Me and My Uncle Ch. 01

I quickly figured out that he desperately wanted to fuck me, and deep down I think I wanted him to, but he never touched me until I turned 18. Once I did, however, and he nailed me the first time, he used me for everything I was worth.

Our relationship was weird. He used me, no question, but I also think he had some affection for me initially, since I was his little sister's girl. He freely provided me with the means to get away from him, even while he was trying to keep me as his slave. He could be incredibly cruel to me, and he could be incredibly generous. He was extremely possessive of me, but he eagerly sold me to his friends and anyone else who had the money to pay for my services.

My uncle was a bundle of contradictions in so many ways. He didn't use drugs, and he wasn't a heavy drinker, at least not at first. But he did have one vice. He was obsessed with sex. He could get and did get plenty of women, but he much preferred to masturbate.

As a result, he always had plenty of porn around: books, magazines and tapes, and all kinds of sexual devices. And he didn't bother to hide any of it from me. God, he was such a pervert!

You know, it is a wonder that I could ever have a normal sexual relationship, considering how I was brought up. In fact, as I said earlier, one reason I'm here is because I still do have trouble enjoying normal sex.

Of course, news of my mom's crime and her trial had made it to central Missouri, and when I showed up there, I could hear them whispering about Marie Trotter's daughter, and staring at me like I was some freak. As a result, I found it hard to make friends. People had a preconceived notion of who and what I was, and even after they got to know me, and realized that I wasn't some little monster, they kept their distance.

But I did have a few friends, misfits mostly, and occasionally we'd get together to play records or watch a video, things normal teens did.

Even at high school, however, I couldn't escape my demons. Some of the boys at school, having heard about what had happened to me, assumed that I was easy pickings, and, for awhile, I was. Beginning late in my freshman year and continuing almost until the end of my sophomore year, I led a pretty active high school sex life. The junior and senior boys quickly figured out that if they spent a little money on me, or if they sweet-talked me real nice, that I was easy.

Uncle Bill was reluctant to let me go out on dates, but when he went down to Jeff City or Columbia, as he did some nights to troll for women, I was left alone. The boys would come around and if Uncle Bill was home, they'd just visit for awhile and leave. But if he was gone, they'd come in and I'd let them do whatever they wanted.

As I've said, I battled low self-esteem for much of my life, and I craved affection and attention. Sex was something I had that the boys wanted and that I was good at, and they exploited it ruthlessly.

There was, however, one boy, Johnny Aaron, who I actually developed feelings for, and I think he had a little bit of feeling for me. It wasn't a steady relationship, but he probably came around more than anyone else. He wasn't one of the studs, just a skinny, pimply kid who was kind of in the same situation I was, lonely and in need of affection.

Of course, he was like anybody else. Our relationship was defined by sex, and as long as he was getting laid, he didn't mind coming around to visit the school tramp, and being nice to me.

That phase of my life ended abruptly not long after I turned 16. Uncle Bill had gone down to Jeff City, so Johnny came around, and we were hot into it when he walked in and caught us on the sofa.

I'll give him credit; Uncle Bill didn't lose his temper. But the low, even tone in his voice and the look in his eyes told Johnny he'd better grab his clothes and go without bothering to get dressed.

"Son," he called out, just before Johnny bolted through the door. "You spread the word around school, that my niece is off-limits. If I catch another one of you delinquents with her again, you will pay dearly. NOW GIT!"

That was when I made the deal with the devil that bound me to my uncle. Uncle Bill just stared at me, his eyes all but raping me with his lustful look. That's when I realized that he wasn't protecting my virtue so much as he was protecting his possession, his investment. Finally, he let me throw on a nightgown, then he called me back to sit across from him at the table that sat at one end of our fairly large den.

"Sophie," he began. "Do you want to end up like your mother, knocked up by 17 with no future and no prospects? Is that really what you want? My God, girl, you've got brains and talent neither one of us ever had, but you shouldn't waste them on these punks. You can do so much better. You have the ability to get out of this place, and I can help you."

