Megan Disgraced

by Viktor Redreich

  Megan Disgraced

  Viktor Redreich

  Contents

  Good Girls Dirty Confessions

  1. Kind handsome stranger

  2. Come home to me

  3. Take it all off

  4. Bad people do bad things

  5. Let me touch you

  6. You've been a bad girl

  7. I want you to want me

  8. You deserve to be spanked

  9. Teach you a lesson

  10. Touching yourself 101

  11. Girls having fun

  12. Lick the underside

  13. Your first time

  14. How do I make you love me?

  15. Count

  16. Who's the boss?

  17. Tables turned

  18. How sweet it is

  Author's Note

  Excerpt from the book Amber Stigmatized

  Also by Viktor Redreich

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  * * *

  Text copyright © 2020 by Viktor Redreich

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  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.

  * * *

  Published by Redreich Publishing Limited

  * * *

  71-75 Shelton Street, Covent Garden

  London WC2H 9JQ

  United Kingdom

  * * *

  www.Redreich.com

  * * *

  ISBN: 978-1-913376-02-4

  YOUR FREE BOOK IS WAITING

  Good Girls Dirty Confessions

  Good girls keep their legs closed.

  Good girls confess when they’ve been bad.

  * * *

  They tell each other the naughty things they’ve done, and they promise never to do those things again.

  Because its wrong to do dirty things with older men. Even if he’s your college professor, your boss, or the cute guy next door. Especially if you’re his maid or his nanny.

  Under no circumstances should you call an older man Daddy.

  * * *

  And never, ever attempt to seduce a married man.

  GET YOUR FREE BOOK NOW

  This book is for my original muse, Mona.

  In your devotion I find divinity.

  Chapter 1

  Kind handsome stranger

  Megan tipped her head back to the cold evening sky and prayed that tonight would be kind to her.

  That tonight, for a change, she might get something to eat. That tonight she might stay warm and keep dry. That tonight she could sleep easy, instead of having to spend the entire evening peering out of the corner of her eye to make sure that someone wasn’t coming to steal away what was rightfully hers.

  But she knew, as she gazed at the black, icy sky above her, that none of that was going to happen for her. Not tonight. Why would it start now, after a lifetime of suffering? If there was one thing she had learned from all this time on the street, it was that life was predictable in all the worst ways possible. And she had seen every single one of those worst ways a million times over now.

  "Hey, lady!” A voice cut through the mess of her head, and she glanced around, tugging what was left of her dress around her. A man was waving to her, from the entrance of a store. He was holding a brown paper bag and was clearly already drunk. Damnit, that was the last thing she needed right now. She had to get away from him. She knew what so many men saw when they looked at a woman liked her, and tonight she was in no mood to deal with it.

  "Hey, baby, where are you going?" The man asked, sounding genuinely affronted as she hustled to the other side of the street and towards a small alley that she knew would keep her safe for the evening.

  She wondered, in the back of her mind, if that kind of approach had ever worked for that man before. She could hardly believe that many women would be bending over backwards to give him the time of day, to listen to the harsh way that he yelled out to them. But she knew that life on the streets could be hard, and sometimes, even the thought of sharing a bed with a man like that was better than sleeping out on the cold, hard sidewalk for another night, while people walked past you like you didn’t even exist.

  Sometimes, Megan reasoned with herself as she ducked down behind a garbage can and started going through the stacks of boxes there waiting for her, it was better for people to act like you weren’t even there. It was the ones who offered her uneasy smiles, the ones who clearly had no idea how to act around someone from whom life had taken everything, that got her the most. Like they knew their lives were better than hers, but they didn’t want to stand there over her and make her remember that. As though she had any choice but to remember it, all the time, even when she wanted to leave it behind. This life was relentless. It took no prisoners and allowed you no breaks. She couldn’t get away from it for even a few hours and think about something else. She was always focused on where her next meal was coming from, where she was going to sleep that night, and if she was going to be able to get some money together to buy something waterproof to keep the rain off her while she slept.

  Speaking of. She had to get a shelter together before the storm that was due to come in tonight settled in completely. The last thing she wanted was to catch another dangerous cold, one that would put her out of action for a few days. She needed her energy to be able to go around her normal routine, collecting money where she could and scavenging for food every chance she got. She knew that the other girls she knew vaguely from this life would look out for her as much as they could, but there was only so much that they could do, given that they had to look out for themselves first and foremost.

