A/N: Just to set the record straight, no wincest or Sam/Dean slash exists within this fanfic! Just to set the record straight. And what's going on between Sam and Greg, you shall find out very shortly...

Enjoy!

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I escaped the main room to instead slink behind the booths to the bar, going to my usual stool. I couldn't sit without plunging the tail deeper into my ass, so I knelt on the seat instead, leaning my elbows against the tabletop.

Barney the bartender gave me a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. Like all the employees at The Ramrod, he was very attractive, with short, dirty blond hair, dark brown eyes, small stubble on his chin, and the ubiquitous toothpick sticking out from between his teeth. While he and I were not necessarily friends, he was a decent guy and I didn't mind sharing companies with him.

"You alright, Sam?" He was cleaning a used wineglass and glancing at me, who probably had an odd/terrified look on his face. I schooled my features a bit and nodded. He shrugged, putting the wineglass down to grab another. "If you're sure." Without looking my way, he set the glass and cloth down, stripping out of his jacket and placing it on the tabletop in front of me. "Here".

I stared at it for a moment, incredulous. "Thank you," I said kind of hesitantly as I put it on over my bare skin. Barney really was a good guy. He probably wouldn't have minded me dumping some of my worries onto him, but I still didn't feel comfortable doing that with anyone but Greg.

Who—holy fuck yes—happened to jump into the seat beside me not a moment later. He looked habitually concerned. "Hey Sam, are you okay?" He paused, continuing to search my gaze. "You look…weird." His voice trailed off before becoming reanimated, and his eyebrows slanted downward in anger. "Did someone hurt you?"

A surge of energy brought him to his feet, rage engulfing every feature on his beautiful face. I immediately put a strong hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. "Nothing happened. I'm okay, seriously..."

"Damn it, that's what you always say." His hand was clutching his scalp tightly, and I could tell he was conflicted. He visibly forced himself to calm down, and slipped a hand through my hair, leaning his forehead onto mine. His dark blue eyes stared into mine while I stared into his. "I'm so fucking sorry," he whispered. His eyes looked slightly watery, and I gave him a reassuring smile. He sighed into my mouth, "I'm sorry, I just, I just..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I hate seeing you like this."

I couldn't help but smile at that, so damn happy he cared about me. I gave him a kiss, holding my lips to his until he responded. Hesitantly, he pushed his to mine, and I internally nodded to myself, satisfied. I gave him another peck on the lips and cheeks before withdrawing. "I'm fine," I emphasized, and I knew he would agree now. I didn't kiss him if it felt disgusting to be touched.

Greg was more reassured now, and he smiled, small but there.

"Oh," I said, pointing to my rear. "And these damn cat costumes are a huge pain in my ass. Literally."

Greg kind of giggled at that. A manly giggle, though. "Yeah, I hear a lot of the waiters complaining about how uncomfortable it is. Sorry you have to deal with that."

I waved my hand like it was nothing, wishing that was even half-true. Uncomfortable? These bastards had a vibrator shoved straight up their ass, and it's only uncomfortable?

He looked at the clock, squeezing my hand before hopping off the stool. "Alright, I gotta head back now. Don't push yourself, Sam."

I nodded, and he jogged through the booths and tables back to the stage. I heard several customers whistle as he passed them, and I only shook my head in amusement.

Barney was still cleaning up all the dirty wineglasses. "It's weird how y'all kiss when you're just friends."

I looked to him, and shrugged with a smile. "Maybe." It might be weird, but it was something we had been doing for a long time now, and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to change. If I'd been badly hurt or used, Greg would be waiting for the peck of lips to know I was okay. If I was too unresponsive or scared to kiss him, then he knew something was wrong.

"Is Greg's boyfriend okay with that?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. He used to hate it, but he doesn't mind it as much now." Initially, Ben had hated me with all of his being and then some. He didn't understand why I held a special place in Greg's heart, or what was so important about me. I still didn't either but, either way, I think Greg explained it to him when I wasn't around. I didn't mind, though. Greg knew me well, and would never say something about me that I'd be against someone else knowing. Greg said only the bare minimum, and apparently it'd been enough for Ben.

