Discipline, Fiction, First Time, m, Male/Female, Non-consensual sex, Piper320, Reluctance
2017 First time xxx stories: Marigold’s Undoing – by Piper320. All publishing rights to this story belong to Piper320. This isn’t a wham bam thank you ma’am story. The characters slowly build and if you’re not into non-con, please don’t read this. Thanks bebes!
2017 First time xxx stories: Marigold’s Undoing – Chapter 1A
by Piper320
Genres: Fiction, Discipline, First Time, Male/Female, Non-consensual sex, Reluctance
When her choices are taken
Marigold Fontenot, Mari as her friends called her, stood beside the fishing pond, line bobbing in the water; humming some Aerosmith. The late spring day was already warm, the humidity making her tank top and shorts stick to her slick skin. The sun beamed on her through the pines; their trunks and branches casting shadows on her so she wouldn’t burn. She was one of the only girls in Bayou with pale skin which wouldn’t tan. Life wasn’t always fair.
She felt a pull on the line, her hand vibrating as the fish tugged on the filament trying to escape with its life. Her nimble fingers began to reel it in, her bare toes hugging the banks of the squishy pond. She saw a flash of scales as sunlight bounced off them, causing a metallic glow.
She reeled, the fish splashing to shore, fighting and flopping against the inevitable outcome. It was just a bass but Marigold was hungry, and this would do fine for supper. She needed a few more before she went home to her Daddy and Mama. To her impoverished house set back from the country roadside. Poverty and Marigold were best friends.
There were no opportunities in a place like Bayou for a girl. Well, there were, but none she wanted anything to do with. Oh no, Marigold loved to read and write fantastical stories. Stories in which people had food, a comfortable roof over their head, a job. Where they felt safe, loved, wanted.
Fictional stories in which people had few worries, little stress, a reason to get up in the morning. She knew these types wouldn’t be fantasy to everyone, but to Marigold Fontenot; they were as farfetched as stories of aliens and hobbits.
She shook her head, a small smile playing across her elfin face. If her Mama and Daddy could hear her thoughts, know her private dreams; they’d beat her senseless. She was just a country girl, living in a Podunk town with no prospects ahead of her. Or so they believed.
Marigold knew better. She would find a way to get money. She’d fight, scratch, and claw her way towards a college degree no matter what it took. She would leave this place behind. Nothing held her here. Why was she still staying in one spot? Why, at eighteen, was she laying down and dying? Life was full of choices. She was just stubborn enough to believe she could make them work out for her.
She stared down at the fish as it struggled for air. Her tiny hand reached down, easily unhooking the bass from the line. She looked into bulging eyes, and instead of seeing dinner; she saw something else that deserved freedom. With a gentle toss, the sound of a splash greeted her ears and the fish disappeared.
It would still be caught, but in someone else’s snare. Not hers. Not today. Today, Marigold was going to run away and start a brand new life. A life of freedom. A life based solely on her personal choices. A life worth living. Today, was the start of a new experience.
Another smile crossed her face as she turned, picking up the woven basket containing the fish from earlier. She’d take these to her Mama and Daddy. She’d grab a few of her favorite books, some clothes, and while they were distracted fighting with one another; she’d run. A bright future lay ahead of her. Marigold was finally going to make something of herself.
*******************************************************************************
“I don’t understand why you have to take our Marigold. She done nothin’ wrong.”
“Well now Mrs. Bertha, you and Kerry sure seem fit to be tied. Them bills you owe seem to keep collectin, and we figure we never gonna see any of our money back.”
“So you takin’ Marigold away?”
“And she can work to pay off your debt, then she can come on back home.”
Marigold saw the glare her Mama gave her Daddy. She was blaming him for getting them into this mess. Marigold had seen that look many times before. It made her Mama, already overweight, tired and haggard looking; grow uglier.
She saw a triumphant expression spread across the old man’s face, as well as his son Jackson’s. The Broussard’s were the power holders of the town of Bayou, Alabama. Claude, his sons Jackson and Shane, and nephew Terry; had their hands in more pots then Marigold could possibly imagine.