  There was a small stack of cardboard boxes next to the trashcan, that must have been freshly put-out because they weren’t wet from the drizzle coming down above her yet. She quickly did what she could to construct them into something that resembled a decent shelter, but her hands were shaking from the cold that had already begun to set in and she could hardly keep the boxes stacked long enough to do something useful with them. If that wasn’t a summation of life on the streets, she didn’t know what was. You were trying to make things better for yourself, but at every turn, something else would come up and force you to pay attention to it and get in the way.

  She wished she had studied some kind of geometry or something at school. Not that she’d spent a whole lot of time there, of course – her father had pulled her out a lot of the time so she could take care of the house for him while he was away on business trips, much to her chagrin. Not that she had been allowed to express any of it, anyway. And if she had, well, it would have been more trouble than it was worth. And she felt like she got enough of that as it was.

  She had tried her best to keep up with her friends and stay on top of her studies, but it was hard when...well, with everything else that was going on as she transitioned from a child to an adult. She knew that most people had an adolescence in there, got a chance to get to know themselves a little better before they were tossed out into the world of stress and responsibility, but she had never been so lucky. No, she’d had that taken away from her, by the person who was meant to love her most. By the person who was meant to protect her against all of this crap.

  Eventually, she had managed to construct something that would do to keep the rain off her for the night – she had balanced it in such a way that it was under a small overhanging balcony above, that would serve to keep the rain off as long as the wind wasn’t coming in side
ways. Megan crawled inside, dragging behind her the small plastic bag which kept all of her belongings in it.

  When she had first started with all of this, with living this way, she had promised herself that it wasn’t going to be for long. She was just doing what she had to in order to get away, and as soon as she was done, she would start afresh. So she hadn’t bothered to pack a lot or plan that much. Since she had known she would be off the streets soon enough, she wouldn’t need it, right?

  But, of course, that had swiftly been proved wrong, and now she was stuck here, in the clothes that she had practically been living in for the last six months, most of them so tattered that she was surprised she didn’t get caught for indecent exposure when she walked down the street – but that would have required the cops to actually look at her for more than five seconds at a time, she supposed, and they had hardly shown any interest in wanting to do that before. Why would they break the habit of a lifetime?

  Even still, she tugged the tattered beige dress around her body, trying to cover up her bare breast – it was dangerous to expose herself on the street like that, since so many men would take that as all the invitation they needed to do whatever they wanted to her. She’d had to battle off a few so-called suitors in her day, and she hadn’t got the energy to do that tonight. She used to be able to hide behind her hair, but she had cut it all off a few months before, sick of the smell and the ugly, nasty tangles that seemed to be woven into its very fabric by this point.

  Reaching into her plastic bag, she retrieved the small carton of apple juice that she had found earlier in the day. She had been rationing it out, but she was going to finish it once and for all and then try to get some sleep in her makeshift home for the night. She was exhausted, as she always was, just from the sheer effort of existing right now. When you hadn’t had enough food in months, and struggled to find the calories you needed to sustain yourself, your brain was hardly working at full tilt, and your body was constantly crying out for some rest to try and soothe some of the aching muscles that would follow you around like old friends.

  Squeezing the last few drops from the carton into her mouth, Megan shifted around a little to get herself comfortable and then drop off to sleep – or, at least, that’s what she might have done, had her night not been ruined by the most thoughtless asshole in the history of thoughtless assholes.

  She heard the roar of the engine a moment before she felt the rush of water splash over her shelter and soak it through in an instant – for a moment, all she could do was sit there in total horror as the boxes dripped wet, clumpy cardboard all over her. But then, she felt a swell of anger, a swell of rage.

  No. She wasn’t just going to sit by and let this happen for a change.

  She was going to stand up for herself.

  Scrambling to her feet, she adjusted her tattered dress to cover her exposed breast and turned her attention to the man on the motorbike who had just pulled up opposite her. The one who had swished through the puddle and ruined her night. She was shaking, soaked through, and must have looked like a drowned rat, but she didn’t care. It was amazing how anger could make you forget about everything else that you were meant to care about. Such as human decency.

  "What the frick are you doing?" She yelled at the man, just as he lifted his helmet from his head; she couldn’t help but notice that, even in the dim light of this alley, he was handsome. Short hair, dark, and eyes that seemed to glitter in the dark. He kicked his bike to put the kickstand down, and turned his attention towards her.

  "Who the frick wants to know?" He fired back, but he seemed pretty cheerful about this whole thing, which just made her even angrier than she had been before.

