Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4150203.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Grand_Theft_Auto_V
  Relationship:
      Trevor_Philips/Reader
  Character:
      Trevor_Philips
  Additional Tags:
      GTA, Uncle_T, GTA_lemon, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-17 Updated: 2016-01-13 Chapters: 5/? Words: 18085
****** Stripped of Everything ******
by NicoleBrandy
Summary
     You find yourself in a series of unfortunate events, the last of them
     landing you a job as a stripper. It wasn't exactly your choice, but
     you can't complain. The pay is shit, your co-workers are bitches, and
     your boss is a psychopath, but hey. It beats being homeless.
***** Back to the Beginning *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
This story starts off the way these tales all seem to: It wasn't supposed to be
like this. Be that as it may, it most certainly is like this, and there's
really not a goddamn thing you can do about it now. Before? Definitely. Now
you're tied to a chair with a gun barrel pointed directly at your forehead,
though, so there doesn't seem to be any hope for you. But let's get back to the
beginning, where it all began...
===============================================================================
Life really wasn't working out for you. On multiple occasions over the past
three days had you actually considered committing suicide. The only thing that
held you back was the fact that the sea was too disgusting to drown yourself in
and you were too much of a pussy to make that jump off of a building. Yeah. You
were one of those girls: the preppy, high-class, 'as if' teenage daddy's girl
who had daddy's credit card along with your own private jet not a month ago.
That was before you decided life at home was holding you back, however; before
you ran away from your family with your 27-year-old gangbanger of a boyfriend
who promised he'd take care of you. Well, let's call him your ex, now. It
wasn't long before you ran away from your ex as well, albeit it was for
justifiable reasons. You couldn't return to your family in fear that he would
send some goons to your home and burn it (and everyone inside) to the ground.
In the end, you wound up wandering the streets with nothing but the clothes on
your back... along with some money you helped yourself to from your ex's drug
franchise. Hey, it was to survive, and you were barely managing even that.
Tired, lost, and hungry, you decided to take a break from foraging and plop a
seat down in front of some random building that had music blaring from the
inside. Feeling your stomach rumble, you whined and placed a hand over it,
trying to soothe the pang of hunger by rubbing it. If anything it made the
growling worse, and you suddenly felt like crying. Tears welled in your eyes
when you remembered what little money you had left. Thoughts ran through your
mind that terrified you and caused the pool of tears to get fuller.
I'm going to have to rob someone or something... I'm no criminal, but... I need
to survive...
An ironic chuckle left your lips as you thought about how silly you sounded.
After all, not ten hours ago were you standing on the edge of a bridge, trying
to convince yourself to jump. The memory made you depressed when you remembered
how no one seemed to care about the dirty homeless girl about to commit
suicide. No one cared that you wanted to take your life. No one cared about
you. Period. You were alone in the world with no one to hold you, comfort you,
etc. etc.Thinking more about your depressing situation made you more depressed,
and you wanted nothing more than a beer. Of course you were underage, but you
had certainly had your fair share of alcohol and hangovers. You took a look at
the club behind you, towards the entrance. It seemed busy.
Maybe they'll be so busy tending to the other customers, they won't card me...
Figuring it was worth a shot (really, what else did you have to lose?), you
sighed and wiped away your tears. Making yourself as presentable as possible in
your three-day-old outfit, you took a deep breath and approached the entrance.
A nervous feeling welled within your gut as the bouncer glanced at you, but
thankfully he didn't say anything. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you entered
the club and walked along the entrance hallway. Your eyes widened when you got
inside. This wasn't a club at all. It was a stripper joint! You felt your
cheeks burn as some men eyed you curiously, probably wondering why a girl like
you would be in a place like this. Ducking your head, you made a beeline for
the bar, planning on buying a beer and then hightailing it out of there. The
lady behind the counter didn't seem too friendly. She was working the bar all
by herself, tending to all the drunken customers with a very frazzled
expression. At one point, a man - who you guessed to be a regular - said
something that apparently pissed her off, for she leaned over the counter to
scream in his face. With a huff of her breath, the woman furiously began wiping
at a spill on the counter as you cautiously approached. Immediately her eyes
snapped up to stare into yours impatiently, and she promptly snapped, "Whattaya
want?" You winced a bit at the lady's harsh question (rather, demand, as it
sounded like), then hurriedly gave your answer once you remembered why you had
approached her in the first place.
"Ah, just a-... a bottle of Pißwasser, please," came your shaky reply. When she
eyed you suspiciously, you gave an awkward smile, uncomfortable under her
scrutiny. Suddenly the woman spoke again, and her words made a lump form in
your throat.
"Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before, and you look far too young
to be in a place like this..." Instantly you began panicking, and your guilty
eyes slid from left to right. You were painfully aware of how quiet the bar
seemed to be now, and cursed your luck for it getting that way and ruining your
plan.
"Um..." you stuttered, glancing back up at the woman, "I... I'm new here."
Hearing this, the woman quirked an eyebrow skeptically.
"You're the new dancer?" she asked. Before even thinking about the
consequences, you nodded rapidly. This made the woman stand up straight, fold
her arms across her chest, and hum in deep thought as she looked you over.
"...Well, you certainly got the figure for it..." she admitted. Then she leaned
forward again, causing you to shrink back a bit. "But aren't you supposed to be
up there?" came the dreaded question, as she pointed behind you to the stage.
You glanced over your shoulder at a blonde woman with barely anything covering
herself, spinning on a pole expertly. Biting your lip, you turned back to the
woman and shrugged.
"I'm, uh... just here for orientation?" you offered, your explanation coming
out more of a question than an answer. This made the barmaid hum again in mock
consideration. She seemed to be humoring you now.
"I see..." the woman stated, deadpanned. "So, if I were to get my manager up
here, he could verify that you are indeed the new stripper. Is that it?" This
made your eyes widen, and immediately you began shaking your hands in front of
you, as if begging for mercy.
"N- No, that won't be necessary, I-... I think I'll just be leaving now," you
tried to insist, but the woman held up a finger to cut you off as she raised a
phone to her ear.
"Actually, it is necessary, Miss, and you are going to stay right there while I
call Mister Phillips," she said with irritation in her tone. You sighed,
burying your face in your hands as you dreaded what the next five minutes had
in store for you. Would you be arrested? Have your parents called to pick you
up, like some high schooler who got caught playing hooky? And what would they
say if they got you, after three months of being away from them without a word?
I told you that boyfriend of yours was no good! He's a dirty liar and a hoodlum
whom my daughter has no right to see! Look at the mess you've gotten yourself
into! How many times have I told you--
"Ah, Mister Phillips!" The sudden voice made you jump a bit and raise your head
to look back at the barmaid. She was smirking at you now; you had definitely
been caught. Another voice - a rough, angry-sounding, borderline psychopathic
roar from an older man - made you nearly fall back on your feet as it blared
behind you.
"Yeah, yeah, what is it now?" the gruff voice snapped to the barmaid. He barely
seemed to notice you.
"This one," the bartender began, pointing an accusatory finger at you, "claims
she is the new... entertainer." This made your eyes widen, and you whipped your
head around to gape at the man, having to tilt it back a bit just to look up
into his eyes. Said eyes were now looking you over rather curiously, and you
flushed at how they seemed to rest on your more feminine tidbits.
"...'S'that so..." the apparent Mister Phillips mused, circling around you and
examining every inch of you. You weren't sure what to do, so you just stood
there, eyes glued to the floor in shame as you awaited your punishment.
Suddenly the man spoke again, this time to you: something you didn't expect.
"What's your name, sweet cheeks?" he asked, his eyes resting on yours now.
Clearing your throat, you chanced a glance at him and replied to his question
honestly, not seeing any reason to lie. The man listened to this, then his gaze
dropped to rest on your chest absently as he nodded thoughtfully. "[Y/N]..." he
repeated aloud to himself, as if testing the way it rolled off his tongue. You
couldn't help but shiver at how... rough he made your name sound.
Now he was touching you. You felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't like he was
touching your privates. He merely lifted your arms, felt your muscles, spread
your legs a bit to do the same to them, etc. It was strange, but at least he
wasn't molesting you. There came another question, and you were wildly confused
as to what the Hell this man was doing. "Can ya dance?" he asked you, to which
you nodded, afraid to actually speak. He stood up straight now, looking you
over again before returning his eyes to pierce into your own. "Can ya take off
your clothes?" At this, you blushed, looking around uncomfortably. Seeing your
nervous reaction, the man let out a hearty cackle, which he had to throw his
head back to emit. After laughing for a good ten straight seconds, he returned
his gaze to you and sneered, "Not now, you dope!" This made you frown at the
insult, and you were about to retort, but then he spoke again, cutting you off.
"For the V.I.P. members... If someone were to ask for a private dance, would
you be willing to give them one?" You blinked. Were you? After a few moments of
consideration, you cleared your throat again.
"Ah... I-... I suppose," came your timid reply. Then this Mister Phillips
clapped you on the shoulder, grinning wildly.
"Excellent! Ya got the job! Now, get home and shower up, or I'll be forced to
dub you Stinky," your new boss (apparently) stated simply, already walking past
you and headed for the door. Without even thinking, your hands shot out to
grasp his, and you prevented him from leaving.
"Wait!" you cried. The man whipped his head around to gawk at his captured
wrist, and then he lifted his eyes to scowl at you. Immediately regretting such
a bold action, you coughed awkwardly and let him go, lowering your gaze to be
floor. "S- Sorry..." you mumbled. "It's just... Um... I don't have a home to go
to at the moment... so..."
Hearing this, the man turned to you, cutting you off once again. "Whoa whoa
whoa. Back the truck up, here..." he muttered. Then he pointed a finger at you
as he asked, unbelievingly, "You're homeless?..."
"Well, now I am, yes," you hurriedly explained, "I, um... I had some problems
with my boyfriend, and-... I used to live with him, but... Now he's my ex..."
The more you babbled, the more foolish you felt for spilling your life story to
some guy you didn't even know. It made you increasingly uncomfortable with how
he stayed quiet and listened to every detail, as if he actually cared; as if he
actually gave a shit about you. Thankfully, Mister Phillips cut you off again,
welcomingly this time.
"So, in other words, you're homeless, you're smelly, and you're single?" he
asked, causing you to frown a bit. Why would he care about your relationship
status? Still, despite your discrepancies, you nodded simply in response,
earning a smirk from the strange man. "Well, darlin', I'll tell ya what... You
can come live with me for a little while, yea? At least until we get you back
on them pretty little feet of yours." Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor upon
hearing this offer. Before you could protest, however, the man spoke again,
seeming to sense your reluctance, "Now, don't get the wrong idea, okay? I'm not
letting you stay for free... I mean, my home isn't exactly a five-star hotel,
but there's still bills to be paid, so I'm not just running a soup kitchen and
letting you hunker down in there for no charge. No, no, no sir-y!" Again,
before you could protest (which was starting to get annoying), he stuck a
finger at you and concluded, "You're gonna pay me! Got it?"
Huffing a breath, you smacked the finger out from in front of your face and
briskly replied, "But I don't have any money!"
Mister Phillips thought for a moment, then smirked a tad, sending goosebumps
across your skin. Something told you that you should never get on this man's
bad side. "Sweet cheeks," your new boss sighed, walking to your side and
looping an arm around your waist as he led you to the door, "I'm sure we can
work something out..."
Chapter End Notes
     Woo! Chapter one finished! The next chapter will be longer and
     advance the plot a tad more, and I'm hoping the third chapter will
     contain les smuts. So! Comment what you thought so far, and stay
     tuned~!
