Arctic Revenge

Samantha stepped out of the back door of the building and wrapped the light jacket around her form as the cool breeze whipped down the alley. It was during the few precious dark hours of June in Juneau, Alaska and she was savoring the little bit of darkness she could find between the buildings. Her hand slipped to the inside pocket of the jacket and pulled out a hard pack of smokes. The lighter was pulled out from its nest between the cardboard and cellophane followed soon by a slender cigarette. The filter found its way to lilac lips and the lighter flicked to life between cupped hands, flaring a red ember upon the tobacco. Carefully she tucked away the lighter into its nest and returned the pack to her jacket, leaning upon the brick wall as she felt the nicotine rush through her system.

The heavy bass of the club that she was leaning against vibrated through her body, but she was so accustomed to it that she hardly noticed. Her shift was over anyways and the club would soon be shutting down for the night, with just enough time for its patrons to make the walk of shame home before dawn displayed their faces. The sound of his footsteps against the damp asphalt betrayed his approach before his voice did.

"Nice show tonight toots," he commented before stepping into the red and blue light emanating from a fluorescent beer sign.

Out of the side of her left eye she glanced over at him, noting he was one of the heavier tippers of the night. She'd seen him several times during her routines and remembered the rough touch of his well calloused hands as he stuffed the bills into her thong and roughly attempted to steal gropes while she was still in distance. Prior experience told her she knew what he was going to propose, he was one of those that was never quite satisfied with just a show. Already she knew that she would accept his offer, smokes didn't come cheap in this city and she had other habits to support. Habits that he wouldn't dare ever think some fuck toy had. Habits to feed and he was just her type to satiate them with. Sam took a long drag of the smoke, held it in for a moment, and then blew it out in one slow breath, watching the wisps dance in the air. "Thanks," she replied coolly, still watching the smoke drift about. "What move was your favorite?"

He pulled battered steel flask out of his jacket and took a swig before answering, "I was thinking the one where ya blew me in the back seat of my Ford."

Those lilac lips curled just slightly, he wasn't much for banter that one but at least he knew what he wanted, she'd give him that. Never taking her gaze from the sky she replied, "how much ya offerin?"

Another swig, "Twenty-five for the blow, thirty-five if I see those tits while you do it."

She quirked a brow, a little low so hopefully he was in a bargaining mood, "eighty if you wanna see em. Gotta afford somethin' ta warm me up afterwards with this weather."

He grinned, rubbing his unshaved chin with his free hand, "you'll get warm just from suckin it. But I'm in a generous mood, sixty and I blow my load on em."

One last drag was taken of that cigarette and it was flicked off to a puddle. She saw that grin grow a little wider, "deal."

**********

The truck was an old F250 with a little bit of rust in the wheel wells. He held the rear door open, having her scramble in first before he swung his way in. In the dim light of the interior she could see he was close to three times her age, not that it really mattered much so long as he could still get it up. She found her way to the passenger side, turned around and kneeled upon the threadbare carpeting. When he closed the door she nodded to the bench seat beside her and waited till he counted out the bills, laying them out before her. Satisfied with the display she quickly shucked her jacket and the t-shirt that lay beneath. A well-worn bra was laid upon the clothes, she rarely wore the nice ones on work nights.

With her chest bared to his gaze for the second time tonight she turned her attention to the leather belt upon his worn jeans. With perhaps too much practice at her twenty one years she undid the belt and unfastened the jeans, pulling them down enough to free his mostly hard cock. Thankful that the liquor hadn't softened him, she slipped her hand into one of her pockets and pulled out a little foil pouch.

"Heh, you expect me to wear a rubber?" He grumped when he heard her tear the packet open.

"Don't want me coming down sick do ya? Jus take it to mean that ya ain't gonna catch anything from me, m'kay? You can still cum on my titties." With that she rolled the latex down his shaft and before he could complain further, took half his cock into her mouth. The satisfied moan of her warm mouth surrounding him was all she needed to know that he wouldn't be complaining further. Now she hoped that the alcohol didn't impede his need to cum terribly much.

