by Silla Webb
COPYRIGHT© Rock Bottom (Buried Secrets Book 3.5) by Silla Webb
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Love, Lies, & Crime is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.© 2017- Silla Webb
Masque of the Red Pen Publishing
TABLE of CONTENTS
Prologue
Therapy Session Two
Therapy Session Three
Therapy Session Four
Therapy Session Five
The fluorescent lights overhead flicker and the buzzing electricity that sings from the fixture grates my nerves. Resting my arms beneath my head, I stare up at the brown stained ceiling, contemplating the filthy deeds that cost me my freedom.
Abused.
Manipulated.
Extorted.
“Oooh, Joshua,” Mrs. Hager singsongs as she draws the Marlboro Light to her plump, red lips, inhaling deeply as her eyes drift closed lustfully. “You were supposed to be here over an hour ago.” She states in a caustic tone, crossing one arm over her ample chest.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hager. Football practice, ya know.” I shrug, motioning to my sweat-laden clothes.
“Hmmm, filthy….just the way I like ‘em. Too bad we don’t have much time to play before Mr. Hager gets home from work.” She coos, smashing the tip of the cigarette into the glass tray on the nightstand. She crawls seductively down the length of the bed, then sits back on her haunches and crooks her finger, motioning me toward her.
My throat bobs with a nervous tension, but I reluctantly take a step forward, then another until I’m standing by the foot of the bed. She hooks her slender fingers into the waistband of my shorts, slipping them down my muscular thighs. She grins in delight when my raging hard on springs free, then immediately takes my cock into her mouth to taste.
Fisting my fingers into her hair, I pull her closer to me enjoying the sensation of having my cock sucked off. It doesn’t take long before my balls tighten and my dick pulsates as I spray hot cum down Mrs. Hager’s throat. She sucks the length of my dick one final time, trailing her shaped nails over my sensitive balls before releasing me from her grasp.
She grins up at me proudly, wiping the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb. She sucks it clean then hops off the bed and struts into the bathroom. I steady my breath momentarily before pulling my shorts back up over my ass. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration. This is fuckin’ sick as hell, yet I’m too weak, too scared to put an end to it all.
Mrs. Hager trots back into the bedroom and straddles her long, slender legs over my lap, grinding her hot pussy against me. “Elliott will be out of town Saturday. I expect you to be here at six pm sharp. Do you understand?”
I shake my head on a sigh, and she sits back on my knees, taking in the unsure expression on my face. “What’s that look?” she singsongs again as she tickles her fingers up my chest. I swear I hate the fuckin’ sound of her mousy little voice more and more. Hell, I’m beginning to fuckin’ hate everything about her in general.
“You’re too demanding,” I mutter, trying my damnedest to hide the break in my voice.
She jumps off my lap as if flames have crawled up her legs and looks at me offensively. “Demanding?” she questions. “Too demanding?” THWACK. The backside of her left hand crashes against my face, and my head whips around with a snap. “You fuckin’ ungrateful little prick. I suck your dick dry, and you seriously have the balls to tell me I’m too demanding? A little high on our horse, now are we, Joshua?”
She stares at me with dark, evil eyes as I rub my hand against my cheek. “Let me explain to you how this works. I’m your master. You will do whatever I wish, and when I feel as if you’re deserving of it, I’ll treat you just as I did today. But since you’re unappreciative to my overly generous affection, I can promise you it will be a very long while before I treat you again.
“Evelyn, it’s fuckin’ wrong. I’m fifteen. I swear to God if my mom found out the shit I was into with you—her best friend—she’d kill us both.” I huff out, trying to welcome the anger that’s boiling up in my stomach, but this woman has some sick twisted hold over me that I can’t quite explain.
“You fuckin’ asshole…I told you, you are to call me Mrs. Hager.” Her hand smashes against my cheek again, and it takes all the strength in me not to knock her on her skinny ass. She wraps her slender fingers around my jaw, forcing me to look into her deep-set dark orbs. “Now, as I was saying when you so rudely interrupted me. Saturday evening, you will be here promptly at six pm. I expect you clean shaven in all the appropriate places, primed and ready for the longest night of sexual pleasure you’ll ever receive. Do you understand my wishes, Joshua?” I nod as she smooshes my cheeks together roughly. “Such a good little puppy. I like you so much better when you’re quiet and submissive, not smarting off at the mouth like a fuckin’ bitch.” She smiles as she releases my face from her grip. “You may leave now. Elliott will be home soon, and I’m sure he’ll be displeased if he finds you in the house knowing that Chase isn’t home. We need not rise his suspicions.”
Don’t need to tell me twice. I stand up quickly, taking long strides out of the bedroom and through the hallway, trying to reach the front door quickly. I half expect Mrs. Hager to follow behind me, but I’m relieved when I turn around and she’s nowhere in sight. Twisting the door knob, I step out into the fresh fall air and exhale roughly. I haul ass up the sidewalk and laugh to myself when I see Mr. Hager’s Cadillac drive past me, knowing I made it out of their house in just the nick of time.
