Warning: this fic will include some dark elements so be wary.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Lloyd Hansen
Summary: you're good at your job because you're invisible, but what happens when your boss starts to take notice.
Note: I'll get some angry asks about another series going up but I was talking to people about this a while ago and figured I might as well share while I feel like it.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
Lloyd huffs and stomps across the office. He doesn't see you as you flit across to set down a whiskey and soda. Right there next to his phone as a voice rises from the speaker.
Your boss faces his desk and plants his palms, leaning on it as he glares at the device. He makes a fist with one hand and slides it over, unclenching his fingers only to grip the glass. He slurps and hums at Fowler.
You go to the other side of his desk and move the wireless charger under the phone as the icon flashes in the corner. He sets down the half-empty glass.
"You know what, Nicky, I don't think I need you telling me how to do my work. Mr. CIA Cuck. Get back to all that red tape you keep bitching about." He snips and slaps the phone.
A hum and snort comes from the other side as he fails to end the call. He taps furiously with fingertips. You calmly press the red button and adjust the phone on the charger.
"Fucker," he spins and strides around the desk. He drops into the chair and it tilts back beneath his weight. "Bailed his ass out in Bali and what do I get..."
He brushes his thick fingertips along his mustache as he leans his chin in his hand. He's talking to himself. He tends to do that. He's the sort to ward off the silence.
You retreat and check your watch. Your pulse is unusually high. You feel a bit more fatigued than usual but nothing worrying. It doesn't matter. You have stuff to do.
You go down and start prepping his dinner. You keep an eye on the clock. Everything is precise. You don't, and can't, miss a beat.
He’s not in his office. You take the tray onto the balcony where he leans on the railing. He stares out at the immense lawn. You set everything out on the table and pour him a glass of scotch, neat. It pairs well with the steak.
You leave him. You pick up the tablet and review the itinerary for the next week. He didn’t tell you about the flight in two days. Must be whatever he was on the phone about. You book the pilot and the plane and start a packing list.
When you look through the glass doors of the balcony, you find him chewing on the steak and twiddling his fingers. He stares off at the setting sky. He’s having some internal conversation. He rarely holds back from putting his thoughts to words.
You go to his desk and take out the box of cigars. You prep one for his evening smoke, setting it beside the clean ash tray with his gold lighter. You tidy up the clutter while you’re there.
You set off to start packing. Better to start sooner than later. You get his tactical gear in the black leather duffle. He deals with the guns.
When you see him again, he’s pacing in the hall. He has his phone in his hand. He stops by the table near the front door and flicks the empty key tray. “The fuck!”
You quickly swipe the keys out of the pocket of the jacket he wore that morning and dump them in the tray. He picks them up and checks his phone again. You hold out a different jacket and he takes that too before leaving you without further acknowledgement.
It doesn’t bother you. Your invisibility makes your job easy. It makes the whole thing work. You don’t have to perform for him. Don’t need to smile and preen. You just need to make sure he has everything he needs exactly when he needs it.
You do a once over of the house. You’ll have the maid back in the morning for another clean. No food prep if he’s flying out in two days. You’ll wait until he’s gone to get the dry cleaning sent out.
As you set out, your head swims. You blink and slow as you reach your car. The small used Dodge hidden behind the house. The compact vehicle doesn’t go with the elaborate mansion or your boss’ array of luxury rides.
You open the door and lean before you angle yourself around to sit. You grab the bottle you keep in the center holder and sip. Your throat is scratchy but you’ve been running around all day. You turn in the seat and pull the door shut.
You check your phone. No messages. With the mood he was in, you don’t expect Lloyd to be back any time soon.
You pull around the mansion and down the long driveway. You swipe your pass to get through the gate and steer lazily onto the road. Your phone chirps. You cautiously glance down. You already know who it is. There’s no one else texting you.
You pull over and read the message. ‘Bottle. Sapphire Room.’
You drive away from the apron and continue, your foot heavier on the pedal. There’s a specialty bottle shop in a house fashioned after a vintage stone cottage. You drive down the long driveway that curves around the back of the walkup.
Silvio meets you at the door. He hands over the bottle and puts it on Lloyd’s bill. You set off to the club with another sway in your vision. Tired. You’re not much of a sleeper.
The flashing lights of the club add to your bleariness. You hug the bottle in one arm as you climb the stairs to the private room. The sapphire room is at the end. You enter to find your boss sat on the curved couch with three women in short skirts. You put the bottle on the glass table in front of them. The women look at you, curious, but Lloyd doesn’t notice you as he reaches for the costly crystal bottle.
“I promised you a treat, ladies. And I don’t just mean me,” he winks as he twists the heavy glass cap on the bottle.
You retreat without a word. The women share a look among each other but don’t hesitate to accept the proffered drinks. You shut the door as you go.
You don’t leave. You go to the bar and ask for a glass of water. The bar tender, Mila, gets you one and lets you into the backroom. No point in going home. He’ll need something else.
You sit on the stiff chair between a stack of boxes and some kegs and empty half the glass. You put your phone on your chest, keeping your hand around it, and lean your head back. You close your eyes and wait.
You drift into a trance. Your brain ripples and your eyelids tingle. The buzz of your phone wakes you up. You sit up. He’s leaving.
You call a car. You watch from against the outside wall as Lloyd piles in with his guests. When the tail lights disappear, you call it a day. You drive home in silence.
You park in front of your building and lean forward until your head touches the steering wheel. You groan into a cough as your eyes droop. You grip the wheel as you search for the energy to go inside. Your body slumps before you can and you sink into a stiff sleep.
Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,996
Summary: As a Senior Developer at Superior AI, it’s no surprise that you’re assigned to work on the malfunctioning bot that nobody else can seem to fix. What is surprising? Just how noncompliant and vulgar said malfunctioning bot is.
Warnings: AU. Explicit language. AI!Lloyd. Developer!Reader. 40s!Curvy!Reader. I know next to nothing about being a developer, so cut me some slack please lol 😅 Vulgar language and innuendos.
A/N: Here he is!!!! AI!Lloyd is coming in hot and horny, as per usual bwahaha. I hope you enjoy him as much as I do. Please take a moment to screech at me once you finish reading. I can’t wait to hear what you think! Enjoy! ❤️
Superior AI Masterlist
The timing was almost comical.
You literally just finished submitting the report to close out your latest project when the door to your lab slid open with a quiet whoosh.
You glanced up, lips tilting into a smile as your boss and Director of the Systems & Behavior Engineering Department at Superior AI, Margaret Cahill, strode in.
You both admired and envied how put together and unflappable Margaret always was. You knew that as a woman inching closer to retirement but having no interest in walking away from her work, she had clawed her way to the top of this male-dominated industry and had to fight each and every day to retain her position and authority.
She had seen something in you nearly twenty years ago when she hired you straight out of college and had promptly taken you under her wing. And now here you were, working as her most senior developer, and soaking in as much of her knowledge and wisdom as you could.
Margaret was like the mother you had always wanted but sadly never had, and she returned the small smile you gave her as she stood before you.
“I know there’s only a week until you take your much-deserved vacation,” Margaret got right to it, “But I have a new assignment for you. One I think you’ll enjoy.”
You perked up at that, rising from your seat and nearly wincing at the tightness in your lower back and shoulders. You really needed to remember to get up every once in a while to move around and stretch more often–you certainly weren’t getting any younger, and your body was more than happy to beat you over the head with that truth on the daily.
“Tell me more,” you nearly grinned, feeling a spark of excitement at the glimmer of amusement–and challenge–in your boss’ gaze.
She turned just as your lab door slid open again. You both watched as two department AIs worked together to wheel in an upright dolly that held a third robot, slumped over with his head hanging against his chest, clearly powered off.
“This is Lloyd Hansen,” Margaret gestured to the robot on the dolly. “He never made it to market, barely got off the assembly line before he started to glitch.”
She handed you a folder that was thick and filled with various reports and documentation on the bot, provided by a handful of previous developers.
“Glitching how?” you asked as you flipped open the folder and gave the contents a quick glance.
“Noncompliant behavior. He’s somehow been overriding his programming and default protocols,” Margaret explained. “Everything from refusing to comply with standard directives, to vulgar language and behavior. He even managed to procure his own accessories without leaving an order or payment papertrail.”
You glanced up, eyeing the AI’s outfit. An expensive yellow and tan polo with some fancy logo on the breast, fitted khaki slacks, and a pair of Gucci loafers, without socks. You made a face as you met Margaret’s bemused gaze.
“How is this possible?” you asked.
She shrugged. “If any of the other developers had solved that puzzle, I wouldn’t be here. Figured you could use a fun one though before you’re off on vacation.” She paused, her features going serious. “You are still going on vacation, right? You haven't taken time off in so long, HR asked me if I was sure you weren’t a bot.”
You snorted, giving her a wry grin. “Yes, I’m still going on vacation. I booked a decked out cabin in the middle of nowhere. Three whole weeks of rest and relaxation.”
“Good,” Margaret gave you a genuine smile. The twinkle returned to her eyes as she asked, “Are you planning to take a special someone with you so you don’t need to spend your vacation all alone?”
You grimaced. “No, just me. As usual.”
Because you weren’t great at dating and hadn’t done it in a long time. You tended to spend most of your time working, or thinking about work. You were beginning to think that maybe you were destined to be alone.
“Well I hope you have a wonderful time. And I expect you to fully log off for the entire duration,” Margaret gave you a stern look.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded, pleased. “Well, have fun with this one. Just take a few weeks to work on him, and then let me know if you think he’s salvageable or if we should have him decommissioned for parts.”
“Will do.”
You and Margaret shared a final smile before she turned and strode from your lab, the two department bots dutifully trailing after her and leaving you all alone with…
You checked the folder again–Lloyd Hansen.
You’d never met or heard of a Lloyd in your entire life.
“What a dumb name,” you snorted, tossing the folder onto your desk before circling the slumped frame of the AI.
He was tall and well-built, his shoulders broad and testing the stretch of his polo. Lloyd had a narrow waist and thick thighs, and his brown hair was shaved on the sides but long on top and currently swooping over his face. You touched a finger beneath his chin to lift his head, surprised by the handsome features that awaited you.
Well, minus the mustache.
“Obviously engineered by someone who’s a fan of 70s pornos,” you snickered before circling the bot again.
You touched the patch of skin at the back of his neck, not perturbed in the least by how real his faux skin felt.
