Hollow Pleasure Ch. 05

Rob thought for a minute. Maybe he ought to throw the kid a bone and make that happen.

"Eventually..." he promised. For now, though, he had more... interesting plans for them.

Rob flicked on one of his monitors, and the camera views appeared, one after another. His little helper monkey had done his bidding, and come home from the store with bags of cameras. Rob didn't yet have a chance to install them everywhere, but Meggy Richards downstairs had been more than willing to let him hook up a few discreet ones in her apartment (with some gentle nudging from his spell, that is). And downstairs, in the basement, Rob had placed a few others. Rob ventured that a few days and a few keystrokes from now, he'd have the whole building on his screen. A live action porn studio, with him as the director. He smiled at the thought of that.

On the camera, he watched for a while as Galloway and Ethan sat in the laundry room and chatted. Ethan's mother was alone in her apartment...

Let's change that. Rob smiled to himself. It was time to start the show. He had some seeds that needed watering. He began to type...

***

Basement

Galloway sat alone for a little while longer after Ethan had been called away by his mother, listening to the hum of the drier. Normally she'd just go back to her apartment and do something else in the meantime. But there wasn't much time left on the machine, and she figured she may as well hang out and muse over her new found friendship with Ethan.

She liked hanging out with him. Maybe it would boost his self-esteem. That was something that he desperately needed. The fact was, he was a cute kid— thoughtful and sweet, for sure. He was also definitely attractive (even if he didn't know it), and probably would be even more as he aged. If he was able to shake that nervous smile of his, girls would gravitate to him, with or without the crutches.

She sighed. "You gotta work on yourself, girl, before you can take on any other fixer-upper projects." This was true. She had to wrap her head around her new job— figure out if it was something she really wanted or not. She needed to find a way to be okay with her life changes. And... she needed to find a way to be okay with her past. She rubbed the ache in her shoulder, and found herself massaging the gunshot scar. Galloway still had a lot of memories to sort through.

And that dream... What the hell had that been about? Why in the hell would that turn her on? Her reoccurring nightmare of being chased through the gaming floor by a group of violent robbers had suddenly transformed into a sex dream. And not just any sex dream. A sex dream about being taken by force, in front of hundreds of judging on-lookers, by the worst types of men— violent murderous criminals. Yet it had turned her on— more than most things had in a long time. She'd been moaning like a slut as they took her from all sides, disgracing her job, her coworkers, her moral fortitude, her ideals, and herself... in the most despicable ways...

Galloway was touching herself.

She snapped her head down and saw that her hand was down the front of her jeans. The top button undone, and her fingers sliding along her panties.

"What the fuck? How did that happen?" Her heart was pounding at the shock of what she'd just caught herself doing, alone in this filthy basement. Maybe exhaustion was finally catching up with her, and she'd nodded off, forgetting where she was, only to come-to touching herself. Galloway dismissed it as that, and nothing more.

And there was no denying that she was sexually frustrated lately. Her fuck-buddy, Quinn, hadn't been available for a while to give her a much needed release, and Galloway desperately needed a good time to take her mind off of things. That must be what's triggering all of it. At some point, her sexual frustration was be crossing wires with her reoccurring nightmares, and turning sexual. That's the only reason she'd get turned on by the thought of fucking a group of bad man. She knew there were women who were fascinated by dangerous men— serial killers had groupies, and convicts often had complete strangers write to them... swooning over them. But Galloway was never one of them. She had always thought those women were psychos.

She had to forgive herself for her dream. But she needed to get laid. If she was at the point where she was rubbing herself in the basement laundry room (a room that all of the tenants shared), then there was definitely a problem. Anyone could have come down and caught her.

Oh god, what would she have done? She would have been mortified if Ethan had returned and saw her touching her pussy, like some demented slut. Or Ethan's sweet little mother. Or that creep up on 3. Hell, she didn't know everyone in the building. What if someone more sinister caught her? She could be sharing her apartment with some rough ex-convict. It wasn't that far-fetched— it was a cheap apartment. He might see her in the act, and assume she was some desperate slut. He'd interpret her desire to get off as an open invitation. She'd say no, but he'd grab her, toss her on the folding table, hit her, call her a slut, tear her from her clothes and just take her.