The walk home is slow and dreadful as I replay the last three months over and over. Mrs. Hager and my momma have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Hell, she even jokes when we’re *together* about changin’ my diapers as a baby and remembering the birthmark on my left ass cheek. Seriously, who the fuck does that shit. This fucked up mess started when Mr. Hager asked my momma if I’d be interested in mowing their lawn over the summer. I’d just turned fifteen and was always lookin’ for ways to make extra money. We were a middle-class family, but my parents always made me bust ass to have anything unnecessary. Happy to have an opportunity at fast cash dangling in front of me, I agreed to take the job without second thought.
I was always curious what it’d feel like, to have a pussy wrapped tightly around my dick, milking every drop of cum from me. I expected my first time to be awkward, fumbling even. But the last pussy I expected to be ridin’ me was Mrs. Hager’s. I’d just finished with the yard work and was putting the tools away in the garage. Leaning over to place the leaf blower back on the bottom shelf where I’d found it, I felt a small hand cup my balls and squeeze from behind. I jumped, curse words flyin’ off my tongue, because I originally thought it was Chase, Mrs. Hager’s son, just bein’ a jokester as usual. Turning around, I was shocked to find one very eager Mrs
. Hager standing before me in a lime green g-sting bikini. Her golden tan glistened with a sheen of sweat from layin’ by the pool in the hot sun all morning long.
Taking a prowl-like step toward me, she leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Ever been fucked by an older woman, Joshua?” I pinched my eyes closed and shook my head, because there was no fuckin’ way in hell this was happening. Apparently, she took my response as the green light to climb me like a fuckin’ tree, because that’s just what she did. From that point on, we were a mess of limbs as she shoved me back against the work bench stripping my pants down my legs. My cock sprang free and the glint of excitement in her eyes only spurred me further. She straddled my legs, wrapping her legs around me tightly, sliding her hot pussy over my cock in one swift move. Holy fuck, she rode me like a fuckin’ Kentucky Derby stallion runnin’ the final race in the Triple Crown.
Just as my momentum would build up and my balls would tighten, she would slip off my thighs robbing me of my release. Fuckin’ tease she was. She was proving a point that she owned me in the moment, and only when she allowed it and was ready would I get off. Shoving her double D’s in my face, she tempted and teased at me. Tits…mother fuckin’ tits. What fifteen-year-old doesn’t love a set of double D’s in his face? Fuck if I know, but I took my time familiarizing myself with each one. Becoming greedy in my actions, I slid my fingers between her thighs, fingering her slick pussy as I sucked and nipped at her breasts. Shoving me back against the work bench she climbed up on my thighs one final time, slamming herself over me, she rode me out until we both were squalling in release to the tops of our lungs. Panting for oxygen, I smiled to myself because this moment here was a fuckin’ dream come true.
I expected that day to be a once-in-a-lifetime event, but each week thereafter the fuck sessions continued, each one becoming a little more depraved as time went on. Whips and chains were a bit to her liking. In the beginning, it was thrilling, just the fact that an older woman found me to be irresistible and was pleased breathlessly when I’d take her orders. Like a new toy, I wanted to play with her every chance I got, until one day she lost her luster. Something broke, maybe it was the humiliation of having my ass up in the air while she sodomized me, milkin’ my prostate with a fuckin’ vibrator. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that I finally realized it was wrong.
Now, here we are months later and I’m finally beginning to hate myself for allowing this to continue. It’s fuckin’ sick. But I don’t know how to put a stop to it. She has a disgusting control over me, and I’m worried that if I were to tell anyone else about it, she’d claim rape. I am bigger than her by at least a foot in height and a good hundred pounds in weight. Kinda hard for a small, defenseless female to control a strong teenage boy like myself – in others eyes. But it ain’t an issue of physical strength that she has over me. Fuck if I can explain it, it’s a mental control derived from her need to humiliate and abuse me. It’s sick that I’ve let it go on as long as I have, but I’m twisted up in this game of hers, and I don’t know how to set myself free.
One more fuckin’ time with this hag askin’ me all these damn questions and I may just strangle the breath from the bitch. I guess my short-and-sweet-kiss-my-ass answers weren’t enough for her likin’ the first time? Seeing a fuckin’ psychologist is complete bullshit if you ask me, but after my attorney, James McCoy delivered the Petition for Divorce I flipped my shit. An officer was on the receiving end of my wrath, so James requested that I undergo a psychological evaluation as part of my punishment. Damn fucker. Whatever strings he can pull to lessen my sentence, I reckon. But I’ll tell you this much, crazy is one thing I’m not.
Quick tempered–sure.
Arrogant–maybe.
Crazy–hell fuckin’ no.
But I’ll entertain another little get-together with this uptight bitch…silence is my strong suit. Sure as fuck beats layin’ in that damn cell staring up at the ceiling.
“What state of mind are you in today, Josh?”
Fuckin’ pissed as hell, about to come unhinged.
“You look tired, Josh. Aren’t you sleeping well?”
Fuck no, not confined in a six-by-eight cell, sleeping on a thin, shit-stained mattress.
