Destiny Ch. 02

Note: this story contains drug use, nonconsent, and a large age gap. Please consider before reading.

All participants in this work are above 18 years of age.

Also, the story is slow as it is multiparted. Have patience.

if you haven't read Chapter 1, the story may be hard to follow.

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In his garage, Trent pointed her towards the SUV instead of his truck. The blue compact was probably a few years old, but pristine nonetheless. It was rather fancy for Destiny's tastes, complete with a back up camera and heated seats. In silence, Trent shifted into reverse and backed out of the garage.

As they moved back towards town, Destiny was fidgeting, pulling her shirt up to better contain her cleavage and pulling her hair back into a long braid. She rubbed away some of the smeared makeup around her eyes and did up the front buttons of her blouse. Though it was clear she was trying to make herself more tidy and proper, she only made Trent want her more. He wanted to be the one to undo the buttons, pull the clip from her braid and watch those curls tumble around her...

Trent shook himself, forcing his attention back on the road. After driving for more than fifteen years, it was second nature to him. But this girl took so much of his focus, his mind wandering so quickly around her, he actually felt nervous being behind the wheel.

This drive back to town felt infinitely shorter than usual. Before they knew it, Trent was turning onto Ronsdale Road. Faded four story apartment buildings lined either side. The parking lots were riddled with potholes and old dumpsters. There were people huddled on the front steps smoking or drinking. There was the occasional children's bike or a stroller on the front grass, and any cars were beaten up, with mismatched doors and dragging mufflers. Further down, the street was populated by small bungalows and row houses which were part of the provincial public housing program.

"Last one on the right," Destiny directed him towards a small, dingier building set back from the sidewalk. Trent pulled up to the curb and killed the engine. He went to take off his seatbelt, but Destiny put out a hand to stop him.

"My mom is probably home," Destiny said. "This would be goodbye."

Trent frowned at the building. He could almost smell the crack smoke from there.

"Hey," Destiny said, as she slid hand up his arm. He looked into her big silver eyes and, for a second, couldn't imagine saying goodbye. "I had fun today. Thank you."

He grinned that goofy smile and reached out to stroke her cheek, his fingers sliding into her hair. "No, thank you."

He brought her mouth closer, closing the gap between them to kiss her. This one was slow, gentle. Hot, but coals rather than fire. He held her face while her nails gripped his shoulders. There was no hurry, neither of them wanted to break the embrace.

They only broke away when there was a bang on the car. Stevie Rogers was at the window, his dark muddy brown eyes glaring his disapproval. He was in his mid-fifties. He used to drive a garbage truck before he got hurt on the job. Now he lived off the settlement he got from the county, workers comp, and disability payments. It was more than enough to feed his habit. The story was that he got hooked on the pain pills they had him on after his accident.

Trent had heard that Stevie had a younger woman living with him. Trent had also heard that he'd been saying things about the woman and her teenage daughter. This was a small town; Trent knew exactly the type of man Stevie was.

Destiny, on the other hand, simply opened her door, he body language fierce and seriously pissed. "What?!" She spat in the man's face.

"The school called. Get your lazy ass inside," Stevie drawled. Despite the near constant pill habit and his claiming disability, Stevie remained as strong and as solid as he had been slinging garbage 365 days a year. His wife-beater tank was stretched tightly across his chest and his sweatpants sat at the bottom of his flat stomach. His liquor habit hadn't shaped his body... yet. Stevie had a reputation of doing anything he needed to do to get his pills; he wasn't someone to mess with.

Again, Destiny didn't move. Her eyes narrowed and she chuckled darkly. "Fuck you, Stevie. I don' gotta to do shit you say." Trent felt his eyebrows raise. Destiny fell so easily into a trailer-trash vernacular, it was shocking. Trent was also impressed at her bravery, speaking to her mother's boyfriend that way.

Stevie clenched his fists and stood his ground. "Get outta the fuckin car and get your freeloader ass inside. If it weren't for me, you and your mom would be on the fuckin street. She might pay rent and sleep in my bed, but you don't. So you're gonna do whatever the fuck I say. Get the fuck inside." He said that last four words in barely more than a hiss, but the rage behind them was there simmering just below the surface. Destiny knew what he could do, what he did do, to her mom. She had seen it, she had heard it through their adjoining bedroom wall while she tried to sleep at night...