***** Abrupt Changes *****
Chapter Summary
     My, what a situation you've ended up in. It really is odd, the idea
     of living with this man... After all, you don't even know the guy's
     first name!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
There was a nagging voice in your head, screaming at you that this was wrong.
 You completely agreed with said voice, but what other choice did you have?
 Not an hour before, you were out on the streets, dirt poor, rummaging through
dumpsters and begging for change just to earn your dinner.  At least now you
were promised shelter, food, and a job.  You still smelled something awful, but
your apparent new boss didn't really seem to mind, as he led you to his beaten
up pick-up truck and had you sit in the passenger seat.  Sure, he made a few
jabbing remarks to you about it, as he pulled out of the parking lot and
swerved onto the road.  You couldn't help but worry at his erratic style of
driving; it wasn't exactly what you were used to.  No, what you were used to
was having your chauffeur cart you around in your limo like the pretty little
princess you pretended to be for the first 16 years of your life.  Now you were
seated in a rusty old Canis Bodhi being driven by a psychopathic redneck who
dressed like a hobo and drove like a maniac.  You gasped and squealed every
time he nearly clipped (and sometimes did clip) the cars he brushed past, as he
weaved in and out of the lanes.  Also you felt a rising sense of anxiety well
within you the higher the speedometer climbed.  It only got worse when Mister
Phillips pulled onto the highway, and the G-force was so intense that you felt
your whole backside practically being pinned against your seat.  Fingernails
clutching into the armrest, you gritted your teeth and gaped in horror as the
scenery flew by in a blur of colors.  "Aren't you driving a little
wrecklessly?!"  you eventually gathered the courage and sense to shriek, barely
managing to turn your head to gawk at your boss like the crazy person you
believed he was.  At your shrill complaint, the man merely snickered and - much
to your dismay - took his eyes off the road to smirk at you.
"What's the matter, sweet cheeks?" the brunet hummed innocently, only glancing
back at the road for a moment (thank God it was so void of other cars, now that
you were retreating away from society and into the desert) before looking back
at you.  "Can't handle a bit of fun?"  For some reason, this mocking statement
made you irritated, and it felt like this guy - this Mister Phillips - was
taunting you; challenging you.  Harrumphing, you sat up as straight as you
possibly could and folded your arms across your chest, turning your head away
indignantly.
"I can so..." you mumbled, more in a pout than you would care to admit.
 Hearing him snicker again, you whipped your head back around to glare at him
and snap defensively, "I simply don't care to died in a tragic car accident,
thank you very much!"  It only agitated you more when Mister Phillips merely
shook his head and continued to snicker in amusement.  Before you could say
anything that might result in an argument, you turned your head away to glare
at the road as it zoomed by.  After about five straight minutes of nothing but
Channel X blaring through the speakers, you piped up, in a grumbling sort of
voice, "So... Who are you, anyway?"
"The name's Trevor Phillips, sweetie," the man answered without missing a beat.
 You repeated the name over and over again in your head, fitting the name to
his face.  It suited him, you thought.  The sound of Trevor's voice caused you
to lift your head to look at him, and you found him staring at you expectantly.
 Worried about him crashing, you cleared your throat and spoke.
"Pardon?"
"Your name, I said," the older man reiterated, glancing at the road briefly and
once again returning his sights to you.  It made you nervous, how careless he
was while he drove.  "I need a full name to put on my list of entertainers,
sweetheart."  You paused at this, debating on whether or not giving your full
name would raise any alarms.  After all, your last name wasn't all too common,
and you'd practically be giving away your whole identity (and therefore
possibly putting your family in danger) to some stranger.  The name Trevor
Phillips raised alarms in your own head, after all.  You had heard about
someone previously causing your father some problems in his business, and that
name seemed to fit the bill... but you couldn't remember.  All your life you
hadn't really paid much attention to your father's work; it dulled you.  The
street life was much more exciting to you - that is until you had gotten
involved with the leader of a drug business.  You'd never do that again, you
swore to yourself.
"Ah... Right," you mumbled, nodding.  Finally you decided to answer him, more
or less to get his eyes off of you and back on the road as quickly as possible.
 "...It's [Y/N]... [Y/N] Percival."  This statement made Trevor quirk a brow
and do a double take towards you.  Once again his eyes were locked on you, and
you were more afraid of the sudden fire in his eyes than the possibility of you
both crashing.
"...Did you say Percival?..." he murmured skeptically.  Hesitating, you bit
your lip, then nodded slowly.  He was quiet for a moment, eyes returning to the
road as he seemed to dissolve into deep thought.  Then he looked up at you
again, and his insistent attitude made you question if what you had admitted
was wise to reveal.  "What's your father's name?" came the second question,
more like a command than an inquisition.  Damn.  You had been found out.  
"It's Don," you responded.
"Don. Percival."
"Yup."
"The  Don Percival."
"You got it."
"The Don Percival, leader and founder of The Merryweather Security
Consulting, the army of the New World Order?  That  Don Percival?" 
Now you were fed up and - frankly - uncomfortable with all the questions and
disbelief.  "Why does that interest you so much?" you suddenly snapped,
irritated as you turned to scowl at him.  Trevor blinked, then shook his head
and mumbled something incoherent as the truck continuously sped down the road.
 For the remainder of the ride, conversation was absent.  You were thankful
that the barrage of questions finally stopped, but at the same time you
couldn't quell that knot of nerves in your gut.  Something told you that
revealing who exactly you were (and consequently who exactly your father was)
was a bad idea.  If only you had listened to that little voice in your head and
had gotten out while you still possibly could.
===============================================================================
You awoke sometime later, slightly disoriented by the fact that you had even
fallen asleep in the first place.  Your eyelids creaked apart just slightly
when you did decide to actually get up, but then they flew wide open when you
noticed something.  You had no idea where the fuck you were, how the fuck you
got there, or how long you had been out.  Instantly you sat up, frantically
looking around with no signs of finding out.  The room was filthy, the walls
were metal, and the air was dry and pungent with musk.  It looked like you were
in a trailer.
Well why the fuck am I here ?!
Not wanting to spend another minute wherever the Hell you were, you swung your
legs over the side of the bed you had been in and stood.  Then you squealed
loudly and shivered as the cool air of the room hit you - everywhere.  Not a
moment later you heard the apparent bedroom door creak open, and you
instinctively grabbed one of the messy sheets you had previously been covered
with to shield your bare form from view.  In sauntered none other than Mister
Trevor Phillips, donned in nothing but socks and the same pair of dirty blue
jeans he had on before.
"Well, good evenin' t'you, Princess," the man greeted you, and by the way his
words were slurred and his mock bow caused him to stumble, you could conclude
that he was drunk.  Wonderful.
"Trevor, what the fuck," you demanded, eyes narrowed at him defensively.
 Something within you told you that this man was terrifying, that you shouldn't
be speaking to him in such a manner, but the rest of you decided you really
didn't care.  After all, this guy was almost comically drunk off his ass, and
he could barely stand.  Even you could take him in a fight, you decided, if it
came down to that.  At your harsh words, trevor quirked a brow and tutted his
finger at you, shaking his head.
"Ah, ah, ahhh!" the man chastised you mockingly, causing you to roll your eyes.
 "That's Mister Phillips, t'you, young lady," he corrected as he stumbled his
way over to you.  Cautiously, you backed away, but he just kept coming closer.
 "...Orrrr, Sir, if you prefer..."  Closer he came, further you went.  The wall
was inching up behind you, and you felt like an animal being cornered like some
kind of prey.  "...orrrr, maybeeee, even..."  The man suddenly took a large
step towards you, causing you to stumble backwards.  A grunt left your lips as
your back hit the wall, and you froze when Trevor slammed his palm against it
beside your head.  You were literally cornered, naked, nothing keeping the two
of you apart but the sheet and a few inches of air.  "...Uncle T," the man
growled in conclusion, licking his lips.  Nearly gagging at the strong smell of
beer lingering in his breath, you turned your head away to both avert your gaze
and hold your breath.  Thankfully, though, after a few moments of eyeing you
with a predatory glint in his eyes, Trevor suddenly stepped away, walking
towards the door casually.  "I'll leave it t'you to decide, yea?"
Now that you were no longer cornered, you felt your sense of bravery restored a
bit and managed to return your gaze to glare at the man once more.  "Where the
fuck am I, how the fuck did I get here, and-... Where the fuck are my
clothes?!" you barked, causing him to turn back to you and tap his chin
thoughtfully.  His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, which he stared at in mock
contemplation.  This guy's sarcastic attitude was most certainly going to piss
you off.
"Welllll..." the drunk began, after a full thirty seconds of 'thinking,' "we're
in my trailer, ya fell asleep on th'drive here, I didn't want t'wake you, I put
you t'bed, aaaaand..." Trevor paused, thought for a moment, then returned his
gaze to you, now smirking.  "I may or may not have stripped ya down and thrown
yer clothes in th'wash."  Another pause.  "Well..."  He looked towards his
front door through the doorway of his bedroom.  "I had my assistant do the
washin' and shit, 'cuz I'm not about that..."  Then he returned his gaze and
smirk to you once more.  "But I did the stripping part.  You have very nice
underwear, by the way.  Lace really suits you."
You stared at Trevor for quite some time, your jaw hanging off its hinge in
shock as you tried to process all of that information.  Though you were about
to ask Trevor why he would do something like that, he once again cut you off
(grrrr...) and turned his back to you, headed for the door again.  "Yerrrr
welcome!  Get back t'bed and shower in th'mornin'!  We got shit to do
tomorrow."  You felt your anger subside a bit as your curiosity got the best of
you, and you took a few steps towards him before he could leave.
"Wait!" you called, having a flashback to the first time you had to stop this
dick from walking away from you before giving you a chance to speak.
 Reluctantly and impatiently, hand on the doorknob, showing no signs of
allowing there to be a lengthy conversation, Trevor thankfully stopped to scowl
at you.  Getting used to such a look, you huffed a breath and returned the
expression as you inquired, "What do you mean, 'We got shit to do tomorrow'...?
 What do we have to do?"
"Well, I need t'see you in action, of course," Trevor replied simply after a
burp.  Ignoring the disgusting action (flatulence was icky, you believed), you
huffed another impatient breath and glared harder.
"Excuse me?" you retorted, clearly demanding an explanation.
"Honey, you didn't think I was gonna let'cha work in my club without showing me
your skills, were ya?  C'mon, even I  have a reputation to uphold.  Can you
imagine if I just pulled in some random girl off the street and gave her a job
as a stripper?" Trevor explained.  His words made you quirk a challenging
eyebrow, as that is exactly what he had indeed done with you.  Practically
reading your expression, the drunken redneck growled and narrowed his eyes.
 "Okay.  That is exactly what I did," he admitted.  "But that is why I have to
evaluate you, sweet cheeks.  In order to be a stripper at my club, you're gonna
have t'give me a private show."
You were sure your cheeks were on fire now.  Trevor wanted you to strip?  For
him?!  The thought made you shift uncomfortably and cling more tightly onto the
sheet that shielded your form from view.  Your eyes averted themselves and
instead fell to the ground, much to Trevor's amusement.  "Trev-... Um, M-
Mister Phillips, I don't think that's-" you began, but you were - once again -
cut off.