All drugs, illegal swag, money deals, and prostitution went through the Broussard clan. Marigold knew exactly what they were going to use her for, and it made her sick. They could try and make her. She’d never give in. She’d rather be dead. Her life may not have been considered idyllic to most, but it was better than being used and abused by the men she’d seen for eighteen years in this town.
She could imagine their leering smiles, their rough hands, the gleeful look in their tired eyes, ones only livened by the idea of fucking young girls like herself; and she felt the sour bile rising in her throat.
How had all this happened? She was supposed to be packing and running away from here. Now, she was being traded for a debt owed. She should’ve stayed by the pond. She should’ve kept fishing. The bass’ life hadn’t been worth the end of her own.
“Kerry?” Her Daddy peered at her Mama one last time with the hangdog look Marigold knew well. It was a pitiful expression. Her Daddy was a pathetic man. Born and raised in Podunk nowhere, he’d married his high school sweetheart, thought he’d do something great with his life, but never amounted to anything. Typical Bayou story. A cycle from Hell.
“I’m sorry Bertha.” His eyes found Claude Broussard’s and Marigold felt a chill skim over her. “She’s all yours…until our debt is paid, then I want her back unharmed.”
“Sure Kerry. No problem.”
She saw the smug look on Claude’s face and wanted to spit on him, wiping that I’m-better-than-you sneer right off.
“Come on now, Marigold.”
Her eyes found Jackson’s. His held a mixture of smugness and a condescending manner. She stood up from the raggedy couch, giving him the death glare as she did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her Mama reach for her but she pulled away. Once she was free, if she was ever free of the Broussard clan; she was running as far away as possible and never looking back.
She saw the look of hurt crossing her Mama’s face. As Marigold followed Claude and Jackson toward her new future, she didn’t care about any pain she caused. She hoped they hurt until they died. She was paying for sins and debts she’d never even committed or acquired. A heavy stone settled in her stomach. She knew it wouldn’t budge until she was released from the grasp of her new hell.
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Marigold didn’t say a word as she rode in the back of Claude’s four door truck. Not that the men in front tried to speak to her either. Silence was better. She wasn’t in the frame of mind to listen to anything they might have to say. They drove up to a house she’d seen often in passing. She’d always known what went on there, just like she knew the bar a mile down the street was where all the real action took place.
The men got out of the truck but Marigold stayed seated. Maybe they’d forgotten about her. She could hope, but hoping would do her no good. She saw through the windshield, Jackson turning and heading back to her side of the vehicle. The door opened as bright sunlight streamed in.
“Coming?” She looked at him but said nothing. “Come on.”
He took her hand, pulling her out into the daylight. His was warm, rough, and made her stomach flip in disgust at where it’d been. She jerked hers from his, but couldn’t help noticing the amused smile crossing his face. They walked into an old two-story house that smelled of people, and cooking food.
She’d always wanted a bigger, better, cleaner house to call home, somewhere to feel safe. This wasn’t it either. As she gazed around the dingy place, she realized she’d just gone from one pit to a tidier pit. Even the haves of this town seemed to be have nots compared to others.
“Jackson, show her to her room and explain how the place works.”
Claude’s voice was like a harsh shot in the quiet of the room. It raked her already frayed nerves, though she’d never let on.
“Yes Daddy.”
Like the obedient son he must have been, Jackson started up the stairs and Marigold simply followed. They went to the third door on the right, and Jackson opened it to admit her in. The room was white, with a twin bed covered in a rose pattern blanket, a small nightstand and a small dresser. Marigold walked across the rough carpet, slowly sitting on the bed as she took it all in. It looked like a little girl’s room…or a fifties housewife whore.
“Bathroom is down the hall. Rent is one hundred fifty a week, which covers room and food. The other girls can tell you about the prices they charge for what. Breakfast is at eight a.m. Lunch at twelve p.m. Dinner at five p.m. You cannot leave the premises except to go to the bar, or an outing if given permission. If you cannot meet the one hundred fifty rent at the end of the week, a fee will be added to the next week. Is all that pretty clear?”
Marigold stared at Jackson, but said nothing. It was as if she was being read her last rights by an automon. She wondered how these people could live with themselves. They’d snatched away her freedom so calmly, and acted as though they’d taken nothing. She wasn’t real to them, just a toy to be used. It unnerved her more.