Galloway let out a soft gasp. She was rubbing herself again. Her fingers slid down the front of her jeans. She spread her legs. Her panties had grown damp and warm.

She was breathing hard, her skin prickling with excitement as her heart thundered away in her chest. She knew it was wrong— touching herself in public. Anyone could come down those stairs and see what a fucked up, twisted sex fiend she was.

Yet, for some reason, Galloway couldn't bring herself to stop. Her fingers found her wetness, and she plunged one inside of herself. She let out a soft squeak of satisfaction. God it felt good. She hadn't realized how badly she needed this.

What was coming over her? She felt filthy— like a pervert. Like... a... "look at that filthy pig." She could almost hear one of the gruff voices of the men who'd invaded her dreams and assaulted her body...

Her fingers worked faster. "Fuck," she gasped out. It must have been a long time since she'd gotten off. It felt amazing. Each movement of her hand was like a little spark of electricity.

Even the thrill of being caught down here in this compromising position was only inspiring her to touch more. Before she could stop herself, Galloway was sliding her jeans off and discarding them on the dirty floor. She propped her boots up on the folding table and spread her legs wide. That'd be the first thing that anyone would see if they came down here— this fit aspiring officer, turned slut, her bare legs spread wide, her panties soaked, and her fingers working feverishly.

Her other hand slid up to her breasts. Her nipples had grown hard. They were pressing through her shirt. She pulled it up until it came to rest beneath her chin. Her breasts cupped pleasantly by her black bra, that suddenly felt much too tight. She tugged it down until it came to rest beneath her full C-cups. She started to twist and pinch at her fast-hardening nipples. She sucked her lips into her mouth, biting them softly and moaning meekly.

What the fuck was coming over her? Galloway found that she could neither stop, nor did she want to. Her hips started to buck. Her restless fingers plunged in and out of her soaked lips in deep strokes. Her moans were growing bolder, louder. They were intermixed with her gasping vulgar things beneath her breath. She was only half aware of the things she said. "I'm such a fuckin' whore... I should be punished. Fuck me... spank me... hit me... do it hard... hurt me..."

Her words went on and on, as if daring someone to come down here and catch her. She knew if they did, she would not stop. She'd look them in the eyes and keep fingering herself... until they came over to her... and did something about it.

As much as she tried to imagine it happening any other way, her thoughts kept circling her back to that fantasy— men who would take her by force. She couldn't imagine anything else. Some sexy hottie— guy or girl— just wasn't doing it for her. Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined a group of bad men— ugly muscular men with scars and prison tattoos.

Her mind was welcoming the fantasy. "What do we have here?" they'd say when they came down the stairs and caught her in the act of finger fucking herself. Galloway would try to leave, but they'd throw her on the table, pinning her arms above her head.

Galloway squealed softly at the image. Her fingers worked even faster. She could almost feel the brutal way they'd hold her down. Her breath was coming in rapid gasps. She pinched and twisted her own nipple until she whimpered.

"Shut the fuck up, piggy," they'd slap her across the face as they held her legs apart. They were going to teach her a lesson for being on the right side of the law.

Galloway moaned, and slapped herself across the chest, making her tits jiggle. "Look at this prime law enforcement slut," they would declare. They'd slap her across the chest over and over again until tears came to her eyes. They'd thrust her legs apart, and they'd force themselves into her body. But the worst thing of all... she'd like it. She'd moan, and grunt, and beg them for more.

"Fuck me," she'd plead with the men. "I'm your whore. I'll do whatever you want, whenever you want." She moaned the words out loud to an empty basement. Two fingers were no longer enough. She slid a third into her pussy, and the sensation made her eyes flutter.

Her attackers would be huge... they'd be rough, and they'd be mean. They'd stretch her to new limits, permanently ruining her body. She would take them all at once, letting them fill all of her holes. She would let them line up and run a train on her. She would go to bed with each of them alone. She would devote hours of her life to pleasuring men who hurt others for their own amusement... and she'd squeal with delight each time they did, and give her body over to them...