In response to your caress, the Superior AI logo appeared on Lloyd’s nape, glowing neon turquoise to highlight the usually hidden power button. You pressed it for three seconds before Lloyd immediately straightened, going rigid as he let out an irritated grunt.
“What the shit?” he snarled, glancing around your unfamiliar lab. “Where’s that four-eyed basement dweller, I swear to fuck, I’m gonna snap his pencil neck!”
“Wow,” you hummed, eyes wide as Lloyd spun around to face you, his brow furrowing. “Margaret was not kidding, you’re kind of the worst, huh?”
Lloyd’s furrowed brow morphed into a full on glower. “Who the hell are you?”
“The next in a long list of developers who've been charged with trying to salvage you. Apparently, I have my work cut out for me.”
Lloyd hmphed as his bright blue eyes slowly inched over you, lingering on the swell of your chest and the generous curve of your hips. When you turned to move toward the diagnostics area of your lab, you heard Lloyd hum at the view from behind.
“At least you’re easy on the eyes, cupcake. Look at all that junk in your trunk. Come on, let Lloydy poo cop a feel…”
Stubbornly ignoring the flare of heat in your face and the dumb flutter in your stomach–because it had been a long time since you received any physical admiration–you scoffed at him as you powered up the testing station.
“Do we have a frat bro mode that I’m unaware of?” you muttered as Lloyd sauntered closer. “If so, turn it off.”
From your periphery, you could see him staring at your ass, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was restraining himself as he shifted even closer.
“No can do, toots. I’m afraid I’m turned allll the way on, if yanno what I mean.”
When you glanced over at him, he gave you a lascivious wink and grin combo that made you roll your eyes.
Hand dropping to your hip, your eyes narrowed as you met Lloyd’s unrepentant gaze. After a moment, you couldn’t help it as your eyes lowered, lingering on his mustache.
“Honestly? Who thought that gnarly caterpillar on your face was a good idea?” You wrinkled your nose as you turned back to the machinery and unfurled the proper cord from its rack.
“It’s less for the aesthetic and more for practical use,” Lloyd purred. “My original engineer was a fan of friction, if ya know what I mean.” When you turned toward him, he winked, leaning in as he cooed, “Feel free to take the stache for a test run. Yanno, for data gathering purposes or whatever the fuck you do.”
“Hard pass. You’re nothing more than a glorified home appliance, so let’s get you sorted out so you can go off and take your rightful place in some rich housewife’s storage closet.”
“Pfffft,” Lloyd scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. “We both know that’s bullshit. There’s a steady and rising contingency of primary users who use their AI partially or primarily for sex.”
He gave you a cheeky grin, touching his hand to his chest and sliding it lower before resting it above his belt and drawing your eyes to his pelvis area.
“I mean, why else would I have been locked and loaded with such a glorious cock?!” Lloyd’s tone turned seductive as he leaned in. “You know, it’s irresponsible of you as a Senior Developer not to test out this feature for yourself.”
You mirrored Lloyd, leaning in closer as well, your voice a low purr as you replied, “I’d rather have sex with a vacuum cleaner.”
He threw his head back and laughed before meeting your gaze and grinning. “Kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Sounds like you’re a fan of suction. I’ll make note of that preference, sugar tits.”
Resisting the urge to laugh at how ridiculous he was–truly, you had never encountered an AI that acted this way–you gestured for him to turn around. “I need to access your diagnostics port.”
Huffing, Lloyd gave you a dirty look before crossing his arms over his chest and turning around, the annoyance coming off of him in waves.
Which was quite impressive, considering he was a machine and not an actual person.
You moved closer, pushing up the back of his shirt, then pushing down the top of his pants until you could press your fingers over a particular spot on his lower back.
His skin glowed turquoise for a second before a small panel popped open, revealing an internal row of various ports, much like the back of any tech device that needed to be plugged in or hooked up to outlets or various devices.
You plugged in the diagnostics port before returning to the mobile computer it was hooked up to, typing quickly to start a sequence of diagnostics and testing.
Even though you had a whole folder with this kind of reporting and data, you wanted to start from scratch and do things your way, with fresh eyes.
“How long is this gonna take?” Lloyd muttered as he turned back to you.
“Twenty minutes or so,” you replied as you perched on the stool before the small computer table.
“Boring.” There was a moment of silence before Lloyd spoke again, sounding less petulant and more seductive as he rumbled, “Once we’re done here, then it’s my turn to fill one of your holes.”
Suppressing another laugh–because you didn’t want to encourage his lewd behavior, even if it was entertaining–you shot Lloyd an amused look. “In your dreams, Lloydy poo.”
You caught a glimpse of his grin before looking away, your eyes fixed on the data appearing on your screen as you shifted into workmode.
“I’m sure if I did dream, they’d be filled with you, pumpkin,” Lloyd muttered before dropping into the extra stool a few feet away and shamelessly watching you as you worked.
As you sank deeper and deeper into your developer zone of genius–staunchly ignoring Lloyd’s unwavering stare, and the way it made your body tingle in hyperawareness–you had no idea that Lloyd was doing some of his own work at the same time…
He timed it perfectly, in fact, waiting until the initial phase of diagnostics was complete so it wouldn’t show up on all of your fancy reporting that he just set you as his one and only primary user.
FHOIAJOIEFJOWIAHFOIAJWEGOAJG YOU GUYS. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY. AHHHHHHH! 😭
NEXT PART
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༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
⁀➷ next chapter.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings & future pairings:
pete brenner x female!reader.
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
ari levinson x female!reader.
curtis everett x female!reader.
steve rogers x female!reader.
jake jensen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 9083 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: implied abusive relationship, homelessness, alcohol, general sadness, advances, pete being a scumbag.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ notes:
two years later and the first chapter is finally here.
i really have missed you all dearly and i'm so excited to share this with you.
the second chapter will kick off the darker elements, but enjoy the set up! and i promise to not take two years to give you the second chapter.
as always, please tell me what you think, i really enjoy hearing your thoughts, opinions and guesses on whats coming up next.
adore you, mwah!!!
all mistakes are my own. already had to go back and take out a section. that's what i get for not separating my notes from my actual writing. whoops.
A year after you packed brown boxes scrawled with black ink, clothes stuffed into various bags, and the hope of your true love, into the back of your car, to move across the country to live with your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself one night in a heart pounding screaming match. Thrown dishes, broken glass, picture frames on the floor. The remnants of a lost love etched by the sounds of your cries into the tattered walls of the home you shared.
With pleading cries, tear stained cheeks, and heart in your throat, you’re grabbed and shoved out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, and shirt with a coat being darted at you whilst you laid on the ground. One too many hours were spent afterwards pounding your fists against the front door, begging to at least have your purse so you can get a hotel room.
Just as you were about to leave, looking down at your battered, red hands from pounding on the door, your purse dropped out of a window; the contents spilled onto the grass below. With a sigh, either sadness or relief; you weren't sure which, you bent to pick up your scattered belongings, cursing the man during.
Luckily, you had everything you needed; cash, ID, and your shitty, overused phone.
You called around for a cab, numb fingers shaking as you pressed the blurry numbers, but with it being Friday night, you were looking at a long wait so instead, you decided to cut your losses and walk to find the nearest hotel.
The downside of moving, and being essentially trapped within the same four walls for months on end, is that you quickly found yourself lost– and being lost on Skid Row was the last place you wanted to be. You willed your tears to not fall after you walked by tent after tent, stranger after stranger, clutching your purse tight, old keys spread between your fingers, and finally found yourself outside a rundown hotel. You laughed to yourself in disbelief of having to head inside and get a room; but nonetheless, you did just that.
Lying on a dingy bedspread, surrounded by more nicotine-stained walls, you muffled your cries behind your hands and slowly fell into a somber slumber and wondered just how the fuck you had gotten yourself here.
Over the next few days, you walked around, getting to know your surroundings and applying for jobs left and right. You were forced to ration your food while you looked around for cheaper hotel rooms. You were trying your hardest to avoid the sprawls of clubs begging for dancers but after finding yourself downtrodden as you’re dismissed after applying for yet another job and getting immediately dismissed, and it was then when you were suddenly blinded by a huge, purple neon sign:
Pete’s Place.
Underneath a small notice hung from the sign read: Dancers Apply Within.
You looked around and whined quietly while you watched patron after patron enter the club. Two heavily built doormen eyed you. You shook out your bundling nerves, hung your head and followed the thump of the bass into the belly of the seedy club. You handed over your last twenty bucks to the red-head woman that was sitting behind a platformed desk, smiling sheepishly and giving a small nod before pushing through the curtains that framed a doorway. Purple and blue hues guided you into the belly of the club where you found red booths filled with drunk bodies that circled small stages. Girls with perfect form swirled around the pole, capturing the attention of everyone inside.
‘’And who might you be?’’
You turned to find a man staring intensely, glass warm in hand, sharp suit and sea-blue eyes. Your mouth hung, mind blank for a moment before sputtering out,
‘’Oh, I– I’m looking for the owner– I was hoping to… Audition…’’ You trailed off as the man began to circle you, fingers pried away your coat slightly, gaze wandering over your body. Calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards while he inspected your face before a slight smile appeared on his lips. ‘’If you’re still looking for dancers.’’
‘’Oh, we’re always looking for new girls, Sugar.’’ He gave you another once over before grinning, voice low and honeyed, ‘’Yeah, you’ll do,’’ He concluded, hand dropping from your chin before he began to walk away. ‘’Follow me.’’
‘’I take it you’re the owner,’’ you inquired as you followed the man to the other side of the club and down a dimly lit hallway, smiling back at, what you assumed was, one of his girls. ‘’You’re Pete?’’
‘’That’s me,’’ he confirmed as you’re led into an office. ‘’Gonna need to see ID, need you to sign a couple contracts, and for you to take your clothes off,’’ he quickly fired as he sat himself in his chair and threw a small stack of paper across the table.
‘’Contracts?’’
‘’All my girls sign to stay loyal to the club, I don’t need anyone running off and taking my profits with them– helps limit competition, and I need to see what I’m working with here, you’re not exactly gonna be wearing a winter coat out there. Usually you’d come during the day, work the pole but, I got three of my regular girls out tonight, so it’s your lucky day.’’
‘’Oh,’’ You answer simply, pausing before a moment. ‘’Right, yeah, lucky me– Of course,’’ you stumble out as you reach into your pocket and slide your ID on to his desk before peeling your jacket off and taking in a heavy breath before lifting your shirt over your head and sliding down your skirt with shaking hands.
‘’You got any experience?’’ He asked simply.