“Answer me, Marigold.” The tone of his voice caught her attention as did the flash of impatience in his dark eyes. She only nodded, before laying down on the bed. “You’ll get used to it. They always do.” Marigold said nothing and a moment later the door shut. Why hadn’t she stayed by the pond?
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
“Hello there beautiful.”
Marigold turned to see Jimmy Woods standing beside her. She’d been leaning up against the wooden bar, observing the people coming in and out of the establishment. None were impressive, and she wasn’t shocked they were here for paid sex.
Many of them she knew from the Mills, the feed store, a couple even worked with her Daddy. She’d seen their looks of surprise at seeing her, which was quickly replaced with understanding. Her Daddy was a fuck-up. Surprise, surprise. They’d avoided her though, a small part of her acknowledging a gained respect for them because of it.
“Yes?”
He leaned his heavy frame against the bar, flashing her a leering smile. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.”
“Hmm.”
She shrugged; trying desperately to concentrate on the terrible country song playing from the old jukebox, and not on how much she wanted to punch the man beside her in the throat.
“Well now, come on sweetie. Can’t you at least talk to me?”
Marigold could smell the already stale stench of liquor on his breath and shuddered. That garbage dump of a mouth was not getting anywhere near her, or on her. She’d die first…or maybe he would.
“No.” Marigold threw back the rest of her drink before slamming the glass tumbler on the bar. She wasn’t even old enough to drink but in Bayou; no one paid those kind of laws any attention. As she moved to leave, she felt the hot, strong grasp of his sweaty hand wrapping around her tiny wrist.
“Now wait a minute. I came in here to get some company, and I’m damn well going to get it.”
Marigold gazed at the grip holding tight to her wrist, and she knew her eyes were flashing fire. This drunk, slob of a man would not get his way tonight. It’d be a nice reality shock for him.
“Then I suggest you find it with someone else.”
She jerked her wrist from his hand before starting to walk off. She felt his furious presences just before he grabbed her. Marigold felt her body being whirled around as she was slammed into the bar. The hard wood dug into her spine, leaving a bruise she knew she’d find tomorrow. She instinctively understood Jimmy was going to hit her, the rage in his drunken eyes spoke volumes; but she didn’t flinch.
As Jimmy raised his hand, she noticed Jackson coming across the crowded bar, people moving out of his way as if he were a steam engine. All eyes were on her and the drunken fool. In the oldest Broussard’s eyes, she saw a mixture of concern and irritation. The first emotion gave her pause, but only for a second.
“Excuse me, Jimmy?”
The man’s confused, glazed eyes turned to Jackson. “Yeah Jack?”
“What are you doing?”
“You found a real bitch in this one, Jack.”
“Be that as it may, you need to take your hands off her.”
She saw Jackson’s eyes were cold, a gleam in them no one would be stupid enough to argue with. Jimmy turned from him, giving her one last dirty glare, before dropping her arm.
“No one wants your ugly ass anyways.”
A small, pleased smile crossed her face before she could stop it. She was aware both men saw it, but said nothing. She noticed the bar had become dead quiet; everyone staring at her and Jackson as Jimmy huffed off to creep on someone else.
“You okay?”
“Mhmm.”
His eyes raked her over before he turned and looked at everyone. “Bars aren’t meant to be quiet. Let’s liven it back up again.”
Words started flowing like liquor and Marigold noticed Jimmy had already found someone else to harass. She could feel other patrons eyes on her, but knew no one else would be messing with her tonight. She was a nice girl, but life had taught her to be hard.
“Uh Marigold, the point of the place is to please the customers, not piss them off.”
She glanced at Jackson and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”
“You’ll need that one hundred fifty at the end of the week so therefore, you need them.”
“Okay.”
She saw the same flash of impatience but this time, a hint of intrigue as well. She didn’t want this man to be interested in her. He moved closer; his hard, thick body pressing her back into the wooden bar. She felt his erection against her stomach and tried not to let the disgust show.
“This can be done the easy way or the hard way.”