Galloway couldn't stand it any longer. She needed something more than fingers inside of her body. She jumped to her feet and hurried from the room, half naked. How crazy she must look in her boots, and ankle holster, her strong bare legs exposed. Just black panties and matching bra askew from her frenzied masturbating. Her shirt lifting up just below her neck, resting on the tops of her exposed boobs. Her hair wild and messy from her day.

She stopped in the storage room, looking thoughtfully at the cages, at first thinking that if someone had a baseball bat or a broom, she would use that to fuck herself. But then the cages themselves had her attention.

She imagined people in those cages. But not bad men, but her fellow officers. She pictured some sort of take over, the bad men had escaped from their cells, rounded up her and her officers, and forced them to be the prisoners. Galloway saw her Captain, her boss, her friends, all locked inside. They were staring back at her as the murderers and rapists surrounded her...

Galloway began to rub, her fingers spinning relentlessly in little circles over her clit.

They would be shocked, horrified... betrayed. Because Galloway wouldn't be forced at all. She'd stare back at them, shrug, and drop to her knees on the floor. She'd pull out their cocks, one by one, and she'd suck and suck.

She'd coo, and moan, and giggle like a raucous slut. She'd gobble up the cocks of evil men, swallowing them, wanting to please them. Their misdeeds would be rewarded with the wildest sex that she could possibly bring them. All while her coworkers stared on, defeated and betrayed by her actions. People who trusted her would see the real Galloway— the murderer groupie.

She would ride them like a cowgirl, accepting their seed one by one into her body. And when it was all over, and each man was thoroughly pleasured, they would throw her into one of these cages too, musing over locking up the officer. She would go willingly, where she'd wait the chance to pleasure them again and again. She'd be their pet... their slut... their caged animal...

Galloway couldn't take it any longer. The fantasy was too much. Her legs trembled as her whole body tensed up. Then it all seemed to release. Her eyes fluttered as the orgasm wracked her body. "Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkkk!!" She nearly screamed. The intensity of it threatened to buckle her already shaking legs. She had to lean against the filthy old wall of the room, or else she'd drop to the floor. Her body went into convulsions, her pussy showing her fireworks behind her eyelids.

Kate Galloway had never experienced an orgasm so intense in her whole life, and when it was done, she saw stars.

She stood, alone in the darkness, panting, trying to catch her breath, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

Suddenly reality came crashing back. She was naked, in a filthy basement that the entire apartment shared. And she had completely lost all self control, having gone deep down a rabbit hole of the most perverted and fucked up fantasy of her life. She stared at the cages down here and felt horror and shame.

What the ever-loving fuck? Had she really gotten off to such terrible things? She withdrew her fingers from her underwear. They were positively soaked. No, it hadn't been some hallucination. She really had fingered herself to the most intense orgasm ever... and the fantasy that she had to thank for that would disturb her for months to come.

"I need to get the hell out of here," Galloway said, still panting. She hurried from the room, filled with absolute horror and shame... but she paused one last time and glanced at the storage cages. She bit her lip...

***

2A

Ethan hated to leave Galloway alone in the basement— especially after that creepy incident with the voice. That wasn't the only reason though. He was reluctant to leave because... he liked being around Galloway. She made him feel special. She was cool, and she was hot as hell.

As he climbed the basement stairs, part of him wondered why he was torturing himself with thoughts of her. She had a boyfriend, and she was out of his league.

When he arrived back on the second floor, he found his apartment door open.

"You needed my help with something, mom?" Ethan asked, shutting the door behind him with a nudge from his crutch.

He found his mom by the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. She was wearing a robe. When she spotted him, she gave him a playful smile. It was an expression that Ethan had never seen her wear before.

"Actually, it was more of an opinion that I needed, really." She suddenly opened her robe and let it drop from her shoulders. It landed on the floor by her feet.

