Hollow Pleasure Ch. 09

Finally they withdrew. They tossed her to the floor, a wet, sweaty, well used mess. They'd made her a cum rag and Galloway had no objections. Goatee put his boot against the side of her face and pinned it to the floor. "Ready for our cum, you filthy fuckin' pig?"

"Yes!" She moaned. "Give it to me!"

"Up on your knees!" He ordered, letting her up.

Galloway scurried to her knees. The movements were clumsy. Her hands were still bound behind her back. She tilted her face up to the three of them and opened her mouth like a seal waiting for a treat after a trick.

The men stood over her and stroked their cocks feverishly. "Do it!" She begged. "Cover me with your cum. Show me who I belong to!"

"That's right... squeal, piggy." Goatee said.

The men pretty much all went off in unison. First one cock exploded with a pleasurable moan that sent a long hot spurt hitting Galloway full in the face. Then another punk was going off. His cum landing in her hair. Goatee went last, and his climax showered her chest, her face, her hair. Galloway could feel herself getting drenched from three different directions by hot sticky loads that these men had spent hours building up with their aggressive fucking. Now it was covering her and she was loving it.

She could feel her hair plastered to her scalp with it. Cum ran in big heavy globs down her back and pattered her on bare butt. It dripped down her chest. She swallowed what landed on her tongue and begged them for more.

But the men had no more to offer. They were drained.

"Please... keep going... use me... take me along. You can fuck me day and night," she pleaded, feeling like she'd completely lost her mind. Goatee used his boot and pushed her flat on her butt where her back came to rest against the sofa.

She watched them in a lusty haze as they gathered up their loot, including Galloway's weapons and equipment. Several times they laughed at her, making jokes at her expense. Baby Face made it a point to spit on her on his way out of the apartment.

"Thanks for the incredible lay, slut," White Boy slapped her across the face. Galloway only panted, still lost in the thrill.

The last one out was Goatee. He stopped in front of her and unzipped himself. Galloway thought he'd want another blow job that she was fully prepared to deliver. She lay in a wet sticky mess, her hair plastered, her body used. Instead, he picked up her shiny silver badge— the one that she worked so hard for... the symbol behind which all of her morals and beliefs and ambitions were guarded. He set it on heavy chest, between her breasts... then he used her like a toilet, showering her with a steady warm stream of urine. He hosed down both her and her badge. And for reasons she couldn't explain, the new level of disrespect made her gasp in lusty pleasure. "Ohhh yesssss!" She squealed in delight. "I deserve this!" When he was finished, he tossed her handcuff keys to her. "Always remember how we did that to you," he snarled.

"Mmmm... I will." She admitted, her voice dreamy and lusty.

Then the men were gone and she was alone. ...Or so she thought. Because as the pounding of her heart subsided and the bizarre cum drunk haze that had over taken her began to dissipate, she realized that there was the soft muffled sound of sobs coming from the nearby bathroom. The door was partially ajar, and from where she sat, in a heap of bodily fluids, she could see into the bathroom. And there, the wide shocked expression of Ethan stared back.

Oh my god! She uncuffed herself, and snatched a throw blanket from the couch, tossing it around her mostly nude and abused body to cover herself. She hurried to the bathroom. Her friend and neighbor who'd looked up to her like a superhero was bound and gagged, tied to the pipes beneath the sink. His crutches were broken, his face was tear-streaked, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

It dawned on Galloway what had happened— Ethan had left the hospital while she'd been talking to Chris, come home and must have walked in on this burglary. And those monsters had attacked him, punched the harmless boy, and held him captive.

Those same monsters, Galloway had just eagerly had sex with. She'd let them do everything to her... everything imaginable, and she'd done it happily and willingly... all because of some strange inexplicable fantasy that had needled its way into her dreams and dominated her impulses. Rob's influence or not, Galloway had lost herself and given in. And this poor boy had sat quietly and watched the woman that he admired, respected, adored, and secretly crushed on give herself over to the worst of the worst. Oh god, what he must think of her. How she must look to him now. She had destroyed that imagine.

The gravity... the full extent of what she'd done came rushing in and she felt only shame.

"I'm sorry Ethan," she said, her voice soft, exhausted and raspy. "I'm so sorry Ethan." She undid his gag.