Her fiery eyes dug into his cold ones. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Broussard.”
She gave him a smile, letting him know exactly where she’d like him to go, before pushing his body away from hers and sauntering off.
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Marigold stood outside the old, rundown bar; simply gazing up at the night sky. The stars were out in full force, and since tonight had been a waste of time, she was glad she’d stepped out to enjoy them. People came and went from the bar, men with goofy smiles and girls with woe begotten frowns.
A couple of the girls gave her sympathetic looks, but Marigold didn’t want their pity. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted her freedom from this Podunk town, full of shitty people who did shitty things. Away from people who would never amount to anything. Marigold was better than all of them.
She was supposed to be out proving it, at this very moment. She should’ve been on a bus heading…anywhere away from this realm of hell. She wasn’t though, so she’d pay her dues and never let them know her plans. Never show her cards.
She wanted her freedom, and she knew there were only two ways of getting it: death by humiliation or simply death. She’d take the latter, but she figured that’d give the Broussard’s just as much pleasure as the first. She was eighteen years old, had participated in sexual activities; but she’d never been fucked before.
She wasn’t a prude, she just wanted sex to be with someone special. She hadn’t found Mr. Special yet. She never imagined she’d lose it all to a stranger for a few bucks. The thought made the alcohol in her stomach churn, and she wanted to run away.
“It won’t work.”
Marigold jumped a little, turning to glare at Jackson, who swaggered over to join her. “What won’t?”
“Wishing on stars…or running away.”
“Hmm.”
She inspected the man in front of her. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. Tall with a domineering feel to his broad shoulders, built body. His hair was just a plain mousey brown. There was nothing impressive about him really, save for his eyes. Oh his eyes were the darkest she’d ever seen; like murine drops had been put in them. She imagined one could get lost in them, or die because of them. It made her hate Jackson Broussard even more. She knew those eyes would haunt her, but how?
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Jackson watched her expression turn cold as ice. The blue in her eyes seeming to grow brighter with her disdain for him, before she turned away to star gaze once more. He shook his head as he released a quiet laugh.
“You know you’re not really doing yourself, or us, much good by being out here.”
“I’m doing myself plenty of good. Sorry it’s not working out for you.”
Her voice matched the coolness of her face, making chills run down his spine and to his cock. It twitched as he thought of the things he could do to her. The way her mouth would feel encasing his erection, the feel of pounding into her pussy as she held on for the ride, making her scream his name.
Jackson Broussard didn’t consider himself a cruel man, or a bad one, but he always got what he wanted, one way or another. He’d killed the occasional man who stepped out of line, it was a way of life in Bayou; you either had or you didn’t, and Jackson had. He’d never actually hit a woman though. He may’ve been controlling, was adamant he’d get his way, but he wasn’t a monster.
His brother Shane and cousin Terry, on the other hand; didn’t mind giving out black eyes and busted lips. Jackson had never had to hit a woman or even beg one. They’d always given in and he’d moved on down the line. Marigold was different. She wasn’t caving to him and he wanted her too. His pulsing, erect cock really wanted her too.
“Tomorrow, I won’t be here, but my Daddy will. You won’t be standing outside the bar, Marigold, not if he has a say and believe me he will.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t look at him, didn’t even bother acknowledging he existed. Jackson couldn’t take the attitude, the air of superiority. He grabbed her, causing a surprised yelp to escape as he jerked her around. He pulled her tiny, warm body to his chest; clasping both her wrist in his hand. Letting his hard-on dig into her in warning.
“Are you always this cold to everyone or is it just me?”
Fiery blue eyes bore into his and he thought she might actually spit on him. She jerked her wrist from his grasp, tilting her chin in the air like one of the snobs from high school. He didn’t understand why though. She was a nobody, like most of the people in this town.
“I’m usually only cold towards trash.”
Her eyes flashed fire at him again and with an air of arrogance, she stalked past him to the bar. Jackson watched her perfect, large ass swaying in her tight jeans, and he knew she’d be a hard one to break. The problem was, she was beyond beautiful and she could do a lot of business for them if she just lost the attitude. He smiled and looked forward to being the one to break her.
Also in this series:
