Working It Off

From the outside, the place was even worse than Rose had expected. The entrance to the long dirt driveway was hidden by pines and kudzu, and she drove right by it on the first pass. Once she was finally on it, her wheels spun, kicking up gravel and wet red mud from the recent rain. Good thing her Tercel had already seen its better day.

She winced at the sound of dogs barking as she made the sharp turn that led to the double-wide trailer. She hated dogs, having been run up a tree by one as a kid. But if there was one truth of the South, it was that where there were red dirt roads and trailers, there were dogs, and usually more than one. In this case, there were several kennels full of them, all pitbulls she was willing to bet.

No, actually, Rose wasn't willing to bet anything. Betting had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She gritted her teeth and parked as close to the lopsided wooden deck as she could, hoping to minimize her walk through the red mud. Just a few hours of house-cleaning in questionable company, she told herself, and this will all be over.

She turned off the car, tossed her keys in her pink-and-white striped satchel, and took a deep breath, reminding herself how much she loved her Uncle Jack. It had recently come to light that he had a bit of a gambling problem, but Rose was willing to wave it off as the stress of her grandmother's recent passing. Grandma had been Rose's legal guardian since age four, but Uncle Jack had been Grandma's baby boy until the day she died, and he'd taken her death hard.

Rose was just glad they still had each other. Uncle Jack was a jolly man, and he'd always been good to her. She should be happy to help him out. He'd even been the one to insist that she go to the local branch of the university full time instead of trying to juggle work and school; and since he was a construction manager, he made enough to support them both while she studied. As long as he stayed away from the pool tables and poker machines and scratch-off tickets. And dog fights, too, from the looks of this man's yard.

Sighing in resignation, she opened the door and stuck one foot gingerly out to test the wetness of the ground outside. She immediately regretted it. A pitbull, possibly white-furred but now orange with dirt, came out of nowhere, growling and snapping at her exposed heel. With a shriek, she drew her leg back and slammed the door. Now what was she supposed to do?

She no sooner had the thought when the storm door burst open on the deck.

"Get yer ass up here, you mangy old bitch!" yelled a huge figure from the door.

Rose had assumed the owner would be as revolting as his property, and she was not mistaken. He was tall, stout, and barrel-chested, and older than her Uncle Jack. The top of his head was bald, but a long, gray beard compensated for what he was missing up top. He chewed on a cigar and wore an army-green wifebeater, but the garment didn't fully cover his paunch. His faded work pants hung too low on his hips, an obvious result of not fitting around his waistline, and she was sure he'd be showing some serious plumber's butt from behind.

It was clear she was in for a long afternoon.

"And you get yer ass on up here, too, little lady!" he called, waving her in. "Dogs ain't gonna hurt ya, not with me here. Come on, get on inside 'fore it starts rainin' again."

Rose grabbed her satchel and eased herself out into the mud, her sneakers squelching as she tiptoed across what passed for his front yard. The dog at his side whined impatiently, and the ones in the kennels went nuts. She could practically hear their teeth in their furious barking, and the chain-link kennel walls rattled and screeched under their attack.

"And kick them shoes off here," the old man was saying over the noise. "Ain't no sense in trackin' mud through my kitchen."

They couldn't agree more on that account, since she would be mopping said kitchen within the hour. She hoped he wasn't the type to have dead cockroach carcasses lying along the baseboards, but she felt she already knew the answer to that one.

She toed out of her sneakers, keeping one eye on the restless dog at his side. Then she chanced a glance inside to find the interior was dated but relatively tidy. Of course, 'tidy' didn't mean 'not dirty'. Her own bedroom at home was a testament to that.

"Well, don't just stand there, darlin'," he barked at her. "Come on in."

He didn't move out of the way, though. He held the dog's broken chain in one hand and held the storm door open for her with the other, so that she had to squeeze between his big belly and the doorjamb, the pitbull sniffing her crotch the whole time. She blushed as her breasts brushed against the old man's paunch.

"Thatta girl," he said with a chuckle. He let the dog go and swatted it outside with a smack to its rear end. Then he closed and locked the door and turned to give her a predictable leer. "You know why you're here, I reckon?" He puffed on his cigar, his eyes freely roaming over her.

