A/N: Hi, ya'll. Yes, this is a spin off of the Untitled Glee Kink Meme Fill #2 (UGKMF#2). Warning: Contains scenes of rape.
Author's Note: I'm not an idiot, people. If I suddenly get 12 anon reviews in about the same amount of minutes on a story, I know it's just one person attempting to spam my review board. For the record, my policy on spam is this: I delete it. I don't care if it's a positive review or a negative one. If I suddenly get a flood of anon reviews with a very short period of time between them, I will delete all of those reviews. You're welcome to leave a single review (or even two if there's character limits or something involved) on a chapter/story just like everyone else and I'll publish all of them, positive or negative. It's the spam I don't tolerate and, just in case the spammer is reading this: Sending a ton of messages pretending to be multiple people and begging me to continue a story will probably end up working to the opposite effect.
I'm sure some people will think I'm being snotty about this, but having to wade through all of the alerts FFN gives me via my iPod's wireless when I get spammed doesn't exactly leave me in a good mood.
People always say first time is the hardest.
Quinn supposed it was true as she sat in the plush waiting room. In a way, the first time was the hardest. The problem was that there was far too many first times.
She remembered her first time ever having sex, for example. It was almost impossible to forget.
Her boyfriend at the time - Noah Puckerman, but he insisted everyone call him Puck of all things - had been a heavy weight on top of her. His breath foggy with cheap beer and wine coolers as it'd flooded over her cheeks. He littered her face and neck with wet, sloppy kisses as she panted for breath, his free hand fumbling at her breasts before moving between her legs to push her skirt up and paw at her panties.
"Please," she'd whispered, trying to push him off, her heart hammering in her chest. "Please, Puck... I don't want to."
"Come on, babe," he'd said, reaching for another wine cooler. "Have another and relax. It'll feel good, trust me."
She'd whimpered and tried to push him off, her hands feeling frail against his muscular shoulders. "Puck, don't. Please."
The sound of the zipper of his jeans being lowered made her want to throw up even now. She'd squirmed under him, but his knee settled between her thighs as pushed her legs apart.
"Come on, babe. You're so beautiful. You can't make me keep waiting like this."
She never saw his member, only felt the pressure of his head against her lips as he guided himself in. She'd clenched her eyes shut, grimacing against the overwhelming feeling of being stretched - like a tampon but far worse. Something tore and she'd barely been able to choke back a sob as he'd pushed his way all the way in.
"See, babe," he'd panted, shoving up her shirt and bra to suck noisily at her breast as he'd pistoned his hips through her pain, drunkenly mistaking blood for arousal, "told ya it'd be good."
It hurt.
That was what she remembered best.
It hurt and no matter how much she asked, he wouldn't stop.
The handful of years between then and now had blurred how long it'd taken, but she remembered the feeling of him coming inside her, filling her channel to overflowing and spilling out to in a mix of blood and cum to slick her thighs and the bed under her. She remembered the look of disgust on his face when he'd realized she'd bled all over his groin and jeans.
"Shit, Q! You coulda told me it was that time of month!" He'd jumped off her, going to her bathroom to clean off and leaving her too shocked to even cry.
"Ms Lopez is just finishing up her meeting now." The woman - Santana's assistant, Quinn supposed - behind the desk's soft voice broke her free of her memories for a moment, but it was Quinn's handler, Sam, who nodded in acknowledgment. "It'll just be a few more minutes, I'm sure."
Quinn rubbed her face, trying to remember how she'd gotten to this point in her life.
The two pink lines on the white test stick two missed periods later had been a definite starting point, that was certain. Puck was useless, blowing her off to hook up with a couple cheerleaders more willing to put out than she was with a parting shot about him being a "sex shark". That hadn't mattered as much as her father kicking her out when she couldn't hide her growing belly any longer.
She'd had to give up all of her after school activities and her grade point plummeted as she threw herself headlong into working whatever job would hire a sixteen year old mother who was still trying to go to school. She'd barely been able to make enough to afford a room over the local tire and lube, enough food for at least one meal and lunch at school each day, and trying desperately to make a dent at the steadily overwhelming medical bills for her Beth's birth. By senior year, she was exhausted, broke, teetering on the verge of eviction after a bout of childhood flu destroyed her meager savings, and unable to see a way out.
She was desperate.
The ad on the back page of the local free paper had seemed far too good to be true, but she didn't see how she had any other choice. Five years of her willing and unquestioning service in return for nearly two hundred thousand dollars and help setting up a new life. It'd be enough to pay off her debt and set aside money for a real future for her and Beth.
Leaving Beth in her sister's arms had been one of the most heart wrenching things she'd done in her life. The little two year old hadn't been able to understand why her mother was leaving her and had bawled and reached for her so piteously that Quinn's resolve had almost broken down as she'd gotten on the train for the city. Her heart shattered as she seen the figures of her sister and baby girl vanish in the distance as the train carried her away. She didn't think it'd be whole again until that sweet girl was in her arms again.
