
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1967127.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Allison_Argent/Original_Male_Character(s), Allison_Argent/Chris_Argent,
      Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall_(Implied)
  Character:
      Allison_Argent, Chris_Argent, Original_Male_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Het, Prostitution, Angst, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Incest, Suicidal
      Thoughts
  Collections:
      Multi_Fandom_Prostitution_Fest_Entries
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-16 Words: 844
****** The Survival of Atalanta ******
by Moit
Summary
     After Chris is accused of Victoria's murder, he and Allison run away.
     To make ends meet, Allison is forced to whore herself out.
Notes
     This one is dark, so tread lightly.
     Betaed, as always, by the lovely and talented Naemi.
See the end of the work for more notes
Allison stood on shaky legs as the man pressed four $20 bills into her hand. He
zipped up and left the hotel room without a word. Upon his exit, Chris appeared
from the bathroom.
“Go take a shower. You have another coming in 15 minutes, and he wants your
pussy.”
After her mother died, Allison and her father had fallen on hard times. Not
only was Chris a suspect in what had been declared Victoria’s murder, but Derek
and his pack were out for blood after Kate slipped away again. With no other
options, Chris and Allison hit the road. Turning tricks was their only option
for survival. Allison was young and cute; together, she and Chris could handle
any john who stepped out of line.
Allison brushed her fingers through her hair. They had already rounded up
several buyers, and this way the men simply showed up one by one. The motel
they were staying in was less than reputable, but Chris gave the owner a cut of
their profits and free time with Allison. They did pretty well because she
wasn’t strung out like so many hookers—her father would never let her do drugs.
They charged 80 bucks for a blowjob and 100 for a fuck. Anything beyond that
and Chris negotiated a price. There wasn’t much he drew the line at, so long as
it didn’t leave permanent marks.
When the next john knocked on the door, Chris slipped back into the bathroom.
Steeling her nerves, Allison pasted a fake smile on her face and opened the
door. This was always the worst part—pretending she was happy to see them.
The man on the other side of the door was small and portly with a bald spot on
the back of his head. He looked like a tax accountant or an attorney—someone
who hadn’t been laid in a very long time. Allison could see the sizeable bulge
in his trousers as he looked her up and down.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. I’m Silver.” The name had been her father’s idea.
“My, aren’t you a delicious little morsel,” the man said as Allison closed the
door. Even in her bare feet, she was several inches taller than him. “Well,
what are you waiting for? Get your clothes off, girl. I’m not paying for
something I can see at the titty bar.”
With no fanfare or seduction, Allison pulled off her tee and jean skirt. If he
wanted quick and dirty, that’s what he was going to get. Allison’s nipples
tightened in the heavily air-conditioned room, and since her pussy was shaved
bald, there was nothing to protect her there, either.
“Good,” the man said, like he was inspecting a piece of furniture. “Get on the
bed on all fours.”
Allison did. At least she wouldn’t have to look at the guy while he fucked her.
A moment later, there were hands on her hips and a dick pushing inside her
body. Her father never made them use condoms because he said it would drive
customers away. Besides, they could charge more like this, and it wasn’t like
Allison was worth anything, anymore.
The man finished inside of her quickly—a few short thrusts and Allison could
feel the warmth of his release coating her insides. He pulled out, stood up,
and tossed a handful of bills on the bed. “Nice ride, Princess.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, Chris stepped out of the bathroom. “Lock
the door and get back in the shower.”
Allison did as she was told. When she stepped out of the bathroom wearing only
a towel, her father was lying nude on the bed.
“Come here, baby,” he said, “Daddy will make you feel better.”
Allison shed her towel as she crossed the room. The fight had left her long
ago, and the sooner she gave in, the sooner it would be over. Chris’ cock was
already hard and dripping against his stomach, and Allison had to push down the
revulsion in her stomach. She sidled up next to him, feeling her mind back away
from her body as Chris cupped a hand around her cheek and leaned in to kiss
her. He was always more gentle than the johns, more caring, but where he saw
them as lovers and partners, she saw them trapped in a grotesque caricature of
a familial bond. Allison submitted to her father’s kiss, submitted to his body
like she always did.
When he pushed inside her, whispering how much he loved her, how good she was
for him, she pretended it was Scott. When it was over, Allison washed a body
that no longer felt like hers, scrubbed away the memories of hands too rough,
too calloused.
As she fell asleep that night in her father’s arms, her thoughts were of the
boy who saved her first time from being stolen. On days like this, the dream of
returning to Scott was the only thing that kept her from firing a crossbow bolt
into her own stomach.
 
Fin
End Notes
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