Rose crossed her arms over her chest, for all the good it did her. She was very petite — only five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds — but her breasts were a full C-cup, and her arms did little to cover them, only pushed them together. She suddenly wished she hadn't put her long, strawberry blonde hair up in a ponytail. That would have afforded some extra coverage from his lecherous stare. But she couldn't see the point in cleaning house with her hair down. "My Uncle Jack sent me," she said, looking anywhere but at the redneck barbarian in front of her. "He said he owed you some money, and you'd agreed to let me work it off for him."

"That I did," he said with a big grin. "You're a pretty little thing, ain't ya? You sure you're related to Jack Stevens?"

"Yes, sir. He's..." Rose swallowed nervously, wishing he'd stop checking her out. "He's my uncle. My mom's brother. But I never really knew my mom." Why was she telling him all that? She clamped her mouth shut.

"Aww, ain't that a shame," he replied. "Your Uncle Jack's not so lucky, you know." He took the cigar from his mouth with big, fat fingers and started walking towards her, licking his lips. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, eh?"

"Um... I guess so." Rose walked backwards away from him until she felt the edge of the kitchen table hit her bottom. "So... should I get started then?"

"Oho!" he exclaimed. He reached down and around her, and Rose froze, but he was only putting his cigar out in the ashtray behind her. Still, once it was out, he didn't offer to move away. He smelled like stale smoke and coffee that had been sitting on the warmer too long. At least he didn't smell of alcohol. "You're an eager one, eh? I like that. I figured you might want a beer first, though." He gave her a wink. "You're gonna need something to take the edge off, if you know what I mean."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Rose said. She tried to lean away from him, but the table was right behind her, and he had her trapped. "I want to make sure I do a good job."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, darlin'," he said with a chuckle. "Ol' Reggie's gonna make sure he gets his money's worth." He licked his lips some more and stared down at her breasts.

Rose's heart started beating double time. She knew Uncle Jack wouldn't willingly send her into a lion's den, but she was starting to think maybe he had misunderstood the agreement. She definitely wasn't here for anything more than some cleaning. She didn't want to encourage this Reggie man, but she was afraid to push him away, too, lest he call the whole thing off and make her uncle pay all of what he owed at once. She figured the best thing she could do was stick to business and hope he backed off.

"I didn't bring any supplies, though," she said. "Maybe you could show me where you keep your rags and cleaners and whatnot? Tell me which room you want me to do first?"

"Rags and cleaners?" This time the chuckle was almost like his dog's growl. "You think you're here to clean Ol' Reggie's house, girl?"

Rose swallowed, her throat suddenly too dry. He put one beefy arm on either side of her, caging her in against the table. "Well, yeah," she said to his chest. "I mean, I thought that was..." She trailed off, her eyes darting towards the locked door.

"Just how much money do you think your Uncle Jack owes me?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She tried to stay calm, but she started to tremble nonetheless. Had Uncle Jack known this old man would act this way? Had he intentionally whored her out? Just how bad was his addiction? "I... I f-figured it was a c-couple hundred dollars or so."

"A couple hundred dollars?" At that, he laughed, a deep, full laugh from his belly. "Try eight grand!"

Rose's heart sank. If he was telling the truth, there was no way they could pay the debt, at least not the entire thing at once. "I didn't—" She stopped, trying to think. "Look, Mr. ... um, Mr. Reggie. Why don't you let me get to work on the house, and that will take care of some of it."

He shook his head, but she desperately rambled on.

"And I can come back! I'll come back every weekend. And... and we can work on paying off the rest in installments. It shouldn't take too long, maybe a couple of months, but I promise we're good for it." Her mind raced. They'd cut off the cable and stop ordering take-out for starters, and no more beer for Uncle Jack. Definitely no more scratch-off tickets. Maybe they could get a title loan on his truck, dodgy as those were. Maybe she could get an advance on her financial aid for spring term.

"I've already given your uncle several months to pay, girl, and I haven't seen a dime. Ol' Reggie's startin' to get impatient. And I don't think you'd like me when I get impatient."

She eyed the door again. Should she try to make a run for it? She didn't want to think about what this man would do to try to stop her. "Please, sir," she begged, trying to rouse his sympathy. "I... I go to school. I'm studying to be a social studies teacher. My grandma passed away not long ago, and it's been hard on Uncle Jack and me. But he's an honest man, and I know he wouldn't have run up a tab with you if he didn't intend to pay it off."

