. I gave him my tongue, rubbing on his. He pushed past, deeper, seeking more. A flash of irritation interrupted my arousal. Aren’t we both supposed to be getting pleasure out of this? Sometimes it was as if he only used me, and anything I felt was secondary.
The backs of my thighs hit the guest bed. I rolled onto my back with Tyler on top of me. He kept kissing me, straddling my body with his arms and legs. His hands roamed everywhere that he could get to, over my breasts and between my thighs. His palm cupped me between my legs, fingers pushing against the slit of fabric there.
I tossed my head, trying to restrain a cry of delight. My chest heaved, my breathing shuddering. “Oh, Tyler!”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He grinned against my lips. He undid my pants and shoved his hand inside, fingers rubbing over my panty-clad mound. My lips felt swollen and tender. The heat inside me increased in intensity, like the dial on a gas stove had been turned just a fraction.
I spread my legs for him, anticipating what would come next. We’d done this before, though not often. He knew what to do, what I wanted. I hoped with every fiber of my being that he’d actually do it.
He slipped inside my panties, found that little place inside me that could give me so much pleasure and placed his fingers on it. I arched, pushing myself on him. His hot breath rasping in my ear, he started to rub me. Fast.
“Ow!” I yelped, and shoved at him.
He ignored me and kept rubbing, not letting me appreciate the sensations. A moment later, he pulled his hand out and started tugging on my jeans to get them out of the way. Red anger pulsed in front of my eyes. I whacked at his back. He grunted and loosened his grip. I shoved at him again and managed to roll out from underneath him.
Tyler sat up, panting, rubbing the sore spot. “What was that?” he demanded.
“You never do it right!” I did my pants up again and pushed at my hair to make sure everything was in order. “You do it too fast.”
“Guys like fast!”
“Well, I’m not a guy!” I snapped. My heart ached. Holding onto the anger was easier than dealing with the pain. “It’s guys like you who keep sending the women’s rights movement back several decades. You only care about what you feel.”
“It’s the twenty-first Century and all you can do is talk about that equality crap.” Tyler crossed his arms. “Get over yourself. Maybe then we could have some fun.”
“Tyler.”
“Whatever.” He did up his pants. “Let’s just go downstairs and have dinner with your mom. Then you can go to that island. Don’t hold it against me if I find someone else while you’re out there.”
My heart twisted, aching even more than before. I did like him. He could be so sweet and thoughtful. It was only this side of him that didn’t seem to understand we had separate needs that ruined our relationship; unfortunately, this side came up a lot, because of how much he always seemed to need some sort of sexual gratification.
“Kids, dinner’s ready!”
I jerked my head around at the sound of Mom’s voice. She must have been at the bottom of the staircase, yelling up at us.
Tyler brushed past me. “Let’s just go. Coming, Ms. Ryan!”
I watched him go and then closed my eyes. It just wasn’t fair.
“Kelly!” Mom shouted.
“Coming,” I called. I cleared my throat and straightened my appearance one last time before heading downstairs.
Tyler was already in the dining room, helping to put dishes on the table. He glanced at me and then away.
Mom had prepared a veritable feast to celebrate the start of spring break. Seared salmon steaks in a honey-soy glaze, sautéed sugar snap peas, chickpea salad, cheese biscuits, and roasted carrots. She brought out a bottle of sparkling cherry juice and poured a glass for all three of us; she’d never serve alcohol, as my father had been a heavy drinker.
Once we had all sat down, Tyler started helping himself. “This all looks fantastic, Ms. Ryan.”
Mom hesitated. I saw she was deciding whether to mention she normally said grace before eating. She gave a little shrug to herself. “Thank you, Tyler. I wanted to match the occasion.”
I scooped a spoonful of chickpea salad onto my plate. Technically, spring break wouldn’t start until the day after tomorrow, the same day I left to go on my trip, but most classes had finished earlier in the week.
Mom plopped a dripping salmon steak onto my plate. “Eat up, dear. You don’t know what sort of food you’ll get on that island.”
“I was only planning on looking at the food until you told me it’s for eating,” I joked, smiling at Mom.
Mom gave me a small smile in return. We were closer than a lot of parents and children because we’d mostly had only each other. I could tell she wasn’t very happy.
Tyler just ate, oblivious.
“I can’t help but worry about you, dear,” Mom said. She picked at a biscuit, reducing the bake good to a pile of crumbs. “Hardly anyone knows anything about that island. And you’re so young. Please, stay safe for me, won’t you?”
I reached to her and put my hand over hers. “Of course, Mom. You know I will.”
She nodded, though the stress in her eyes didn’t lessen.
I couldn’t blame her for being worried. Not only was I her only daughter, the island I was going to had quite a reputation for, well, sexual deviance. And that was why I was going.
I was pursuing a degree in Sexual Psychology. I’d always had an interest in how the desires of men and women played into their daily lives, how a want influenced action. I wanted to graduate with honors, which meant I couldn’t just devote my spring break to partying like everyone else at the college. I wanted to go to that island, observe the culture, study the people, and use my experiences to write an amazing thesis paper about how sexual behavior impacted societies.
Tyler munched on his salmon, seemingly oblivious to the tension at the table. “Maybe she’ll learn how not to be such a stick in the mud while she’s there.”
Mom huffed a little laugh. “Oh, Tyler. My Kelly is a good girl, that’s all.”
“I’ll stay a good girl on the island, Mom,” I reassured her. “And I’ll have a guide and everything. It’ll be fine.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it will be. I just worry. Tyler, would you like some more to drink?”
I focused on my meal, ignoring my troublesome boyfriend. If he moved on while I was gone, that was fine. I’d be moving up in the world with all I’d learn.
Chapter 2
Who needs clothes?
Roaming fingers found that place between my legs where pleasure lived. A faceless man sprawled over me, oozing a sense of power. His muscles were massive, defined, bulging as he rocked over me and worked at me with his fingers. His hardness pressed on the high softness of my inner thigh, but he seemed content to ignore it and instead focused on me.
His hand remained while he slid down, rubbing his face on me. He mouthed my thighs and headed even lower, to the place his hand had previously occupied.
I moaned and arched and felt something that couldn’t have been him. Cloth, when we were both nude, rubbing over my body. Awareness stirred in the back of my mind, words that drif
ted up like steam, shapeless but present.
I was dreaming.
I needed to wake up. This wasn’t right. I had to do something.
But it felt so good, what that talented phantom lover was doing to me. My hand copied his movements or guided them, I wasn’t sure, tending to my aching flesh. The line between dream and reality blurred. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, only that Tyler had never made me feel like this before.
Some demanding part of me didn’t want it to end.
I snuggled deeper into the warmth of my bed, letting the dream claim me.
My phantom lover did as he would, his tongue circling. My fingers make the same motions between my legs. I arched in the dream, felt myself arch in reality. The cliff of gratification was right there, within sight, and I needed to reach it and leap off and submerge myself in the depths below.
His hands were big, like the rest of him. He clamped them on my legs, drove into me. I trembled, heard my own voice making whimpers and yelps.
Almost there, steps away, the glorious fall within reach.
An irritating, toneless beep sounded, shattering the dream like a baseball bat taken to a TV screen. The inner workings lay exposed behind the glass. I was more aware of my own hand between my legs, my wetness. My fingers slid easily over my flesh. The dream lover was nowhere to be found. It was only me.
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