Kind of. We were still in iffy territory.

"That's good," Barney said absently. He didn't seem to mind either way and continued with his business, which ultimately forced me to go back to my own. I couldn't sit here in hiding forever. Coleman wouldn't fire me, but he'd be all too willing to "punish" me.

That thought alone had me standing to my feet, and I took off Barney's jacket, thanking him for the loan. I felt I should repay him in some way, but wasn't quite sure how.

He only nodded in response, not taking his eyes from the wineglass in his hand.

If he weren't so aloof and seemingly unapproachable, guys and girls alike would be crawling all over him.

I left the bar, sluggishly making my way over to Dean and John's booth. The vibrator was pounding against my outer walls, and I winced slightly. Being with Greg made him the main focus of my attention. He was my best and only friend, and I relied on him for anything I couldn't do myself. But, now that he was gone, I was alone and there was nothing to distract me from the seemingly endless discomfort and agony of these vibrations.

I pushed the ache down as much as I could. I had to mentally and physically prepare myself for seeing the Vesters again. I was dreading the moment of confrontation, but knew it needed to happen. Now that they were here, I couldn't prolong it anymore; the rest of the customers would just have to wait. Besides, I had never answered any of their questions about the murder investigation, and I really wanted to help out if I could.

Of course, with the information I had, it'd probably only criminalize me.

Taking a deep breath, I sidestepped from behind their booth and sidled fully into their view. They'd probably heard me before they saw me, courtesy to my high heels, and I was suddenly very acutely aware of my promiscuous outfit. Would they think I was some sort of slut?

But wasn't I one anyway?

I internally bonked myself on the head, telling myself to focus. Dean and John's gazes were boring into me, neither of them hostile, but at the same time not exactly ecstatic either. In their surprised eyes were also hints of anger. Was it directed toward me? Were they disgusted by me and my slutty outfit?

I felt myself shiver, goosebumps appearing on my skin. I looked down at my feet, ignoring their piercing gazes, and forced myself to speak. "Uh, h-hey. Sorry about…before." I scratched self-consciously at my head, avoiding the cat ears. Looking back at the moment now, all they'd wanted to do was treat my wounds. They hadn't meant anything gross by it.

When I'd visit Greg at his home, his mother was sappy and earnest and always talked to me about the "consequences of my actions."

Well I was sure as hell facing them now.

Dean nodded in understanding, both his and his father's cheeks light pink. Whether it was because of my outfit or recalling when they found me naked, I didn't know. "It's no problem, really. I'm glad to see you got it taken care of." He gestured to my calf.

I nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, I got my friend to fix it…"

Dean seemed surprised, and I was just as much so when a smile graced his features. It was beautiful. "So you do have someone you can rely on?"

"Well, yeah, but…" I looked down, and my voice grew solemn. "I didn't want to burden him."

Their faces became sad and sympathetic, and again I could sense the underlying anger slowly bubbling to the surface. The tension had somehow risen with that comment, and I suddenly cleared my throat, practically demanding a change in subject. "So, uh…do you have any leads on your investigation?"

John seemed to give Dean an annoyed pout at that, and Dean's blush deepened. John spoke this time, his words slightly biting. "We had one last night, but complications occurred and the attempt was a distinct failure. Thanks for asking." Midway through his explanation he had looked pointedly at me. Was it my fault, too?

I felt awkward under his heavy gaze, and this time it was me that had blood rushing to my cheeks.

His gaze lightened, though, and I was surprised to see a smile appear on his face. It was small, and not as happy as Dean's, but my stomach still fluttered hopelessly from it. "But I'm glad to see you're alright."

Stunned, I couldn't help but smile with relief. Gods, I thought he was going to kill me.

"So, uh, I have to ask," Dean started, coughing into his hand awkwardly. "Why the cat costume?"

I shifted on my heels. This was it, the moment they would start condemning me. I tried to laugh it off, but the chuckles were drenched with tension and anxiety.

They'll never want to talk to me again.