"Sure it is!  Now, get some rest.  I'll wake ya in th'mornin'!  I got some
errands to run, and this area isn't th'safest place t'be... Psychos everywhere,
y'know?  So!  I'm gonna leave this here door locked, aaaaand I'll be back
before yer even up.  Kay?  Goodnight!"
With that, Mister Trevor Phillips shut the door behind him.  As he promised, he
locked the door from the outside, trapping you in the small room and rendering
you his prisoner.  What a strange turn of events your life had taken.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Aaaaaand... DONE! Phew! That took a while... but at least I typed it
     on a computer this time. The last chapter was typed on my phone, so
     that's why it was so short. I am pleased with how many hits, kudos,
     and kind words this fic has gotten already! Keep that up and I may
     just update every day! :3 (Psssst. There will be smutty smuts in the
     next chapterrrrr. ;3 )
***** Showered with Creepiness *****
Chapter Summary
     You've made yourself at home at Trevor's trailer... or at least tried
     to. Too bad he's too much a pervert to let you shower in peace.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Morning came before you were ready to rise.  You hadn't realized how incredibly
exhausted you were until you actually had a bed to sleep in.  It didn't come as
much of a surprise to you, though.  After all, looking for comfortable places
to sleep on the street came with much difficulty to you, so most of the time
you simply went without any sleep at all.  That bed was like a gift to you, no
matter how musky and disgusting it was.  Just as he said, Mister Phillips had
returned home before you were awake.  He himself caught a few hours of shut-eye
before he awoke to fetch you.  The bedroom door's lock clicked, and a moment
later the door swung open.  Trevor paraded in, looking rather smug as he
approached the bed.  He tossed some things on the bed - your outfit, freshly
cleaned, along with a bag from a store you would not recognize - and then
crouched down beside you.  Unbeknownst to you, the man merely sat there for a
few moments longer than necessary, just watching your sleeping face.  On his
own face was a mixture of emotions, one being his usual, cocky attitude, while
the other was reminiscent of pride.  He seemed to be proud of himself, having
you asleep in his bed.  You were of course the daughter of a millionaire -
possibly a billionaire... you didn't really care, as long as you had an ample
supply of money to spend - so that wasn't too shocking.  Still, Trevor seemed
to have some strange fascination with Merryweather in particular, and you had
wondered why at first, but gave up and merely accepted the home and job that
were offered to you.  Days of being the picky, prissy princess you were raised
to be were over; you were nearly an adult, legally, and it was time to start
acting like it.  Apparently it was also time for you to wake up, as well,
because after a few moments of stalking your sleeping form, Trevor reached over
and violently shook you awake.
"[Y/N], WAKE UP, THE TRAILER IS ON FIRE!" the man blared, jolting you awake.
 Without thinking, your eyes shot open and you sat up, looking around wildly. 
"WHAT?!" you shrieked, eyes finally stopping to rest on your boss, who was
smirking insolently. 
...That... sadistic fuck!!
Almost instantly you realized that Trevor had been fucking with you, so you
narrowed your eyes and threw off your covers.  "You... You..." you growled
through gritted teeth, only getting angrier as the bastard merely continued to
smirk at you.  As you stood, with your fists clenched at your sides, he rose as
well, easily towering over you.  Still he wore that annoyingly arrogant grin,
and it pissed you off that he didn't seem the least bit afraid of you.
"Ah? 'I... I,' what, exactly?" he challenged, placing his own hands on his hips
to mock you.  Before you could retort, he leaned forward so that his lips were
by your ear, which he growled into, "Nice tits, by the way..."
Your eyes went wide.  Your cheeks flushed crimson.  You had forgotten that you
were completely naked, and now you were standing there before your boss: naked
as the day you were born.  It took you a few moments to react, but suddenly you
squealed like a frightened guinea pig, falling on your back onto Trevor's bed
once more.  Seeing this, Trevor merely chuckled, eyeing you boldly.  "Think yer
skippin' a few steps, darlin'... Ain't I supposed to take you out to dinner
first?" he teased, only causing you to go redder in the face.  Humiliated, you
grabbed a sheet and threw it over your head to hide your bare form and rosy
cheeks.
"Trevor, get out!!" you shouted, voice cracking from the embarrassment.  This
command made Trevor harrumph rather indignantly, and he bent over a tad to grab
the sheet and yank it away from you. 
"First of all, Princess, it's Mister Phillips, to you," he chided, pulling the
sheet just out of your reach when you went to grab it.  With a whine, you stood
on your knees and made grabby hands for the fabric, like a toddler being denied
a cookie.  This made Trevor chuckle before he continued, "Second of all, you'd
better get used to being naked in front of me... and everyone else, for that
matter."  Those words made you stop and stare at Trevor.  Your eyes read 'What
the fuck,' so Trevor sighed and explained, "Need I remind you of your
new... position?"
Oh, fuck.  I forgot all about that.  I'm... I'm...
"...I'm a stripper..." you finished aloud, sinking back onto your rear in
defeat.  Your eyes fell to the floor and you felt like crying again.  It felt
humiliating just admitting your fate, and you couldn't possibly imagine
actually having to strip in front of people.  A look up at Trevor caught him
nodding at you, like a wise monk who was confirming your words.  Huffing a
tense breath, you shook your head and looked at the man with pleading eyes.
 "Trevor, I..." you began, but Trevor cut you off again.
"Ah!" he tutted hurriedly, wagging a finger.  "Mister Phillips," he corrected
you.  You sighed and nodded.
"M- Mister Phillips..." you mumbled.  Then you sighed again and shook your head
once more before continuing, "I don't think I can do it... I mean, you have to
pay a fee to work at those clubs, don't you?"
"Welllll, normally, yyyyyeeees," Mister Phillips relinquished, choosing each
word carefully as he shifted on his feet, "...but I'm makin' an exception for
now.  After all, I told you we would work something out, yea?  I have the
perfect way for us to do that."  Trevor grinned at his own words, but they
stopped there.  You stared at him expectantly, and he stared back, wondering
why you weren't speaking.  After a moment he realized you expected him to
continue, so he hurriedly changed the subject.  "Anyway!  I gotcha somethin',
Princess."
A bough of curiosity sprouted as the man began digging into that bag from
earlier.  He pushed aside some tissue paper that covered the objects within,
then his eyes lit up when he saw it.  "Aha!  Here we go!" Trevor exclaimed,
pulling out something that made your heart drop and your eyes go wide.  In his
hands was a less-than-appropriate garment.  It was a corset-style top: pink
velvet with black, lacy mesh adorning the surface.  It looked like something
that some kind of dominatrix would wear.  "Oh, and that's not all," the man
announced before you could comment.  He set the top aside before pulling out
more from the bag: some black heels, pink thigh-high stockings (along with a
garter belt), a black thong, and a black triangle bra.  Now you were
practically in shock.  Trevor actually expected you to wear those things??
 Well, you were a stripper, after all, but still...
"Well?  What are you waitin' for, darlin'?" the man asked suddenly, jolting you
out of your stunned state.  You ripped your eyes away from the clothing he had
placed on the bed, now gaping at him rather stupidly.  He was staring at you,
waiting.  "Uh, are you going to get dressed, oooor are you going to sit there
nekkid all day?"  After a moment, Trevor smirked, rubbing his chin
contemplatively as he eyed you hungrily.  "Personally, I'd be fine with either
option..." he hummed, eyes resting on your breasts.  You flushed again, but
didn't bother covering up.  As he stated before, you'd have to get used to
creepy old guys checking you out.  With a defeated sigh, you nodded.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll dress... but... Can I wear my normal clothes for now?" you
whined pleadingly, looking back at your boss with puppy eyes.  It relieved you
when he shrugged and turned away.  "For the ride there, sure.  You'll just have
to change again once we arrive is all," the man stated nonchalantly as he left
the room.  You sighed, thankful that you could at least have some dignity on
the ride there.  Getting to your feet, you gathered your freshly cleaned
outfit, dug around for a relatively clean towel, and found your way to the
bathroom.  It wasn't difficult; the trailer couldn't have been more than 100
square feet.  As you got in the tiny room, you shut the door behind you and
sighed when you found it didn't lock.  Hopefully Trevor was at least
gentlemanly enough to let you have some privacy while you showered.  Setting
your clothes on the side of the sink, you turned the shower faucet to the side
and felt instantly better at the mere thought of bathing.  You couldn't even
wait for the water to get hot before you stepped under it, sighing as you felt
the impurities being washed away.
You assumed Trevor had no girlfriend or wife, and if he did she was not living
with him; there was only one, half-empty bottle of shampoo/conditioner (which
was for men) and a heavily used bar of soap.  Though you decided you would
straighten that dilemma out later, you made do with what you had at the moment
and used his 2-in-1 men's shampoo.  It smelled good, but it was rather
masculine, of course.  Still, you couldn't complain; it was better than
smelling like a hobo.  After lathering the substance into your hair, you turned
your back to the water and leaned your head back.  Another pleased sigh fell
from your lips as the water (which was steaming, by now: something you welcomed
with open arms) soaked your locks further.  You ran your fingers through them
and helped the shampoo/conditioner to be rinsed out, then stood there for a
while under the stream of water.  You were just entering a state of tranquility
when a rapid knock at the bathroom door yanked you out of it.  Eyes snapping
open, you looked just in time for Trevor to burst in and begin unzipping his
jeans hurriedly.  "Sorry, Princess, I gotta go," the man grunted.  He faced the
toilet and reached in his underwear, but thankfully you averted your eyes
before you saw anything.  You huffed as you turned your back towards him,
trying to keep your more private parts from view.
"God fucking dammit, Trev--"
"Mister Phillips."
"Fuck off!!" 
You had begun leaning your shoulder against the shower wall, arms folded across
your chest as you waited for the intrusive man to finish his business.
 Thankfully, after what felt like forever, you heard the sound of his zipper
again, signaling that he was done.  Without even turning around, you snorted,
"Great, you're done.  Now, if you would kindly leave, that would be--"
"No can do, darlin'," Trevor cut you off yet again.  Instead of the sound of
the door shutting, you heard a different noise that made your heart stop
beating for a second.  Your boss had casually set down the toilet seat and lid,
then took a seat and hunched forward, leaning an elbow on his knee and his chin
on his palm.  When you turned your head around to gawk at him, you were shocked
to find him seated there, staring  at you.  You two stared at each other for
quite some time, each one waiting for the other to speak.  Finally he did,
explaining, "You really have to get used to being nude around men you don't
know.  Sooo - I'm staying right here, and I'm gonna watch you."  There was an
air of finality surrounding Trevor's words like the steam that was now
shrouding the room.  It pissed you off, how he made these decisions on his own
without even asking for your input.  You didn't hide your agitation as you
narrowed your eyes at him, opening your mouth to speak. 
Wait... That's exactly what he is expecting me to do... He wants me to argue,
to protest, to tell him that I won't stand for it.  I'm not about to just give
in and give him what he wants to hear.
With those thoughts in mind, you closed your mouth and settled on scowling at
him.  He merely leered back at you silently, so you finally snapped, "Fine!"
 Then you turned to face him, and you felt a sick pride welling within you as
his eyes widened.  A sadistic smirk crept onto your face without your
permission as you turned to the side now.  You continued your shower normally,
pretending your boss wasn't in the room, ogling at you with his tongue
practically hanging out of his mouth.  The man looked like a bitch in heat, and
you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself for making him that way.  Eyes
slipping shut, you tilted your head to the side, letting the steaming water
blast against a tense bundle of twisted nerves.  A pleased, satisfied moan left
your lips at the sensation of your stress literally being washed away.  The
noise you made prompted the man across the small room to let out a grunt.  It
sounded like he was stifling a groan, and again you smirked.  "Enjoying the
show, Sir?"  you teased in a purr, to which Trevor responded with a rapid nod
of his head.