Ethan stared at her as if he didn't know her. The star-struck expression that was always there when he saw her was gone from his eyes now. It would forever be. "You... you could have stopped them." He said, having seen her pointing her gun at them. And indeed, she could have. Instead, she'd lowered the gun and allowed them to take her. She'd done it.

"Ethan... that..." she shook her head, feeling true shame. She had never felt more horrified in her life. "That wasn't me. It was Rob... he's doing something... something that makes us do things we wouldn't ordinarily do," she tried to desperately explain what was happening in the apartment.

Ethan didn't believe her. How could he? She hadn't when Chris first told her. But now she did... now she understood. What happened here... what was happening in her dreams and in urges and impulses... she wasn't the one who was in control of that.

"I can't believe you did that..." Ethan stammered, shaking his head miserably as Galloway gently untied him. "I can't believe that you wanted that. That you would let that happen. The things you said... the things you did... you wanted that!" He cried out the last words as his voice broke.

"Ethan, I—" She tried to take his hand, but he brushed hers away.

"Don't," he snapped at her. He started to cry. He collected his broken crutches, and left the room with his butt on the ground, using the balls of his hands to scamper backwards in an awkward scramble that he had perfected years ago when he didn't want to bother with his crutches. His legs dragged behind him, kicking at the floor feebly.

"Ethan, let me help you," she hurried after him.

"Don't! Don't help me." His sobs distorted his words. "Those monsters? While Quinn is in the hospital? I— I don't know you!" He was surprisingly agile on his hands and disappeared in seconds into the hallway.

Galloway didn't follow him. Not at first. She stood, frozen in her tracks for what felt like hours. Her shame was incredible, and she was sure the heat from the embarrassment that she felt would never pass.

Galloway waited in silence and self-loathing, making sure Ethan had ample time to return to his apartment. Finally, she collected the last of her possessions (the ones that the punks hadn't pilfered) and she returned to her apartment. She needed to do something— call the police, process what Chris had warned her about, figure out her next move. Her mind was in a fog. A shower. That was first. She was drenched in semen, spit, and urine, and she couldn't do anything unless she could clean herself up and let the hot water clear her head.

As she headed across the kitchen, a slip of paper blew off the kitchen counter. She must not have noticed it this morning while she was getting ready for work. She picked it up and blinked. It was in Quinn's handwriting.

"You always have been, always are, and always will be the best part of my day."

Galloway had no reaction at all. Her body running on autopilot. She started the shower water, set it to its hottest temp, stripped what little clothes hadn't been torn from her body, then climbed into the shower and sat her bare butt on the floor.

"You always have been, always are, and always will be the best part of my day." Quinn's words.

"I— I don't know you!" Ethan's words.

He hadn't been wrong. Galloway realized she didn't know herself either. She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them to her chest. That was when she began to cry.

***

2A

"Should we call the police?" Meg Richards was holding her son. She had been ever since he'd crawled home. She had dressed his injuries, then gone into their basement storage unit and retrieved some outdated crutches. Ethan had outgrown them about three years ago, but they would have to do for the time being.

"I don't care anymore," Ethan answered. His eyes were distant and haunted. The things he'd seen playing again and again.

Meg knew that tone— defeat. He truly didn't care anymore.

He hadn't told her all of the details, but he'd told her enough. He'd walked in on a burglary, they'd beaten him up, and tied him down. The only reason he hadn't been terrified was because he'd known Galloway would be coming back shortly. But just when he was positive he'd be saved, she willingly gave herself over to them. Instead of dealing out some justice, she'd let those men disarm her, abuse her, disrespect her, and violate her. They'd treated her like complete trash and she'd squealed in delight and begged for more. She had willingly fucked them in ways that Ethan hadn't imagined. And the pain he felt in his heart... he couldn't tell where that was from. He was jealous. But more so, he was hurt. She'd turned her back on everything that she believed in... everything that made her... her. On Quinn. On her training. On her morals. On her self respect. On her beliefs in the justice system. How could she make the world a better place as an officer if she fetishized criminals and those how hurt others? Ethan had been in love with her, and now she'd proven herself to be somebody completely different. Her entire makeup was lies. Who the hell was she?