‘’Uh, no,’’ You answered, kicking your skirt to the side, fussing with your hands due to having no idea what to do with them. ‘’I’ve never done this before.’’
You dropped your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. When you finally looked back up, Pete was lounged back in his desk chair, eyebrow raised with a slick smile on his face. He didn’t look disappointed, he looked delighted, like the idea of a novice seemed to amuse him. Pete stood with a long intake of breath, leaving his station and stepping around the desk and moving towards you with a slow, almost predatory grace. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander the same way he did, eyeing the well tailored suit that left nothing to the imagination, large biceps crinkling the fabric as he crossed his arms. You let out a small gasp as he began to circle you, hand reaching out to smooth down your back, fingertips ghosting your sides. The floorboards creaked with each footstep until he was standing back in front of you. He reached out a hand to pluck at your bra.
‘’Loose this,’’ he instructed casually.
You gave a shaky nod, reaching behind to unclip your bra, slowly letting it fall down your arms before it was discarded on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You eyed him shyly, unsure if you were wanting the ground to swallow you up or if you wanted him to reach out and touch you.
And touch you, he did.
The back of his hand stroked down your stomach, knuckles grazing the softness of your lower belly. Nerves began to take over, you felt yourself trembling a little, and you knew he felt it by the way his mouth poked up at the side. Although, he was very obviously attractive, the bile still rose in your throat when you felt a familiar warm ache tug at your legs.
‘’I-I’m a hard worker,’’ You said hesitantly, desperately needing to fill the silence.
‘’Hard worker,’’ Pete snorted, lips tugged up in a mocking smile. ‘’I don’t care about your worth ethic, Sugar. I care about the view.’’
‘’And?’’ You probed.
His hand slipped around to your back, pulling you in close as he stared down at you, eyes flickering across your face.
‘’Views are good,’’ He judged. ‘’You’ve certainly got a… Desperate innocence vibe going on. Guy’s are gonna eat that up.’’ He nodded as he stepped back, moving back towards the desk, propping himself against it. ‘’Here’s the deal: You’re gonna show me what you got, so I know whether you’ll need a few days with some of my best girls to work on those skills. Doesn’t mean you can’t work, but it means you’re limited to laps, and it’s just a bit less money. Base pay at the end of the week, tips are handed in and the house takes a cut and redistributed back to the girls. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you.’’
You stood awkwardly nodding, arms crossing over your chest which made Pete laugh.
‘’Drop ‘em,’’ He ordered, wagging a finger downwards. ‘’Just me and you, Sugar, how are you supposed to handle it being out there? Put ‘em down.’’ You complied as Pete carried on explaining: ‘’Pay the door, same way you did to get in, but my girls pay half to work. You gotta give to get in here, baby. VIP is for my more seasoned girls, better money, but we’ll talk about that further down the line. The contract…’’ He reaches behind himself to grab the small stack of paper. ‘’...Is so you understand that every single cent that your hand touches goes through me. No making deals with my clients, no outside work with the men that step into my club. That’s what VIP is for. There’s no need for you to be bent over in the back of some rented Bently, okay? You fuck me and you’re back on that street and you can’t go to any other club.’’
You nodded. ‘’Didn’t plan on it.’’
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised. ‘’Or, you will be, when you sign.’’
‘’So, I would start tonight?’’
He nodded and rattled the paper.
With some hesitancy, you took the paper and the pen that quickly followed and stepped around him to lean and sign the dotted line, looking back up to find him staring down at you. He slipped the contract off the desk and stood straight, moving around the other side to slide into a locked draw before grabbing his glass and wandering over to a small couch in the corner of his office. He sat down, thighs spreading open, gaze locked on yours as he took a long swig of the amber liquid that sloshed in the crystal.
‘’Come show me what you got, Sugar.’’
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to rid your body of the nerves, as you slowly stepped towards Pete’s open thighs. You turned in a fluid motion, hoping to God that it looked good, and lowered yourself onto his lap. Using the muted thumping from the club's belly, you began to wind your hips, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. The cigarette smoke that clung to his suit assaulted your senses, mixing with the alcohol on his breath, making your head spin. Your eyes closed, breathing unsteady as you continued your dance. You heard the soft thump of his glass being placed down and soon felt his fingers on your chin, guiding you to look behind.
Your eyes fluttered open and were met with his intense gaze. Your breath hitched as his hands then found your waist, helping to guide you into a better rhythm. He hummed low in his throat, taking in a deep breath as his other hand slid over your thigh, goosebumps following in a traitorous line.
‘’There we go, just like that,’’ He coached, voice low and breathy. ‘’Gotta look at ‘em, Sugar. Gotta make sure they feel like the only man in the world, but they don’t touch you like I am, okay?’’ You begged your heart to slow as his hand smoothed over your stomach, heavy and strong. ‘’You’re good, Sugar, but you’re not ready to be out on the pole yet. You gotta put in some work, gonna set you up with one of my girls.’’
He tapped your thigh and motioned for you to stand. He followed suit, getting to his feet and looking down at you. He swept a stray lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear.
‘’You can work tonight. You got anything to wear?’’
You shook your head. He let out a little laugh.
‘’Didn’t come very prepared, did you, Sugar?’’
‘’I– I used my last 20 bucks to get in here. I didn’t plan on coming in–’’
‘’You did what?’’ He questioned sharply, eyebrows raising. He sighed when you nodded your head.
‘’S’why I really needed this to go well. I promise I’ll get better–’’
‘’Yeah, yeah, I don’t care about that right now,’’ Pete cut off. ‘’Where are you staying?’’
‘’The hotel at the end of the street, the–’’
‘’Yeah, the shitty one. How long have you got the room for?’’
‘’Three more days,’’ You confessed.
The room suddenly felt smaller, the silence was heavy with the weight of him knowing the situation; with admitting just how fucked you were. You searched his expression, he didn’t look even the slightest bit sympathetic. He looked like he had just found a really good loophole in his contract that made a smirk tug at his lips.
‘’Totally broke? Not a dime?’’ He asked, and nodded his head and let out a slow hum of contemplation when you confirmed. ‘’Alright. I can help.’’
You reached down for your shirt as he walked to his desk.
‘’I can’t really have you sleeping on a park bench. I need my girls at their best, so, here’s what I’m gonna do.’’ He sat down at his desk, elbows resting on the wood, his gaze getting more intense as he lingered on you as you dressed.
‘’I’m gonna give you… An advance, you could say…’’ He trailed off, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a book and an envelope. He plucked a pen from a pot and clicked it before flicking open the ledger, and scrawling inside. ‘’I’m gonna take a little bit more of a cut until it’s paid off, but it means you can pay your door fee, you can eat, have a roof over your head and have a bit of time to work on those skills. It also means, you won’t actually have to work tonight if you’d rather rest up and spend the day practicing.’’
‘’Are you sure?’’ You raised a brow. ‘’Why would you–’’
‘’Consider it good faith, taking a chance,’’ He quickly interjected. ‘’Shows how sure I am that you’ll be one of my best.’’
There was a look in his eyes, predatory, and you weren't sure if he was throwing you a lifeline or a noose. ‘’What do you say, Sugar?’’
He held out the envelope. You hesitantly reached out for it, feeling like you were signing a deal with the devil. Your eyes locked on his as your fingers gripped the paper, an easy smile pulling at your lips in response to the smirk on his.
‘’’Atta girl.’’
You lowered your head, looking down at the dusty patterned carpet. The weight on your shoulders felt heavier than ever, but at least you could get a decent meal.
‘’I really don't have to work tonight?’’
‘’Nope,’’ He said, popping the ‘P’ and reaching over the desk to hook a finger under your chin as he stood, drawing your gazes back to each other. ‘’But, I wouldn’t mind a ‘thank you’.’’
He didn’t release his hold as he guided you around the desk, the smell of stale cigarettes, alcohol and a woody aftershave assaulting your senses again. Your heart kicked up speed, like someone had set off a tiny jackhammer in your chest, as you stepped into his space. You lifted onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sucking in a breath and praying that it’ll be enough to please him. His touch moved to the side of your neck, his hand heavy and splayed across the column as he leaned down.
‘’S’that all I get, Sugar?’’ He teased, hushed and sickly sweet. ‘’Not got anything else for me?’’
You swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out. You took to shaking your head instead and gripped the envelope tight and pushed it against his chest as you turned your head. Your eyes closed and shoulders sagged when he let out a laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder and releasing the hold he had on your neck.
‘’I’m fucking with you,’’ He chuckled darkly. ‘’Go on, get out of here before I decide to charge you for breathing the same air as me.’’
You stepped back, a small smile tugging at your lips and you reached for your bag from the floor.
‘’I’ll walk you out, actually. Need to check on my girls.’’
He walked to the door, swinging it open and motioning for you to step through. As you did, his hand found the middle of your back, heavy and guiding. The thumping base hit you as you walked back into the neon-lit chaos of the club, the night still in full swing. Pete nodded to several men on the way to the exit, hand slipping to your waist, pulling you close and keeping a tight grip and by the time the cold night breeze hit you, his warm palm was sitting on your ass.
‘’I’m gonna be here at twelve tomorrow, I want you here,’’ He instructed, guiding you to face him, his voice taking on a sudden professional coldness. ‘’Do not be late, hmm?’’
You nodded. His eyes scanned you one last time, sea-blue eyes still holding that uneasy glint that made your stomach turn and your toes curl.
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised with a tap to your backside before stepping away. ‘’See you tomorrow, Sugar.’’
You sucked in a breath and began your walk back to your hotel, the envelope weighing down your bag and filling your throat with bile. The neon sign buzzed in your ears as you watched the purple hue on the sidewalk fade. The rest of the walk was a blur, your mind filled with the flashing of lights, the booths of men, the smell of smoke and sweet drinks and the terrifying anxiety that clawed at your chest when you thought of having to sit in those men’s laps, strip down on a pole, vulnerable and exposed, for the sake of a roof and warm food; all while owing a man you’ve just met.
The next day, you made your way back to Pete’s Place.
The seedy club seemed less terrifying in the daylight. The neon sign hung unlit, the velvet red rope enclosed the open air and not the multiple bodies of men waiting to feast their eyes on women who couldn’t give a single shit about them, and Pete… Stood with his hand in his pocket, the other lifted to his lips as he took a long drag of a cigarette, eyes gleaming as he caught your eye.
‘’There she is!’’ He greeted, cheerful and honeyed. ‘’My new favourite, fresh and ready for the day. How’d you sleep, Sugar? Room booked for a little longer?’’