  "You ruined my goddamn shelter!" She shrieked back at him, and she pointed to the wet mush of cardboard boxes that was supposed to be her home for the night. She felt another swell of anger. All that hard work, for nothing, just because this jerk-off wanted a quiet place to park his bike.

  "What are you talking about-"

  "My shelter!" She called back, and she stabbed her finger at the boxes again. "I had just made it, and there’s a storm coming in tonight and now I have nowhere to stay and if I catch a chill and die then it’ll be..."

  She was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, and couldn’t imagine carrying on her tirade a moment longer, even though she knew that he deserved it. She sank back against the wall, shivering violently, hoping that this man couldn’t see the dirt crusted on to her skin from where he was standing. She forgot, sometimes, that she was so objectionable to the rest of the world at large, and she could tell from his silence that he thought she was a total crazy girl. Maybe she was. Why else would she have gotten so upset over a stupid cardboard shelter for the night? Living this life made you do crazy things, but this had to be a new low for her; normally, she could forgive, forget, and move on, but right now, she wanted nothing but reparation from this dude.

  "Damnit," he muttered. He seemed genuinely annoyed at himself. He stepped towards her, and she instantly flattened herself back against the wall. If she had learned anything thus far in life, it was not to trust men who came too close to you.

  "I’m sorry," he finally offered her, and he unzipped the pocket of his motorcycle jacket – which was a battered brown leather that brought out gold flecks in his eyes – and pulled out a wallet.

  "Here," he told her, and he reached in and pulled out a small wad of notes. He held them out to her, and, for a moment, she thought that this had to be some kind of joke; she stared at them for a long second, glancing back at the man, then back at the money, and back at the man again. Was he going to ask for something in return for him giving her this cash? She could hardly imagine that he was looking for any kind of physical pleasures from her, given the state that she was in, but you could never be too careful...

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the money. She needed that cash more than she needed anything else at that moment. She couldn’t tell how much it was, but even if it was just a few dollars that would be enough to get her a hot meal and a place to stay warm and dry during the storm. She snatched it from him and stuffed it into the pocket of her dress. She glared at him the whole time, letting him know that he wasn’t going to get anything in return for this. He held his hands up, and she spat at his feet for good measure. Just to make sure he truly had no interest in her.

  He gazed at her for a moment longer, and she eyed him back. What was going through his head? There was a sadness in his eyes, as though she reminded him of someone he would have liked to forget if he’d had the chance.

  "What is it?" She asked him, and suddenly, he was peeling off his jacket and handing it to her.

  "Here, take this," he ordered her. She did as she was told without thinking, pulling it on gratefully.

  "Why?" She asked.

  "Because you’re going to need to look decent if I’m going to take you for something to eat," he replied.

  Her lips parted in surprise – that was the last thing she’d expected. But as he grinned at her in the dark of the alley, she figured that, once in a while, the unexpected was just what she needed.

  Chapter 2

  Come home to me

  "Here, take a seat," Dravid guided the girl gently to one of the booths near the back of the diner. He could already feel a room full of eyes on the two of them, and he could hardly blame them.

  The way the girl was looking around, it was as though she could hardly remember being in a place like this – like she had forgotten what it was to be invited into a restaurant and not be instantly kicked to the curb once they worked out who she was. In some ways, he supposed, he felt bad for her; in others, though, he felt more annoyed at himself for giving in to her baseless attack on him, especially when he had tried to make things right.

  "What do you want to eat?" He asked her, and one of the men at the booth behind them glanced around, probably to see where the smell was coming from. As soon as the man locked eyes on her, he grimaced and looked away once more.
Dravid tried to ignore him.

  The girl was staring Dravid, sullen and silent. He waved the waitress over and put in two orders of chicken and waffles. He had no idea if she would even eat that if he ordered it, but as long as he was doing his part to get her off the street, he was happy. She had looked so devastated when he’d ruined her little cardboard shack, he felt like buying her a hot meal was the least he could do.

  "So, what’s your name?" He asked her. The girl reached up, and motioned her hand like she was tucking back a strand of hair; a learned gesture, he figured, given that her hair was so short there would have been no real need for her to do that. Tugging her dress and the jacket a little closer around her shoulders, she finally spoke to him again, the first time since she had hit him with that tirade in the street before.

  "Megan," she replied, at last. She had a quiet voice, like she wasn’t used to speaking up and frankly didn’t really know how to use it without getting punished for it. He winced, and wondered what she had been through that had landed her on the streets with that kind of attitude.