"She could have stopped them, mom. She could have stopped them but she didn't," he said. His diaphragm was quivering, making his words jerky. But his expression was still so far away. "Instead she just... she just..."

"I know," Meg scooted closer, and squeezed him tightly, hugging him. She'd helped Ethan into his bedroom and got him settled and comfy. He was staring blankly at the wall. His hot cocoa was untouched, growing cold. "I'm just really glad you're safe," she held him.

They lay for a while in complete silence. Meg rested her head on her son's chest, enjoying the soft rise and fall of his breathing, and listening to the sound of his heart. She imaged that she could hear how broken it was.

"Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?" She asked, her hand running in gentle circles around his stomach.

"There is," he said after some thought.

Meg lifted her head. "Anything," she said, staring into his eyes. She resisted the urge to bite her lip.

"Could you change your hair back?" He asked, glancing at the deep auburn maroon that she'd dyed it for him— to look more like Galloway. "I like you better as you. I don't want to see you as her."

It sort of broke her heart, but she understood. "I will, sweetie. I'm sorry."

She put her head back down and listened to the sound of his heart for a long time. Eventually his breathing slowed to a more relaxed state, and his heart beat calmed. When she glanced up again, she saw that her son had dozed off.

That was good. Sleep Ethan. Sleep will make the pain go away. She put her head back down and hugged her son, feeling his breathing, enjoying his warmth.

As she lay there, her mind grew restless. Her thoughts became invasive again... wonderfully so. She lifted her head again and looked curiously at Ethan. Even asleep, he no longer resembled the boy that she raised but the man that he was becoming. And handsome was definitely a word she would use to describe him.

She put her head back down, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. Ethan's first true heartbreak. But it wouldn't always be like this... someone would want him. Someone amazing. Because if Meg was his age, and not his mother... she would want him.

They would have made an unlikely pair— the shy bookworm boy with the crutches, and Meg— the popular perky cheerleader. Ethan might not believe it, but she would have definitely noticed him. And she would be all too happy to pull him beneath the bleachers and give him the thrill of his life. She'd let him feel her beneath her skirt, let him slide off her panties, and let him fuck her senseless among the jungle of steel supports.

Meg ran her hand in gentle little circles around Ethan's stomach, watching the steady rise and fall as he breathed softly in his sleep. Her eyes wandered to his crotch. His gym shorts were baggy across his skinny legs. She smiled, knowing what he had down there. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since the shower.

With each gentle rub of his belly, Meg moved her hand lower.

She bit her lip, wondering what he was dreaming about. Her hand moved down to the waistband of his shorts. She gently fingered the elastic with one stealthy slender finger.

She barely moved, barely breathed. She listened for any changes in Ethan's breathing, in his heart beats. She moved her hand back up to his stomach and made another pass, rubbing softly, comfortingly. Then her hand came back around and went below his waistline. She moved it across his pelvis, and for just a moment, she felt the base of his manhood.

Meg licked her lips, her own heart beating in her ears now. She returned her hand to his belly. It could have been an innocent mistake. Oops, and nothing more. But Ethan didn't stir. He'd had a long exhausting, emotionally draining day. When Meggy glanced at him again, she saw his eyes were shut and his mouth was open— lips parted cutely.

Then she circled his belly once more and her hand slid between his legs. She rested her hand there... just rested it, nothing more. But she wouldn't be satisfied just doing that and she knew it. Her finger grew curious and began to trace along the outline of his slumbering cock. She was rewarded when she felt it grow.

Meggy continued to glance between Ethan's innocent oblivious face in a merciful dreamless sleep, and his crotch. She could practically see the blood rushing to fill his cock, just at the gentle tickle of her wandering finger. With each nudge, the outline grew more and more prominent.

Her heart was pounding as she brought his cock to life. Ethan's baggy gym shorts grew like a circus tent slowly being erected.

She reached down and gave his pole a firm squeeze, before letting go. A small moan escaped Ethan's lips, but he otherwise didn't stir.

"Don't wake up, baby," she whispered to him, and squeezed him again. His cock responded in kind, tensing and hardening in her grip. She gave a few soft strokes over his shorts to really inspire him.

