Born Beautiful, Rachel's Story #03bySusanJillParker©
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!