The Wilcox Report

Disclaimer: This piece includes incest. Also, this piece involves the affirmation of the rape myth--basically, the idea that women liked to be forced into sex. The author doesn't support the idea of the rape myth, it is simply being used because this is erotic fiction.

Author's Note: This obviously looks like the beginning of a series. If people want me to continue, I'll probably do so. If not, I don't know; still might, but we'll see.

Enjoy!

- Melvin CRASS!

THE WILCOX REPORT

Additive Revenge

The door stood open and a silhouette of a woman broke the image of the pouring rain outside. She took a few steps inside, obviously haggard from the rain.

"You look terrible." The voice came from a lavish chair that sat in the middle of the dark room. A click sounded through the room and a flight flooded overhead to show a woman dressed in a blood-red skirtsuit, well-muscled legs crossed over each other, her bust evident and accentuated by the cut of her fabric. Her dark red hair hung over her face, covering over one eye and giving her a rather sinister look. Plump red looks stood out from her tanned features. To say she had model looks was to go too short; she was the image of a goddess or some succubus.

The woman in the door might have looked nearly as good if she hadn't been drenched. In what had been a chalky-pink dress before the rain ruined it, the woman was well-curved, breasts jutting away from her chests like fat beacons, child-bearing hips still wonderfully enticing. Her legs were clad in thigh-high sheer stockings and her face was obscured by a veil, but not well. "Miss…"

"Madam," the woman in the chair corrected. "Yes?"

"Madam, I come to ask a favor of you." The woman who had just entered shuffled forward a bit. The woman in the chair curved her lips in a wicked, but reserved, smile.

"I thought you had," she said. "There's no other reason the mayor's wife would visit the evil, disgusting Madam Sinclair."

Don't fuck with me! the wife of the mayor thought, but she suppressed it. "Madam…"

"On your knees." The mayor's wife hesitated for a bit, but when Madam Sinclair lifted her eyebrow, she sank down shudderlingly. "Shuffle towards me."

"Madam…" She shuffled as ordered, grumbling inwardly at the indecency of it.

"Yes, Ms. Adams?" Madam Sinclair asked, her voice condescending.

"I want you to… deal with her." Ms. Adams reached into her breast pocket, pushing it a bit as she extracted the photo. She showed it to Madam Sinclair and the woman snatched it up, examining her. "Danielle Wilcox."

"I know her." Danielle Wilcox had been a supermodel before moving to the suburb of Terrace Heights with her billionaire husband, William Wilcox. When he had died… well, it was enough that he had awarded her everything. She was smart enough not to keep living in that mansion; this way, she could live without work