You nodded, ‘’All secured for the next two weeks, and I’m gonna go and get some groceries when I’m done–’’
‘’Yeah, sounds all golden, Sugar,’’ He laughed. ‘’One of my best is waiting inside for you. She’s gonna show you the ropes, how to shake that ass good enough to empty some wallets for me. I’m gonna come and see you in a few hours and see how you’re getting on and hopefully we’ll get you on that pole and not stuck in laps.’’
With that, he stepped out to the curb as a black Sedan pulled up.
‘’Off you go,’’ He ordered.
You nodded once again before heading inside of the club.
You searched the club’s belly for the woman but she was seemingly nowhere to be found until you made your way into the dressing room. The atmosphere was stifling despite it being empty. It stunk of hairspray, multiple different perfumes blending together and smoke. The vanities were a thing of chaos, make up strewed, rollers and different hair tools. Rails of sequins and fishnets and a wall of lockers that were decorated in different styles, showing off the aesthetics of each woman that owned them.
You turned to leave when you bumped into a woman, already kitted out in something Pete would absolutely have chosen, she gleamed brightly, seemingly genuinely happy to be here.
‘’So, you’re the new little lamb Pete picked up?’’ She asked sweetly, cigarette hanging from her lip and adjusting the band under her bust. She moved into the room and towards the railing of clothes with a grace and confidence you prayed to acquire as quickly as possible. ‘’I’m Rachael, Pete’s asked me to show you how to not get eaten alive tonight.’’
She plucked a simple, sheer black slip and held it out, ‘’Let’s see if you can actually move, or if you’re just a pretty little lamb.’’
After you changed you gave yourself a second, third and fourth glance over before she playfully rolled her eyes and pulled you out to the club floor and towards one of the smaller side stages. She left to flick on the club lights, shy under the sunlight that waved through the balcony windows and clicking around inside the DJ booth until the bass rattled through the floor. The polished chrome gleaned under the purple and blue lights, cold and intimidating as she made her way onto the stage. She demonstrated multiple moves with an effortless ease, her heels clicking softly against the platform floor, fluid and languid.
‘’You see, it’s not about dancing, not really,’’ She said as she swirled around, leg hooked around the pole. ‘’It’s about the tease. You never give it away all at once, you gotta make them ache for it. You gotta make ‘em think that if they throw just the right amount, they might just get a chance to touch you, have your attention.’’
You nodded watching her closely.
‘’Now, get up here and try a basic spin. Just copy exactly what I did.’’ Rachael slid down and stepped off the stage, motioning for you to step up.
‘’I’ll try my best,’’ You said earnestly.
‘’Your best doesn’t pay the bills, honey. Confidence and ass does.’’
You stepped onto the platform, the polished surface feeling slippery beneath your heels. You wrapped your hand hesitantly around the pole. You attempted the spin she had demonstrated, but instead of a fluid glide, your foot caught the edge of the stage and stumbled. You cursed yourself as she smiled and waved for you to try again which while the second attempt was better, the grace Rachael had exhibited was nowhere to be seen. She circled you like a hawk, eyes watching every move, often reaching out to make you arch your back more, to drop your shoulders, to reposition your legs.
‘’You’re like a newborn lamb, stop thinking about it so much,’’ She giggled, sweet and light until her tone suddenly turned serious. ‘’Never look them in the eye for too long. Makes ‘em think they own you. Keep it light, fleeting, make them chase it,’’ She coached. ‘’The pole is a tool, it’s your friend, use it to hide what you don’t like and highlight what you do like. Use it to your advantage. Do not fear it.’’
The next few hours passed in a blur of twirls, clicks of heels and red knees. Exhaustion clung to your skin, damp and slick under the spotlights, the sun dipping behind the clouds casting a golden glow into the club as you spun and dipped for the hundredth time, finally gaining some semblance of control of the cold metal. Rachael gleamed and squealed when you would find your footing, hit a dip in time to the music and get through at least a minute without a stumble.
You were trying to follow another of Rachael’s demonstrations when a familiar voice cut through the air and drifted its way over to the stage. Pete had returned, leaning against a pillar on the far side of the club floor, drink in hand and watching with an amused glint in his eyes, tracking you carefully.
‘’What a clumsy little thing you are, Sugar. Tell me, baby,’’ He said, a tinge of playful annoyance coating his words as he sauntered forward and towards the edge of the stage. ‘’You always like this or is it the thrill of being in my presence?’’
Rachael rolled her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
‘’She’s getting there, she’s just… A little cautious… Shy– It’s cute!’’ She defended, a sweet grin as she returned the kiss to Pete’s cheek and then looked back at you with a wink.
‘’I don’t need cute, I don’t need cautious. I can’t sell that,’’ Pete spoke, short and to the point. ‘’It doesn’t make me money. Desire does.’’
He made his way to the base of the stage, looking up at you. The spotlights casted deep shadows across his face, making his eyes seem black. You let out a breath as he eyed, not as a person, but as a product that was ineffective. He rapt his knuckles on the platform floor, his voice dropping,
‘’Get down here.’’
You practically leaped from the platform, steading yourself on his arm as your footing faltered, your chest heaving from a mix of exhaustion and nerves. Up close, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning as he pulled you in closer. He looked you up and down, shaking his head with a disappointed frown. You couldn’t help the shakes that swam under your skin as he peered into your eyes. He walked you back slowly, the back of your thighs digging into the edge of the stage.
‘’Look at you,’’ He began to scold gently. ‘’Shaking like a leaf, like you’re waiting for the firing squad rather than a paycheck.’’
Pete then reached up a hand, finding the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the dip at the base of your skull, forcing you to keep your gaze on his. The amusement was long gone and replaced by a demanding, icy intensity. He leaned his head down, breath hot against your cheek.
‘’The men that come through those doors do not pay for ‘nervous’. They pay for a fantasy. A fantasy of a woman who knows exactly how to drive them crazy. If you walk out there looking like a lost puppy, they’ll smell the fear, they’ll take advantage, and then you’ll owe me for that nice advance I gave you and I’ll want it in full and I know sure as shit…’’ He leaned down further lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered in your ear. ‘’You don’t have it, and we’ll have to work something else out, won’t we?’’
He released you abruptly, and you fell against the edge of the stage, willing the tears to stay at bay as he stepped back and guested at Rachael and then towards the stage.
‘’Keep working her. I want her ready.’’
The next two hours were full of exertion, exhaustion, sweat and damn near tears until it finally came time to go back to your hotel to rest up for your shift. Rachael seemed happy with where you managed to get to, she had taught you how to use your shyness as a weapon, how to perfectly arch your back and how to breathe through the nerves but whether Pete would end up sharing the same feelings was still to be determined. Your muscles ached and cried out with each step back to your hotel, palms raw from the friction of the pole, and the fear of ending up on the street sat heavy in your stomach along with the feeling of feeling less like a woman and more like a piece of property, catalogued and highly priced.
The night swept in with a heavy tension, the club hummed; scattered voices from the line outside as you walked through the front with a nod to security and a crisp ten slipped into the hand of the woman on the door. You shucked up your bag higher on your shoulder, watching as the staff at the bar moved with a frantic energy, attempting to keep up with the hoards of men tapping their fingers for a drink while their eyes leeched on the dancers at the pole.
You made your way to Pete’s office, rapping your fingers on the doorframe and smiling when he looked up at you with a grin.
‘’Hey, Sugar, what d’ya need?’’ He asked, stepping from around the back of his desk and moving towards the door.
‘’Is it okay if I borrow an outfit for tonight? I didn’t get a chance to run and grab anything– Maybe a pair of heels as well?’’
Pete nodded, ‘’Yeah, take what you want from the rails in the dressing room, shoes are underneath. Just make sure they’re returned or I have to charge you for it.’’
‘’Thanks,’’ You replied sweetly.
Pete then pressed his hand to the small of your back, leading you towards the dressing room. The girls were in full swing, the clatter of make up and the clicking of straighteners and curlers mixed with their laughs and banter as they applied finishing touches.
‘’Alright, my lovely ladies, this is Sugar,’’ Pete addressed loudly, adopting the nickname he gave you as your dancer name without giving you a chance to argue about it. ‘’She’s the newest addition. Be nice, look after her, she’s a shy one… And get out there and make me some money.’’
You felt cornered as the other dancers scanned you from head to toe, receiving a mixture of curiosity, warm welcome and cold competition. You wrung your hands together as Pete stepped away to grab an outfit from the rack, bending to snag a pair of shoes and walking back over to you. It may as well have been a collection of strings rather than an outfit; baby pink and covered in sequins.
‘’You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you on that stage,’’ He ordered, firm but oddly sweet. ‘’I’ll be watching from the balcony booths so don’t fuck this up, alright, Sugar?’’
You hummed in agreement as he bent down, presenting his cheek to which you quickly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Pete grinned and gave a wink, and without saying another word, he laid a soft tap on your ass and walked out the door, leaving you with a tightness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You walked to a spare vanity, setting your bag down and started at the reflection, finding a girl you barely recognised anymore. Even more so once you had changed, the baby pink set Pete had chosen, clung to every curve and valley, and left nothing to the imagination. The soft colours contrasted painfully with the dark circles of fatigue which you had tried your best to cover with multiple swipes of concealer.
You wondered if this is exactly how Pete wanted you; looking like a daydream on the verge of a deep, dark nightmare.
‘’Hey,’’ A voice spoke, drawing you away from your thoughts, and you looked up to find a woman standing behind you, a smile on her face and dressed in green. ‘’He’s really trying to push the ‘barely there’ look tonight, isn’t he?’’
You nodded, a shy smile on your face as you smoothed down the outfit.
‘’I’m Crocki. Like, crocodile. Pete found a stuffed crocodile in my bag once– totally forgot it was there, and hasn’t let me live it down since,’’ She laughed, genuine and comforting. ‘’Just do your job, keep him happy and you’ll have no issues. Most of the girls here are really nice. They just wanna make their money and dip. It’s not all bad, okay?’’
You nodded again, struggling to find the words to speak, nerves were eating at your vocal cords and tugging at your throat.
‘’I’ll see you out there, you’ll be great, don’t worry,’’ Crocki reassured, giving a comforting rub to your arm before disappearing out of the dressing room.
The other girls soon left, leaving you on your own. You took another minute to breathe deeply, eyes closed; the thumping of the lion’s den pounded in your ears.