"Oh, you bet your sweet little ass, I am!"  the pan growled, and from the
corner of your eye you could see him palming himself through his jeans.  You
rolled your eyes and scoffed.  He was an animal.  "And by the way:
aforementioned 'sweet little ass'?... I mean it.  That is one sweet little ass
you have there," Mister Phillips added.  Used to his perverted remarks by now,
you merely chuckled.
"Thanks," you replied jokingly, shaking your head.  It was time to lather your
skin in soap, and you couldn't wait.  Turning to look back at the drooling man,
you casually asked, "You got any razors I could borrow?  And maybe more soap?"
 At the question, Trevor blinked, then thought for a moment and nodded,
standing.
"Well, I have one extra razor I haven't used... buuuut it looks like you'll
have to use my soap," he responded, handing you the razor he had found after
digging through the cabinet for a moment.  You sighed and accepted it, nodding
and mumbling your thanks.  Trevor smirked as he sat back down on the toilet,
continuing in the shameless touching of himself through his trousers.  "Cheer
up, Princess.  That soap's only been on my body a handful of times.  I don't
shower often," he 'reassured' you.  You grimaced at his words, but merely shook
your head and reluctantly bent down to pick up the bar of soap.  Trevor growled
hungrily at this action, for he got quite the view of your bare rear,  "Damn,
you have a pretty fucking ass..."  You went red in the cheeks, but forced a
scowl onto your cheeks.
"Can I at least shave without the commentary?"  you gnarled without making an
attempt to hide the agitation in your tone.  You rolled you eyes again as you
lifted a leg to prop your foot against the wall, unknowingly putting your
crotch on display.
"Once again, nooo can do, Princess," Trevor stated firmly, shrugging.  "Right
now you're training for what you encounter whilst working in my establishment.
 And inappropriate comments are something you are definitely going to have to
get used to.  No throttling or cursing out my customers, understand?"  You
huffed a breath at his words as you glided the bar of soap up and down your
leg.  Keeping it out of the water so the suds weren't washed away, you lathered
your skin until it was white with soap.
"Yes, Sir," you replied sarcastically.  It felt nice, putting the four-blade
razor to your skin and cutting away the stubble that had grown out over the
past few days.  You flawlessly cleared the hair from both of your legs, feeling
every inch of them to make sure you didn't miss a spot.  Trevor watched you as
you basically felt yourself up, that predatory glint returning to his eyes.
"I can help you with this part," the man purred, eyes following your every
movement as you felt your outer and inner thighs for any hair.  At his words,
you merely snorted.
"Yeah.  How about no," came your caustic response, causing him to pout like a
little kid.  You sighed, turning your back to him as you rubbed your fingers
over the soap and rubbed them into your lower abdomen.  It was like a forest
down there, and you would feel disgusting if you just left it like that.
 Though you couldn't see it, you could practically feel Trevor leaning left and
right, trying to get a better look at what you were doing.  He had his eyebrow
quirked in confusion and skepticism.
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" he muttered, causing your hand to
freeze.  Turning your head around to gawk at him, bewildered, you blinked.
"...I'm shaving, you fucking perv!"  you spat, disgusted at the thoughts you
knew were going through his head.  Your words made Trevor lean back and raise
his hands, looking at the ceiling innocently.
"Just checkin'!"  he chirped, causing you to roll your eyes for what felt like
the thousandth time that day.  As you returned your eyes to where your fingers
were, you continued rubbing the soap into your skin, grimacing at how much hair
had grown there so quickly.  No time was wasted, for as soon as you deemed
yourself soapy enough, you put down the worn bar and got to work.  It took you
a few minutes, but before too long, you had shaven yourself clean.  With all
the unwelcome filth and hair removed, you felt a whole lot cleanlier, and a
satisfied grin spread across your lips as you set the razor down.  Bending down
to wash the soap and stubborn hair away, you relished in the feeling of having
smooth skin by running your hands up and down your legs.  A glance to the side
revealed Trevor had disappeared; he was no longer seated on the toilet,
watching your every move.  This relieved you.  With a pleased sigh, you stood,
closed your eyes, and let your head drop back, allowing the water to bombard
your skin.  That blissful feeling returned to calm your nerves and relax you;
you almost felt like falling asleep.
That's when you heard it.  'Twas a horrible sound: it was like a mixture of a
cow being strangled to death and that boy popstar fag BJ before he hit puberty.
 The noise rang out and bounced off the walls of the tiny trailer, lasting for
several moments before dying down.  It made you jump - literally: jump - and
look around frantically, like a wild animal caught on the interstate.  After
you stood in silence for about a full minute, digesting what you had just
heard, you wailed to no one in particular, "What the fuck was that?!"  When
thirty seconds went by without a response, you gave up and continued your
shower.  Now it was time to wash your body, and you were giddy with
anticipation.  It had been so long since you were able to scrub yourself clean,
and now it was time to get that three days' worth of filth off and away.
 Picking up the soap again, you twirled the bar in your fingers so that the
suds gathered and were soon overflowing over your hands.  Then you put the bar
down, rubbed your hands together, and started gliding your palms and fingers
all over your body.  A pleased "mmm" or a satisfied "ahh" could be heard
occasionally as you gently massaged the body wash into your skin.  You had just
started working the soap into your chest when Trevor poked his head in the
doorway and caught you in the most unfortunate position: grabbing your own
breasts.
"Hey, Princess, we're leavin' in ten, so-..." Trevor's words trailed off as he
froze, eyes wide and glued to your form, which had frozen as well, the second
you heard his voice.  The two of you stared at each other for what felt like
hours, though his eyes weren't on your face like yours were on his.  No, of
course the perv's eyes locked onto your bare chest as you held your breasts in
your hands.  It really wasn't what it looked like, but he was oblivious to
this.  Therefore, when he amply drank in the sight before him, he suddenly
blinked the shock out of his eyes, which then shot up to meet yours.
 Bewildered, he blurted out, "Does this mean I wasted a perfectly good hard-on
in secrecy while you were in here feeling up your own tits?!  Fuck!"  His words
made your face contort with confusion, and you lowered your hands to quirk a
wildly confused eyebrow at him.
"You what?" you snorted, causing his eyes to widen.
"Shit, I said that out loud?  Uh... Fuck."
"That was you that made that noise?!"
"Fuck.  You heard that?  Fuck... Fuck."
"I thought someone ran over a moose or something--"
"ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF MY NATIONALITY?!"
"...Uh.  What?"
"Ohhh, sure, compare my orgasms to meese sounds because I'm Canadian, right?
 REAL mature of you!"  
This dialogue happened with you lost and entirely perplexed the entire time.
 Before you could even question the blushing, apparently Canadian man, he
stomped out of the room and trailer, slamming the front door behind him.  The
whole way he grumbled things under his breath, something about him being
'American just like everyone else in this shithole' and 'unable to control' his
'sounds of passion.'  You simply stood there under the water (which had
meanwhile washed away all the soap, rendering you spotless) for some time,
speechless and terribly confused.  Eventually you shook your head, baffled,
deciding you would never understand the man that just stormed out, and turned
the faucet until the water was reduced to a leaky drip.  Huffing a breath, you
wrung what water you could out of your hair before stepping out and using your
towel to wipe the excess droplets off your skin.  Wrapping the towel around you
and securing it, you stepped out of the bathroom with your clothes in hand,
searching for some lotion to put on your legs.  It was a habit you had formed
since you started shaving, for you had decided when you were little that razor
burn wasn't pleasant.  Fortunately you came across a bottle, and you had to
ignore the context clues when you found it beside a dirty mag on Trevor's sofa.
 
Poor fuck.  He can't even afford more than a few bikini shots to jack off to?
 It must suck to be that poor.
As the thought crossed you, you paused.
...Wait.  I'm broke, too.
Huffing a breath, you felt yourself deflate a little as you remembered your
situation.  Hearing a car horn, you rose your brows in confusion and went to
peek out the front door.  Trevor was outside in his shitty truck, glaring at
you impatiently.  "Come on, Princess!  We gotta go!" he hollered, more serious
than he usually was.  Furrowing your brows, you nodded and shut the door.
 Hurriedly you got dressed in the clothes you had arrived in and did what you
could to dry off your hair as much as you could.  Briefly primping in the
nearest mirror, you groaned like an annoyed teenager (because, well, that's
exactly what you were) when you heard a constant honk from Trevor's truck.
 Again, displaying just how old you were, you hollered with irritation, "I'm
coming!  Hold on!!"  Rolling your eyes (again), you returned to looking in the
mirror until you realized the honking wasn't going to stop.  "Ughhhhh!" you
growled in frustration stomping out of the bedroom and out the front door.  You
slammed it behind you much like Trevor did earlier, stomping up to the truck
like a pouting child.  Wordlessly, you got in the passenger seat and slammed
that door, too; you rather enjoyed taking your frustration out on innocent
inanimate objects.  Shaking his head and mumbling something again, Trevor put
his truck in reverse and backed it up onto the road.
"Hey, be careful!" you snapped instinctively, breaking your vow of stubborn
silence in favor of warning your boss of the car he almost T-boned.  The driver
of said car stopped briefly to shake his fist out the window, yell something
angrily in Spanish, and then sped off.  You turned your head to scowl at
Trevor.  "You could've hurt that poor man!"  you chided, gesturing wildly in
the fleeing car's direction.  Trevor merely waved away your concern with his
hand, snorting.
"Yeah, yeah, and I wish I had!  'Poor man'... Tck!  Goddamn alien is what he
is!  It's fuckers like that that make this country the way it is: a big,
steaming pile of shit,"  the man responded as he continued backing up, in the
process nearly colliding with another car.  You huffed an exasperated breath
and buried your face in your palm, deciding to stay quiet for the entire ride.
 It wasn't worth arguing.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay... so... There was no smut. *cringes* Don't hurt me!! D: There
     will be in the next chapter... Honestly this one was just a filler...
     hahh. I'm putting too much detail and the chapters are getting
     progressively longer... BUT! That means you shall receive extremely
     descriptive smutty smuts in the next chapter. NEXT CHAPTER. I
     promise. Ily. Stay tuned. Kthxbai.
***** "Daddy's Little Princess" *****
Chapter Summary
     "Well, get on with it."
     "...Get on with what?"
     "Take off your shirt."
     "What?!"
Chapter Notes
     Okay, I know it's been a while. I've been super busy with school and
     work. Gomen, gomen. But at least there's smuts, right? Enjoy those.
     That's some good shit right dere mm good shiet. Good smuts ri dere if
     i do say so myself. Also this chapter is significantly longer than
     the rest.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Upon arriving at the club, Trevor parked his truck out front and hopped out,
motioning you to follow. With a reluctant and nervous sigh, you did,
unconsciously clutching onto the bags in your hands more tightly. It was clear
you were hesitant by the way you stared at the door as if it were the very gate
to Hell. Still, you managed to quell your inhibitions enough to trail behind
your boss, who led you into the joint. Thankfully, it was empty, though you
were confused by this. Apparently your curious scan of the quiet club was not
unnoticed by Trevor, for he turned to you and explained, "I had it closed for
the next two hours, mmkay? That way we won't have to worry about the customers
during your training." As the man turned away and approached the bar, behind
which that lady from yesterday stood, you furrowed your brows nervously.