Ethan's jaw nearly dropped. He didn't understand what he was seeing. His mother was dressed like a cheerleader. Colors of yellow and bright blue boldly contrasted. Her skirt was pleated, and dangerously short, showing her smooth legs, almost all the way up. Her thick thighs rubbed together as Meg playfully crossed her feet. Her crop top was long-sleeve and skin tight on her. It showed off her smooth tummy and curve of her hips. Her breasts were packed tightly into it, the skin-tight fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Mom!" He gasped. Ethan immediately felt the heat creeping to his face.

Meg giggled, and gave a twirl. The pleats her skirt rose up as she spun, and Ethan caught the briefest flash of a thong. There was nothing covering her plump juicy ass cheeks.

Meg flicked her hair, then playfully twirled some around one finger. "What do you think?" She said, trying to sound like a doppy blonde air-head. "I was thinking about costumes for Halloween this year, and thought I'd see if I still fit into my old high school cheerleader outfit. What do you think?" Meggy giggled again and did a few energetic hops and bounces, kicking her sneakers out behind her.

Each time that she did, Ethan caught flashes of her legs and butt. Her breasts jiggled freely, and Ethan found himself wondering if she was even wearing a bra. His face felt like fire. There was an unsettling stirring in his loins.

"It's not too tight is it?" Meg asked. Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate for her son's approval. Ethan had no idea what to say. Even her desperate face was bringing unnatural invasive thoughts. "I was worried I'd put on too much weight to ever squeeze into this again. The last time I wore this, I was younger than you."

Ethan believed that— everything about the outfit was skin tight, and small on her. Surely she had to be aware of that. But the pounds that she had put on were neither drastic, nor were they unpleasant. In fact... Ethan thought she looked very good. If she wasn't his mother, he would have found her extremely... sexy.

He reddened and began to feel weird. An erection was forming against his leg, and he desperately wished it wouldn't.

He decided that his mother really needed the compliment. "It looks... wow mom. You look fantastic."

Meg's face lit up. She nearly squealed with delight in a way that Ethan had never heard before. He wondered what was happening with her lately. Midlife crisis, maybe? Loneliness? Was being single finally taking its toll? She really didn't have the time for dating. Maybe she needed to know that she still had it.

Regardless, Meg dashed up to him and threw her arms around Ethan. "You are so sweet!" She said. She hugged him hard... and long...

Ethan stiffened. He could feel her soft warm body against his. She even started to slide subtly against him. He felt like she was gently humping him. Her perky breasts pressing to his chest. Her breath in his ear was tickling him. "I needed that..." her voice softened, "...really badly..." her words were barely a whisper.

He groaned slightly when he felt his cock jump. And still, his mother wasn't letting go. She almost seemed to pull him in closer. He felt his cock touch his mother's thigh. She gasped slightly, but instead of pulling away, she moved her leg against it. Was she actually feeling him with her leg???

"Umm... yeah, any time mom," Ethan nervously shifted, and this time Meg let go.

"C'mon," Meg grinned playfully. "It's time for dinner." She spun and bounded her way to the kitchen with all the energy and pep of a high school cheerleader. That evening, Meg had left the uniform on, even over dinner.

Ethan had shamefully seen more of his mother's body in one evening than in most of his life. She bent over often, and each time she did, he was treated to a view of her ass and full cheeks as her tiny skirt rose up. At the table, she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. One time she even accidentally nudged his penis with the tip of her sneaker. It was tentative, like she'd sought it out, and after finding it, she was not quick to pull her foot away. Ethan had no clue what to make of any of her odd behavior. It wasn't until he caught himself staring at her hardened nipples as they pressed through the material of her crop top, that Ethan excused himself.

He hurried to his bedroom with a face that felt flushed and feverish. He was positive that his mother had seen him look. There was no way she hadn't.

That night, Ethan had trouble sleeping. His cock was erect and it was refusing to go down. For once, Ethan was afraid to touch himself, because then he would have to face the question of what had inspired it to grow hard in the first place. And he was desperately afraid it might have been his own mother...

But he needed to sleep and the only way to achieve that was to pleasure himself.

With feelings of unnatural guilt and shame lingering in his periphery, he shut his eyes, and began to stroke his manhood. He filled his mind with thoughts of Kate Galloway, and forced himself to think of nothing else.