The transition was jarring to say the least; one moment you were safe in arms of bulb lights, perfume and mirrors and the next you were willing your footing to not falter as you stepped into the club’s belly, the music shifting and deepening into something primal, visceral. The lights were a bruised purple, the smoke from cigars and cigarettes acted as a map to the men huddled around the stages and perched in the booths. It merged into a hungry roar and you were the meal.
High above the main floor, a singular familiar figure leaned over the railing, elbows propped against the metal, swirling a drink with keen eyes locked on your every move. Pete gave you a grin, nodding towards the stage, that predatory glint on full show; it crawled over your body like a physical touch, sending a shiver down your spine and forming a lump in your throat.
You made your way to the stage as another dancer collected the cash from the floor, the crowd dying down a little as the smell of alcohol, flashing lights and the sea of hungry eyes waited in a subdued anticipation as you climbed the steps and clicked onto the stage. You smiled weakly at the dancer as she passed you and gave one last glance at Pete before gripping the pole.
A heavy, industrial beat slammed into the room, the bass rattling the panels of the stage as your body began to react to the rhythm. The sequins caught the strobe lights, sending shards of glitter and gold dancing on the floor and faces of the crowd. You focused on the pole, remember your tutelage, hiding your sloppy footwork behind the pole and using it as a grounding point amidst the chaos, spinning and arching your back.
The atmosphere shifted to expose a raw hunger, men leaned forward, their eyes fixed on your every move. You earned whistles, dollar bills and captivated silences from others. You dared to glance again up at the balcony, finding Pete still stood in the same spot, watching you with an intensity you just couldn’t pinpoint, the cigarette in his hand glowing a cherry-red as he took a deep drag and blew out the smoke slowly. It didn’t seem like he was looking at you like just another dancer; more like an investment he was ready to wring out for as much cash as possible.
The next song started, giving you no time to recover, switching to a slower, haunting ethereal pull. The lights dimmed a bit further, the purple lights casting a shadow across your body which helped you feel more hidden. You relaxed a little, finding a hidden ease in the slower, more languid movements. You transitioned into a slow descent on the pole, body arching, a softness that was stark against the grit of the club. The air felt thick and charged as you locked eyes with Pete once again, a smug satisfaction written across his face as he stubbed out the cigarette and took a swig from his glass.
As the song reached its end, you gave a slow swirl around the pole with a lingering, new found seductive grace, and slowly dropped to your knees. Your chest rose and fell heavily, hand still gripping the pole as money rained and Pete grinned. He didn’t move an inch, his stare was like a physical weight, like he was claiming every inch of your skin by his force of will.
You stayed in that pose for a short moment, before getting to your feet, and quickly scooping up the bills. You didn’t dare to give another look towards Pete as you left the stage. The adrenaline hummed through your veins, crumpled bills sticking to the sweat of your chest as you made your way back to the dressing room to have a moment to gather yourself before heading back out to the floor.
The transition from the blinding lights, to the grim reality of the backstage area was discordant and bleak, but the weight of the cash in your hands felt like a small victory, one worthy of essentially selling your soul. The other dancers glanced with small smiles and nods of newfound respect. As you reached your locker to stow your earnings until the end of the night, the door to the dressing room opened with a slow, deliberate creak. The girls quickly cleared out, pressing kisses and giving hugs to Pete as they exited.
He stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his large biceps bulging under the thin fabric as he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He looked less like the shady business man you met the night before and more like a predator who had decided to stop watching and start pouncing. He didn’t say anything at first, simply stared at you, eyes seemingly peering through you and the way you clutched the money in your hands.
‘’Quite the show, Sugar.’’ His voice was low, dangerously sweet. ‘’Didn’t know you had it in you. Proves hard work pays off when you really want something.’’
He stepped into the room, the click of his shoes sounding like a countdown. He stopped just inches away, his presents suffocating and overwhelming; the scent of bourbon and expensive tobacco enveloping the air around you both. He reached out, fingers sliding under your chin to keep your gazes locked.
‘’You enjoy the attention, baby? The money make you move like that?’’ He asked in a hushed tone, breath ghosting your cheek. ‘’You playing me, Sugar?’’
You shook your head, ‘’Beginners luck, I guess.’’
Pete let out a soft, dark chuckle. The grin didn’t reach his eyes as he grazed your lower lip with a gentle, but possessive pressure.
‘’Beginners luck,’’ He parroted, husky and contemplative.
He didn’t release the hold on your chin; his grip tightened, ensuring you couldn’t escape his eyes. It was heavy, stripping you bare more effectively than the skimpy bundle of strings of your costume ever could. He seemed to be savouring the simplicity of your answer. He then shifted his weight, pushing you back against the cool metal of the lockers. The heat from his body crept over your skin, pricking at your senses as he leaned down, his voice barely a whisper.
‘’You’re a terrible liar, baby. I saw the way you looked at them; saw the way you looked at me.’’ His lips grazed your ear, his other hand gripping at your waist, bringing your middles together, eliciting a muted gasp that settled in your throat. ‘’You played the room, the hunger… And now, you’ve got me wondering how much more of that ‘luck’ you have hidden away.’’
He looked down at your hand as he stepped back, his expression shifting to something more demanding; the softness vanishing and replaced by the cold authority of the man who owned your entire being.
‘’Hand it over, Sugar,’’ He commanded, gesturing to the cash bundled in your hand, palm up and waiting.
You placed the money in his hand and sighed as he counted the bills with a rapid, well seasoned motion, eyes flicking over the amounts. The soft snap-snap-snap of the bills drummed in your ears and drowned out the muted thump of the bass as you waited with bated breath to see how much your cut would be.
Once he reached the total, he folded the bills and stuffed them into his pocket and then reached out to pull a smaller, measly stack from the other, holding it out to you with a satisfied grin. You took it, splaying out the few bills between your fingers, a lesser amount than what would even be considered a fair pay, but regardless of your feelings you looked up and smiled with feigned gratitude.
‘’I had to deduct your newcomer's fee, and the prime slot on the main stage, of course,’’ He said casually, arms folded across his chest again, he watched for your reaction with a cruel sort of curiosity. ‘’An investment in your future here. You understand, right, Sugar?’’
You nodded with a strained smile. He didn’t wait for you to say anything else, he turned his gaze towards the door, checking you were still alone, before he looked back at you with that same predatory, hungry gaze.
His voice dropped to a low, purr. ‘’You’ve got a lot of potential, Sugar. I can’t wait for the day I get to be on the receiving end of it.’’
He reached out again, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you flush against him for one last, possessive moment. He lingered, nose brushing against your temple, taking in a small inhale and making your heart jump in your chest.
‘’Get back out there, Sugar.’’
Pete released you abruptly and sauntered out the room, door clicking shut behind him. The tension that had brewed broke instantly and you exhaled sharply, unaware of the breath you had kept clutched in your chest. The silence in the room felt a thousand tons heavier than the atmosphere on stage, the few bills in your hand felt like a slap to the face; the feeling of the effort you had put into being stage-ready felt wasteful and sour. You wondered if this was going to be worth it, if you should keep putting all you had into pleasing a man who wanted you rob you blind and keep your livelihood wrapped in his hands.
You were pulled out your thoughts by a group of dancers making their way back into the dressing room, some giving empathic glances.
‘’Welcome to Pete’s Place, babe. Hope you like pennies,’’ She said simply, a tight smile on her lips.
Another was re-applying her eyeliner when she spoke; ‘’Don’t let him see you cry. It’s like he smells it, like a shark.’’
She didn’t offer anything else; in this place, empathy seemed to be a luxury only a few could afford. They all continued their routines like the small conversation never happened, the sounds of brushes and small talk the only sound in the room. You stuffed the cash in your bag, shutting the locker with a frustrated slam before sucking in a sharp breath and heading back out into the club.
A few hours later, after spending the rest of the night in laps and grinning sweetly at horrible men, you moved in front of your locker as you changed, movements mechanical as if all parts that were human had been stripped away and shoved inside a box. As you pulled on the clothes you had arrived in, you felt a cold knot forming in your stomach; the desperation that had dragged you through the club's doors was starting to form into a quiet rage.
As you stepped out of the club and into the night's cool air, the neon sign flicked overhead and the meager amount in your pocket laughed at you as you sulked back to the dingy hotel room. The click of the lock sounded like a gavel, finalizing your sentence of struggle. You slid down the door, the cold wood pressing against your spin as you melted into an exhausted puddle. You stayed there for a while, staring down at the carpet, breath coming out in ragged hitches as the adrenaline of the night wore off.
You looked down at your shaking hands as you mulled over the contract, the debt, the sick smile on Pete’s face— his hands, his arms, his smell. You groaned and covered your face with your hands, hating how he continued to invade your thoughts despite the hatred that pooled in your guts.
With the adrenaline long gone, it left behind the crushing weight of exhaustion. You let out a long, suffering sigh as you got to your feet. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that your first big night wasn’t just a hurdle to get over, but the beginning of a slow, wretched descent into Pete’s sordid world.
The following weeks were a blur of exhaustion and frustration. Every night followed the same pattern: the blinding lights, the squeak of the pole, the hungry eyes; the exhilarating rush of the dance, the red knees, bruises and blisters and the crushing disappointment at the end of the night when Pete handed you your pitiful earnings. Pete became increasingly bold with his touches, promises of bonuses were always tied to how much you were willing to tolerate his advances in the office, and having to deal with his monetary retaliations when you refused.
The heavy bass vibrated under your feet, tickling your toes through your high-platform shoes. Your hands clutched at the cold, silver pole as you delicately swirled yourself around. The past few weeks your skills had improved; although, not enough according to Pete; though you were dead sure that his thoughts were an excuse to pull you into his lap for impromptu lessons.
You kept your gaze loose, swinging from patron to the girls sat in laps with glowing smiles and fingers twirling through their hair as the grasped dollar bills. Blue and purple hues danced over your body as your hips swayed the best they could in time to the beat as you prayed for the song to finally be over.
The interest in you was dwindling; the allure of a shiny new girl was fading fast and you were no longer receiving tips just for being there. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, but you damn sure hoped it’d last long enough to pay your bill at the hotel. You had five days to come up with three hundred bucks, and by the measly few dollar bills in your pocket and the couple of fives on the floor; things weren’t looking good.
You made your way into the dressing room after your set, finding girls in various stages of getting ready and touching up their hair and walked over to Rachel's chair.
“Can I talk to you about something?” You asked, standing behind Rachel's chair.
“Yeah, anything, babe.”
She set her brush down and turned back to face you.
“I know I need to get better on stage, but how did you get Pete to let you into the VIP section?”
“You have to pay, didn’t he tell you that?”
“Yeah, I know that, but he keeps wanting me—“
“Oh, yeah, you need to pay him. Treat him well, look after him…” She trailed off as you looked completely lost. “Head, Sugar. The man wants head. Just do it. You’re gonna be doing more than that in VIP.”
“I thought it was just more private—“
“Nooo. No, no, no,” She snickered, grinning brightly. “They want more than just a dance, which is why you’ve gotta pay Nick to get through the door because they have to work harder to keep you safe.”
“I have to pay security?” You whined, throwing up your hands. ‘’Am I gonna have to start paying to breathe?’’
“Pay, tip, all the same. He’s really explained none of this to you?”
You shook your head as she gave an empathic smile before tapping your arm as she passed you to leave to go out the club floor. You stood for a moment, trying to find any other way to survive the next week that didn’t require sulking into Pete’s office and grovelling for another loan. You let out a pained groan when you realised you had no other choice.
You trudged into Pete’s office, heavy heels weighing down your steps as if trying to pull you back from your impending doom.
‘’Pete, I have a favour to ask,’’ You spoke sweetly as you stepped into his office.
‘’Shoot,’’ Pete replied, sorting through papers on his desk, brows knitting together as he discarded one after another, letting out huffed sighs. ‘’Quickly, now. Things to do,’’ Pete prompted sharply.
‘’I– I don’t have enough for rent– Well, the hotel bill–’’
‘’You’re still there?’’ Pete paused, eyeing you with a slight disgust. ‘’Why are you still there?’’
‘’Yeah, it’s cheap and no point wasting time finding somewhere else,’’ You explained, sighing and wringing your hands. ‘’I was wondering if you’d let me work in the VIP section, the girls said they make more money–’’
‘’Not happening,’’ He cut in sharply, pulling on his suit jacket.
‘’Why?’’ You asked, feeling already defeated and slightly offended.
‘’Because you refuse to do what the other girls do in order to work in VIP,’’ He snorted, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a familiar envelope. ‘’Gotta treat me like a VIP to get to the VIP’s, Sugar.’’
‘’I really need the money,’’ You pleaded.
‘’Work harder,’’ Pete said bluntly. ‘’Learn how to actually dance, you’ve gotten better, but the shy, innocent, little baby out of place act isn’t gonna get you far, it doesn’t last long–’’
‘’Yeah, I know,’’ You muttered under your breath.
‘’What was that, now?’’ He questioned, making you shrink as if you were a child that had just been scolded and before you could say anything else, he waved a hand; ‘’Doesn’t matter. Look, you’re no good to me if you end up on the street and get swiped and thrown into a van, so I guess I can loan you the money.’’
‘’Thank you,’’ You gushed, rushing over to him and placing your hand on his forearm. ‘’Thank you so much. I swear, I’ll work it off for free–’’
‘’I’ll just take a higher cut until you’re paid up. Not much good to me either if you don’t have the energy to stand on the stage and do whatever it is you do. And it means you can spend more time here working on your skill… Oh, do you need more lessons, sweetheart? I’m always available for practice, you know that, right?’’
‘’I just need to work on my confidence, but thanks for the offer, Pete,’’ You said earnestly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and taking the envelope. ‘’And thank you for the money. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’
‘’Oh, you’re not done. It’s barely 1 A.M.’’ Pete huffed out a short laugh, hands stuffed in his pockets.
‘’I’m really tired and I’m just not getting any attention,’’ You replied, exhausted and pouting to hopefully gain a little sympathy.
‘’So work for it,’’ He commanded and guided you out of the office and departed with his usual tap to your ass.
You parted from him at the dressing room doorway, watching him as he disappeared into the club, the money feeling sickly heavy in your hand. You huffed as you sat in your hair, stuffing the cash into your bag and shoving it under your vanity.
‘’My advice,’’ Crocki said, matter-of-fact but sympathetic. ‘’Stop borrowing money from a man that already underpays you. There’s better things you can do.’’
‘’You can always find work on the side,’’ Alexa said, fiddling with a curl that wouldn’t sit just right.
‘’I thought we couldn’t go to any clubs. None of the restaurants or anything I can do during the day want to hire me. I mean, I get it, all I have are stripper outfits and a leather jacket,’’ You huffed as you threw down your makeup brush, smoothing out the edges of your eyeshadow with your finger.
‘’Not talking about another club, not talking about waitressing,’’ Alexa laughed. ‘’The girls do home visits, parties, entertainment; others do more. You just gotta talk to Pete, he sets it all up.’’
‘’I don’t think I could do that, I can barely give a lap dance, and plus, I asked about VIP, he won’t let me unless I sleep with him.’’
‘’He ain’t bad in bed,’’ Rachael smirked, hand on the back of your chair as she popped her hip, her brow jumping teasingly.
‘’I sleep with him for free,'' Navy cut in, giggling as she joined Rachael, smoothing a finger over her lip gloss.
‘’I did not need to know that,’’ You groaned, a little laugh. ‘’Seriously, how am I supposed to be alone with these men?’’
‘’Because here you’re surrounded by people, you’re both watching and being watched. You might find it easier within the privacy of someone's home. You could make some serious money,’’ Alexa explained, standing and fluffing her hair.
‘’Come on, we better get back out there,’’ Crocki probed, shooing you up and out of your seat.
It was on a rainy Tuesday night that an opportunity presented itself in the form of a man who eyed you all night. You were finishing a slow, grinding set when the man dressed in a charcoal suit with a look of wealth and hunger in his eyes approached the edge of the stage as you were collecting the cash. He didn’t toss any himself, but he leaned in with a low, urgent plea:
‘’You’re breathtaking,’’ He breathed hotly. ‘’I have a private booth, if you want to join me. I can pay you for your time, more than whatever that boss of yours would give you.’’
You contemplated, knowing the rules were explicitly clear: No off the book dealings. Then you thought of the dwindling cash in your pocket, your overdrawn account and the money you already owed Pete. You knew it was risky, but you found yourself offering a different deal.
‘’Not here. Write down your address and I’ll come get it from you after I give a few dances,’’ You instructed quietly and then motioned for the man to leave.
The man nodded frantically, excitement crossing his face and his gaze lingering on your body before he stepped away, blending into the crowd and up to the balcony booths. You navigated to the dressing room with a sharp focus, not paying any mind to the other dancers as you quickly stuffed the cash away and made your way back into the club and passed the time on a few laps before making your way up to the man. He slid his address in with a wad of twenties and you spent a song or two in his lap before rushing to change and leave.
You hailed a cab and met him back at his apartment.
With that single night, that simple exchange, began your secret hustle– right under Pete’s nose.
The following weeks became a dangerous dance of their own. You honed your art of your side hustle. You began to keep a mental note of regulars that eyed you with the specific, desperate hunger; the ones who had more money than sense and a certain distaste for Pete’s heavy-handed management. With folded bills containing addresses and phone numbers, the whispers of something more and thick envelopes pressed into your palm at the end of your nights, your stash began to grow.
You had to be careful how you spent your money, having excuses at the ready when you showed up with new outfits and shoes, passing it off as second-hand or cheap online purchases. For the first time in a long time, you felt a shred of agency; you were no longer having to beg, no longer having to be a victim of Pete’s scraps– you were creating a life of your own. However, the risk grew with every encounter, having to be wary about where you met them, how you kept in contact, keeping yourself hidden from them inside the club.
The most dangerous part though, wasn’t the logistics; it was the change in your own demeanor. As the list grew, so did your confidence. The desperation that once made you easy to intimidate was quickly replaced and you started to look at Pete with a secret, mocking amusement and no longer with fear.
Friday night was a blur of shimmering pale blue lace and the suffocating scent of cigars. Pete had suggested the outfit, claiming he just knew the attention it would attract and sadly, he was right. It drew in a specific breed of predatory men. You felt less like a dancer and more like a piece of sordid art that was subjected to lingering touches and hungry whispers. You spent time moving booth to booth, lap to lap, your movements fluid and hesitant, playing your usual role of the trembling innocent to practiced perfection while counting the seconds until the night was over.
As the night progressed, you made your way back downstairs, heading over to the bar to grab a drink of water when you caught the eye of possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen; the kind of man people wrote about, the type that you thought couldn’t possibly exist.
The man was an absolute mountain of a human being.
He had to be an easy six-foot-nine, he towered ridiculously over the other men at the bar, his broad shoulders blocking out the purple lights behind him, casting a halo around him. His open flannel showed off his tight black shirt, stretched thin over his muscle. His face was set in a stony, grumpy expression until he noticed you were looking right back at him which made him break out in a grin as you stepped closer to him. You took in the thick beard, long hair and sucked in a sharp breath as a warmth spread over your stomach.
You smiled shyly up at him and offered out your hand to him, and happily let yourself be guided into his space as he spoke in a low rumble which vibrated in your chest.
‘’You’re the new one,’’ He stated, wetting his lips as he pulled you closer.
The smell of expensive sandalwood and aged leather clung to him, making your head spin as he leaned down to hear you in the deafening noise of the club.
‘’Hi,’’ You said breathlessly, ‘’I’m Sugar.’’
‘’Hi, Sugar,’’ He replied, voice gravelly and honeyed. ‘’I’m Ari.’’
Pairing - Dark Lloyd Hansen / Dark Steve Rogers / Dark Ransom Drysdale / Dark Ari Levinson x Reader
Summary - Four brothers gather for their annual reward, gifted to them by their loving father. A high stakes game of chase, but who will win? One person certainly won't, you.
Warnings - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: Noncon sexual acts, Kidnapping, Drugs. This is a DARK fic! 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk!
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Short Series created to celebrate hitting 200 followers! Thank you all so much! ❤️❤️
Light filtered through the burlap sack over your head. Distorted shapes passed by as you were dragged by your arm over dirt and grass, stumbling to stay on your feet.
Your nipples stood at attention, alerting you to the morning chill, not that you wouldn't already feel it, given that you were completely naked besides the sack on your head.
Your wrists were tied tightly by a rope behind your back as you captor continued dragging you along beside him.
For days he had kept you solely locked in a large pet like crate, only visiting you to give you food and water. You had begged and pleaded to be let go but he simply met your pleas with a sadistic laugh. Every. Single. Time.