"How, Uncle Bill?" I said in a small voice.

"I'm going to make you an offer, a generous offer, but it comes with strict conditions," he said.

"Conditions?" I asked.

"If you will keep up your grades, I'll help you get into MU," he said. "And I'll help pay for it."

"Would you really?" I said, suddenly ecstatic that my college dreams might actually come true. "But, how? Isn't it awfully expensive?"

"It is, and I don't have the money to do it at the moment, but with your help we'll get the money," he said. "Here's the deal. You agree to abstain from sex, drugs and alcohol until you turn 18, then you go to work for me. You agree to work for me, doing whatever I tell you to do when I tell you to do it, for the four years that you're at the university. Your pay will go directly into a fund to pay for tuition costs, less a little spending money, and I'll match it. When you turn 18, I'll buy you a cheap vehicle, and we'll start making some money. When you obtain your college diploma, not a day before, you'll be free to go wherever you want in search of whatever career you aspire to."

"But what kind of work would I have to do for you?" I said, suddenly very leery.

In the pit of my stomach, I knew what kind of work he was talking about. Bill Trotter wouldn't be that generous unless he had a devious motive in mind, especially since he was making this offer minutes after catching me in the act of having sex with a boy.

"You leave that to me," he said. "For now, I'm going to put you on the store's payroll, and increase your hours drastically. It appears that you have too much free time, if you're running around screwing all the boys at school. You are going to work here at the store and study hard. There is scholarship money available, and we're going to pursue those avenues, but you'll need much more to get through four years of college."

"What if I don't agree to your conditions?" I said timidly.

"Well, you can go on like you have been, get pregnant within a year, drop out of school and live on the street somewhere with your bastard baby," he said. "Sophie, I'm offering you a chance to make something of yourself. All I'm asking in return is your obedience. If you go along with me, I'll take good care of you, the way I promised Marie I would. But you have to agree to obey me without question or hesitation."

I really didn't have any choice. If I eventually wanted out of there - and I did, desperately - I had to play Uncle Bill's game, do whatever he wanted to do with me, as he said, without question or hesitation. There were many nights over the next six years when I wondered if it was all worth it.

Despite my misgivings about Uncle Bill's intentions for me down the road, and the vague sense of dread I felt about what awaited me when I turned 18, I have to say that the next two years were the best and most important years of my upbringing.

I had a two-year respite from everyone around me wanting to use me for their sexual desires, and thus I was able to live something like a normal life. I buckled down in school, and really worked at my studies, with the result that my grades, which had always been decent, improved dramatically.

It was during this period that I developed my drive to excel at my work, and that was when I learned my organizational skills. Both of those factors have been so critical to my success in taking control of my life and making something of myself when everyone around me expected me to fail.

Working at the store nearly full time also helped. Uncle Bill's store was actually quite successful. It was the only convenience store for miles around, so business was usually pretty good. He had two gas pumps that stayed busy, and most anything you would find at a modern convenience store, except we carried a few more grocery items than you might find at the Jiffy Mart.

We carried a full range of beer and wine coolers, which were all the rage at that time, cassette tapes in a wide variety of styles, plenty of tobacco products, and books and magazines. He had a large commercial coffee maker and three sets of booths where the locals would come in, sit down and have coffee in the mornings before going to work.

Of course, it wouldn't have been Uncle Bill's store if he didn't have his "adult" section. This part of the country isn't exactly the Bible Belt, and there was a pretty good market for sleaze in the area. This section was set off from the rest of the store by a black curtain, and one my jobs was to make sure no one underage went back there. And we didn't just have your garden variety skin mags. No sir. We had the real hardcore stuff, including a wide array of videos. After two years of living with Uncle Bill, I really didn't think anything about it.

As a result of its location and what we had to sell, the store was a place where most of the community passed through, and I got to know practically everyone around. Most of them, especially the men, I would eventually regret knowing, but still it was a boon to my social skills. And helping with inventory and keeping the books gave me valuable work experience.