"Uh... 'Training'...?" you repeated, obviously unsettled. Trevor merely nodded
as he popped the cap off of a beer and chugged down half of it in one swig. You
couldn't help but be at least a little bit impressed at the action. You were
more of a sipper than a chugger. Then again, the fact that this man (the owner
of the 'establishment' you were apparently going to be working at) was fixated
on drinking at - you glanced at the nearest clock - ten in the morning really
made you uncomfortable. It didn't exactly make you feel safe around the guy,
considering the fact that you were crashing at his house.
"Yyyyupperooney!" Mister Phillips drawled, nodding again. "I gotta see you
dance before I let you work in my club, Princess." At his own words, Trevor
then raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully as he stared up at the
ceiling with a contemplative expression. "Hm... Y'know what? That'll work," he
stated, looking back at you with a feral grin. "So it's settled, then! Your,
uh... alias... shall be Princess!" The man's words made you quirk a testy brow.
"...'Alias'...? Alias for what?" you questioned, glancing briefly at the bottle
Trevor had placed on the counter behind him. God, how you wanted a beer. Maybe
if you were drunk enough, you thought, you wouldn't mind as much while having
to dance, topless, for this crazy guy.
"You know, your stage name!" Trevor's blaring voice snapped you out of your
state, which you were honestly thankful for. You had practically been drooling
over the forbidden liquid that you were condemned from. Your boss' words were
said as he approached you, turned you around, and led you (with an arm around
your waist, preventing your escape) to a doorway to what looked like the VIP
lounge. "While the dancers are working here, they are known by a stage name.
Yours, I've so kindly decided for you, is Princess." Though you were
uncomfortable with the close contact, you didn't exactly have the guts to push
this man away. Fuck knew what he would do if you rejected him so boldly like
that.
"Um... The other girls," you began, avoiding eye contact as Trevor led you to
what seemed to be a dressing room, "what are their, uh, 'stage names'?"
"Well, let's see..." Trevor mumbled, finally removing his arm around your waist
as he again looked up at the ceiling in thought, "There's Sapphire, Fufu,
Cheetah, Peach, Chastity, Infernus, Nikki..." Trevor's eyes glinted with
something strange and unrecognizeable as he growled the last of the names,
"...and Juliet." A shudder, which was a tad more violent than you would've
cared to admit, rolled down your spine at your boss' unmasked lust towards this
woman... this Juliet. For some strange reason, you felt a small tinge of envy
creeping up within you. No, you weren't jealous of this chick's assumably
sexual relationship with Mister Phillips... but she probably got some sort of
special attention in the workplace because of it. Unfortunately, you were
unable to hide your oddly strong feeling of jealousy as you folded your arms
across your chest and pouted.

"I see..." came your cold reply, causing Trevor to raise his brows in surprise
at you. Not knowing why you cared as much as you did, you shook your head and
huffed a breath. "Anyway..." you mumbled, "What am I supposed to be doing,
exactly?" Thankfully, Trevor didn't dwell on your strange behavior any longer,
and instead he smirked at your question.

"Right, right..." the man hummed, nodding. Then he patted the bags in your
hands and said, "Time to get dressed, Princess!" With that, Trevor turned and
headed for the lounge exit. At least he was giving you privacy to change.
Sighing, you looked in the bags in your hands, a feeling of dread growing as
you remembered what you were expected to wear. The thought that occurred to you
in that moment made your cheeks flush, as you held up the skimpy little black
thong your boss had bought you.

How did he know my size?!

Your cheeks only got redder when you remembered that Trevor had stripped you
down and washed your clothes for you. That perv. Shaking your head for the
umpteenth time that day, you pushed aside all discouraging thoughts and did as
expected of you. Very reluctantly did you slip out of your outfit, and very
quickly did you slip on your... uniform. It looked nice on you, hugging your
figure and cupping your breasts nicely. However, it was ridiculously revealing,
and the sweetheart neckline, you felt, was cut way too low. There was a line
separating your breasts, which were gently firmly against each other, and of
course said line was entirely visible. Not to mention you were being forced to
wear a thong, something you had never worn for any occasion except for
surprising your boyfriend every now and again. Ugh. Thinking of that prick made
you feel sick to your stomach. He was such a bastard.
Pushing thoughts of your ex out of your head, you checked yourself out in the
mirror.  Admittedly, you looked hot.  Your figure looked to be far more mature
than that of a 17-year-old, and the body-hugging attire you were donned in did
not mask, but accentuate this fact.  In that moment you stopped to think about
it.  You had never given Trevor your age, and he never asked.  Wasn't it
illegal to hire minors in such a mature environment?  Would it make everyone
who saw you... well, topless, a pedophile?  Even the big man himself?  And the
biggest question of all: did Trevor even care?  The thought kept you in place
for much longer than you intended to be, and there you stood until your boss'
blaring voice snapped you out of it.
"Ohhh, Princeeeess!" the man called, like a 1930's husband waiting for dinner.
 You scowled into the mirror, irritated by him once again.  Still, you decided
to humor him, turning to respond over your shoulder in an uncharacteristically
sweet voice.
"Coming, deeear!" came your almost sing-song reply, to which you heard what
sounded like a snicker and a mumble of the words That's what she said. Of
course you rolled your eyes at that and turned back to the mirror, taking one
last look at yourself before turning to leave the room.  However, before you
could do so, as if he felt your presence getting nearer, Trevor spoke up,
causing you to pause in your movements.
"Alright, so... Here's what yer gonna do.  Turn around, go through that door,
down that hallway, and into the next room.  I'll tell you what to do once you
get there."
At this, you cocked your lips to the side in confusion.  Still, not wanting to
argue with the man you perceived to be rather psychotic, you followed his
directions without question.  Unfortunately, doing so put you in a rather
awkward position: at the start of the thrust stage, with the opening sounds of
'Scandalous' highlighting your entrance.  Instantly you froze, unsure of what
to do, especially when you met eyes with Trevor.  That sick fuck was casually
standing at the end of the stage, leaning on the railing with his usual, smug
grin plastered across his face.  Of course, your look of shock was immediately
replaced with a glare, directed pointedly towards him.  Unsurprisingly, he let
out a hearty laugh, lifting his half-empty beer towards you as he spoke.  "You
look pretty damn sexy, Princess, but lookin' good is only half the battle.
 Let's see you shake that pretty little ass o'yers," Trevor bellowed to you,
and by the way his words slurred slightly as he spoke, you were willing to bet
he had had more than a few since you left to change.
That flicker of annoyance ignited within you once again when you heard Trevor's
words.  He was baiting you, just like he was while you were showering.  It was
like he wanted you to protest, to throw a fit, to act like Daddy's little
Princess...  but you simply refused to allow yourself.  After all, all your
life you had been subjected to a life of protection, of people telling you what
to do, what to wear, how to act...  You were a prisoner to your own home and
family for all of your life.  That is, until you met who you thought to be the
love of your life.  Sure, he was older than you by about ten years.  Sure, he
was involved in a gang.  Sure, he sold drugs for a living.  But he cared about
you.  He loved you.  Until he started using you...  That was beside the point,
though.
I'm old enough to make my own decisions.  My father always treated me like a
child, even as I got older.  Everyone always takes one look at me and assumes I
can't take care of myself, that I'm still just a kid, that I need to be
shielded and hidden from the world.  Daddy's little Princess... What a fucking
joke. I'll show them.  Now is my time...
Closing your eyes and bowing your head, you took a moment to prepare yourself.
 The opening instrumentals of the song were just ending.  As the first lyrics
played, you whipped your head up with a completely changed attitude:
determination.
...to shine.
The lustful glint in your eyes both shocked and silenced your boss, whose
posture straightened as you strutted down the runway.  You shocked even
yourself as you confidently strode over to one of two poles on either side of
the stage; you chose the one on your right.  As you approached the metal beam,
you frequently glanced up at Trevor.  The look on his face was priceless.  It
was a mixture of shock, awe, and a disgusting amount of lust.  This egged you
on, and you wrapped a hand around the pole, hanging from it as you allowed
yourself to spin around it.  It was now that you were thankful for those pole
dancing classes your ex forced you to take.  Now you had the skills and
strength necessary to perform moves normally done only by professionals: the
Fairy, the Explosion, the Flying Showgirl - you name it.  At that pole, you
felt it to be your goal, hypnotizing the man that was hungrily ogling you.  The
tables had turned.  Trevor had forced you onto that damn stage, expecting you
duck your head, go red in the face, and run away with your tail between your
legs.  Yet here you were, grinding on a pole like a beautiful, sexy, horny
animal and making him go weak in the knees.  Never were you one to have a
voyeurism kink, but for some reason it almost turned you on, having so much
power over a man that seemed to be the type to let no one have control over
him.  Around the middle of the song, you decided to take it a step further.
Finally you left the pole, locking eyes with your boss as you flounced down the
runway.  Careful were you to make your hips sway more than necessary - to force
your chest to bounce more than subtly - to make this bastard fucking drool over
you.  And drooling he most certainly was, eyes wide and intent on focusing on
your every asset, but mainly locked with your own eyes.  When you reached the
pole in the center of the circular end of the stage, you decided to pull out
the slutty moves.  Walking around the pole so that your back was towards it and
you were facing (and locking eyes with) Trevor, you reached your arms up and
grasped it loosely.  With open legs and bent knees, you dropped to the floor
and rose up again, your backside rubbing up and down the pole.  This move did
the trick, and Trevor was speechlessly frozen, staring at you with a
deliciously stunned expression.  Licking your lips (causing his eyes to
carefully follow the action), satisfied with his reaction, you allowed yourself
to fall to your knees, then onto all fours.  Towards him on the floor you
crawled, slowly, making him practically groan at the sight.  It wasn't until
you sat back on your palms and threatened to spread your legs towards him that
he cleared his throat, hurriedly turning away.
"Alright, alright!  I get it; you can dance.  Damn..." the man grumbled,
rubbing his temples with his index finger and thumb.  Like a smug child, you
rose to your feet, giggling triumphantly.
Daddy's little Princess, my ass...
"So, what next, Boss?..." you purred teasingly, hoisting yourself up and over
the railing that separated you from the older man.  Said older man grunted in
thought, distracted by the beer he was now chugging.  If you didn't know any
better (and you did), you would think he was trying to forget what just
happened.  Frowning, you almost felt insulted. After all, who would want to
forget that performance?  You were incredible, after all!
"Well... Fuck.  I was gonna have you try a lap dance, but..."  Trevor mumbled,
running his fingers through what little hair he had left.  Smirk returning to
your face, you sauntered a bit closer to him, leaning up so that your lips were
near his ear.  Now you made it a point to speak more breathily than normal.
"But what?" you murmured, causing his breath to catch in his throat.  Quickly
Trevor stepped away, then turned around to frown at you.  He seemed aggravated,
which only made you more amused.
"But nothing.  Let's go," the drunk grouched stubbornly, angrily slamming his
empty beer bottle on a nearby table.  Before you could respond, he grabbed your
wrist and briskly led you towards a small flight of stairs.  On the way he
lectured you, way too irritated for you to take him seriously, "Now when you're
not on stage, you'll be down here.  Go round and make sure everyone's having a
good time, all that shit.  Then you ask them if they want a private dance,
which is forty bucks.  Half of your profits will go to me, by the way, since
I'm so generously allowing you to stay at my place for a while...  Anyway.  If
they say they want a private dance, you bring 'em here."  Through that same
curtained doorway Trevor led you, then you took a different route and ended up
in a smaller, curtained room.  It was in a large chair here which he took a
seat in, trying his best to relax. Then he looked up at you expectantly and
spoke simply.