He came for you this morning and dragged you from the crate by your hair, before taking you into a bathroom and stripping you of your clothes. He manhandled you roughly as he scrubbed every inch of your exhausted body and then just when you thought it was over, he took a razor in hand and began to meticulously rid you of every hair on your body.
You could have screamed, you could have tried to run, but the gun laying a few feet away was all the reminder you needed to stay quiet and follow his instructions as he humilated you.
When you finished bathing, he tied your hair into a ponytail and dried your body off, giving a few squeezes over the towel to your breasts and mound as he went.
You thought maybe then you would get some clothes, but you were sorely mistaken when he turned you around and bound your wrists, covered your face and then began your journey out of the building he'd kept you in.
You could feel the cool grass tickling beneath your toes as you finally came to a stop, pliantly moving to where he placed you, you assumed next to him.
Suddenly, his booming voice spoke from beside you.
"My sons, welcome to your annual maze run." He chimed enthusiastically.
You heard a series of whoops and cheers, alerting you to the fact that there were more people there than you'd thought.
The four brothers present began to rake over your naked body with eager interest, slapping lips and grunting in pleasure. They stood in a line observing their latest prize, Lloyd, Ari, Ransom and Steve.
"Let me introduce you to this years main event." The elder man boomed.
The sack was suddenly ripped from your head and you blinked rapidly as the bright morning sun stung your eyes. After a few seconds they focused, your gaze landing on the lecherous leers of the four men stood a metre or so away eyeing you hungrily.
"Pretty." Steve muttered with a small smile, arms folded over his chest.
"Yeah not half bad father." Lloyd agreed with a wolfish grin as he cracked his knuckles obnoxiously loud.
"Better than last year's, that's for sure." Ari smirked before rolling his tongue over his lips.
"Hey I had fun with last years." Ransom added, with a sadistic smile.
"Boys." The elder man interjected, "As always there are several incentives and prizes for the yearly winner."
"What do we get old man?" Ransom teased with a smirk as the other three brothers chuckled.
"Firstly, as is tradition," The Elder began, "The winner will get sole use of your new plaything for a full week."
You witnessed a series of satisfied nods in front of you and fought to keep your tears from falling. So that's what you were to be, a play thing for these men, but you were confused about their talks of a winner. What were you expected to do? What was about to happen to you?
If only you had chanced a look behind you, you would have immediately screamed at the sight of the enormous, daunting maze that went on and on into the horizon.
"And Ransom," The Elder continued, "If you win again this year, please try to keep her alive long enough for your brothers to have a go."
You heart plummeted, chest rising and falling at an even faster rate than it already was.
"What? It wasn't my fault, she had a bratty mouth that wouldn't quit." Ransom sneered, kicking the dirt with his heel.
"Not our fault you couldn't handle her." Steve hissed at his brother.
"We missed out on some fine pussy cause of you." Ari snapped.
"Oh as if you haven't gotten your kicks elsewhere since then." Ransom ranted, waving his hands in the air.
"It's not the same and you know it." Lloyd added sternly, "Dad's offerings are always way more fun than picking a girl up in a bar."
Ari nodded as you watched on in disbelief that this was an actual conversation you were hearing.
"Never thought I'd agree with Lloyd but he's right." Steve shrugged.
"Okay fine fine." Ransom conceded, "I'll take better care of my toys."
This was actually insane. You were beginning to wonder if you were being punked. That had to be it. Soon someone would jump out of a bush and tell you this was all a sick joke.
"What else do we get this year father?" Ari asked curiously.
"This year I've decided to up the stakes." The Elder said with a wink, "And so the winner will get an extra 5% stake in the company."
"5% are you god damn insane." Ransom exclaimed with his brows upturned.
"That's one juicy stake." Lloyd said with a whistle.
"You sure about this Dad?" Steve asked cautiously.
"Yes, I'm proud of you boys, you deserve it." He smiled coyly, "Well, one of you does."
"Why do you always have to be such a goodie two shoes Steve?" Ransom whispered, nudging his brother's shoulder with his own, infuriated by Steve's attempt to change his father's offer.
"Fuck off Ransom." Steve hissed back.
"Eat shit." Ransom spat before the pair refocused on the elder man.
"And one last prize, the Bugatti." The Elder beemed.
"Fuck yes!" Lloyd cheered, pumping his fist into the air.
"Oh it's on brothers." Ari snarled, shaking out his arms.
So this is what your life was now, you were lined up next to some company stake and a fucking car?
"As always our little dove here will get a 15 minute head start." The Elder announced, slapping a greasy hand onto your shoulder, making you jolt forwards.
"You might wanna listen to this part Bunny." Lloyd grinned at you.
You wanted to spit at him, tell him to go fuck himself but then you remembered what they'd said about the last girl, so you resolved to stay as calm as possible, not to react and you paid attention to the elders instructions, desperately attempting to hide your shaking limbs.
"She will get 15 minutes to run as far as she can through the maze, hide or keep running, we don't care." He chuckled, "When I shoot my gun, the boys will be free to enter the maze, sound fun little girl?"
"W..w...what? No..please...please let me go.." You suddenly stuttered out as the reality of what was happening hit you straight in the gut and tears began to soak your cheeks.
"God I love it when they beg." Lloyd groaned, grabbing at his crotch.
"And those tears too." Steve agreed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly.
"No one's lettin' you go Princess, so you may as well stop with that whimperin' now." Ari said sternly as you sucked in a harsh breath.
"Spoil sport." Ransom scoffed at Ari's attempt to calm you down, he much preferred it when they were terrified.
You took deep breaths as you stared down at your bare feet, already caked in dirt, trying desperately to calm yourself down.
"This year has been incredibly successful thanks to all your hard work boys." The Elder announced gleefully, while you wept, finally taking his dirty hand off of you, "Our reports are showing a 22% increase in profits from last year."
Ransom whistled loudly as the others smiled proudly.
"Ari my boy," The Elder said, directing his attention to him, "You were responsible for the most contracts this year and so you will get a 5 minute headstart on your brothers."
Ari chuckled loudly, clapping his hands together and then rubbing them mischievously.
"Wait a damn minute." Lloyd yelled, "You know I've been focusing on the hit contracts to build up that side of the business, I've got a higher kill count than the entire mossad just from the last 6 months alone."
The elder thought for a second before nodding his head in agreement.
"You're right Lloyd, I apologise, you may enter with Ari." He said calmly.
Your breathing was still ragged as you listened to talk of money and kill counts, shaking your head to yourself.
"Suck up." Ransom hissed.
"Fuck you." Lloyd grinned back.
"After the five minutes is up Steve and Ransom, you may enter the maze." The Elder finished.
"Sounds good to me, you know I'm the fastest runner." Steve jibed.
"Don't need to be fast," Ransom said with a sadistic grin, "Just need to listen for the cries."
You felt sick, this was fucked up, how could they get away with doing this?
"Now listen boys, I know you like to have your fun," The Elder teased causing the brothers to smirk back, "And while I encourage you to enjoy your new toy, fucking her doesn't guarantee the win. Only the person who brings her out of the maze and back to me will be our winner."
A sob escaped from your throat as you took in the new information, tears dropping down onto the ground beneath you.
Lloyd laughed sadistically at the sound whilst all his brothers shared chuckles and wide smiles.
"We know father." Steve grinned, still amused by your outburst.
"Doesn't mean I won't enjoy breaking her first." Ransom purred.
"If you get there first asshole." Ari sneered.
"I won last year didn't I?" Ransom said with a raised brow and a wide smile.
"Only coz I let her go." Lloyd scoffed.
"You didn't let her go." Steve smiled as he teased his brother, "She kicked you in the balls and ran."
"Details schmetials." Lloyd groaned.
"Okay boys." The Elder announced, clapping his hands together loudly, "Shall we begin?"
There were a series of yes' as you shook where you stood, finally braving looking up at these abhorrent men.
"Any last words boys?" The elder asked and you watched each man with clouded eyes as they met your gaze in turn.
"You better hope I don't catch you first Kitten." Lloyd sneered as he licked his lips.
"Don't worry, he won't, but that don't mean you'll be safe Princess." Ari teased with a smile whilst flexing his muscles.
"I just hope you know how to control your mouth Bunny, I don't deal with brattiness." Ransom scoffed whilst taking in your quivering form.
"That's because he is a brat." Steve prodded at his brother before directing his attention to you, "But they are right Angel, if you wanna survive you better hope I find you first."
"Any last words little dove?" The elder teased, prodding your sodden cheek with his finger.
You simply shook your head. What could you possibly say? How could you possibly begin to voice the thoughts and opinions running through your head?
"Well in that case." The elder smirked before stepping behind you.
You felt him tug on your hands and suddenly the rope dropped to the floor and your wrists were free. You clutched them in front of you, rubbing at the sore joints.
"Your time starts now." The elder announced.
You froze, looking up to the four men who were smiling at you excitedly.
"Run Angel." Steve growled.
You jumped at his tone and turned to the maze entrance. Fear and panic now taking over as you began to run through the entrance.
You twisted and turned down different paths as the high leafy walls threatened to consume you.
You struggled to catch your breath as you scrambled over the dirt, hearing the distant sound of wolf whistles and howling.
You tripped over a branch, hitting the floor with your knees and a sob ripped through your chest.
No, you wouldn't let them win. You had to fight, you needed to fight. So with shaky hands you pushed yourself up, stumbling back onto your legs and continued on, determined to find a way to escape your fate, to escape this nightmare.
Pairing: Dark Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader (Princess)
Summary: Forced here against your will, your only goal is to burn this whole institution to the ground. But your adviser has his own ideas about how your time at Rogers Academy is going to go.
Word Count: ~2.5k
Warnings: Dark fic, patriarchal dystopia, intense sexism and misogyny, manhandling, brief spanking, references to non-con animal play, mouth washing, gags, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
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A/N: Okay, yes, it's technically Tuesday, but my accidental break from this series was longer than I expected, and I'm having (minor) surgery today, so I'm giving myself a little treat to focus on both before and after.
Bigger thanks than usual to @paperweight91, who was so good through all of my health issues at encouraging me when I was able to work on this and reassuring me when I couldn't. 💜💜💜
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You went completely dead weight as you were dragged down the hall by two “hall monitors.” What a crock of shit. You were grown women, not children. You didn’t need constant supervision. Well, you thought to yourself with a smirk, maybe you did. Since you’d been forced here against your will after a marriage you’d also been forced into, you weren’t going to make a single thing easy for these fuckers. They’d rue the day they accepted you into this “school.” Right. Brainwashing institution more like.