Not long after I made my deal with Uncle Bill, something happened that changed my life, literally.

Since I had just turned 16, I was old enough to get my driver's license. So after school one day, I had a friend take me to the Motor Vehicle Department in Jeff City. When I got there, I learned that I needed a copy of my birth certificate, so we drove to the Bureau of Records to obtain the necessary certified copy and I could get my license.

That's when I first learned that my legal, given name wasn't Trotter, but Gibson. I had never seen a copy of my birth certificate, and every document that had followed me through all of the moves I had made were under my mother's name, and I had simply assumed that Trotter was my given name.

In that moment, I had one of those flashes of inspiration, an epiphany, if you will. This was the first time I showed a bit of clairvoyance, and it wouldn't be the last. I saw in that moment my eventual way out of my Uncle Bill's clutches, when and if the time came that I needed to get away.

Let's face it, I didn't trust Uncle Bill as far as I could throw him. I was skeptical that he would live up to his end of the bargain. I had this fear that he would back out of his agreement to help pay for my college education. I was also afraid that even if he did live up to that part of it and did let me go to college, he would renege on his pledge to let me go when I graduated.

And learning I wasn't who I thought I had been all my life suddenly presented me with an escape hatch. The whole plan literally came to me in one big lump, and I painstakingly put it together piece by piece.

For the moment, I remained Sophie Trotter, but when I got my driver's license, the name on the license was Sophia Lynette Gibson, not Trotter. I quietly applied for a new Social Security number, a different number from the one I had been issued years before, when Mom had applied for some federal assistance plan that required that I have one. And the name I used was simply Lynette Gibson.

Once I had my new Social Security number, that was the name and number I used when I applied to the University of Missouri late in my junior year of high school, and that's what I used when I applied for and took the ACT. Also, midway through my senior year of high school, I quietly changed the name on my school records. It was late enough in the year that I would still be Trotter in the yearbook and in the minds of my classmates, but it would make the name on my high school transcript the same as the one on my college application.

Later, when the registrar at MU asked about the discrepancy between the Social Security number on my high school transcript and the one I'd applied for admission under, I simply told the truth, or at least enough of the truth to answer her question fairly.

At any rate, from that moment on, I had two identities. When I was back at Uncle Bill's doing his bidding, I was Sophie Trotter. When I drove into Columbia to go to class, I was Lynette Gibson, Lyn to my friends. Uncle Bill never figured it out, either. He'd been in the Air Force when Mom married my dad, he'd never met my father and he didn't even know my father's name.

And I was careful to make sure he never saw any mail addressed to Lynette Gibson at the store. Mail for the store came to a post office box in town, so one of my jobs was to get the mail on my way home from school. Soon, I also had my own box at the Columbia post office, and that's where all correspondence from the college was sent.

Still, it wasn't all good. Uncle Bill didn't come right out and say what he was going to do when I turned 18, but from his innuendoes, it was clear that he intended to fuck me, and that he was going to let his friends have me as well.

That was plainly obvious by the leers I began to get as my senior year progressed. Uncle Bill didn't go to the bar nearly as much as he had before, preferring to have his buddies hang out at the store. After closing, they'd sit around having a few beers, and they'd make me sit with them, to fetch refills or stir up some food.

They'd look me up and down like a dog looks at a juicy steak, and occasionally, one of them would "accidentally" brush up against me and run his hands over my behind. But, other than that, they kept their distance until I turned 18. I suppose I had this kernel of hope that what I feared wouldn't happen, but I knew better. And I'm not sure how much I really feared what was going to happen.

Beginning with Schultzie, I had gotten used to having sex on a pretty regular basis, and while he, the girls at Juve and the boys at my high school got their pleasure from me, I had also managed to obtain a fair amount of pleasure from them.