The sardonic blonde - wearing what looked for the world like a silk tracksuit of all things - behind the desk probably should have been her first sign that things were going to be harder than she'd expected.
"So you're Fabray. You're late," she'd snapped, barely looking at her. "Sit."
Startled, Quinn had dropped down into the seat in front of the desk, her hands automatically clasping together on her lap. The woman's blue eyes had raked over her, taking in her white cardigan and pale yellow sundress and discarding them almost in the same instant. The entire process was belittling and made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.
"You'll do." The woman's voice had snapped her out of her discomfort and dragged her attention up to where a heavy sheaf of papers was being slapped onto her desk. "I presume my underlings aren't completely incompetent and you've been informed of the nature of this firm before getting into my inner sanctum."
"Y-yes, ma'am," she'd stammered, looking back down at her hands to try and hide her anxious fear. Everything she'd been told had just made her more confused - that she'd be giving up her right to refuse any order no matter the source in return for room, board, full health care, her bills being taken care of and a fat bank account at the end of her service.
The woman's eyes had raked over her again before she snorted. "I doubt it or a prim and proper little thing like you wouldn't be sitting in front of her." Her pen slapped against the desk as she'd turned to face Quinn directly, folding her hands in front of her. "To put it simply, you'll be a whore for my company."
That got Quinn's attention, jerking her eyes up to meet the woman's. A slight smile creased the woman's strangely ageless features.
"Ah. A real reaction. Good. What you'll be doing when you sign this contract is, to put it simply, signing your body into our possession for no less than five years." She leaned back, watching Quinn. "We'll take care of your health, make sure you have clean clients, feed and house you, and when your contract term ends, release you with a fully established bank account and no questions asked."
Quinn swallowed harshly before nodding. "I... I understand."
"Oh, I doubt you do. I think you just need the money and don't see any other way to get it. And that's perfectly fine with me. I don't really care what your reasoning is. All I care about is that you will obey without question after signing this contract."
Her jaw clenched as she nodded. "Y-yes, ma'am. Whatever you want."
"No, my dear," the woman said, smirking at her again. "Whatever the client wants. You'll belong to me, but those poor men who rent you will rate you based on your agreeableness and my girls and boys are the most agreeable in the business."
"Yes, ma'am," Quinn whispered, feeling her heart shrivel as what she was agreeing to sank into her awareness. "W-whatever the client wants."
"Good girl," she'd said, picking up her pen again to peruse the contract. "Ah. I see you're fertile. Had a kid young. You don't look it. Good genes." The pen scratched against paper for a moment before the woman looked up at her again. "Would you be open to a long-term contract with a client if you're impregnated? This is the only question you get to have an opinion on, Ms Fabray, so think hard."
"I... I," she stammered, looking at the woman with wide eyes.
"You'll receive full health care, an additional hundred thousand, and the right to negotiate with the father for your place in the child's life should you want it for any pregnancy," she'd said almost off-handedly, those cold blue eyes back on the paperwork in front of her. "We don't allow abusive clients to take such contracts and if you opt out of this option, all methods of terminating the pregnancy will be made available both before and after the pregnancy is discovered. That's all standard for all of our girls."
"I... I couldn't kill my baby, ma'am!" Quinn's eyes were wide with horror at the idea.
A blonde brow arched high over a blue eye. "So you agree to long term contracts to carry your client's child? As opposed to abortion. Be aware that clients have the final say on whether or not you're allowed to have the child. If they don't want it..."
"I... Y-yes," she said quickly. "I'll take the long-term contract instead of t-terminating!"
The woman snorted again and pushed the contract across the desk before pulling out another sheet of paper and adding it to the stack. "Sign and initial in the marked places then."
Quinn's hand trembled as she'd leaned across to sign her name throughout the paperwork, signing herself over to the woman and her firm. When she finished, the woman took the pen back and gathered up the papers.
"Wonderful. Well, then, Fabray, you can call me Sue. Or Coach Sylvester. It's a favorite amongst my girls and boys," she'd said, standing up. "For the next five years, your pretty little ass belongs to me." She pointed at a door across the room from where Quinn had entered. "Go through there to be assigned your living quarters, handler, and meet your trainer."
"T-trainer?" she sounded surprised.
"Did I stutter? Get your ass in gear!"
Quinn scrambled to her feet and crossed the room in record time in the face of the angry blonde. Through the door, she found another office with a smirking man with curly brown hair and nothing else sitting sprawled in an office chair in the middle of the room with his legs spread exposing his erection.
"Hi there, Quinn. I see you've met my partner, Sue. I'm Will, but you can call me Mr Schue. I'm going to be your teacher from here out."