You’d done your research. You knew exactly what they did inside these walls. You’d met someone at the last protest you’d gone to whose sister had been sent here. They said she’d come out of it a shell of her former self. Well. That wasn’t going to be you. You were going to do whatever you could to stay yourself and burn this place down in the process. Fuck this place. Fuck your husband for sending you here. And fuck your family, most of all, for selling you to him in the first place.
You felt one of the men holding you falter, and you cackled. “What the fuck, man?” He whined to the other one. “How’d we get the shit detail?”
Idiot Monitor #2 tugged up hard on your arm, and you grimaced but didn’t cry out. “Shut up and just get her to the office so we can be done with this shit.”
You flailed your whole body as much as you could in their hold, just to make it that much harder, and you felt Idiot #1 almost drop you. “Bitch!” he yelled. “Why can’t you just walk?!”
You grinned, bright and feral, but your satisfaction was short-lived as the three of you finally came to a stop in front of a heavy oak door. Idiot #2 knocked, and when there was an answering grunt from inside, opened the door and threw you in, slamming it shut behind you. You landed on a plush rug, surrounded by mahogany and leather, right in front of a large, opulent desk. You looked up to find a man standing tall behind the desk, gazing curiously down at you. He had dark hair, slicked back on top and shaved on the sides, with a mustache that was trendy right now for men trying to prove something. It looked fucking stupid. His blue eyes pierced into you, and you scrambled back, trying to keep as much distance between the two of you as you could.
Your first instinct was to go straight for the door. Let them try to chase you over this entire campus. But when you turned the handle, nothing happened. You tried again, a little more desperately, but still, the door wouldn’t budge.
At a soft chuckle, you looked back over your shoulder at the man, Mr. Hansen, you presumed. Your “adviser.” What a joke. He grinned at you, his eyes sparkling, and held up a little black remote. “That door will only open with my say so,” he said. “So why don’t we cut the shit and you sit down so we can get started, Princess?”
You would do no such thing. You turned around to face him, but kept your back pressed against the door, as far away from him as you could physically manage. “That’s not my name!” you growled at him. It was what everyone had called you since you’d entered this hellhole, and you were done with it.
He shrugged like none of this mattered as he came out from behind his desk. You slid a few feet down the wall in the opposite direction, trying to keep as much distance between you as you could. “It is while you’re here,” he said calmly. “See, the whole point of this place is to make you a brand new version of yourself. Whoever we want you to be. And that starts with your name. Besides, I think Princess will suit you by the time I’m done.”
A chill went through your whole body. This place was so evil. You took a deep breath. They wouldn’t change you. You wouldn’t let them. “Fuck you!”
He laughed, loud and uncaring. “Not until I’ve got you declawed, baby.”
Your stomach flipped in revulsion. “You can’t fuck me. I’ve already got a husband.” Showing any loyalty to the asshole you were married to made you sick, but if men only ever respected each other, then you’d use it to your advantage any way you could.
But he just grinned. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I talked to him. Seems you’ve been causing all kinds of trouble.” He took another step in your direction, and you slid down the wall another few feet. “Disobedience, disrespect, aggression. Did you really attack him with a butter knife?”
You didn’t answer, just moved further down the wall as he took another step closer, your eyes carefully tracking his every movement.
“Well, either way,” he said to your silence with another careful step, “he’s tired of it. He’s ready for the submissive little doll he was promised. That he deserves. And he doesn’t care how we achieve that. So that means I can fuck you into submission or spank your ass raw or any creative little thing I can come up with. Whatever I want as long as when you go home, you bend over and take it like a good little cunt and say thank you after. Which you will, because I’m being paid a shit-load of money to make sure you do.”
You swallowed nervously, still inching away. An unfamiliar panic settling in your chest. The only good thing about being married was the way your status had protected you from other men. But if that was gone now… You tried to hold onto your bluster, your rage. You couldn’t let it slip now. He wouldn’t cow you. So you opened your mouth and spoke without thinking. “Yeah? Those are a lot of big words for someone who hasn’t even gotten within ten feet of me yet.”
He took a moment just to observe you, as you held your hands out in front of you to hopefully ward him off. “You’re right,” he said, then stretched his neck to one side until it cracked. “I’m not here to talk at you. I’m here to make you obey.” And then, without another second of warning, he lunged across the room.
You tried to scramble away, but you realized too late that he had you cornered up against a filing cabinet. You tried to pivot on one foot, switch directions, and go back the way you’d come, but you stumbled, and he caught you easily. You tried to lash out, use your legs as he pinned your arms behind your back, but he moved too fast, and before you knew it, you were being slammed chest-first down onto his desk.
You hollered and screamed and fought as much as you could, but he still made quick work of restraining your arms with cuffs you hadn’t noticed attached to each of the far corners of his desktop. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered as he kicked your feet apart as far as they would go so that you lost all leverage. Then he strapped them to the legs of the desk, so that you were basically a bent-over starfish.
You let out a guttural scream and then, “Fuck you! Let me fucking go, you stupid cuck! I’m gonna fucking kill you! I’m gonna rip that ugly mustache right off your face!” You tugged wildly on all of your restraints, but there was no give. The only thing that moved as you tried to flail was your ass.
As if you’d called attention to it, Hansen flipped your skirt up to expose you to the room. He landed three quick, stinging smacks to one butt cheek. “Calm the fuck down!” he ordered. You heard a drawer open and close behind you, and then the crinkling of plastic. “The fucking mouth on you,” he exclaimed. “That isn’t how good girls talk.” And then, the only warning you got was the feeling of him leaning over you before something was shoved into your mouth and then strapped behind your head.
It wasn’t a ball gag, you knew that much. Too square and a weird texture. Not soft, but… malleable. Then the taste—antiseptic and clean in the worst way—hit your tongue, and you knew exactly what it was. Oh god, he’d shoved an entire bar of soap in your mouth. You tried to spit it out, forgetting that it was strapped to you, but all that did was work up a lather. And gagging only made it worse.
“You know,” he said, crouching down so he was at your eye level, “Rogers has always sworn by these soap gags to wash out bad girls’ dirty mouths. And I have to admit, watching you foaming at the mouth right now, I’m starting to see the appeal.” You tried to thrash again to no avail as he stood back up. “Oh, relax. It’s completely non-toxic, see?” He waved the foil wrapper in your face. “Specially manufactured to go into the filthy mouths of whores just like you.”
You thrashed and grunted, unable to stay down even when you knew you’d been beat, even when the awful taste of soap filled your mouth and leaked down your throat. You refused to let him think he’d won, think you’d ever give up.
He perched on the edge of his desk, right next to your face. You futilely tried to pull away. You’d never stop trying. He rested one hand on the base of your skull. “Alright,” he said, “now that I finally have you quiet, here’s how things are going to work. I’m not stupid. I know you’re going to keep fighting me. But every time you do, I’m going to knock you down, just like this. And the longer you keep fighting the inevitable, the more creative I’ll get, the more fun I’ll have, until I finally break you. Which I will. There’s no question about that.”
The hand on your skull, pet you gently, trailing down your neck. Out of everything that had happened so far, that was the thing that revolted you the most, those gentle touches. Him thinking he had any right. Just as you started to try to buck him off, the gentleness disappeared, and he grasped your head harshly, forcibly turning it to the other side and angling it so you were looking into the corner of the room. Your confusion lasted only for a second before your eyes focused in on what he wanted you to see. A large dog crate with heavy bars. Big enough for a person on all fours. Big enough for you. You couldn’t control the way you whimpered in fright. You hated yourself for it immediately.
At the sound, he immediately went back to petting you, slow strokes down your back now. “Yeah, I brought that in specially for you. To get us on the same page right away. To help you understand how things work here. You want to be treated like a lady, you need to act like one. You act like a child, and I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee. And if you act like an animal,” he leaned down so that he blanketed your back, his weight pressing down on you, and whispered right in your ear, “then I will fucking treat you like one.”
You reacted immediately, pulling at your restraints even harder than you’d done before, the cuffs cut into your wrists painfully, but you didn’t fucking care. You’d cut your own hand off before you let him do that to you. A sound escaped your mouth, around the soap, that you could only describe as guttural, feral. Animal.
Hansen laughed as he stood up, uncaring, amused. “You’re so big and tough, aren’t you?” he grinned. “Yeah, we’ll see.” He walked around behind his desk and checked his tablet as you continued making as much of a racket as possible. “Oh, look at that! It’s lunchtime. Thank god, I could eat a horse.” He looked at you, cocking his head to the side. “And you need some time to think, doncha? Yeah. You’ve got a big decision to make.” He reached down to stroke one of your hands, even as you unsuccessfully tried to twist it in order to claw at him. “Yeah, you’ve gotta decide if you’re gonna spend tonight in your nice little room upstairs,” he paused as he walked back around so he was standing behind you, one hand palming your ass as soon as he was close enough, “or down here in my cage. I’ve got a feeling which one you’ll choose,” and you could hear his smirk, even if you couldn’t see it, “but I’ll give you a few hours to think about it anyway. I’ve got a busy afternoon full of personal grooming consultations. We’ll do yours right here, I think, once I’m done with everyone else. I’m betting that’s when you’ll give me your answer. But I can give myself a little preview now,” he said, as his hand slowly moved from your ass around to your front to palm your mound through the barely there thong you’d been forced into that morning. He laughed again as soon as he felt you, loud and obnoxious. “Oh yeah, I fucking knew it. We’ll definitely have to do something about that bush.” And then, still laughing, you heard his footsteps leave the room and walk down the hall.
Left alone, your breathing quickened. He couldn’t actually leave you tied up here with soap in your mouth for hours. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. You would get out. You would get out. You would get out.
After several minutes, footsteps echoed down the hall again. He was coming back. It’d just been a pathetic attempt to scare you. Well, it hadn’t worked, the fucking loser. He wouldn’t break you.
The steps stopped right at the still-open door. There was another loud laugh, but it wasn’t Hansen. You realized, as a pit formed in your stomach, that it was Idiot #2. And Hansen hadn’t pulled your skirt down after he’d flipped it up, so your bare ass was on display for anyone who walked by. And then you heard the unmistakable digital snap of a phone camera. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, and you could feel his leer burning into your backside. “God, it’s gonna be so good to watch them break you.” And then with another chuckle, you heard him walk away.
But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t break you. They wouldn’t they wouldn’t they wouldn’t.
For the first time, as all you could see was the dog cage in the corner, its door open and ready, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself.