I'll be brutally honest. I liked sex. It made me feel good inside, especially when I was able to reach an orgasm, which wasn't very often. But even if I didn't climax when I was having sex, I could still retreat into my own little world, and block out all of the nasty comments, disgusted looks and the relentless pressure of growing up as poor white trash.

I also had a pretty lurid imagination, and a lot of my fantasies included the man I was around more than any other, my uncle. I couldn't help it. I spent a lot of nights in bed imagining him giving me pleasure.

But I never, in all of my fantasies, expected him to give me the kind of brain-numbing pleasure he did the first time he fucked me. It was that night that really turned me into a whore, one who was worth every penny that was paid for me. And it was what kept me tied to him for the next four years.

I was more and more nervous as my birthday approached, wondering how it was going to happen. As it turned out, Uncle Bill did it very skillfully and honestly, for a change.

My birthday came and went without any mention of it whatsoever. But the next night, as we sat across the kitchen table eating dinner, he looked across at me, and I felt a chill go through me. His look was filled with such lust and longing that it took my breath away.

"Sophie, my sweet," he began, and I really wondered then what was in store for me, because he'd never used any kind of endearment toward me. "I didn't get a chance to wish you a happy birthday yesterday, so I'm doing so today. Need I remind you that you are now 18, and it is time for you to become a woman, in every respect."

"Uncle Bill, please..." I started. I felt that I needed to put up at least some token objection to what he had planned for me. But he stopped me before I could continue.

"Shhhhhh, little one," he said softly. Now I was intrigued, because I had never seen this side of him, the tender, loving side that he had kept hidden behind his gruff outer shell. "I have something for you."

And he produced a small gift-wrapped box and handed it to me. I opened it and saw that it was velvet box from a jeweler. I opened it up and was stunned to find a 14-karat gold necklace with a small heart pendant. I started to cry, then, because it was the first time anyone had given me a gift like that, and it had come from the man I had least expected it to come from.

"Regardless of what happens, wear it and know that I truly do love you," he said. "You are all the family I have left, and I want you to be mine forever."

I stammered my thanks, then walked over and hugged his neck. If things had stopped right there, I may have never left. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever done for me, and I still have that necklace, although I don't wear it. It is just about the only thing I have left from that time, and I keep it to remind me of both the good times and bad times I had when I was under his guardianship.

But with Uncle Bill everything eventually came back around to sex, and he quickly moved on to the business of seducing me and getting me to do his bidding.

"Sophie," he said, staring across the table at me. "I can't tell you how badly I want you, how hard it has been these four years to desire you so much and not be able to do anything about it. Oh, I could have forced myself on you at the start, but I knew what you had been through, and I didn't want to just take you."

I sat there in silence. There was nothing I could say, because I had known all along about his lust for me, and I had begun to realize that perhaps I'd always wanted him, as well.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," he continued. "I want you to give yourself freely and willingly, if that's what you want. We made an agreement two years ago, and I am prepared to honor that agreement, but only if you are prepared to hold up your end."

"What do I have to do?" I said softly. I knew, but I wanted him to spell it out for me, to admit to himself that he wanted me for his whore.

"You must agree to love me, honestly and completely," he said. "You must do what I say when I say it, go with anyone I tell you to go with and do anything - anything - they want to do. You have something a lot of people, not just men, desire. You are young, but wise. You are innocent, but sensual. There is a big market for girls like you, who look innocent, but who are experienced and willing, especially in this area where really pretty girls like you are rare."

"In other words, you want me to be your whore, and screw you and all of your friends for money," I said, and I shivered with a combination of fear and lust as I said it.

Uncle Bill just nodded his head.

"I do, but only if you want to," he said. "You're an adult now, and I can't make you. You have to agree to it. That is the offer. I'll buy you a good, inexpensive car and maintain it so you can live here and drive back and forth to Columbia. I will take what you make working for me and match it dollar-for-dollar with profits from the store to pay for your education. I'm willing to do it because I believe in you, and I think you have the ability to make something of yourself.