"Well, get on with it."
Your features contorted with confusion.  "...Get on with what?" you sneered.
"Take off your shirt."
"What?!"
Suddenly you felt rather shy, despite the slutshow you had just put on not a
minute ago.  Shifting awkwardly, wringing your hands behind your back, you
looked anywhere but at him.  He seemed to be expecting this, and due to his own
discomfort but a few moments ago, he, too, was quiet.  Thankfully he didn't
tease you or pressure you; he simply stared, waiting, almost bored.  After what
felt like an hour of tense silence passed, Trevor spoke in a gentle murmur, too
gentle for someone of his character, "Look, Princess, if you can't do this, you
can't work here.  It's required."
Finally, after another moment of thought, your eyes shifted to rest on his;
they were calm, patient, watching you easily.  That soft expression put you at
ease, somehow, and you felt a small flame of confidence light inside you.  Eyes
falling to the floor for a moment, you reached up and undid the clasps holding
the boneless corset together, one by one.  A quick glance up at Trevor's face
made you aware of the tiny flicker of excitement appear on his face.  He was
trying not to appear too interested, but his eyes were following your hands'
every movement.  Finally the last clasp came undone and your corset fell to the
floor, leaving your chest covered only by that black, skimpy triangle bra.
 Again you glanced up at Trevor, shyly, wondering if that would be enough.  It
took him a good while to realize you weren't continuing, and his skeptical eyes
slid upwards to meet your unsure ones.  With raised, unimpressed eyebrows,
Trevor mumbled in the same tone as before plus a hint of his usual, satirical
attitude, "Keep goin', sweetheart..."
Gulping, your eyes quickly averted themselves from his, and you looked at the
floor once again.  The last few notes of the song that had been playing faded
away into nothing. Then, instantly inflating your confidence in yourself, you
heard the first lyrics to one of your favorites:
La la, la, la-a.
Your shoulders shifted slightly to the beat.
La la, la, la-a.
Then your hips shook, very subtly, in the same way.
La la, la, la-a.
You bit your lip, looking back up at Trevor, who still had his eyebrows raised
at you.  Then you undid your bra, letting it fall to the floor and leaving your
chest, fully exposed, for your boss to gawk at.
La la, la, la-a.
'Only Girl (in the World)' by Rihanna.  This was your jam.
Suddenly that rush of lewdness returned to poison your personality.  Batting
your eyelashes, you feigned innocence as you stepped closer to your boss - so
close that you could feel his steadily quickening breath on your bare chest.
 As if unsure of what to do, he sat there, stiffly, just staring at what
happened to be in front of him at the time.  Then he looked up at you with the
eyes of an awestruck child.  You smirked, chuckling sensually.  Rolling your
body gently to the beat, you found yourself wanting to make him go crazy for
you again.  And so you started putting your hands on him.  It was innocent at
first: strokes of his cheeks, fingers gliding through his thinning hair, finger
ghosting up the length of his neck.  Then your touches started to become less
pure.  A hand on his thigh, two as you knelt before him, then you turned your
back to him and backed up, arching your spine so that your ass was directly in
front of him.  You bent over, looking back to see him struggling not to touch
you.  He was gross, old, violent, and insane.  But for some reason - whether it
was from the rush of the role you were playing or the fact that you hadn't
screwed anyone in over a week, which was a long time for you, you didn't know -
you wanted him in that moment.
That was why you reached behind you and placed your hands on your cheeks,
spreading them for the man before- er, behind you.  Finally Trevor broke,
letting go of whatever self-control he had to grab you and yank you backwards.
 You gasped as your back hit his chest, but did not complain as he pulled you
into his lap and eagerly started grinding against your ass.  With a sigh from
you, your head plopped back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed and bit at
your neck; he clearly had been holding back for a while now. "Mmm... Fuck, yer
so fuckin' sexy..." Trevor growled into your skin, making you shiver as his
gravely voice resonated across your sensitive flesh.  An indecent mewl left
your lips before you could stop it, as he grabbed your breasts and massaged
them roughly.  Then he inhaled your scent, deeply, and in a low rumble added,
"...and you got a nice pair o'tits..."
At this, your face heated up, and you let your eyes slip shut, and you let him
do as he pleased with you, because you felt good, too.  "Ah...!  Tr-!  Trev-"
"Call me Uncle T, baby."
His words interrupted you, but for once you were okay with that.  For once you
were okay with this sick fuck's perverted remarks, breath that smelled of
nothing but beer and whatever he ate last, and his tendency to lash out and get
violent.  Truthfully, the dirty, rough sex was what you were into, and you felt
that this man could give you exactly that.  Eager to please, for once, you
mewled again and arched your back, causing him to reach down and yank your hips
down and hold you against him.  "Mmm!  Uncle T...!" you corrected yourself in a
breathy moan, causing him to hiss a breath through his teeth.  Clearly, being
called that turned him on, so you decided to use it to your advantage.
 Reaching your arms behind you, you looped them around Trevor's neck, holding
him close as he continued his assault on your neck.  "Hah...  U- Uncle T...
 Please... B-! Bite me...!" came your plea, causing the man's breath to hitch.
Trevor had stiffened at that, froze, and he actually pulled his head away
(causing you to let out a disappointed whimper) just to gape at you oddly.
 "Come again?" he grunted, obviously put off.
Whining, you arched your back again impatiently, tilting your head to the side
and exposing your neck fully to him.  "I-... I said, 'Bite me!'  Please!!" you
begged, eliciting no response from the shocked man.  It was then that you let
out a frustrated groan.  Figuring none of your requests would be fulfilled
until you explained, you hurriedly did so, quite breathlessly, "I-... I want
you to make it hurt... Mmm..." A pause came when you began to grind your own
crotch against the obvious bulge beneath you.  Then you continued through a
half-moan, "Hurt me!"
A few more torturous seconds passed before Trevor let out a wicked, throaty
chuckle that made you shudder.  In a husky growl that sent goosebumps across
your heated skin, your boss mused, "Man, you are one kinky little slut, aren't
you..."  At that you had to bite your tongue in order to suppress a whine.  You
didn't like being called a slut... unless it was during sex, in which case it
turned you on like nobody's business.  Before you could speak again, you felt a
sudden, tight grasp on your jaw, recognizing it as Trevor's rough, callused
hand.  The hand forced you to turn your head sideways, with an almost bruising
grip, and swiftly you were obliged to look him square in the eye.  The look in
his eyes alone melted you into a weak and submissive little thing.  Dominance
radiated from them, promising sweet, sick punishment if a single word uttered
from his lips was ignored. Finally he concluded, "I love it," before jerking
your chin forward.
A surprised squeal came with being forced into such a marring kiss.  However,
as his tongue forced its way through your soft lips, and you tasted the alcohol
and the sin, you melted once again.  Though you tried to put up a fight, he was
having none of it, easily pushing away your own tongue and attacking it with
his own.  Simultaneously he reached down and shoved a hand into the front of
your thong, ferociously palming your now-dripping sex.  A throaty, chill-
inducing groan from him was stifled by the one-sided tongue war you two were
engaged in, as he felt that pungent and slippery substance coat his fingers.
 Likewise, a vulnerable, futile whine from you was swallowed by him.  Using
what little strength you had, you managed to rip away from the kiss to gasp for
air and then moan loudly as he continued to rub your lower lips.  "P-! Please,
Uncle T...!" came your pitiful plea, which ended in a gasp as he shoved your
head to the side and latched his teeth into your neck.  Immediately a loud cry
escaped your swollen lips, which was stifled as he used his free hand to wrap
around your throat.  It wasn't hard enough to choke you, but the pressure was
still there, and you loved it.  After a few moments, Trevor ripped his teeth
from your flesh to shower the newly inflicted wound with kisses and licks.
Between passionate caresses, your boss hummed, "Please what, Princess?"  Now he
was taunting you, and you most certainly did not appreciate it.  Whining once
again, you deflated a bit, frustrated.  Then he moved his lips so that they
were by your ear before rasping into it, "Tell Uncle T what you want..."
 Another whine was won from you as he then nibbled on your earlobe.  It was
like this fucker knew exactly what to do in order to make you weak.
"Hahhh... P- Please..." you begged hopelessly, searching in vain for the words
that would not come.  Your mind was too muddled, your heart was thumping too
wildly, and all you could hear was Trevor's throaty breaths in your ear.
 Finally, ensuing what seemed like an eternity of fruitless pleasure/torture,
you managed to exclaim after finding your words, "Please fuck me, Uncle T!"
That seemed to be the magic password.  In an instant - before you could even
blink - you were bent over, Trevor was behind you, and your thong was around
your ankles.  You had squeaked in surprise as you were forced to bend over, and
when you tried to straighten yourself, Trevor shoved you back down.  "Don't
fucking move..." he demanded you in a threatening growl.  Another shiver rolled
down your spine and you obeyed the command you had been given, doing your best
to stay still.  It got difficult, though, after several moments of nothing
happening.  Whimpering, you could not help but shift back and forth on your
feet, the heels of your black bumps clicking with every movement.
"Please, h- hurry--"
"Shut up."
The command made you whimper again, but you did not question the dominant man
behind you.  However, a few minutes went by, and halfway through the next song
that had begun playing, you got fed up.  With an impatient huff, you stood up,
your arousal having died down quite a bit and replaced with discontent.
 Shaking your head, you looked back at Trevor, beginning to ask what was the
hold up, but he cut you off, angrily shoving you back down with more force and
less restraint than before.
"I told you not to fucking move, you bitch!! Fuck...!" the man barked, igniting
a bit of fear in you.  Letting out a frightened whimper seemed to snap him out
of his blind rage, and then he removed his brutal grip from the back of your
neck and stepped back.  "Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  I-... I'm sorry, okay?" Trevor
grumbled, less than thrilled of his obligation to apologize.  You, meanwhile,
were less than thrilled about the bruise that was surely forming due to his
roughness.  Pouting, you stood up straight again, harrumphing softly as you
went to take a seat in the large chair.  However, as you sat down, you were
greeted by the sight of Trevor, standing just a few feet away, with his half-
erect member firmly in his hands.  He was sweating, and he looked more
frustrated than you.  Immediately you got the notion that while you were bent
over like a whore, waiting to be fucked, he was standing behind you jacking
off.  Then you scowled at him, and you gave him a 'You had better explain
yourself before I walk out that door and never look back' expression. Quickly
he did indeed explain, albeit reluctantly and without making unnecessary eye
contact.  "Look, sweetheart, I'm, uh... I'm... older than you, let's just say,
and... Well, when a man reaches a certain age, that man has a bit of trouble...
uhh..."
Now it was your turn to cut him off, as you piped up with a raised eyebrow,
"Are you saying you can't get it up?"   Apparently this ticked him off, and he
scowled at you.
"I can, too!" he snapped, defensively.  Then he averted his eyes again, trying
his best not to look embarrassed. "It's just, uh... hard to keep it that way."
 A moment went by without any dialogue, and then the silence was broken by you.
 To Trevor's surprise, you let out a cute giggle.  He narrowed his eyes at you,
snorting, "What the Hell is so goddamn funny, missy?  Ain't my fault my anatomy
don't agree with me."  It took you a minute to compose yourself, yet you
couldn't wipe the grin from your face as you replied.
"Oh, nothing," you sighed, shaking your head.  Then your smile faded into a
suggestive smirk, and you spoke in a low murmur, "You could have asked me for
help, though... I wouldn't mind..."  As you spoke, you kept eye contact with
him; his eyes read suspicion and curiosity, while yours suggested lust and
mischief.  Simultaneously did you lower yourself off the chair, got on your
knees, and crawled closer to him.  Soon he got the point, and a leer of his own
crept onto his face, the closer you got.  Then his fingers were in your hair,
forcing your head forward.  You hummed, licking your lips before parting them.
 Then your eyes left his abdomen and opted to lock with his, feigning
innocence.  The sight of you like that made the lust in him return, turning him
into that deliciously dominant man once again.
"Mm... You wanna suck Uncle T's cock, 's'that it?" Trevor purred, causing you
to let out an audible breath.  Rapidly you nodded, shifting in discomfort as
the throbbing between your legs returned.
"Y- Yes, Sir," came your wanton response, reaching up to grasp his cock.  You
wanted nothing more than to suck him off, in that moment, but he smacked your
hand away and you whined slightly.  Your reaction pleased him, and he let out a
throaty chuckle.
"Open your mouth, Princess; I'm gonna fuck it," the older man ordered, causing
another sudden breath to escape you.  As your mouth opened from that exhale, he
took his chance.  Firmly cupping the back of your head with both hands, he
thrust his hips forward suddenly.  Despite yourself, mostly due to surprise,
you choked and wrenched your eyes shut; his cock penetrated your lips and
rammed into your throat.  Again and again and again he thrust into your mouth,
causing whimpers from you and numerous hisses and groans from him.
 "Oooh, fuck.  Yeah, baby, choke on it," Trevor growled, looking down at you
through half-closed, hazy eyes.  He was breathless by now, desperately fucking
your throat and degrading you with his words.  You couldn't help but love it,
and you cracked open your tearing eyes to peer up at him.  The sight of you
locking eyes with him made the brunet's breath hitched.  "Shit, don't close
your eyes," he ordered, his control slipping and his words more desperate than
before.  Instead of closing them, you widened your eyes, giving you a pure,
vulnerable appearance as you gazed up at him.  "Fuck...!" he swore, suddenly
yanking his cock free of your lips, eliciting a whine from you.  A line of
saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, and you licked it away.  He
was rock hard, now, and you had never wanted anyone more than you did him in
that moment.
"Nnn... Trev-" you began, but winced and immediately rushed to correct
yourself, "Uncle T... Please..."  Your pleas did not fall upon deaf ears, nor
did they cause Trevor to resort to a sadistic bastard again.  By now he was as
wanton as you, and wordlessly, breathlessly, did he help you to your feet
before pushing you backwards and onto the chair behind you.  Licking your lips
again, you spread your legs, putting your glistening entrance on display for
him.  Groaning at how wet you were, Trevor grasped his length and pumped it
rapidly as he spoke to you in a breathy voice.  "Tell me what you want,
Princess... Tell Uncle T what you want..."
"Mm, Uncle T, please...!" you begged, shifting for better access as he grabbed
your calves, which were in the air.  "Please fuck me!!" 
That was all it took, and in one, swift movement, Trevor entered you, bareback.
 "Gahhhh, fuck!!" he hissed as your inner walls clenched around him.  You,
meanwhile, were left holding your breath, frozen and unable to speak.  Sure, he
wasn't the biggest you had ever had, but no one had ever filled you so
completely.  As opposed to the other men you slept with (including your ex),
Trevor actually used his entire body to fuck you.  His legs were used to propel
him forward, while that and his weight provided the inertia required to send
him so deeply inside of you.  All the while, those damn eyes were locked onto
yours, clouded with an almost violent amount of lust.  You felt like cumming
just due to his gaze.  "Yer so fuckin' tight, Princess..." Trevor breathed,
bringing you back into reality (at least enough to hear him).
"Nnn... U- Uncle T," you mewled, "f-... fuck me!"  No complaint or resistance
came from Mister Phillips, and he pulled his hips back until only the tip of
his cock remained inside you.  Before you could take a breath, the wind was
knocked out of you once again as he rammed into you.  Not a second was spared
before he impaled you: again, again, again.  Soon you were crying out over and
over, and he was groaning and grunting as well.  It wasn't long before he
struck you where it almost hurt, it felt so damn good.  "Ah!! Fuck!
There! There!  Please, Sir, f-! Ah!! " 
There was no warning or teasing remark; Trevor must've wanted to hear you
scream, and indeed you did.  He hit your G-spot, dead-on, and now the pleasure
was so euphoric that it ached.  Your mind went numb, your sight was a blur of
colors, and your heart was beating so hard you thought it would burst.  Over
your near-deafening heartbeat, the sound of Trevor speaking just barely
registered in your brain.  "Hah... Yeah... Fuck, you feel so fuckin' good," he
growled, pushing your legs back and nailing you at an even better angle.  Your
throat felt raw from screaming so much, and you felt the heat pooling in your
stomach about to explode.  You were already so close.
"Ah! Ah! F-! Shit... I-!  I'm gonna cum!" you warned shrilly, causing Trevor to
smirk and let out a raspy chuckle.
"Oh yeah?  Says who?"  he teased, slowing down his pace.  At this you grit your
teeth and opened your teary eyes to glare at him.
"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed between your clenched teeth.  Oh, how you
hated being denied your climax; it was quite possibly one of the most
disappointing things you have ever experienced.  Thankfully, Trevor didn't seem
to push the topic any further, and instead he snickered before quickening his
pace again.  It wasn't long before you couldn't hold back any longer.  Your
eyes wrenched shut, your fingernails just about gouged out the arms of the
chair, and your inner walls convulsed.  Teetering on the brink of orgasm, you
managed to creak open your eyelids (from which dripped a few droplets that
formed due to sensory overload) and gaze up at Trevor.  Your gaze held no lust,
no passion, and no anger, which was what you usually felt during such intense
sex.  Instead, your eyes glistened with a sheen of what Trevor perceived to be
as vulnerability, desperation, and a yearning for compassion.
As Trevor noticed this, and as the both of you built up to your climax, his
face softened greatly.  The look in his eyes matched the one in yours, and for
a moment - that brief instance that felt like time had stopped, the world had
frozen, and an entire era had passed, when in reality it was a fraction of a
second - all you saw was each other; everything else faded to gray, and there
was only you and Trevor.  Both of you held a locked gaze even when your nether
regions suddenly contracted around his, and you didn't break the eye contact
until your vision exploded into white.  You tossed your head back with a harsh
gasp that was torn from your throat, and your entire body stiffened.  Through
your parted lips you cried out, "Ooooh, God!!  Ah!  Trevor!!"
Meanwhile, Trevor's mid-orgasm actions were the complete opposites of yours:
his hips moved at an impossible pace, his eyes locked on your exalted face the
whole time, and through his own lips came breathy grunts and groans.  Then you
felt him suddenly pull out, and you gasped at that, then gasped again as you
felt his semen coat your lower abdomen.  For quite a while you simply sat
there, basking in the afterglow of what you had just done.  Then, after a bit,
you lowered your face, still panting slightly as you creaked open one eye.
 Confusion consumed you in your hazy, post-orgasm state as you were greeted by
the sight of an empty room.  Trevor was gone, and for a moment you wondered if
you had fallen asleep.  Just as you were about to get up and go search for your
boss, he walked back in, fully clothed and looking completely neutral.  Odd.
"Alrighty, I got yer clothes, yer bags, and some tissues, to, uh..."  He
gestured to your lower body, which was soaking wet.  Suddenly you felt rather
self-conscious, blushing and crossing your legs whilst averting your eyes.
 "...yyyyyeah," Trevor finished awkwardly.  You thanked him in quiet mumble,
then sat in silence for a bit even after he left the room. Soon you numbly got
dressed in your normal clothing, your mind plagued with worry.  Why was Trevor
suddenly acting so weird?  Why did you care?  What was this feeling you were
starting to get for him?
Chapter End Notes
     So there was that. I did not plan on this being that long, nor did I
     picture it taking me so long. Also I decided Trevor has ED because
     that concept makes me laugh.
***** What a Nightmare... *****
Chapter Summary
     No, this can't be happening... Not again. You escaped him. Why is he
     here? Why do you feel so helpless? Why can't you escape?
Chapter Notes
     Ohhh my goodness I'm so sorry for the delay please don't hurt me I
     love you so much muah muah muah. I will shut up now and let you get
     to the long-awaited chapter, but I have to warn you, it probably
     isn't what you were expecting... Also...
     WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DESCRIPTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE,
     EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX. READER DISCRETION IS VERY
     MUCH ADVISED.
     ...
     ...I'm sorry.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
All you could feel was pain.  Before any of your senses could even work
properly, and before you could move a muscle, all you knew was that horrible,
agonizingly strong ache that flared throughout your entire body.  Though you
couldn't quite process it, you knew you had been out cold just a few moments
prior.  The fact that you were lying down, sprawled out on your back,
eventually registered in your mind.  Soon after that did you realize not only
was every inch of your skin throbbing with pain, but it was cold as well.  Was
there a draft, wherever you were?  No, that wasn't it... Wait a second...  Were
you naked?  You were.  Not only that, but you were wet.  Your thighs, your
stomach, your face... all dripping with some sort of liquid.  With what, you
could only imagine.  After all, before you fell asleep, you were...
Wait.  What were you doing?  Where were you?  Why were you naked?  What were
you covered in?  A trickle of something dripped down your cheek, running across
the corner of your mouth.  Though you could barely find the strength to move
the muscle, your tongue swiped out to taste the unidentified substance.  Blood?
 You were bleeding?  What happened?  A groan left you as you rolled onto your
side and coughed, feeling more blood drip into your mouth at the action.
 Grimacing at the metallic tang, you clicked your tongue in a vain effort to
rid of the flavor.  Then you noticed your sight coming back to you, slowly but
surely.  The black spots in your vision gradually faded away, revealing a
small, dimly lit room.  You squinted, even the presence of such dull lighting
irritating your sensitive eyes.  Soon, you could open them enough to see the
room a bit more clearly.
I'm in...
Your eyes widened with realization.  It dawned on you.  The place you wish
you'd never been to, the place you never wanted to return to - this is where
you were.
No... It's not possible...
No, this can't be happening... Not again. You escaped him. Why is he here? Why
do you feel so helpless? Why can't you escape?
Interrupting your thoughts came the dreaded, nauseatingly familiar sound of the
creaky old door of the ratty old room swinging open.  Through the doorway
stepped the one person you thought you would never have to see again. Your ex-
boyfriend, the leader of The Ballas gang and owner-operator of a statewide
franchise for all things illegal, Darius Stevens: better known as The Big D.
 Behind him followed his two personal goons, Big F and J.D.
"Welcome home, bitch," your ex greeted you, walking over to the nearby couch
and plopping down onto it.  Big F closed (and locked, you worriedly noticed)
the door whilst J.D. made his way to the seat beside his boss.  All six of the
men's eyes were fixated on you, and none of them looked happy to see you.
 "Thought you could just run out on us, babygirl?  Huh?" Darius snarled,
nudging your face with his dirty sneaker.  You gritted your teeth, weakly
shoving it away and pushing yourself up onto your knees.  He merely let out a
"tck" as you crawled backwards, into 'your corner' of the room, where you had
always cowered in fear upon the return of your gangster boyfriend.  A whimper
of fear left your lips as Darius stood and approached you, menacing as ever.
 Instinctively, you tried (and failed) to back up further into the corner,
tried to get away, tried to escape.  But he just kept walking forward, and you
knew what he was about to do.
"Darius... B- Baby, please, no, I didn't mean to-" you tried to plead, but were
cut off with a smack to your already bruised and bloody face.  The hit caused
you to yelp, and you kept your head in the direction it was hit, afraid to look
him in the eyes.  That got him mad.  You didn't like it when he got mad.  It
only made things worse.
"Don't 'baby' me, you stupid bitch!" the drug lord snapped, causing you to
wince and cringe.  "You think you's a badass bitch, huh?  Think you can just
run away from me?  Steal ma fuckin' money?!" As he yelled at you, his face got
closer and closer to yours, so you turned it away in fear.  You felt like you
were drowning in terror, helpless and alone, with no one to save you.
 "Fuckin'. LOOK at me when I'm talkin' to you!!" he demanded, raising a hand as
if to hit you again.  This caused you to cry out and flinch away again.  And
that only angered him more.  "I ain't gon' tell you again, bitch.  Fuckin'.
LOOK at me! NOW!!"  With that command, he reached up and grabbed your chin,
forcing you to look at him.  You whimpered again, but did not dare fight back.
 Once you were finally (albeit reluctantly) looking into his eyes, you were met
with those angry, ruthless orbs of dark brown that you tried so hard to hide
from.  Oddly enough, you had initially fallen in love with that very feature of
his.  His eyes seemed cool, at first: mysterious and determined, unafraid and
deliciously dangerous.  But now those same eyes promised nothing but pain and
punishment.
"I'm-! I'm sorry...!" you choked, already feeling yourself beginning to sob.
 The tears rolled down your cheeks and ran over your cuts, stinging them with
salt.  "I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!" was all you could say, repeatedly and
pathetically.  With an unflinching, cold expression, Darius watched you break,
listened to you sputter out random apologies, kept your chin in a bruising
grip.  A few moments went by before the sadistic bastard straightened up,
releasing your chin as he did.
"You sorry.  You sorry, huh?  Prove it," he gnarled, causing a lump to form in
your throat.  You knew what he wanted, and you knew that he was going to get
it.  No matter how hard you begged or fought back.  Just as you had expected,
Darius reached down and unzipped his pants.  Your eyes widened in further
terror as his cock, already half-hard, fell out of its confines.  Instantly you
started shaking your head, panicking and scrambling to get impossibly further
away from the man.
"No, no, no!!" you shouted, turning your head away as he stepped closer - as
his cock came within a few inches of your mouth.  "Leave me alone!  I don't
love you, Darius!" you wailed, tears streaming down your cheeks.  The cuts
burned, but that was the least of your worries at the moment.  "I don't want
this!!" 
"Psh.  And when did I ask what you want?" Darius scoffed as he grabbed you by
the hair and yanked your head closer.  "Suck it, bitch!" he demanded, to which
you clenched your eyes and tried to turn away.  Of course this only angered him
more.  You knew that would happen, but somewhere in your mind you simply
couldn't believe anyone that claimed to love you so much, once upon a time,
could ever actually be hurting you like this.  Maybe, you childishly figured,
if you kept fighting back, he would simply let you go.  That made no sense.
 You knew that, too.  But, fuck, you could barely breathe at the moment, let
alone think.  Yanking you from your thoughts (quite literally) was Darius, who
forced your head closer, pinched your nose harshly and forced you to gasp for
air.  He took the chance and shoved his dick in your mouth, invading it and
making you cry a stifled cry.  A gag left your throat as the tip of his penis
rammed into it, making you want to hurl.  No pause, no mercy, no second to
breathe was given to you.  He fucked your mouth the way he always did: hard and
rough.  Your throat quickly became sore.  You felt disgusting at how little you
gagged.  The fucker had diminished your gag reflex into near nothing, through
hours on end of abuse.  You tried to scream, but his cock muffled your cries.
 You thought about biting down, but you knew that if you did, you would be dead
before you could blink.  J.D. and Big F were still there.  Watching.  Waiting.
 Waiting for their turn.  Like always.  Nothing had changed.  This was how it
always was.  Now your vision was fading, your breathing was hindered, and your
mind became a swirling vortex of nothing but pain and misery.  You were
trapped.
After what seemed like an eternity of merciless throat-fucking, Darius tugged
your head back, freeing his cock from your lips.  You took the opportunity to
inhale sharply, gasp and cough.  Then you were kicked to the floor.  Herded to
the center of the room.  Darius wasted no time in pinning you to the
floorboards, one hand around your wrists with a ruthless grip, one guiding his
cock to your entrance.  He went in dry, quick, and hard.  You tried to scream,
but his hand was over your mouth before you could make a sound.  Your cries now
muzzled, your eyes clenched, and your hole filled, Darius fucked you.  He
didn't make love to you.  He didn't have sex with you.  He used you.  Like a
bitch.  Like a hole.  Like you were nothing.  Your entire body ached and
screamed for a break, but he didn't let up.  Even as he reached his orgasm, he
didn't even have the decency to pull out of you.  Instead, just as he always
did, he entombed himself deep inside of you and buried his face in your neck as
his seed surged into your deepest crevice.  You turned your head away, letting
out a muffled sob as he growled into your ear, still fucking you through his
climax, "I know you like it when I cum inside you, bitch.  You love it when I
put you in yo' fuckin' place.  And you too much of a ho' to be satisfied by me,
so now I gotta let ma' boys fuck you, too.  And you gon' love it, ain'tcha,
bitch?"
And just like that, he left you.  He left the room.  He left you to be abused
even further by the two goons that watched the whole damn thing.  One assaulted
you from behind while the other force-fucked your throat.  They laughed like
the sadistic bastards they were as your orgasm was stolen from your body.  They
told you that Darius was right: "You really are a fucking whore." 
Then they left you, too.  All alone in that dank old room, crying and aching,
covered in blood and sweat and cum.  You were curled in the fetal position on
the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and weeping into them.  A hand on
your arm made you jolt up, greeted by a dark silhouette that seemed familiar
somehow... You squinted- and whether it was your tears or the shitty lighting,
you couldn't tell - but could make out no features of the figure.  It had its
hand reached out to you.  It spoke, but not out loud.  It was like it was
coming from inside your head, the voice.  Such a rough, masculine voice that
should've terrified you.  But for some reason, it comforted you.
"Come on, Princess."
Princess?
The only person who called you that was...
===============================================================================
"D-... Daddy...?"
There was silence.  Then, a distinctively booming laugh erupted from the man
beside you, causing your eyes to shoot open.  Your head whipped around and your
frame stiffened.  For a moment you were completely unhinged from reality.  Then
that voice spoke again, yanking you back into your body.
"Now, Princess, I'm all for nicknames and shit, but that's taking it a little
too far, don't'cha think?" Trevor quipped.  Trevor.  It was Trevor that saved
you in your dream.
Trevor?  Dream?  Had you fallen asleep?  A quick look around suggested, yes,
you had indeed passed out on the way home... Home? 
Home...
Instantly your eyes filled with tears, and you threw yourself at the rugged man
- who was standing beside the truck, holding your door open - and slinging your
arms around his neck.  Before he could shove you away, which seemed to be what
he was about to do, he was frozen in place as he felt you weeping loudly into
his chest.  "Oh, Trevor!!" you sobbed thankfully.  "I thought I was-!  And he
was-!  And you were-!"  Every sentence you tried to get out was interrupted
with a gasp or a hiccup.  You were a mess.  Trevor stood there awkwardly for a
few moments, hands in the air as if unsure where to go, before finally and
ineptly resting on your upper back. 
"Errr.  There, there..." the man mumbled.  He was obviously not too great with
human interaction, let alone comforting a crying teenager.  "Uh... It was just
a bad dream?" he offered, prying you off of him and stumbling back a few
inches.  You stood there, wiping your tears away messily, and nodded in
agreement.  Your newfound boss then hesitated a moment before sighing and
shutting the vehicle's door.  He approached you, neither of you saying a word
as he scooped you up into his arms.  You merely curled up, hiding your face in
his chest and quietly sniffling every now and again.  No words were spoken as
he carried you inside, into his bedroom (shutting the door behind him), and to
the bed.  Laying you down gently, the man turned around and started rummaging
through one of his drawers for something.  You silently watched him, still a
wreck, shivering from anxiety and fear.  It shocked you, how quiet he was
being.  After all, the Trevor you perceived him to be would be making hurtful
jokes and brutal remarks about your current condition.  However, he said
nothing.  He merely turned around, a neutral expression on his face, and placed
some clothing on the bed beside you.  As you stared at it in confusion, Trevor
got increasingly uncomfortable with the silence and eventually cleared his
throat with an uneasy cough.  "They're, uh... They're mine, so they'll be a bit
big on you... but they'll do for now.  We'll go shopping tomorrow for some shit
you need, I guess."
In silence did you sit up, pick up the baggy sweatpants and large t-shirt, and
examine your designated pajamas. He watched you nervously, as if afraid you
would be angry.  To his surprise, you merely looked up at him with a grateful
smile, standing.  Your arms went around his torso as you hugged him, resting
your cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him endearingly.  "Thank you,"
you murmured sincerely.  If you didn't know any better, you would take Trevor's
wide eyes and tense jaw (and was that a bit of pink tinting his cheeks?) as a
sign of embarrassment.  But no, the great Mister Phillips was too proud for
humiliation.  And so he resorted to his default expression, a sly smirk, and
wrapped his arms around your waist.
"No problem, babe.  Long as I get to watch you change," he purred.  Again, to
his surprise, you merely giggled.  You could feel his entire frame go stiff as
you leaned up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away and
giggling at him.  He stood there, gawking at you, completely lost, as you
stripped.  You didn't put on a show and you didn't draw it out.  Simply off
with your clothes (minus your underwear; you kept those on) and on with his.
 Then you grabbed his hand and led him to bed, sitting down and scooting
backwards so that he could crawl in beside you.  He seemed to be caught in a
trance, unaware of your actions as he was too busy staring at your face.  It
wasn't until you were settled down beside him, underneath the blanket with him,
and resting your head on his chest that he suddenly began a coughing fit
(obviously due to how awkward he was clearly feeling) and went to move away.
 "Ah, yeah, anyway, g'night and everything, I gotta go take care of some shit,
so if you'll just-"
You silenced him with a kiss.  He was tense at first, but soon he relaxed
beside you.  Then he even returned the kiss for a few moments before you pulled
away again and buried your face in his neck and snuggled up to him.  He
probably watched you for a bit, and he may or may not have left you, after
that, but you didn't know.  After all, moments into the quiet cuddling did you
fall fast asleep, drifting into a dream that was far less terrifying as the one
you apparently had on the way home.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Aaaaaaand all done! Again, I want to sincerely apologize for how long
     it took to upload this. I won't go into detail, but let's just say
     some shit has been happening on my end. Also, without the lovely
     Archive author PorkChop, this chapter probably would've never been
     uploaded. Because I'm lazy. Anyway, yeah! I wanted to reveal some of
     Princess' backstory, as well as reveal what a giant fucking douchebag
     her ex was. Maybe Trevor will kill him later. Probably. Once he
     figures out what the bastard did to his favorite stripper whoops.
     [spoilers lmao] OKAY, so, that was a thing! Leave kudos and comments
     for more, I guess. :D
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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