The condom had a faint, fake cherry flavor to it. She'd learned long ago that she could tolerate the fake flavors enough that she wouldn't at least be terribly reluctant to use the rubbers. Quickly she worked her way down to ensure she could take the entire shaft into her mouth and began to rapidly bob her head. Fingers worked shaft not in her mouth and gently massaged his balls, trying to encourage them to loose their load quickly. Fate, unfortunately, stopped there and the alcohol was obviously helping him keep from cumming.

Her jaw began to ache but steadfastly she worked him, never slowing down nor weakening the suction. She listened as he called her most things in the book, whore, slut, tramp, she'd heard them all before and had become numb to them so long as she got paid at the end. His hand played in her short, pixie cut hair, pushing her head down roughly so he could grind her nose in his thick, grey bush. While he wasn't quite long enough to prod the back of her mouth much, she faked coughing to make him think that he was getting the better of her. Finally she felt the signs of his impending eruption and pulled her mouth free, ripped the condom off, and began to stroke his cock quickly, aiming it for her tits.

She swore he must of saved it up for days waiting for this as she watched multiple spurts come forth and land upon her bare skin. It was thick and slid down the swells of her breasts, leaving behind a shiny trail. When he finally finished she picked up her clothes, sliding on her jacket and not bothering with the shirt or bra so that they didn't get sticky. The money on the seat was swiped up and stuffed into her back pocket while he leisurely tucked away his cock. Out the back passenger door she went, quietly stating, "have a good night." That last little bit had brought her enough repeat business of halfway decent clients that it'd stuck. A slight cringe as she heard his laugh at her comment and down the street she went, shirt and bra tucked into a jacket pocket.

Sam stopped only briefly at a corner convenience store to pick up a new pack of smokes. The clerk giving her a knowing look and picking up the usual request of whatever was on sale before she even made it to the counter. On her way to the counter she selected several boxes of condoms to replenish her stash. One of the bills was laid out on the counter and the pack stuffed into the other pocket of her jacket.

Back in her modest apartment she shucked the jacket and threw it on a hook by the door, taking only the packs of cigarettes out of the pockets. One smoke was pulled out and lit while she headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the counter. The top was spun off and a long pull taken from the bottle to wash away any last taste of the fake cherry condom. Taking the bottle by the neck she made her way to her couch, flopping into the corner seat so she could turn on the tube and try to drown out her life if but for a few blessed moments.

**********

When the alarm alongside the couch went off, she reached over and smacked it several times before finally crawling out from underneath the quilt. The sound of the coffeemaker percolating the morning brew greeted her ears as she shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the shower. After thoroughly scrubbing her body down, Sam stepped out with the water still running and proceeded to wash her clothes from the night before in the sudsy water. Those were hung up on a line over the tub before turning to the daily routine of making herself presentable. Each morning she was thankful that the pixie cut had come back into fashion, allowing her to keep it short and theoretically less maintenance required. At least, there was less drying time needed.

Sam did her mourning review of her body, being sure to check for any bruises or cuts that may have occurred during the daily task of money earning. Each breast was hefted and thoroughly checked as they and her ass were certainly the moneymakers at the club. She'd been blessed with a large rack which had made it easy for her to get the job dancing and without that job she wouldn't at least have a dry place to sleep. Money was otherwise tight enough that she didn't even allow herself to dream of a day without the club.

A pair of black slacks were slid over her form and the day's panties shoved into her pocket with a sigh, knowing she was better off putting them on later. The required white bra and blouse with a name tag pinned to the pocket. Out to the kitchen she went to make up a cup of coffee, always amused that a barista couldn't even afford coffee from the joint she worked for. Breakfast was a quick bowl of cereal wolfed down before heading out the door a scant seven hours since she last got home.