"O' course he intends to pay it off. That's why he sent you here, ain't it?"

Rose didn't want to believe that. She felt tears sting her eyes. "Please, let's work something out. I'm... I'm not that kind of girl."

That only seemed to encourage him. His blue eyes glinted. "Looks like you're that kind of girl today, darlin'," he said, his voice gruff. "Or else your Uncle Jack's in deep shit. I was tryin' to be a nice guy and cut Jack a break. But if you'd rather me make him pay up the hard way... well, you've seen how much my dogs like a fight."

"No! No, please. I don't want you to hurt my Uncle Jack."

She had no doubt he'd make good on the threat. She looked him up and down, and when she imagined that big, hairy body on top of hers, she shuddered. Sure, she'd had fantasies about being taken against her will, being forced to enjoy degrading and disgusting things, but those were fantasies. The man bearing down on her was very real, and not at all like the handsome, urbane men in her fantasies.

He was so old, for one thing; he must have been in his sixties. But maybe that would work in her favor. Maybe he wouldn't be able to get it up all the way. Or keep it up. Maybe she could put her all into it, so to speak, and it would be over quickly. Then she could just go home and take a scalding hot shower and forget about the whole ordeal. She couldn't believe she was considering it, but what choice did she have? He might even get physical with her if she didn't agree to it. He was plump around the middle, sure, but his arms were thick and threatening with muscle.

"If I do this, you promise you'll clear my uncle of his debt?" Surely he could get a hooker for a lot cheaper than eight grand, and for more than one afternoon. It was hard to imagine he'd let the whole debt go at one tumble in the sheets. Then again, she supposed her humiliation added an extra level of enjoyment for him. How could Uncle Jack be so stupid as to get into debt eight thousand dollars? He was mourning for his mother, she told herself. He wasn't himself.

"'Course I will," he replied, shrugging one bull-like shoulder. "I might be a mean ol' pervert, but I'm a fair man, after all."

Rose steeled herself. No matter how she tried, she didn't see any way out of this but straight ahead. She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "Okay," she said at last. Or rather, some voice she didn't recognize said the word. "I'll... I'll do what you want me to do." And please make it quick.

At that, he bent his head down and licked the side of her face. He actually licked her, with the flat of his rough old tongue, from her chin all the way to her ear. Rose shuddered and tried to keep from crying out in surprise and disgust. "Now that's a smart girl," he said huskily. "You ever been fucked?"

She nodded yes, her lips closed tightly. She didn't trust herself to open them, lest she tell him exactly what he could do with his eight thousand dollars.

"Aww, that's a shame," he replied. "I was hopin' I'd get to break me in a virgin." He suddenly grabbed a handful of her ass, and at that, she did cry out in surprise. "No matter, a slut's just as good as a virgin, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe even better."

Rose refused to look him in the eye. She tightened her jaw. She wanted to scream that she wasn't a slut, that there was nothing slutty about her. But despite the fact that she should have slapped him for using that word, something deep inside her awoke at the sound of it. That was even worse. She blinked back tears. She refused to get turned on. She couldn't make it through this if she let herself get turned on.

"Go on and take them clothes off," he demanded, stepping back and cupping himself through his jeans. "Lemme see what an eight-thousand-dollar fucktoy looks like."

The word 'fucktoy' was even worse than 'slut' because she was undeniably his plaything here. And worse, she'd agreed to it. She was crazy. She should have run. Instead, she lowered her eyes and pulled her t-shirt slowly up over head.

"I said take them clothes off, slut!" he roared, making her jump. "If I wanted a striptease, I'd wave some dollar bills at you. I wanna see that young, tight little body, and I wanna see it now. And head on in the living room while you strip down. Ol' Reggie's gettin' tired of standing here."

He gave her a shove in the direction of the living room. Despite the shock she felt from his sudden outburst, Rose obeyed at once, dropping her shirt and taking her bra off with trembling fingers, working her jeans and panties down at the same time and stepping out of them, pulling off her socks as she went.

"That's more like it," he said, plunking himself down on the sofa. He motioned for her to stand in front of him. "Now. Let Ol' Reggie get a good look at ya."