She got out of the car and started towards the building without so much as a backwards glance. Stevie kept a hand on the door and watched Destiny, his eyes travelling from her hair to her ass to her thighs, and back up again. He then returned his gaze to Trent. "The fuck are you doing, Bray? Driving around with some school girl, fucking her in front of my home?"

"I wasn't..." Trent started, but Stevie cut him off.

"Get the fuck outta here you piece'o shit," Stevie snarled and slammed the door shut. The whole car shook. Trent wanted nothing more than to go pound Stevie into the ground, but this guy was explosive and ready to snap any second. His body grew hot with embarrassment at his cowardice, watching Stevie follow Destiny into the building.

Destiny had anticipated her mom being home, so was taken aback when the living room was empty. She heard the front door shut and spun around to face Stevie. The apartment was dark, only one lamp in the far corner of the living room. The TV was on to the sports channel, the sound turned down, casting a blue hue over the space. Several empty beer cans sat on the coffee table, along with a CD case with a small pile of white power and a razor blade sitting on it.

The man crossed to the kitchen, flicking on the light over the stove. He punched a few buttons and the ancient voicemail machine sputtered to life, announcing that there were two saved messages. He hit another button and her gym teacher's voice came from the speaker.

"Um... this message is for Destiny Quint's mother. It's Mr Jones, her Gym teacher. Unfortunately, your daughter has missed the maximum number of classes for this semester, meaning that she has failed Gym. As this is a requirement for graduation, she will have to repeat with me next semester. Also, due to the number of overall absences she's had so far this year, Destiny is suspended for three days, starting immediately. If you have any questions, please direct them towards the vice principal. Alright, bye-bye." The line clicked.

Destiny felt herself pale. Stevie was staring at her, his gaze burning into her skin. What bullshit. Her mother would be so angry...

"Where's my mom?" Destiny asked, just to break the awful silence.

"Someone called in sick so she's working late. I knew you'd be waiting 'til she was here to come around." Stevie sniffed, rubbing at his already irritated nose. "And don't think you can just delete the message. She already knows, I made sure of it."

Destiny howled in frustration, grinding her teeth together. "Why the fuck do you care?!" she could feel her anger boiling, but there was also fear bubbling just below the surface.

"Because I'm sick of your tight entitled lil' ass walking around here like you can do whatever you wanna jus' because your mom don't give a fuck!" He was high and raving, his black pupils almost encompassing his muddy irises.

"Why? She's the only one who gets to. You aren't my father and you have no say in my life!" Destiny was furious. Ballsy. The perfect afternoon she'd had with Trent started to fade away. She swallowed, feeling emboldened. "Fuck you!"

For a big guy, Stevie moved quick. He had one hand in her hair and the other on her upper arm. He yanked her head back, taking her breath away. "Fuck me?" He muttered, his lips pressed against her ear. "No, no, no. Fuck you."

He yanked her hair again, this time eliciting a whimper from her as he pushed her to her knees. She started to scream in protest, but he backhanded her quickly. It didn't hurt for long, but it took her aback. She gasped and tried to pull away, but felt some hair tear away from her scalp as he pulled her back in. Stevie was much stronger then she was, much larger. He had her trapped by the hair with one hand, the other was pulling his cock out of his sweatpants. He was wide, rock hard, and veiny, with a thick purple head swollen and dripping with pre-cum.

Destiny closed her eyes and tried to turn her head away. She felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks, but didn't remember crying. As much as she hated Stevie, the feeling of his thick fingers pulling her hair as he pushed his cock into her mouth was incredibly erotic. She felt herself once again wet between her legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? She thought desperately as she moaned around his cock.

"That's it baby. Take it," Stevie groaned, forcing himself deeper. "Remember, if you bite me, I'll fucking kill you. That's it, you filthy slut. You like older men huh? Let me teach you how older men like to fuck."

He started thrusting, forcing himself deeper into her mouth. She started to gag and tried to pull away. The hand in her hair pushed on the back of her head, forcing her forward, while the other hand went to her jaw to hold her still. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gagged and spluttered as Stevie rammed himself down her throat. He was fucking her face, his balls slapping against her chin. Both pain and a confusing pleasure spread from her throat to her hair.