"You're almost late, I'd begun to worry that you didn't want to keep this job," came the voice from the office when she entered the back door of the building. With a sigh, she hung her head and scurried along the corridor to the manager's office where Ben was waiting for his daily latte as he liked to call it. "The bus was late," she replied upon reaching the door.

"Either way, I was beginning to worry for you," he grinned at her while rolling his chair away from the desk. "Began to wonder if I needed to sift through this applications to find your replacement," his hand tapped a small stack of papers. "Lots of pretty, young ladies who desperately need a job after all."

"Yes sir, I know I'm lucky to have this one sir," she said meekly as she entered the office and closed the door behind her. Quickly she made her way between him and the desk to lean over and take his exposed cock in her mouth, quickly working to arouse him. Once he was hard she rose up and pulled a foil packet out, this one with extra lube, rolling it over his small but stiff cock. Sam turned around, undoing her slacks and dropped them to her knees before bending over the desk and awaiting his entrance.

The sex, as always, was fairly short but filled with obscenities. He rammed her pussy at a rapid pace, taking his pleasure as he saw fit and all the while telling her just how lucky she was that he let her keep her job as well as to get fucked on a near daily basis by him. When he finally came he slapped her right ass cheek, killing any bit of pleasure she might have gotten from being fucked. Quietly she stood up and pulled up her slacks enough to allow her to head off to the bathroom to clean up, don her panties, and head to the counter to start the legit part of her job.

**********

The second meal of her day was a couple of dollar cheeseburgers and a bottle of water filled at the sink snagged from the McDonalds next door on her way to the bus stop. The bus let her off a mile from the strip club, she pulled her jacked up tight to try and hide her face then made her way into the club. The place was a bit run down and in dire need of a décor update, but it did well enough to bring in business from passing truckers and a few regular locals. The beginning of the month was always the busiest, when folks felt flush with cash enough to spend on some cheap thrills and booze.

Out the back she stepped, hand digging into her pocket to pull out the new pack of smokes, rip the cellophane off the top and pull out one. Her hands shook with pre-show jitters, or at least that's what she called them, as she lit the ciggy and awaited the rush of nicotine. The club was just starting to get swinging for the night as the folks on dayshift began to make their way in. Flicking the butt into the alley she blew out the last of the smoke and headed in to the dressing room.

Out on the stage was when she felt the most alone and the most vulnerable. By the end of her routine she was down to her thong and it wasn't unusual for it to 'accidentally break' under the hands of patrons using the guise of stuffing bills in the thin material. Some were more polite than others and just slipped the bills in, but there were always those that wanted a little bit more for the dollars they offered. Those that wanted a little more tended to have fingers that roamed and it wasn't unusual in a night for her to feel at least one or two try to make their way inside of her.

In the end she chalked it up to being part of the job, she was putting herself out there and often enough her customers inside the club turned into customers outside. Since that was where she ended up making the bulk of her money it gave her the motivation to always try and put on a good show. By the end she was covered in a sheen of sweat and slowly walked along the stage to collect the bills on the stage floor. Sam made a point of bending over so it best showed off her ass, wiggling it in the air as she slowly picked up each dollar. Once the stage was cleaned she walked to the back, emphasizing the roll in her hips.

In the back she cleaned off the sweat and sorted out the bills, trying to flatten them out so she could fold them up and stuff them away. Most of them would be stuffed away into a private safe she had at her desk, enough of the girls had been roughed up for their cash that management had installed them. Of course, they did charge a monthly fee for their use. With the money away, she slipped on her night clothes and headed out the backdoor to begin her third shift.

It didn't take long for one of the patrons to find her hanging out in the back, burning through a smoke. She remembered he'd been one of the heavier tippers of the evening, a trucker by her guess, which at least usually meant a sleeper cab and a more comfortable fuck. Negotiations were simple and quick, she could tell he'd gotten quite worked up from the show and was in dire need of release. The bulge in his pants at least promised that she might get some enjoyment out of this one, particularly since he was looking for fuck and not a blowjob.