Rose knew it was futile to cover herself, so she tightened her fists at her sides as his eyes raked over her naked body. Her nails bit into her palms when he suddenly grabbed her breasts, cupping and squeezing them together.

"You're a tiny thing, ain't ya?" he said, moving his hands down to circle her waist. He turned her sideways and grabbed a handful of one butt cheek and started kneading it. "Ah well," he said, chuckling, "I'll wager you can take a good, hard poundin' same as any other slut. And it if you can't..." He slapped her butt hard, making her yelp. "Well, that's your problem, not mine."

Rose kept her eyes closed while he continued to touch her. She tried to pretend that it was someone else's hands on her, but even with her eyes closed, she could imagine the leer on his wrinkled, hairy old face and the fat swell of his belly.

He took his time stroking and fondling. He seemed to be most interested in her ass, though. He kept coming back to it, kneading and jiggling it, and after a while he started spanking it; hard slaps with the flat of his palm followed by rough squeezes. The worst thing was that Rose started to get wet as the vibrations shot between her legs.

"Mmm," he purred, "I love a nice ass, darlin', and that's a real nice ass, real nice and bubbly. Turn back around and face me now, lemme look at that little cunny."

Rose obeyed and squeezed her legs together, embarrassed at how slick she was getting. "Don't like hairy cunts," he grumbled. He raked at the short hairs on her mound. "I oughtta make you go shave for me, but you ain't got as much hair down there as some, and it's light-colored, so I reckon I'll let it slide."

It wasn't like she didn't take care of herself. She normally kept her mound trimmed and bikini-waxed in the summer, but it was well into autumn now, and she hadn't necessarily been focused on dating lately, what with her full course load.

"All right, open them eyes and look at me. So you're a schoolgirl, are ya?"

Rose nodded.

"Well, listen up, 'cause Ol' Reggie's gonna give you a lesson in all you need to know for the rest of the afternoon. You payin' attention?"

She nodded again.

"Good. Here's how it goes. You got three holes to work off that debt."

Rose started to panic. She'd had sex a few times, and she'd given a blow job or two, but she'd never had anal sex, and she'd never planned on it. In fact, she'd do anything she could to avoid it. She opened her mouth to protest, but he tapped one fat finger to her lips.

"I see I got your attention," he said with a smirk. "Now, like I was sayin', you got three holes, and I like to give 'em all their own special names. Makes 'em easier to use, see? I call out the name, and you know which hole to give me." His voice got sharp. "And when I call one out, you'd better be quick about gettin' it ready for me, you got it?"

"Y-yes. Yes, sir," Rose said. Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd blow his load in her mouth before he ever got to her ass. God, she couldn't believe she was considering that lucky.

"Let's start up top." He thrust his finger through her lips, making her squeak through her nose. "Suck," he ordered her. "That's good. This is your suckhole, and that's exactly what you should do with it. I also call it a slobberhole, and you'll see why once I get to usin' it the way I like."

Rose fought back tears of humiliation as his finger pumped in and out of her mouth. She could taste the stale tobacco from his cigar on his finger.

"Oh yeah, that's a prime suckhole, I can tell already. Now, we also call this hole a cumdump, 'cause that's where Ol' Reggie's gonna shoot his load when he's done." He grinned wickedly. "But you don't have to worry about that for a good long while 'cause we got all afternoon, and your uncle's got himself a big debt, so Ol' Reggie's gonna take his sweet time cummin'."

Rose pulled off his finger with a plop and swallowed a knot of dread. So much for hoping it would be quick, she thought. Eight thousand dollars was a lot of money. Of course he'd make it last as long as he could.

"So let's review. What do we call that hole up there?"

It was so much worse to have to say it back to him. That was the point, she figured. "A suckhole," she said quietly, eyes downcast.

"What else do we call it? And speak up this time."

"A slo—" She didn't want to say it. It was too horrible. She tightened her jaw and forced it through her teeth. "A slobberhole."

"And when it's time for Ol' Reggie to cum? What do we call it then?"

"A cumdump," she spat. The point was clear here. She was his little whore toy, and he was determined to debase her as much as possible.

"Oho!" he shouted. "See, that's what I like about you college girls. Such quick learners. Now this little hole down here..."