"Uh, it's just something our manager really has a fetish for. We do it every Friday." I was about to delve into the "hail the tail" slogan, but immediately stopped myself. That was not something we needed to discuss right now.

Eyeing my outfit, Dean only nodded in uncertainty and puzzlement. I stiffened further, as if he could see the vibrator boring into me from his impossible angle. "That's an awfully crude thing to have a fetish for," he said vaguely. I nodded, looking down. It was so embarrassing, and I could feel nothing but shame. These two probably found me ghastly, filthy to the bone with not an inch of virtue. I was a menace, and nearly everyone in town's plaything. I didn't deserve Greg, and I didn't deserve the Vesters.

I was brought out of my self-loathing when Dean laughed. "Well, I have to say you pull off the look."

After working with gay men for four years, I could easily tell by looking at these two that they were straight. For him to say that to me, and without a hint of lust…well, it surprised me. It surprised me a lot. "Wh-What?"

"You look good in it." Dean was smiling at me, at me. He wasn't looking at my body, but my eyes.

My smile was wide and grateful. Not because he told me something I heard constantly anyway, but because he wasn't pushing me away like I was something disgusting and repugnant. He actually accepted me. "Thanks," I said, and I really meant it.

Suddenly, I felt a small tug from behind. Someone had grabbed at the base of my tail, making the vibrator jerk violently in place. A squeak passed my lips, and I barely got a glimpse of black-gray hair before the tail was pulled out, then brutally shoved back in. The jolt pushed me into the table, and I doubled over it, bending at the waist.

"I was right. You do look sexy in a cat costume."

From my peripheral, I could see Dean and John begin to stand, eyes fiery, and I hurriedly righted myself, distractedly brushing imaginary dust off my bare thighs. Calm down, Sam, calm down.

I turned around to see Hudson, who reached out with a stumpy hand to grab my dick. The thin material of my panties gave me little protection from his suffocating grip, and I winced, but ignored it as best I could.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm currently serving another customer right now. Please wait your turn to be attended."

His grasp tightened, and his face distorted in impatience. "But I want you now. Watching you strut around in that slutty outfit for other men is pissing me off."

"I'm very sorry, sir; I didn't mean to upset you. I will be with you in a moment."

Despite his anger, his expression seemed double-sided. It reminded me of a sly man with an elaborate scheme, a plan that would bring downfall to his enemy and kingship to himself.

Sure enough, Hudson released me and freely turned back to his own booth. He crossed his legs elegantly, like all the wealthy here, and his gaze was glued to me the entire time. When our eyes met, his smirk grew wider and more tormenting.

I turned back to the Vesters, expression solemn. "Sorry about that. Is there any way I can make up for it?" Usually when I spoke to customers, it was much more formal, as we were required to do. Somehow, though, Dean and John had slipped under my radar, and I was innately saying "sorry" instead of "I sincerely apologize".

Cheeks red—that would never get old—they hastily shook their heads. "No, no, it's fine," they said, nearly simultaneously, and any other day I would've found it amusing. I knew they weren't interested in that kind of thing, but policies were policies, and I would abide by them.

"Then, may I request leave?" I asked expressionlessly.

They hesitated in their response, glancing back at Hudson's menacing demeanor. Their eyebrows were slanted and Dean was poised to speak, and for the third time in my career I departed without waiting for permission. Dean and John wouldn't sell me out for not following policy, and I would take advantage of that.

I bowed low to them before leaving, still kind of disappointed to leave them. But Hudson was right; I had intentionally skipped over all my other customers to serve these two. It wasn't fair, and I shouldn't allow myself to be so easily swayed by my emotions.

I turned, extremely self-conscious of my tail. I could feel it twitch with each step I took, and I quickly went over to Hudson's booth.

The older man was smirking hungrily, and by the time I arrived in front of him the hand I'd swatted away earlier once again found it's way to my crotch. I couldn't fight it, not without getting pinned as the 24-hour toy for being unmannerly to a customer.

I'd tough it out, because that's the kind of person I was, now and forever. Don't complain, don't fight it, just shut up and take it.