Another moan from Ethan's throat. His cock was rock hard by now. Meg could hardly restrain herself. She slid her hand up to Ethan's waistband, and after a moment's hesitation, slipped it stealthily underneath. Her fingers felt their way over his bare skin, through his curls of hair, until they discovered what they were seeking. Her fingers came to rest against the base of Ethan's bare meaty flesh pole.

Meg's eyes widened as she traced her fingers around the base. He was a big boy. God had certainly gifted him something better than most men possessed.

Meg's fingers closed around his shaft and she softly and soothingly began to stroke her sleeping son.

Ethan's eyes stayed shut, but his mouth closed. He licked his lips. A second later a small moan escaped again.

Meg returned her attention to her son. She moved her hands easily up and down along his length. A small wet spot formed at the apex of the tent in his shorts. She'd managed to coax a drop of precum from him. She licked her lips, remembering the load that he'd unleashed in the shower, against her bare skin. She needed that again. She needed much more.

Meg lowered her head slowly, carefully. Her hair trailed down his body as her head went from resting on his chest to resting on his belly. She listened to his breathing, her movements painfully deliberate and slow. Then she was almost nose to nose with his bulge, inhaling his manly scent.

She tilted his erection upwards now until his bulge was pointing at her face. It was only an inch from her nose. She could nuzzle it. Her hand stroked and squeezed, very slow but very steady.

As another wet spot formed, Meg reached out with her tongue and tasted the spread of saltiness. She was tasting her own son's baby-making formula. The flavor spurred something in her. She wanted Ethan more than she ever wanted anything. She could feel it— could feel that between her thighs, she was wet and slippery. He made her so wet.

Meg eased the waistline of his shorts down until the head of his cock came free, resting on his tummy, extending to his belly button. Meg could no longer restrain herself with her face this close to her son's cock. She opened her lips and lowered her mouth down around it. At first she barely closed her lips around the head, only just grazing it. Her tongue flicked out and tickled his skin.

Then she couldn't stop herself. Meg closed her lips around Ethan's manhood and she started to softly suck, bobbing her head in slow little movements. His cock responded, throbbing happily, tensing and stiffening. Meg's hand rubbed his base, stroking him into her gentle suckles, rubbing and massaging his balls.

Ethan moaned louder in his sleep, his mouth lolling open in pleasure.

Meggy couldn't stop. She had crossed the line and there was no going back. She sucked harder, pushing Ethan's shorts down his waist and inching her mouth and body lower and lower. Her lips came up, leaving his shaft wet and coated in her saliva. Ethan's big heavy balls lifted with each stroke from her hand. Poor baby. He probably needed a release so badly.

Meg wanted Ethan to release it in her mouth. But part of her also didn't. Part of her would be hungry for more, even if she'd brought her son to orgasm just like this. She'd swallow him down and still want another load.

Meg lifted her head from her son's stomach and knelt between his legs. Her hair fell across her face, but now she was bobbing her head with a single-mindedness. She wasn't thinking about anything any longer. Not about him sleeping, not about what his reaction would be if he awoke, not about the repercussions of her actions, not about that he was her son, or his emotional state. She wasn't thinking about what kind of mother she was being. All she could think about was needing to feel him inside of her again and again. She needed him to come to her, to make love to her... to give her orgasm after orgasm... to pleasure each other for hours...

Meg's lips and tongue moved like a blur, pulling at his shaft so hard that Ethan was now moaning louder. He was returning to the surface of sleep, and Meg didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to stop. She wouldn't. Her mouth made sloppy wet sucking noises as she bobbed her head fiercely on his swollen head, twisting her hand along his length and milking him into her lips.

Ethan's eyes suddenly popped open. He was alarmed and disoriented. He didn't know what was going on, but the pleasure between his legs was incredible. Then he looked down. The bouncy playful mop of maroon hair moving between his legs. His cock enveloped with warmth and wetness. The hungry sucking sounds were unmistakable.

At first Ethan didn't remember... and thought that it was Galloway. He'd fallen asleep and somehow she'd started sucking his penis in his sleep. But then he remembered, and the horror washed over him. It was his mother! He'd dozed off, cuddling with his mom, and she had started sucking his dick in his sleep!