Spit dripped down Destiny's chin. Stevie's thrusts were becoming erratic and faster. Oh god! Destiny thought, looking up at the great brute of a man standing over her. He's going to cum in my mouth...

Destiny tried desperately to pull away. She dug her nails into his thighs and tried to move. But he had her, holding her by the hair and jaw. He slapped her again. She would be bruised and beaten by the time he was done.

And then, with a moan, hot liquid poured on to Destiny's tongue. She spluttered and gagged as the front door opened, the sound seeming to come from far away. Her mom was there; her grey eyes, darker and smaller than her daughter's, popping out of her face at the sight in front of her.

Then she was screaming.

"You fucking slut! You no good, two-bit whore. I knew it! I KNEW IT!"

It took Destiny a moment to grasp that her mother was yelling at her. Her brain was fuzzy, the awful taste of his cum sticking to her tongue and lips. Spit and cum was smeared across her face. Stevie's cock was out of her mouth with a pop, and he let go of her hair as though dropping a hot pan that had burned him, all while stuffing himself into his pants.

Destiny stayed on her knees on the floor, staring up at her mom. She could feel the colour in her face, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was frozen, a sick deep fear starting in the pit of her stomach. Stevie had just... done that to her. And yet her mom was in her face, screaming.

"I'm done with you, you little shit. Pack your bags girlfriend, because you are done. Plant yourself on the street corner for all I care! It's where you fucking belong." Paris was raving, her hair, straighter and darker then Destiny's, wild and swinging.

"Mom! He made me! I swear!" Couldn't Paris see that? Didn't she see the finger marks on her face, or her tears; how her shirt was ripped and her hair knotted.

"No!" Paris screamed. "This always happens! You come on to all my boyfriends. What do you have that I don't? You're a nasty little liar and a slut. I'm done dragging you around and letting you ruin my life!" Her mother was furious, getting in Destiny's face and spraying spit everywhere. The girl could smell liquor and stale cigarettes, see the red irritated skin around her mom's nose. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy.

Destiny opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound was Paris's hand against Destiny's cheek. The slap was loud, and seemed to echo around the small apartment. It threw Destiny to the floor. Though it wasn't the first time she'd been slapped that evening, or even the hardest, it hurt the most.

"You have ten minutes to pack a bag and get out." This last was said with a low hiss. Her mother straightened and she turned to Stevie, who was leaning against the stove, looking nervous but triumphant. All he said was, "baby, come on. It's me." Then he held his arms out to her and Paris went to him.

Destiny few bile rise up her throat. She struggled to her feet and slammed down the hall to her room. A deep sense of loss, betrayal, and defeat rose within her. Ten minutes. That's all she had.

One benefit to moving so much was that Destiny was forced to be a minimalist. Her room, which had been a storage closet, was taken up mostly by her double mattress, with no frame or box spring, which she'd been dragging around for five years. Her dresser held a handful of outfits, bras and underwear, and two sweaters. One milk crate held her makeup case and hair stuff. Another held the handful of books and DVDs that were her favourites.

Everything Destiny owned fit in her faded pink military-style duffle bag, leaving the secondhand furniture and pillows behind. She made sure to grab her phone charger, and the old purple bunny she'd been given by the only boyfriend she'd ever really liked... Until he got arrested for human trafficking and it all came out.

She had to get in the bathroom to grab her toiletries, then she was good. She listened at the door for a moment but heard nothing. She opened it a crack, but still nothing. Destiny went to the hall and looked around the corner. The living room and kitchen were empty. The TV was off. Her mom's purse was gone, as was the pile of white powder.

They'd left. Together.

Anger bubbled in Destiny again as she walked back to the bathroom and grabbed her things. She threw them in the bag, panic rising in her throat. She had a cash stash in a sock at the bottom of her bag. She worked wherever she could, gas stations and drive-thrus. Jobs never lasted long, since she was always dragged away by Paris. Destiny would sell her mom's pills and cigarettes to kids at school, and rarely ever spent any money. At last count, she had a little over six hundred dollars. Enough to rent a room and buy food for two months, if she was lucky. It was just long enough to find a job and get on her feet. She'd worry about finishing high school later.

Destiny stopped at the door of her mom's room, which she shared with Stevie. Without letting herself think about it for too long, she opened her mom's drawer and pushed the lacy negligees aside. There, she found two half-full bottles of pills, a wad of cash, and half a carton of cigarettes. Why her mother thought ladies underthings would stop someone stealing from her, who knows.

In Stevie's bedside drawer were a couple of twenty-dollar bills, his prescription pain pills, a few grams of weed, and half a bottle of whisky. She took those too.

Destiny left her keys on the kitchen counter and pulled her jacket on. She'd had to leave most of her books and CDs, which were the only things she'd miss. She didn't look back as she left the apartment.

Destiny walked for fifteen minutes along the dark streets before she stopped outside the drive-thru coffee shop. It was one of the Canadian chain places, which went overboard on the maple leaves and hockey sponsorship. There were concrete benches outside, covered with a light dusting of November snow. It was dark and cold, and any triumph at stealing what little she could from Stevie and Paris dissolved quickly. Her face and scalp ached and burned. She felt used and dirty, sick to her stomach. The taste of him was stuck on her tongue.

Think. You need to get to the bus station in the next town over. It's a 30 minute drive. Get a one-way ticket to Toronto. You can do this. Not that it'll be any different in Toronto, but she couldn't be stuck in this town any longer. Her neck and throat throbbed, she could feel a bruise beginning on her cheek, and her stomach growled. Her eyes burned from crying. Her braid had come undone and her hair was a mess.

She would hitchhike, something she'd done before, but she needed to get cleaned up. Destiny dug her wad of cash out and counted. In total, thanks to Paris and Stevie, she had seven hundred and twenty dollars. Most of what her mom has squirreled away were fives. She shoved thirty dollars in her jeans and buried the rest in the bottom of her bag with the rest of her stolen items. Those she could easily sell if she needed to, but also knew she'd need to escape soon. She refused to let herself think about what had happened tonight because if she did, she would be broken and useless.

Inside the warm restaurant, she headed straight for the washroom. Fortunately, it was a solo one with a door that locked. Inside, Destiny washed her face and body the best she could from the tap, then brushed her teeth and fixed her makeup. She pulled her hair out of the braid, letting it fall around her face. She changed into a tight t-shirt dress and sheer leggings, put on deodorant and a spritz of body spray. She'd grabbed her beat up combats boots and slipped those on, cramming her converse into the bag instead. They were lighter to carry. She looked better but felt about the same. Still shameful and sore. She was right about the bruises, but was able to mostly cover them with makeup.

He phone beeped. For one second she hoped it was her mom. Instead, Trent's name popped up. "Hey. I wasnt going to text you. Dont wanna come on too strong. But I couldnt resist."

He was so sweet, so kind. Oh so sexy. He was almost worth sticking around for. Almost.

She ignored the message and left the bathroom, lugging her bag with her. She ordered a coffee and a muffin, then set herself down in a booth in the corner. This place was open for another few hours. Then she'd figure out her next move.

Her phone rang. Glancing at the screen in disbelief, Trent's name registered in her brain. He was calling her? "Okay, now you're coming on too strong," she muttered.

Trent laughed. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have warned you, I'm a worrier." There was laughter in the background, male raucous. It sounded like he was with friends. Yet he had taken the time to call her. Because he was worried about her.

The knot in Destiny's stomach loosened slightly, and she felt tears welling up again. She usually wasn't a crier, and felt her face flushed in embarrassment at her weakness.

"Destiny? You still there?"

She cleared her throat. "Umm yeah. Sorry. I just..." She clenched her teeth together, fighting back tears.

"Are you okay?" She heard him walking, then a door open and close.

"Um... yeah. I just... I need to get to the bus station in Jarvis."

"What? Why?"

Silence. Destiny couldn't find the words to say what had happened. How do you tell someone something like this? She could still feel Stevie's cock in her throat. She coughed.

"Where are you?" She could hear keys being picked up.

"Trent. No. I'm... I'm okay..."

"Where the fuck are you?" He demanded, growling. She told him the name of the place. "I'll be there in 10," he responded and hung up.

Seven minutes later he breezed through the door. His eyes zeroed in on her instantly and he strode over. He was so tall, so lean yet solid. He slid into the booth across from her, staring at her swollen and bruised face. She'd been crying again, meaning that most of the carefully applied make up had been rubbed away.