I grabbed the set of the pen and notepad off the booth's table. Prepared for an order, I questioned, "What would you like from the menu, sir?"

"You."

"Sir, I'm not on the menu. However, we do have a lovely new wine—."

Hudson waved a thick hand, irritated. "I'm not interested in your damn wine."

At a loss, I only stood in silence, refusing to react as his other hand traveled back to my tail.

However, when a finger scurried under my panties and into my entrance, I immediately fished it out. "Physical penetration is against the rules, sir."

Hudson leered. "Are you implying you follow the rules?"

His expression was thoroughly amused. It was also sadistic, more so than I'd ever seen it. I could feel my stomach rumbling in apprehension.

He reached back under my panties and began to finger my hole again but, for a reason I didn't quite comprehend yet, I didn't push it away.

"How exactly do you feel about those? The rules, I mean."

"I obey the regulations set by my master."

"Is that so?" he asked, and a second finger found its way into my entrance. With the addition of fingers along with the vibrator, my ass was absolutely throbbing in agony.

"You know, Sam…" he began thoughtfully, wearing that same smirk. "You were awfully discourteous to me back there. Me and, of course…" He worked both of his hands fast and hard, and I could feel my body growing hotter. "All your other customers."

My mind was vaguely beginning to understand what he was implying. I violently forced it down. No, I couldn't have…surely not.

My body began to shiver violently, the vibrator this time having nothing to do with my tremors. My eyes were wide, and only now did I realize my dire mistake. By putting Dean and John at the head of my list, I just treated every other customer discourteously by voluntarily ignoring them. Sweat dropped down my temple. In other words…

I broke the rules.

I watched Hudson smirk as realization shown in my eyes, and I immediately got down on my knees, forgetting about the fingers in me as I bowed low to the older man. "Pl-Please, sir, please don't tell my master!" I had always been too prideful to beg, too strong to plead. But, right then, I didn't care. If Coleman found out I had broken regulation by displaying "misconduct or discourteous acts," each customer I slighted would get 24 hours to play with me however they pleased. And then…

Then I'd be as good as dead.

I felt tears sting my eyes, and a rough hand grabbed my chin, pulling my face up to look into his dark, merciless eyes.

"Who exactly did you say your master was?"

I knew the answer he was looking for. "Y-You are."

Hudson put a hand to his ear. "What? I didn't quite catch that."

I ground my teeth together hard, forcibly stopping any tears that threatened to fall. I said louder, my voice cracking, "You are."

He removed his hand from my chin and rested both his arms on top of the cushions near his head. His eyes gleamed with malice. "Prove it."

Swallowing audibly, I crawled beneath the table, situating myself between his legs. I worked on the zipper, undoing his pants until his slick cock was in sight.

I sucked and licked it, and multiple times he would forcibly shove it deeper down my throat. My gag reflex was good, but not that good, and every time I'd cough like I was dying.

Finally, after what felt like years, he came with a moan, white seed spurting all over my mouth and cheeks. I was panting and tired, and the sides of my lips felt painful and cracked.

Hudson yanked at the chain on my collar, and I followed his direction until I was sitting fully on his lap. My cattail was pushing against his thigh, and the vibrator was shoved deeper.

He patted my cheek, horribly condescending. "Good boy," he said, smirking.

He turned his hand around and saw the cum that now covered it. He placed it directly in front of my face. "Get rid of it." I licked at his palm and sucked on each of his fingers, coating them completely in saliva.

He removed his wet hand from my mouth and reached behind me, tugging the vibrator and tail out. I gasped loudly as it came out with a slick pop, and my body suddenly felt weightless and empty.

He looked at the vibrator in his hand, smirking. "You boss's favorite or something?" He chuckled darkly. "Poor kid, having to deal with an actual vibrator shoved up his ass while everyone else gets a simple stick."

I didn't understand what he was saying, or what he meant. All I could focus on were the fingers sliding under my panties, quickly acting as a replacement for the vibrator. My hole twitched as his fingers stretched me, scissoring and pulling at the rim.