In the cab of the truck she waited till he'd taken a seat on the bed before stripping her torso clear of clothes and leaning in to pull his cock free. The trucker was a rotund, dark skinned man and when she pulled out his cock to slowly stroke it he began to question her.

"Mmmm white girl ready for my black cock? Gonna get yourself a big black cock tonight huh? Put those pretty little lips of yours on my cock, let me see your white mouth around my cock. Yeah, that's a good white slut, suck on my cock and show me how much you like black cock. You ever gotten your white ass a nice big, black cock like me?"

She let the head slip from her lips, putting on her meekest face, "no, never before. You'll be my first." Gently she licked the head with her tongue, "be gentle with me, please? It's soooo big." Truth was she'd had plenty of all shades of color over the last couple of years, a cock was a cock to her. So long as the customer was kept happy though, she'd play the part he wanted and so pretended to choke every time she took more than a couple of inches into her mouth all the while listening to him brag on about his cock and how he was gonna bang this little white girl.

When he was sufficiently hard, she climbed onto the bed on all fours, waving her ass up for him. The wait wasn't long before she felt him slam his full length up to the hilt within her. The top of her head hit the wall before she could ball up the pillow to protect herself as he launched into a full assault on her pussy. Repeatedly he slammed her as hard as he could while his left hand began to follow the rhythm of his thrusts by slapping her ass each time he slammed into her. All the while she listened on about how he was fucking the hell outta her white ass and how she'd never be able to go back after him.

After he'd cum quite loudly in her, she stumbled out of the cab in her jeans, not even noticing that her jacket hadn't been zipped up all of the way and that she was flashing half of the trucker overnight parking. All that she knew was that her head and ass hurt like hell but at least she'd made a little more money that night. Pulling the wad out to check it, she noticed that he'd shorted her twenty bucks which led to a few choice words but nothing she could do about it. Accepting that was how her day was going, Sam made her way home to her bottle of whiskey and couch.

**********

Sam had ended up drinking a little more than usual to dull the aches in her head and ass, causing her to oversleep by fifteen minutes. As fast as she could she hurried up and headed off to her job at the coffee house, but despite her best efforts she was ten minutes late. Head held low she entered the manager's office, waiting to hear that she was fired.

"You know what to do, bend over that desk slut," was all she got out of him. Sam dropped her slacks down and bent over the desk obediently, waiting for him to don the condom and get the deed over with. What she didn't expect was the hole that he would choose and despite his small size it still hurt like hell when she felt him penetrate her ass. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, it wasn't like she'd never had it in the ass before but this was unlubed and highly unexpected.

Still, she tolerated it if but for the sake of her job and the mediocre feeling of belonging to a normal workplace. Her fingers dug into the faux wood of the desk as he continued to violate her ass, her tears staining the calendar underneath, quietly she sobbed while taking the abuse. Finally she felt him shudder and knew he'd cum within her. Just as she was beginning to relax at thinking it was over his hand hit her ass on the bruise from the night before.

"What's this whore? A mark from another lover? Hmph, well I hope he paid you well cause you're going to need it. Thanks for the final fuck, you're fired. Get the fuck outta my office and don't even think of coming back for a final check, I'll use it to pay the damage you did to my desk." He withdrew from her and began to clean himself up.

Samantha just laid there in shock at what had just happened, her life was rough for sure, but at least she'd managed to get on by. Used, well she was accustomed to that so long as it meant she could survive, but now the one thing that made her feel remotely normal was gone. Fingers curled around the first thing they could find, a pair of scissors.

The next few moments were a blur, all the aches and pains were forgotten as they were replaced with the feeling of rage. She rose up and turned towards the fat fuck manager and drove the sharp end of the scissors into the tender flesh of his throat. Once, twice, three times she slashed until his throat was ripped wide open. Watching the now lifeless body of the manager fall to the ground, she snapped back to reality. Panic began to fill her and Sam fought to control her breathing, knowing that for at least a few minutes her co-workers would think that any noises were probably just the manager getting his kicks in.