I don’t answer her pointless questions. I stay stoic, with my arms crossed over my broad chest and my right brow raised high into my hairline. She huffs in annoyance blowing her bangs back outta her face, then continues her questioning.
“You realize our time together would come easier if you worked with me, not against me?”
Time together? What the fuck? I scratch my day-old beard and glare at her boringly.
Still not backing down, she probes further.
“Do you feel any remorse for abusing your wife all those years, Josh?”
Keep your shit together, asshole. I flinch at her mention of Savannah. Like vinegar in an open wound. I swing my leg up on my knee trying to appear careless and unaffected. Dr. Hampton sighs heavily, shaking her head in frustration, but she continues to speak in a soft, almost pleading tone.
“Josh, you’ve been incarcerated for nearly two months. No family has visited you, only your attorney. You have to be missing your children.”
“Don’t mention my fuckin’ kids!” My voice is harsh and laced with venom. I flex my wrists behind my back, the cuffs that restrain my hands digging into my flesh only adds to my anger. I’m seething, fuckin’ ready to come unhinged. She doesn’t think I realize I ain’t seen my damn kids in months? I’ve lost all contact with the world that I know, I don’t need any fuckin’ reminders about the hell my life has become.
“Josh? Josh, you need to try to control your breathing.” Dr. Hampton speaks in a low, soothing tone. I blow out a rushed breath and pierce her with a deadpan glare. “I realize that I’ve brought up a very sore subject, but you need to understand this is all rather important. Now, if you will, please comply with my questioning. You’ll soon find that talking about your issues will help you come to terms with your disorder.”
Disorder? There ain’t a damn thing wrong with me. What the hell is this bitch talking about? I stare at her momentarily, letting her ridiculous statement sink in, penetrating deep into the parietal lobe, but the frontal lobe is hindering the process. “Dr. Hampton”—I look up at her with a devious glare—“I don’t give a fuck about your graduate degree and all the pretty little plaques hangin’ on your damn walls. I can assure you, I have no disorder.”
“Funny you would say that, Josh. But my graduate degree and I will have to disagree with you.” She clicks the tip of her pen repeatedly, an obvious nervous tick. “You remember our last session together, correct?” I nod because how the fuck could I forget? She smiles nervously, glancing down at her notes. “During that evaluation, Josh, I diagnosed you with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Not that I would expect you to believe me or find any shock value in my statement because anti-socials like yourself hold themselves to a higher esteem than that of their peers.”
I glare at her for a moment before a boisterous roil of laughter shakes my broad chest. If I were one for dramatics and weren’t bound by restrictive metal cuffs, I’d be doubled over at the waist slapping my knee as the laughter rolls off my lips, but fuck that. This woman, this cute little doctor with her mousy voice and delicate smile… well she has a simple way of crawling under my damn skin and attaching herself to my nerves, plucking at them aggressively one by one. I have a feeling she and I won’t be seeing eye to eye on much of anything. But I’ll humor her diagnosis for my own shits and giggles.
“Antisocial Personality Disorder, huh? Well, Doctor,” I mock her professional title sarcastically, “since you don the degree, please elaborate on your findings of my diagnosis, please.” Yes, I have one hell of condescending tone. I flex my shoulders, rolling my neck as the cuffs restraining my wrists pinch my skin. Stretching my long legs out, I slump back in an awkward position and smile. Might as well get comfortable, sure this bitch will be talkin’ my fuckin’ ear off for da
ys and days. She tucks her hair behind her ear, then shifts in the chair obviously uncomfortable with my relaxed nature.
“Prior to evaluating you, I took the time to go through your file. The laundry list of charges you’re facing is quite appalling. After digging a little deeper into your background, I quickly concluded that you’re a man who expresses himself with actions rather than words, and you’re often rather careless in those actions. It’s evident that you disregard authority of any kind.”
True, I have little patience for ignorance. “That’s very interesting, Doc…please, continue.”
“You’re deceitful, yet witty in your attempt to manipulate for your own personal gain.” Dr. Hampton quirks up a brow and the amusement on her face just further pisses me off. She thinks she knows me based on some textbook definition? That’s laughable.
“So tell me, why are you here if you have me all figured out?”
She sighs softly and closes the file, clicking the pen closed. Looking up at me with innocent doe eyes she says, “Our hopes are that you’ll agree to weekly treatment where together we will talk out the issues that have plagued you.”
Straightening in the chair, I bend my knees and push up to my feet, smirking down at the fragile woman. “Dr. Hampton, in order for you to treat me, something would have to be wrong.” I purse my lips together, rolling my eyes. “And I can assure you, I’m as right as rain.” Turning toward the door, I tip my head at her, silently instructing her that I’m ready to be transferred back to my cell, but she ignores me.
“Josh, the decision is yours, but facing your demons may help you understand the wrong turn your life took that caused you to be so callous and heinous. It will also help your case if you voluntarily undergo therapy because then the courts will see that you have some remorse for your actions and you are attempting to right your wrongs with baby steps.” Dr. Hampton’s voice raises a few octaves, displaying a hint of urgency in the care she wishes to coddle me with. Well, my momma done raised me, I don’t need another tit to latch onto.