"God, how the hell are you still so fucking tight?" Hudson's eyes were closed and his head was leaned back on the cushion behind him. I knew I had to satisfy him. If I didn't, I could end up everyone's slave.

This way, I'd only be his.

He detached his drenched fingers from my body, and they too fell out with that same popping noise. Gods, even my hole sounded like a slut.

I knew what he liked, and I resituated myself on his lap until I was leaning over him, my knees resting on either side of his hips and my back against the edge of the table.

Hudson wrenched at the hem of my lacy panties, tugging them down until they were situated around my knees. With his hand on the small of my back, he pulled me to him, and I shivered when my cock sat inches away from his face. He smirked, looking up at me as he leaned down to lick the underside. It jumped at the contact, and I hated myself for reacting to something so disgusting.

"Ready?" he asked hungry.

I nodded, and drove my hips down onto his waiting cock. I cried out, the thick, fleshy organ piercing my entrance and driving through my insides.

After getting used to the much bigger intrusion, I slowly began to rock up and down on it, gradually increasing my speed.

"Ah, ah." I could hear myself panting loudly, too loud. My eyes were closed, and I was scared this was going to turn into a real spectacle if I kept this up. The customers came here for a show, and sometimes it wasn't just the stage they were watching.

"You're so fucking hot," Hudson gasped out before groaning as I took him in fully. My hands were grasping his shoulders like a lifeline, and it was probably the only thing keeping me upright.

I found an acceptable rhythm and stuck with it. It was straining to keep up the fast pace, but satisfying Hudson was the number one priority.

His fingernails dug painfully into my ass cheeks, and I barely heard over the pounding of my ears as I groaned in both pain and pleasure. The pace was grueling, but I could feel even my own body begging for more.

Suddenly he froze underneath me, and the response killed whatever sex drive I had amassed. I stopped thrusting, absently opening my eyes to look at him. Did I do something wrong?

He was looking off to the side, staring at something or someone I couldn't see. His wide eyes looked fearful, and I turned, half-expecting to see a vengeful-looking Dean or John Vester.

I was surprised to find it was Coleman that was watching us. His eyes were cold and threatening, and never before had I seen that look before. Lustful and hungry, yes, that was frequent, but never…never like this.

"I think you're playing with something that doesn't belong to you." Each of his words had bite, and I didn't have the strength or courage to pull out of Hudson's dick. It felt like any movement I made right then would be my last.

Hudson was shaking beneath me. "N-No, you don't understand. This kid broke the rules." He was stuttering, and it was weird to see this side of him. He was normally so self-righteous and composed. To show anyone an undignified expression was something I would have considered beneath him.

Coleman took a step forward, then another. "It seems to me, kind patron," he began. "That it is you who are breaking the rules."

"B-B-But…"

Coleman abruptly seized my elbow, heaving me toward him. Hudsons' dick left my entrance, and I ended up a panting mass on the floor. My panties were bunched up around my ankles, and I'd fallen with legs spread wide. Gods, I was even a slut subconsciously.

But I didn't move to close them. Coleman's gaze was honed in on Hudson, but I didn't know if or when that would change. He was like a wild animal, ferocious, unpredictable, and deadly. I shiver crawled down my spine.

I wasn't surprised to hear camera clicks and see the bright flashes coming from behind me. Some of the braver ones even edged up beside me to take pictures of my frozen, open legs.

"Alright, back up, everyone, back up." A scuffle of feet. "Hey, asshole, I said back the fuck up." Dean's voice echoed behind me, and I heard shoving and a violent punch as fist met meaty flesh.

A body hit the floor, and I soon felt a tall presence come to stand behind me. I was still in a slow daze, and firm hands grabbed my armpits, gently guiding me to my feet. The touch was warm, welcoming, and I automatically leaned into it. Astoundingly, not only did I not mind this man's touch, but he didn't even move to push me away.

The hands left my shoulders to reach down and grab the panties around my feet, pulling them securely back around my hips.

