Trixie Provoked
Viktor Redreich
Contents
Good Girls Dirty Confessions
Book One: Daddy’s Best Friend
1. Cover your ears, little girl
2. Humiliated and frustrated
3. Unending throbbing
4. Say it baby, don’t be shy
5. Elusive Satisfaction
6. Don't cross that line
7. Puffy puff
8. Come over to my place
9. You gonna give me what I want?
10. Make me want you
11. Snack and a half
12. Strawberry chocolate surprise
13. Come clean
14. Suction
15. Consequences be damned
16. On the verge of mindless
17. Girl power
18. Give me more
19. You belong to me
20. Onslaught
21. New sensations
22. Don't say you love me
23. Heartbreaker
24. By the balls
Book Two: Best Friend’s Daddy
1. Young and numb
2. We need to talk
3. I dare you
4. Disposable girlmeat
5. I can explain
6. Bitchfight
7. Sparks down below
8. Wet with jealousy
9. Enticing possibilities
10. Please don't go
11. Bucket full of Daddies
12. Show you a good time
13. Don’t call me Daddy
14. Cheeky girls
15. How to make you mine
16. Babygirl jizzfaced
17. Step aside bitch
18. How could you?
19. Never again
Book Three: Boyfriend’s Daddy
1. Fill you with my seed
2. Fingers up your skirt
3. Forbidden temptations
4. Every drop of pleasure
5. Does it feel good?
6. On her knees for the boss
7. Loosen up, will ya?
8. Take it all off
9. Don’t get cocky
10. Touch but don’t taste
11. Close your mouth before you catch flies, dear
Author's Note
Excerpt from the book Megan Disgraced
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: 978-1-913376-00-0
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 the brave and benevolent champions of the 17th Glyph.
The time is now.
Book One: Daddy’s Best Friend
Chapter 1
Cover your ears, little girl
“Oh god, Zion, right there! Don't stop! Use me like the little bitch that I am!" came the high-pitched female voice through the thin wall.
Beatrice could feel the vibrations in her mattress as bed frame banged, relentlessly, against wood. She tightened her fists and bit her blanket. It was all she could do not to scream her frustration at the debauchery mere feet from her.
She’d tried knocking on the wall politely to inform the couple behind it that she could hear them. She’d hoped that would have quieted them down.
Instead, all she’d gotten was an order from the beastly man in the room next door saying, “Quit it, little girl, unless you want me to go over and paddle that little teenage ass of yours.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and something inside her clenched. She didn’t know much about this man, but she did know that he didn’t make empty threats.
“I’m cumming!” came another dirty proclamation through the wall. The woman, Leanne, the local baker, had always seemed like a such lovely, reserved woman before Zion blew into town and changed everything… and everyone.
Ugh!
Beatrice punched her pillow and rolled over in her twin bed for, like, the millionth time since her father's best friend had brought home his latest conquest. Two hours and forty-seven minutes ago.
Covering her ears did nothing to stop the sound of the squeaking bed or the yucky gross sex noises from violating her sanity from the guest bedroom.
“Oh my god! I’ve never cum so hard before!”
The woman behind the wall continued to scream and throw praise at the man. The wet, slapping sounds persisted hour upon hour despite her many “I’m cumming” declarations.
Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut as mental pictures assaulted her brain. They conjured up, against her best efforts, ideas of what the two people might have been doing to produce such sounds. To evoke in Leanne such decadent delight.
She squirmed where she lay, an unfamiliar ache rising between the 18-year-old’s thighs as rage coursed through her veins.
Life wasn’t always like this.
Just a few short hours ago, Beatrice had led a nice, quiet life void of the ruckus of late-night fornication.
Indeed, Zion had shown up to disrupt Beatrice's barely twenty-four hours earlier.
In the quiet countryside, Beatrice had started her day just like any other.
She’d awoken before 5 a.m., rising from bed with ease, no alarm clock required. Facing the window, she stretched, feeling the fabric of her modest nightgown slip against her young, nubile form as she pushed her shoulders back and extended her delicate wrists towards the ceiling.
The sun had begun to rise over the fruitful land and, illuminated by first rays of the new day, and a dim reflection of Beatrice’s long hair and slim frame appeared in the window.
She knew that the local boys found her pretty. They’d always eyed her and tried to chat her up, but she was usually quite successful in ignoring them.
She wasn’t interested in such things and paid little attention to her either her body or the boys’ advances.
Beatrice turned away and headed towards the bathroom in the hallway. The house was old, and the floor creaked as she stepped. The pipes in the wall groaned when she turned on the faucet, and a slight tap could be heard from the roof as the wind blew outside. A sense of contentment moved over her as the sounds of home cloaked her in security.
It was just Beatrice and her father on that small farm. They’d always subs
isted from farming and kept just enough livestock and crops to live in comfort.
A fresh graduate from high school, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Until she figured out her next move, she was satisfied to look after the house while her father spent most of his days working the land.
It didn’t take her long to brush her teeth and finish her girlie business. Fresh-faced, hair pulled up into a scruffy bun, she slid a simple, floral sundress over her head. It was cool then, but the weather would warm up soon enough, and any other outfit would have quickly made her unbearably hot.
She headed downstairs minutes later, her cowgirl boots clicking against the wooden steps as she descended. Even at that early hour, her father was already seated at the kitchen table, dressed and nursing a coffee.
His long-sleeve plaid shirt tucked into a pair of comfortable jeans gave him the appearance of an honest, hardworking man. Beatrice noticed, for the first time, the strands of grey among his dark hair as he concentrated on reading the previous day’s paper.
“Morning, Daddy,” she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.
He turned his face to accept the gesture and grunted in response, not taking his eyes off the news.
She went to the stove and fired it up. Soon, the smell of bacon and sizzle of frying eggs filled the space.
The two didn’t usually speak. They didn’t need to. Apart from a morning greeting, the only other time they communicated was to say goodbye to each other when he left for a day of hard work. The two were comfortable with the usual order of things, and Beatrice saw no need for change.
She didn’t like useless chatter, and her father was, likewise, a man of few words.
The usual order, however, was broken the moment she placed a hot plate in front of the man of the house.
“Bea, honey, I’ve got to tell you something,” her father started, and she frowned, taking a seat with her own plate, which didn’t tower with food as his did. Her father looked nervous.
“What is it, Daddy?” she prompted when he paused.
Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” she volunteered. “Finish your breakfast.”
She thought it might have been one of the hands that helped her dad around the farm. They sometimes showed up for breakfast before heading out to the fields with Daddy. She always stocked plenty of food to ensure they’d be well fed if they showed up.
This was no cowhand through.
The first thing she saw when she opened the door was a massive chest covered with a light blue shirt. The next thing she noticed was the bulge of muscle as huge arms stretched the fabric.
The man was huge.
Broad shoulders filled the doorway and blocked out the rest of the world. The top of her head barely made it to his stubbled chin.
A breeze blew, and the scent of him washed over her–an eclectic mix of fragrances evoking what she imagined to be coconut trees, sandy beaches, and salty bodies entangled in the ocean.
She couldn’t resist taking in the sight of him. Looking him over, she nearly shivered at the powerful aura he emitted. Wild. Untamable. A beast at rest, waiting confidently for a hunt worthy of his time.
Something unsettled inside her and her skin suddenly felt too tight for her body.
She didn’t like the feeling, and it intensified the moment her eyes connected with his. Eyes the color of honey sparked with mischief and arrogance.
He smirked, and her dislike grew until it overwhelmed her with the fullness of its intensity.
Over her shoulder, her father exclaimed, “Zion!” and one mystery was solved.
Zion entered the house, pushing past the girl to embrace her father. There was lots of back-slapping, and the once quiet house was suddenly very noisy as the men exchanged greetings.
Beatrice didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.
She had, of course, heard of Zion before.
Her father idolized the man.
The two had gone to college together, and the way her father spoke of Zion, she knew that the two had enjoyed some pretty wild times together. A look of nostalgia settled on his face every time he’d mentioned the man, but he’d always assured Beatrice that he’d never regretted giving up his wild ways and settling down in that small, quiet town to marry her mother.
She knew Zion led a completely different life from her dad’s. His business interests took him all over the world and furnished him with a life filled with wild parties and willing women.
When the two men finally took notice of Beatrice, her father said, “Oh, honey, this is what I was trying to tell you earlier. This is my friend Zion. He needs a place to lay low so he’ll be visiting us for a day or two. It was last minute, we only just confirmed it last night.”
Her father became unrecognizable as he spoke.
The quiet man that sat at the table a few minutes ago had vanished. Her previously stoic dad had turned ruby-cheeked, and his dark eyes beamed with enthusiasm. Beatrice had never seen her dad so alive.
“Zion, this is my lovely daughter, Beatrice,” he continued with introductions.
Zion came forward and extended his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beatrice. Ron has said so many nice things about you,” he said, his tone cultured and smooth.
Seagulls cawed from millions of miles away as his exotic scent washed over her once again.
She wanted a deeper whiff of that aroma, but she also felt threatened and reacted like an alarmed sea squid.
Her hackles rose, and her eyes jumped from his large hand to meet his gaze. She hated the way his eyes roamed knowingly over her--as if he knew a secret about her that she herself did not.
She ignored Zion’s words and his hand. She walked past her father, completely disregarding his puzzled expression as she headed back up the stairs.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she uttered primly as she passed.
In her bedroom, she locked the door, something she hadn’t done in years. She sat on her bed, only to realize that she was trembling.
In a vain attempt at calming her nerves, she breathed deeply.
He’s only here for a few days, she told herself. As soon as he leaves, everything will go back to normal.
Little did she know that this stranger was about to turn her world upside down.
Chapter 2
Humiliated and frustrated
Luckily, Beatrice didn’t have to deal with the troublesome man for the rest of the day.
Her father had stayed of sight as well until the stumble of boots and drunken laughter assaulted her ears around midnight. Then the singing started.
The small frogs, the small frogs are funny to see,
The small frogs, the small frogs are funny to see,
No eyes, no ears, no tails have they,
Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack!
The two male voices were accompanied by the murmur of something softer and more feminine. This off-key cacophony continued for several long minutes as Beatrice lay in her bed stunned.
Her father never brought women home. Ever!
Soon she heard the voices come up the stairs and the door to her father’s bedroom close.
That was when the wall-banging action started.
Beatrice identified the female voice as a local lady named Leanne. Beatrice had spoken with Leanne hundreds of times and hearing her continued screams of satisfaction, there was no doubt in her mind that it was Leanne who was on the receiving end of an overabundance of rogerings.
Zion’s rogering of Leanne continued well after 4 a.m. when a feminine sigh of satisfaction informed Beatrice that Leanne and her father’s unruly guest were done... for now.
Even after blissful silence fell upon the house, Beatrice lay awake, annoyed at Zion’s intrusion into the orderly life that she and her dad had built for themselves.
Annoyed that her father had allowed her to suffer through this torturous night without ki
cking Zion out for his uncouth behavior.
Annoyed that she still couldn’t keep her mind from imagining what Zion and his lover could have been doing to evoke the kinds of noises that came through the walls.
Annoyed that despite her annoyance, she was slick and aching between her legs from being forced to listen.
A rooster sounded in the distance, and Beatrice sighed her dissatisfaction.
She hadn’t slept a wink but it was time to rise and shine, so up she got to perform her usual morning routine.
She made sure to avoid looking at the guest bedroom as she passed, thankful that she didn’t have to lay eyes on Zion.
Trixie Provoked Page 1