I turned to see the hands belonged to Dean, and he pressed his body protectively to mine, flush against my back. The intrusive customers were continuing to take pictures of the scene, and Dean's body acted as a shield to cover my own, just as Greg had done earlier. I heard John starting fights with many of them and pushing them all back, but he was only one person and there was a whole horde of horny patrons.

I didn't move from my spot. Dean's body heat was superseding and addictive. This touch felt just like Greg. A safe haven, a sweet refuge I could wrap myself in forever.

"Get out of the way! Move, please, move." Greg's voice was just as demanding as Dean had been and a moment later appeared by my side, panting from exertion.

I was happy to see him, more than happy, and I reached a hand out.

He immediately grabbed it, putting it in both of his as he kissed the palm lovingly. His hands were warm, too. So warm.

The two encompassing furnaces distracted me from Hudson and Coleman's confrontation, so much so that I didn't even notice them until I heard a cry come from Hudson's lips.

My face spun to the scene, and I saw Hudson on the floor while Coleman wiped the fallen man's blood from his hand.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Mr. Hudson." Coleman positioned a foot on the man's belly, creating pressure. "You cannot claim something that does not belong to you. Sam works for me, Sam has sex with me, and Sam belongs to me." He pushed down harder at that, and Hudson let out a sharp cry. "You'd best remember that."

Hudson only nodded spastically, and Coleman slowly placed his foot back on the floor, off Hudson's stomach. Hudson crawling frantically backwards, away from the hideous nightmare in front of him. I almost pitied Hudson, but all the sexual perversions I had to endure from him could not be forgiven so easily, and I was not very lenient in my clemency.

Coleman turned, and this time his gaze fell to me. My body immediately stiffened.

He beckoned me. "Come. Let me show you who really owns your body."

Dean gripped my forearm tightly, and Greg held a hand in front of my torso. Neither man wanted me to go to Coleman, to allow myself to fall into his clutches.

Unfortunately, it wasn't their decision.

Sometimes, when Coleman fucked me, I tried to convince myself it wasn't my own fault, that I didn't understand why he did it tome. But, in reality, it was all my fault. I'm the one that gave him permission to fuck me.

When I first came to The Ramrod for work, Coleman and I had made an under-the-table deal. I work for him and give him sex, he doesn't tell my patrons I have no home to live in, no family to protect me, and phobias that could leave me catatonic. If customers knew that, they'd be making countless, elaborate attempts to kidnap me. They would keep me as their own forever, and no one but Greg would realize or care that I'm missing. One person couldn't make much of a difference, especially if he's only a local stripper.

The secret that I had no family or home was very important to me. No one knew how difficult it was to avoid being followed by customers, both from work and from the streets. If they realized I lived in an abandoned alleyway with a cardboard box and a makeshift tent, they'd take me when I was sleeping, drag me into their house, and chain me to their bed.

Being chained to a sadistic man's bed…like hell I'd let that happen a second time. Once I was caught, I knew I'd never see the light of day again. First I'd struggle and scream and fight. But, after my strength was depleted, my will would go next. I would become docile, trapped in reality and trapped in my mind. I would submit utterly to my captor, because I wouldn't really be there anymore; I'd be lost in the horrid thoughts I didn't want to have.

So yes, I ignored Dean and Greg. They wanted what was best for me, but so did I, and I knew better. Most of the time, at least.

I shrugged my shoulder from Dean's hand, and maneuvered around Greg's extended arm. He seemed melancholy, but not surprised. He knew Coleman knew my secrets, and he knew I'd do anything to keep them from becoming public.

I heard Dean curse from behind, hissing, "What? What the hell, Sam? Get back—." He stopped talking, and I'm sure Greg silenced him.

Coleman had a gleeful, triumphant look on his face, and led me to his office. I ignored the stubborn protests from Dean and jealous cries from the crowd.

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And there you have it. Chapter 5 should be up around Sunday, so hopefully that's something to look forward to. I don't know if I should actually write out the sex scene between Coleman and Sam, sooo if anyone wants the dirty details on that send me a line and I can work something out. ;)

Until next time!